#but even then it's not the kind aegon wants

[syndrossi]

Hello! I feel like I’ve been away for so long. I just got a big project, and it’s been so busy that I barely have time to chat with anyone. I’m still busy, but I miss everyone, so I just wanted to stop by and say hi. I hope you’re doing well!

Also, I have a little request—could you write me a short piece about Maegor’s son or Aemon’s son? Lol. Thank you so much! ❤️

I know the busy/big project struggle. Fingers crossed you're not stuck in that hell for too long!

Here's a little Maegor's sons AU (which I have officially named the Regicide AU).

x~x~x

“I shall have him rent limb from limb and tossed to the pigs!”

Maegor’s spells of fury were a near nightly occurrence, and Rhaena’s fear for her own safety had subsided over time as it became clear that he saw her, in some twisted manner, as a confidant. Perhaps he even believed that she must love him, as his wife. It should not surprise her; his previous queens had doubtless simpered and expressed their own undying adoration to swell his ego.

His threats tonight were particularly heated, and she guessed that Lord Butterwell had struck a nerve. Briefly, she considered sending for the boys—the one surefire way she knew to calm his ire—but she had no great love for her husband’s master of coin and she was curious.

“What precisely did Lord Butterwell do?”

“He dared suggest that my succession was unstable.” Maegor’s face took on an even redder hue in his fury. “My succession! I have two sons destined for greatness, and doubtless more to come, and he questions the realm’s stability!”

“Perhaps he merely seeks to understand what the succession is,” Rhaena said, unable to help her bitterness.

Maegor, who had been pacing, arms barred behind his back, halted in place to fix her with a heavy scowl. “Do you mean to be obtuse?”

“It is a fair question,” she said, refusing to balk at his clear displeasure. “My brother Aegon was my father’s heir, and yet you proclaimed yourself king over him. Should Aerion fall while still in his prime, who succeeds him? Rhaegar, or Aerion’s sons?”

“Your father was a kind man,” Maegor said, seeking perhaps to be generous, “and a weak king. His sons would have fared the realm no better.”

“We shall never know,” Rhaena said, folding her hands in her lap to dissuade the sudden fantasy that rose in her to drive a sewing needle through his eyes. “You intend for Rhaegar to fight for the crown, then, against his nephews?”

Maegor’s scowl deepened, her husband ever sensitive to any suggestion that their sons were anything less than perfect. “Then let it be a Valyrian marriage between my sons and your daughters. If they perform their marital duties, there will be no way of knowing son from nephew.”

It is not the same, she considered pointing out. Why should a father cede rule to nephew or son? But already Maegor’s dark mood seemed to have cleared, his enthusiasm for his solution growing. 

“I shall announce it to the realm at the tourney for their third name day,” Maegor declared.

Behold, the superior king, Rhaena thought, twisting her sneer into the smile he expected for his cleverness. It was not Maegor who had prevented the realm from being plunged deep into crippling debt after years of war and reckless spending. Rather it had been her advice to flex their power outward, at the uneasy Free Cities watching from across the Narrow Sea, who had been all too willing to pay to make the threat of dragons go away.

That and the suspiciously lop-sided trade agreements Volantis had offered and her husband had blithely accepted. They had played to Maegor’s pride in his sons, proclaiming them heralds of greatness, chosen by the gods of old Valyria.

Those same gods of old Valyria had brought their ancient homeland only Doom. Her sons could do without such a blessing.

[lchufflepuffcorn]

Hi! I’ve been loving your Dragon!Hybrid headcanons!

I was wondering if I please could request headcanons on how each Dragon!Hybrid would react if their partner got injured? I don’t mind the gender specified!

Thank you!

Hiya Anon!

I'm glad you like it. I hope this headcanon will entertain as much as the rest. It was very interesting to write how everyone would react differently, as each has different challenges.

If you ever want to request something again, you can identify yourself as the 😵‍💫 emoji!

Injuries

Masterlist

Dragon!Hybrid Masterlist

Aegon:

“What’s happened?” 

Aegon was out of breath and walking briskly to you. There seems to be a mild panic in his voice; it's a bit higher than usual. You don’t know how he learned you’d gotten yourself into the care of the maester, but he’s here now… 

You shake your head as the maester explains how the cut on your forehead was superficial; he ‘tsk,’ rolling his eyes and dismissing the man before he can finish his sentence. 

Whilst his help is quick to leave the room, the maester takes his time leaving, and recommends a thousand things for you to do before finally closing the door behind him, leaving you alone with Aegon. 

The scale adorning his neck now extends to his jaw, his eyes more lizard-y than human. He asks again. “What’s.  happened?” This time, panic left its place to anger. It’s your turn to roll your eyes. 

“Nothing, truly.” 

Was your annoyance justified? Yes. Was it wise to use a tone on Aegon at the current time? Probably not. You watched as a stream of smoke left his mouth, eyes shining and talons sharpening at the tip of his fingers. “Issa prumia…” It sounded both like a threat and a caress. Somehow, that made you shiver; you didn’t know what kind of emotion that reaction came from.

It was not often that Aegon’s temper escaped him; the sight of blood must truly have disturbed him for him to let Sunfyre take control of the situation. You sighed a little, both to control the shake in your limbs and to regain (even just a little bit) some patience, which you were lacking awfully. 

“I peeled an apple with a blunt knife.” You let out, softly. The heat of embarrassment flamed through your veins as the words got past your lips. 

When all Aegon (Sunfyre?) did was raise an eyebrow, not adding anything, you sighed again. Must you truly embarrass yourself further? 

He just stayed silent, eyes locked on you, sometimes going to the bandage on your forehead. Shoulders sinking, you capitulated.

“I guess I made to hard a movement whilst peeling the fruit, and I cut myself with the knife.” You explained further, eyes stubbornly kept over Aegon’s head, on the wall. 

Aegon huffed, voice rougher than usual. “You guess?” He chided. 

“It wasn’t my intention.” You bite back before taking a breath. All of this wasn’t worth a dragon’s anger. “I won’t do it ag—“

Before you could finish your sentence, Aegon was climbing over your knees, opening your arms from the hug you had self-imposed on your body to tuck himself beneath your chin. A soft, acute purring escaping him. 

“So you're fine. I’ll have someone cut your fruit from now on. Hold me now. I’ve missed you.” He orders.

Brat. 

Aemond: 

You, hurt? Good joke. No, but seriously, it won’t ever happen because he’ll bust that person’s face before they can even think about hurting you. He’ll destroy the walls, the stairs, and eradicate the bees for you. 

And if (when) he can’t, he’ll panic. 

“What are you doing?” Comes the snarling question from your lover, the previously locked door nearly taken out of its joints as he opened it. You look up from your kneeling position on the ground. 

“Cutting through the wood.” You answer truthfully, showing him the knife you were using before he’d rudely taken away said door. The world was fuzzy on the edge of your sight, and you wanted fresh air; that wasn't too much to ask, was it? 

“May I ask why?” Aemond’s tone is not less venomous than when he first spoke, but you’ve dealt with him before. Honesty is your best way out of his wrath. 

“I was bored, and I’m feeling a lot better.” 

Aemond grunts, not convinced by your words (maybe because of the paleness you exhibited or the numerous escape maneuvers you’d pulled throughout the week.) He helped you to stand, even going as far as to pat the dirt out of your clothes before leading you back again to the plush chair near the fire (drats!). 

“A fever and a cold don’t just go away within three days, Qelos.” He chided you coldly, puffing out the cushion of the chair before helping you sit down. 

“Maybe it was a small fever? A baby cold?” you tried to convince him again. Humour was your best ally in conditions such as this. It was lies. A cold? Please. The only cold you’ve caught was by being exposed to a botched poisoning (a bad fish) and were forced to ludicrous experiments by the maester to make your illness go quicker (sleeping three nights in a hammock for fresh air in winter.)

Rewarding your tries to humour, however, Aemond’s face lost its edge; a small smile curved his lips, if only for a moment. 

“I promise to make up for your lack of entertainment, Qelos. Shall I call for music and refreshments?” He teased, covering your legs with a blanket, and kneeling next to you. His good eye had lost the coldness it usually shined with. 

Baela: 

Poor baby, you’re hurt? Don’t worry; Baela will take care of you. She’s not one to panic, or, at least, to let it show too much. 

“How does it feel?” She’d ask, for the thousandth time (or so it seemed) in the last hour, looking at the bump on your forehead. 

She was holding a small bag of ice over it and knew as much as you did that your condition had not changed since you’d ungracefully fallen flat on your face and came back up on your feet with a disoriented spring to your movements. Yet you answered all the same. 

“It’s cold, but it seems like my heart has gone back to my chest, as my brain isn’t beating as hard now.”

She hummed softly as the only answer, running her finger through your hair. Baela let her gaze run over your face, lost in her own mind now. You were making it seem as if you hadn’t seen her scramble out of her dragon form when you fell from your seat on her back, and she didn’t comment on the unseemly manner in which you’d fallen. Both parties were happy that way. (Ego : bruised, forehead : bumped, knees scraped, but on equal ground.)

Daemon: 

To Daemon, it depends. Did it draw blood? Did you do this to yourself? If you didn’t bleed, walk it off. If someone did this to you?? Blood or not, there’s gonna be hell to pay! 

It wasn’t a big deal. Seriously. Some drunk lord was talking smack and waving his knife around, a bit too close to your face. It might have been covert threats; you weren’t really listening. You’d gotten cut. Next thing you know, Daemon is cradling your face in his hands, examining the cut under all it’s angles (it literally just has one!!!), a scowl very present on his face. 

You try to whisper comforting words to him. “It’s okay; I’m okay. It’s not deep.” But it seems to only anger him more. A deep, cavernous sound echos in the chamber, shaking you to your core, and making the usually warm atmosphere (colder by the sudden shift of Daemon’s mood) freezing now. 

The lord was scrambling, apologies spurting out of his mouth faster than he could breathe; the man was already half up when Daemon spoke. His gaze was still locked on the bleeding cut on your cheek. 

“Making such a pretty thing bleed. Tis a distasteful hobby.” He said, growled, at the man. The lord only agreed, probably hoping that it would help his cause. 

“It’s nothing.” You tried to soothe your lover again, but Daemon’s gaze snapped to your eyes, his hands once gently cradling your face now becoming more tense, squishing your cheeks a tad to silence you. Not your battle to fight anymore. 

Caraxes’ fire burnt in his eyes. 

Helaena: 

She’ll soothe you to the best of her abilities, but she’s not a maester and thus is no good at healing, except to press something over the blood. That she knows. She might be a bit panicked due to her lack of knowledge. 

“I’m fine, my lady.” You laugh quietly, moving your head away from Helaena’s grip. 

She was holding her carefully embroidered project to your bloody nose. “How can you be? You’re bleeding!” She told you in a small, huffy voice that she kept for the sleeping children near yourselves. 

“This tends to happen when someone opens a door on your nose.” You teased softly, taking her hands in yours to steady her movements. 

“I didn’t know you were behind it!” She claims (again) exasperation dripping into her tone, eyes wide. You chuckled, letting one of her hands go to push back a strand of her hair from her face. 

“I never said you were to blame, my lady.” You kissed the hand remaining in your, a smirk plastered on your lips, the taste of iron prominent on your tongue. 

“Come, let’s get you properly cleaned up; you’ve bled all over your clothes.”

Jacaerys: 

As Jace rarely spends time away from you (or has you alone), you don’t often get hurt by accident. Or, if someone hurts you with the intention to do it, that’s another story, and Jace will search for retribution (wait— that’s probably more Vermax, but who knows…) 

Head held low, sitting like a child being sermoned as Jace paces around your shared chambers quietly. The maester had only just left, and you had dreaded that situation in which you were now trusted. Objectively, due to the wings that were nervously (angrily) fluttering behind Jace at every step, you knew that he was probably having a heated conversation with Vermax. 

Your injury was not bad, per se. It wasn’t good either, and your arm would be in a sling for months to come, but you hadn’t been in any mortal danger. Sure, young Joffrey and little Aegon were playing roughly, but it wasn’t that dramatic!

“Jace…” You spoke softly, deciding to address the elephant in the room quicker so the tension would melt. 

“You could’ve hurt yourself worst. How could you think it was a good idea to let the toss you around?” He spat, his eyes burning with a worried fire inside of them. His tone was strained—not entirely Jace, but not wholly Vermax either. 

“It’s healthy for young boys to play fighting!” You defended calmly, raising from your seat to approach your lover, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“I should like you to remain whole instead.” He scoffed, wrapping his arms around your middle to bring you closer to his chest. He presses a kiss to your forehead, minding not to place your broken arm in way of more hurt. His body is warmer than usual; the wave of emotions is probably the cause for it. 

“I promise to you that I’ll be more careful and mindful,” you added when Jace’s brows furrowed, “of my non-dragon self.” 

A churtle escaped the man’s throat, and his arms tightened around you. “Don’t joke around; I’m mad at you.” He huffed, making you smile. 

Laenor:

Laenor is more diplomatic than most. He finds that some injuries are good for the built of characters, and so he is not too alarmed when you come back with scraped knees and such. He will spend some time tending to you and comforting you, too. But in no way, shape, or form will it be something that gives him anxiety. 

“Are you hurt?” Laenor called down the mat of the (rather large) fishing boat he’d brought you for a small trip as another angry wave crashed on the bow and over the deck. Staggering, you held on to whatever was nearer (and stable enough to help you keep your footing). 

“No!” Somehow, your voice went over the sound of the angry sea and angrier skies to meet Laenor’s ears, and with a solanel nod, he dropped to the deck. 

“Good.”

 

Rhaenyra: 

Another one who’ll be very zen about the whole ordeal. People get hurt; it’s life. People get attacked; it’s also life. Oh, what’s that? They got fired? They found them dead?? How sad.

“What is it, Beloved?” She called out to you, her nose buried in an important report. She heard the door of the room open and close, the usual smell of your bathing oils giving you up to her sense of smell. 

“There’s a new kitchen boy.” 

Your answer was short, to the point, accusatory, even, but it didn’t seem to matter to Rhaenyra, as she simply gazed up at you for a second, diving back down into her report afterward. 

She took a deep breath, placing the paper down and taking another one, looking utterly unbothered. The golden, shimmering scales on her forearms mired against the walls, lit up by the candles on her desk, but it didn’t bring the smile it usually did. Instead, you crossed your arms against your chest, awaiting an answer. 

“Rotation within the staff happens, my heart; it’s hardly something I can control.” 

You scoffed a little. “So, it’s not about yesterday’s incident, then?” Rhaenyra looked back at you, eyebrow raised, either quizzically or mockingly; you couldn’t decipher which. 

“Whatever do you mean?”

Your eyes narrowed, and you walked closer to her desk, leaning against it to close the distance between both of you further. “The spilled tea? Your threats have been heard loud and clear. Was it not your doing?” You accused her in a cold tone that an untrained ear could mistake for calmness. Rhaenyra only smiled. 

“I know not what you speak of, darling.” 

Taglist: @lady-dragon-rider

[brokenmenswhore]

betrothals & brothels | aegon, aemond, & jace

part 6 (finale)

pairings: aegon targaryen x stark fem!reader, aegon targaryen x stark fem!reader, jacaerys velaryon x stark fem!reader

series summary: aemond targaryen tells the realm that you, the lady of house stark, are to wed him and secure a partnership in the north. in protest, you agree to marry jacaerys velaryon, affirming the north’s allegiance to rhaenyra. when the news hits king’s landing, aegon decides it’s better to have you under his watchful eye until the political partnership is solidified, but doesn’t realize you have a life away from your duty as a stark

chapter warnings: SPOILERS: smut (MDNI 18+), anal, double penetration, foursome

a/n: if you thought this was ending literally any other way… you came to the wrong blog. it’s like the whole reason i wrote this damn series. also PLEASE keep in mind it’s been MONTHS since i wrote the other 5 parts so i did my BEST with continuity life happens okay also i didn’t proofread sue me

series masterlist

────── ☾ ──────

“Surely you must be lying.”

Cregan, who was already overwhelmed and upset with you, sighed in defeat. “I cannot explain to you how truly I wish I was.”

“I’m going to kill him,” you said, storming off past your brother with an intensity that only the culprit of your anger could match.

It was much too early in the morn for you to be dealing with such a strife, but it could not wait. He would not ever expect to, anyway.

You pushed open the Great Hall doors so forcefully that they slammed back against the wall, violently alerting the room’s occupant of your presence. You stopped just after the doors, refusing to grant him the kindness of moving any closer.

“I cannot fathom one singular acceptable reason for your being here,” you spat.

Aemond smirked, still nonchalantly hunched over in a grand chair. “Trust me, I did not wish this so.”

“Oh, you mean to tell me the great one-eyed prince had his hand forced? Not likely.”

“I’ve never seen you quite this angry,” Aemond taunted, “I rather enjoy it.”

Aemond tried to stand, but you quickly warned, “move and I’ll kill you.”

“Doubtful,” he said, still nonchalant as he stood and straightened out his back.

“Aemond, I swear to the sep-“

“I’m here for my brother.”

Despite your anger, you were taken aback by Aemond’s words. Aegon had left days ago.

“Sore luck checking here.”

“I know he came here. Give him back and I’ll depart.”

You scoffed. “You make the mistake of assuming your brother is a piece of property, much like how you treated me.”

“Give him back and I’ll depart,” he repeated.

“I already told you, he’s not here.”

“You think I cannot tell when you lie?” Aemond contested, stepping forward.

“Do not take another step,” you warned.

“What reason do you have to guard him, hm? You truly fancy him so much? Clearly you must if you bed him,” Aemond said, stepping even closer.

“I do not enjoy repeating myself,” you said.

Aemond was now even closer to you, his body mere inches from your own. “Give me Aegon.”

You spoke through gritted teeth, pausing between your words for emphasis, “he. Is. Not. Here.”

Aemond stepped closer, and you took a step backward to avoid your bodies touching. He did not stop, however, and continued to encroach upon your personal space until your back hit the wall of the dining hall.

Aemond slammed his hands against the wall on either side of your head, trapping you in the cage of his presence.

“You think I wanted to come here? Do you think I would have truly done so if not necessary?”

You were taken aback by Aemond’s sudden candor. “If you wish to see your brother, you should look no further than your own home. He left Winterfell as quickly as he came.”

“Then explain to me why his bed has remained unoccupied.”

“What makes you think I would know? Perhaps he frequents the very brothel he, like yourself, found me in.”

Aemond’s face was intimately close to your own, but you tried your hardest to focus your gaze toward his eye. You remained in a stalemate for several moments, exchanging a weighted stare.

“Okay,” Aemond said, backing away and holding his arms behind his back in a proper stance, “did he say where he was headed?”

“I suppose he returned home, Aemond, I do not keep track of your king.”

Aemond remained silent.

You both stared expectantly at one another, yet the room filled with silence.

“I am to wed Jacaerys in the morn,” you said, calculated but somewhat blurt out.

“I am aware.”

“Do you not, perhaps, think it nice to attend?”

Aemond stared at you for a moment. “You wish for me to attend your wedding?”

“You are already here.”

Aemond nearly scoffed. “You have not hidden your disdain for me, Stark. Extending the courtesy of an invitation does not mask such things.”

“Contrary to what you may believe, I do not enjoy hating you,” you said.

“I very hesitantly decline.”

You furrowed your brow. “You decline?”

You had extended the invitation, perhaps for selfish reasoning, but outwardly to show Aemond a kindness. After all he had put you through, the very least he could do was attend your wedding. After all, it has been his own actions that were responsible for its delay.

“Accept my gratitude for the invitation-“

“After all you have done-“

“After all I have done?” Aemond’s voice suddenly raised, but you stopped him before he could continue.

“I thought you and I had an understanding, yet you told of my doings in King’s Landing in a heinous letter to my brother. I did not think you so spiteful. You- you-“

“You- you have been the very bane of my existence,” he took over, “You have contradicted my every action, my every word, my every thought, and held yourself in rather high regard in doing so. You spoilt an alliance with the North for my house-“

“You petulant child!” you cut him off, your voice overtaking his, “is all you care about your honor? Your duty? Is kindness for naught? You dare take anger with me and speak that I spoilt an alliance for your house? Do you forget what you’ve done? How you threatened to burn my home? Abducted me from it? Kept me prisoner in hopes I would bend to your will?”

“I did what I had to do!” Aemond screamed, “while you spent the time you could have been comfortable in a castle slumming it as a whore-“

“Are you truly so bothered that you could not bend me to your will? All you want is to feel like you have the power, like you’re a man more so than your brother. You never cared about a marriage, you never thought of even attempting to gain my affections, yet you storm around this room, in my home, like a toddler whose toy has been taken away-“

“I AM BOTHERED BECAUSE I COULD NOT GAIN YOUR AFFECTIONS!”

It was not often you were rendered speechless. It was not in your nature. However, upon hearing Aemond’s rather bellowing confession, all time stood still.

He suddenly became brutally aware of his words, and quieted his voice, fighting to calm down his angered breaths as he looked to you for a retort.

“Excuse me?” you spoke, your voice low.

You looked to Aemond, but he could not speak. He had stunned himself into silence.

You swallowed hard as the air thickened. You initiated a break in eye contact and attempted to collect your thoughts quicker than usual. You had to speak first, and you had to have the last word.

“I will ask the handmaidens to prepare a bed chamber in the Guest House near the Godswood,” you said, your tone forcefully monotonous, “I shall see you in the morn.”

You, without looking up at Aemond, turned on your heel and exited the Great Hall.

────── ☾ ──────

The thrashing of your body against the mattress abruptly pulled you from slumber, your handmaidens frantic as they shook you awake.

No one was more excited for your wedding day, perhaps, than your handmaidens. As women you considered friends, they had all seen the sparks fly between you and Jacaerys, and had all looked forward to this day for as long as you were old enough for men to propose marriage to their son for a trade of goods.

You reminded yourself of all that was at stake; you wanted this marriage, you wanted Jacaerys, but that did not mean there was no turmoil ahead. Jacaerys’s family would, as tradition tells, be in attendance. You had never been granted the privilege of meeting the Queen.

You contemplated that it was a rather crass and impulsive decision to ask Aemond to attend, given that he was perhaps Rhaenyra’s biggest foe. Yes, Aegon had her throne, but Aemond was more of a threat to Rhaenyra and her cause, and all of the realm knew it.

You allowed yourself a moment of calm as you remembered Aemond’s decline of your invitation and your subsequent argument.

The argument.

Had Aemond truly spoken the words you believed to have heard? Had he truly said he was bothered by his inability to gain your affections? Had he wanted to gain your affections?

As you stated into the mirror, your handmaidens tending to your hair, you wondered if you had possibly forsaken the depth of Aemond’s character. Had you been so headstrong as to miss a whole other person behind the eye? You had experienced the same with Aegon.

It was the day you were to wed Jacaerys, and you could not forget the two silver-haired brothers who had plagued your past several weeks.

“It’s time!” your handmaidens exclaimed.

You glanced in the mirror one final time to ensure all the minute details of your appearance were up to your standards before you were whisked away to marry Jacaerys.

You were grateful that he had agreed to host the wedding in Winterfell. Winterfell was, while devoted to the Blacks, a more neutral space than Dragonstone. Had Aemond or Aegon agreed to attend, a wedding elsewhere would not likely ever take place.

The wedding was beautiful.

Your handmaidens has spearheaded a majority of the work, being that the work had begun, then you were kidnapped and the work was halted, and then a while later you returned and agreed to wed Jacaerys rather soon after.

You had made it to your reception, a rather lavish affair considering it was the wedding of the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. You understood that this wedding was special. Jacaerys was to be King someday, and therefore you were to be Queen.

Jacaerys seemed elated the entire time. You were able to grasp a quick moment of solitude in a whisper between chairs.

“Jace?”

“Yes?”

“Is everything alright? I know it’s been a rather tumultuous week and-“

Jacaerys sighed. “My love, I’ve already told you I am not angry about what transpired with Aegon. Even if I had been, this is our wedding. And our wedding day means a rather fun wedding night, wouldn’t you agree?”

He was evidently feeling the effects of the many cups he has drank thus far.

You smiled at your now-husband. “Jacaerys Velaryon, are you flirting with me? But won’t your wife see?”

Jacaerys leaned over to whisper in your ear, “I’ve heard you could probably fuck better anyway.”

You leaned away and caught his gaze to gage whether or not he meant it as spite toward you, but the look on his face immediately explained that he meant it positively. Being experienced acted as a rather unexpected turn on for your husband.

────── ☾ ──────

“Are you still drunk?”

Jacaerys smiled. “I appreciate your concern, but no,” he insisted, “I’m well sobered up for this.”

You sat on your bed, still fully clothed, in anticipation of the bedding ceremony. Jacaerys extended his hand to you, and you placed yours in his, allowing him to guide you to a stand.

“Can I take this dress off of you?” he asked.

You smiled at his sweetness. “Yes.”

Jacaerys undid all the small buttons aligned down your back and slipped top of the dress down your shoulders, allowing you to shimmy out of the remainder of the rather lavish gown.

You were so focused on disrobing that you had not noticed Jacaerys’s momentary absence until he returned in front of you, holding out a black cloak.

You looked up at him with a questioning expression.

“I am in this for every part of you, Stark,” he explained, “a bedding ceremony in this castle just simply will not do. It is not fit for you.”

“Jacaerys-“

He held up a hand to signal that he intended to continue. “We do not have to. However, please understand that I want to know. I want to experience. I want to feel the freedom you feel in those places. Teach me, Y/N. Please.”

You searched Jacaerys’s eyes for any hint of hesitation or untruthfulness, but to no avail. The prospect of brothels excited him, but he was not one to attend. He craved connection, and he craved intimacy with a name, a personality, a partner. The dichotomy had lived within him, and your secret profession was finally an outlet.

“We must be extremely discreet.”

────── ☾ ──────

You took Jacaerys to the brothel you worked at, perhaps no longer. You had advised him to still maintain anonymity via his cloak, for regardless of the higher safety of your concealed identity at this particular brothel, you were still in Winterfell, and you were still a Stark.

At the allowance of the Madam, you began to pull Jacaerys toward an unoccupied room. Once inside, you removed the hood of your cloak. Jacaerys followed suit.

“‘Tis loud in here,” Jacaerys said, in reference to the moaning and bellowing laughter of collective drunken men.

You nodded. Jacaerys wasted no time.

He pulled your waist into his body, crashing his lips against yours as if he had been waiting to reunite with them for ages.

Your hands instinctively found their way through the curly black strands of his hair, keeping him close to you as the kiss remained hungry and needy.

You managed to escape for a breath just long enough to say, “wait.”

Jacaerys pulled away with a pout on his lips.

“Patience, Jace, allow me to get some cups in here.”

“But-“

“I will not be but two minutes.”

Jacaerys pouted as you began to exit the room, flipping your hood upward.

Jacaerys reached out for your arm to pull you back. “Baby, please.”

The pet name almost stopped you, but you persevered. When you still left, he plopped down on the bed like a toddler in want throwing a tantrum.

You kept your head down as you navigated through the brothel. You saw approaching footsteps as a guide to where you could step, and you had managed to memorize the layout of the brothel by heart. You made it to the bar without having to look at any of your immediate surroundings.

It was not until the Madam approached you that you halfway lifted your head and requested two cups of water and two cups of wine.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

The voice to your right was all too familiar.

You were taken aback by the sight of him. He would appear drunk to the naked eye, but you knew him. The look in his eyes communicated that he had drank to the point of intolerance, no longer drunk, but drinking nonetheless.

Aemond was right. He had not returned home. He had never even left Winterfell.

“What are you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same,” he said, taking a large gulp from his cup, “or is it not your wedding night?”

He refused to look you in the eye. In fact, he had not looked toward you at all. He was able to identify your voice, even with the cloaked barrier between the two of you.

“Aegon, you told me you would leave the morn after whence you came.”

“Evidently I did not.”

The Madam placed the drinks in front of you, and you smiled as a thank you, waiting until she left your space to continue speaking to Aegon.

“Why?”

Aegon simply let out a laughable scoff and continued to drink.

“Aegon.”

“Y/N.”

“What are you doing in Winterfell, Aegon.” It was phrased more as an exhausted sentence, rather than a genuine question.

Aegon sighed. “You mustn’t pretend as if you are unaware of my plights.”

You were not unaware. You had thought of him many a time since your intimacy together, and you knew he had done the same. You also knew that you and Aegon were far past the point of disguising vulnerabilities.

“Is Jace around? Or are you a lone wolf on your wedding night? My little nephew can’t handle you?”

“Do not bait me, Aegon, you know it will not work,” you said.

“No, no, where is he? Is he here?” Aegon stood abruptly, swinging wine out of his cup as he began to spin around.

“Aegon-“

“Is he in here?” Aegon approached an occupied room, swinging back the fabric to see a worker and her customer.

“Nope,” Aegon said, moving on to another room, “maybe he’s hiding in here!”

Aegon swung the fabric open to find his own flesh and blood curled into a ball on the mattress, two workers surrounding him as he lay with his head in one of their laps.

He shot upward the moment he spotted Aegon, and his body stilled when he noticed you.

Aegon erupted into cacophonous laughter, a wide grin appearing on his features for perhaps the first time tonight.

Aemond stood and began to tie a robe around his lean, tall frame, pretending as if Aegon’s interruption and subsequent laughter did not bother him.

“Oh, what a sight! We shall never need comfort of our mother if we find solace here! How sweet of you. Tell me, do you even fuck them, or do you-“

Aemond pushed past both of you, but you gripped his wrist before he could make it fully past you.

He looked to where you had caught him, then up to your face.

“What are you doing here?” Aegon squealed.

Aemond stayed silent.

���I cannot stand you two. Come with me,” you said.

You pulled Aemond along, and he only obliged so as not to cause a scene and draw attention to himself or his brother. Aegon followed you out of pure amusement.

When you entered the room with Jacaerys, he was already shirtless, adjusting his posture on the bed to try to look proper for your return. When he spotted his uncles, he reacted the same as Aemond had, shooting upward to a stand.

You dropped Aemond’s hand and stood across from the three Targaryen-blooded men. Dropping your cloak off of your body, you took a large breath.

“Well, get on with it, then,” Aegon prompted.

“You,” you started, pressing a pointer finger into Aegon and Aemond’s chests, “you two have been sulking and stalking around Winterfell without a word. What am I, your mother? A king and a soldier should be able to overcome their own woes.”

“So you admit I am king?” Aegon smiled.

“Never.”

“Why have you lingered in the North so long?” Aemond cut you off, turning to his brother, “I am only here because your incompetent council sent me to retrieve you.”

“I do not need retrieving, thank you, brother,” Aegon responded.

“I opt to disagree, for it appears that you’ve spent the last several days drowning your sorrows in snowy brothels in hopes you’ll find yourself another pet wolf, or am I mistaken?”

“Mind your tongue and remember your place,” Aegon spit.

“This is-“

Jacaerys attempted to interject, but his two uncles were too far invested in their own bickering.

“Just as well for you to remember yours. What King discards their duty for the loss of a woman that was not theirs to lose? You are but a placeholder, you evidently do not deserve-“

“You speak so confidently for a man in my same position when it comes to wolves.”

Jacaerys began to understand. He knew you had shared intimacies with Aegon, and he had yet to question you on the dynamics present during your time with his other uncle. He had fallen for you rather easily, and would never admit it aloud, but could understand how his uncles could do just the same. Though it left a bitter taste in his mouth, he knew you were much too special to win the heart of only one man.

The realization caused Jacaerys to become somewhat competitive and possessive. “You are both aware we wed today,” he said.

Aemond and Aegon turned toward him.

“Despite my best efforts,” Aegon mumbled.

“Oh shut it, Aegon, you have already had her,” Jacaerys snapped back, “what sorrows do you possibly have to drown?”

“You married her.”

“And I have been cast as the villain, yet you two continue to be the ones to bicker,” Aemond spoke, level-headed.

“Perhaps you were cast as the villain because you acted as such,” Jacaerys shrugged.

“Say that again,” Aemond challenged, stepping closer to Jacaerys and towering over him. Had he possessed his sword, he would have drawn it.

“You kidnapped her, and now you stand here and complain that you-“

“I took her with me upon Aegon’s command,” Aemond cut off.

“Do not transfer the blame, brother. I thought I was too incompetent to be king?” Aegon tested.

“You are, that is why I am to be king,” Jacaerys said.

“Oh, but who sits on the throne, little boy?” Aegon spat, “because it certainly is not some-“

“Do not presume to-“

“You could not handle a woman like this if you tried,” Aegon continued.

All three men huffed in a stalemate, angered as they exchanged glances, all unsure of how to retort.

“Are you lot done then?” you questioned, seated on the bed nonchalantly.

“So what?” Aegon threw his hands up, “you dragged us in here so that we can all bicker? Is Jacaerys truly so boring that you cannot be alone with him, even on your wedding night?”

“Aegon, if you do not shut-“

“Innocent little Jacey, do you even know how to bed a woman?” Aegon tested.

Aemond scoffed in laughter, a smirk painting his otherwise stoic features.

“I must know something, if she chose me in the end,” Jacaerys replied.

“She’ll get bored,” Aemond began, speaking calm and collected, “and she will seek a challenge. Neither of you can provide the level of wit or intellect that I have.”

You remained silent, enjoying the entertainment from the men arguing. You hoped you were right about where this would all lead, you just needed to exercise patience.

Aegon, as he usually did, chose to ignore his brother, and continue chastising Jacaerys. “Do you need help, nephew? I can teach you, if you need, as I know you most definitely do not know-“

“And you do? You do not respect women the way one must in order to-“

“One man forever will never be enough for her,” Aemond interjected.

Jacaerys knew Aemond only said it to get it under his skin, however, despite his better judgement and knowledge, it was working. Jacaerys felt the pang of doubt in the back of his mind that this woman, this free, sexual woman who had bed multiple men, would not be fulfilled by just him.

Aemond could see his words sinking in. Aemond, the most calculated and logical of them all, knew there would only be one way to get you. “Allow us to aid you, Jacaerys.”

Aegon looked at his brother. “Excuse me?”

Aemond turned toward you. He had thought many times what he remembered now: you were the only one on his level. With you, he met his match.

He allowed Aegon and Jacaerys to bicker like children while he studied your expressions. He could tell exactly what game you were playing. You were stuck between three Targaryens, and while you wed one, Aemond believed that it did not mean you intended to tether yourself. He felt as if he knew you too well for that.

“She is my wife now, Aemond,” Jacaerys warned.

“And I will ensure she feels as such.”

The energy in the room began to shift. Despite the years of hatred, argument, and war, you wanted them all, and the one thing they had in common is that they all wanted you. They all had to internally admit the violent truth that the only way to have you wholly would be to share you.

You stood and approached your husband. “I promise to save the sanctity of our marriage for you, and you alone.” You assured him that he would be the only one to risk pregnancy tonight.

You maintained eye contact with Jacaerys as you removed your clothing until you were fully naked.

Jacaerys, despite the dread of critique from his uncles, could not wait any longer. He captured your lips in a heated kiss, refusing to worry about the other men in the room and focus on what he wanted.

You stepped backward until you felt the bed behind your legs. You swiftly turned Jacaerys around, pushing his back toward the mattress until he was horizontal.

He shifted his weight backwards so that his legs were no longer dangling off the mattress, but he was horizontal across the midsection of the foam.

You straddled his waist, tangling your fingers through the curly black strands of his hair as you resumed your kiss.

You grinded against his clothed length, eliciting a slight whimper from Jace in the kiss. Your felt yourself wetten at from the noise; you had been waiting what felt like a millennium to finally have him.

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” you heard Aegon say as Aemond positioned him behind you.

Aegon gently brushed his fingertips across the skin of your lower back, signaling his presence so as not to startle you.

You leaned back down to kiss Jacaerys again, and his hands found their way to your waist. He instinctively thrust his hips upward, desperate for friction.

You felt Aegon’s fingertips leave your skin, and in their place, two large hands grasped your waist and yanked your body backward so that your waist no longer hovered over Jacaerys’s, and your knees nearly slipped off the mattress.

In this new position, your face was mere inches away from where Jacaerys wanted you most.

“Off,” you said, tugging at the waistband of his breeches. Jacaerys shyly removed them, his cheeks flush when his cock sprung free in front of everyone.

You gazed up at Jace through hooded lids, licking a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, before sinking down onto as much of his length as you could.

Jacaerys threw his head back, a gasp escaping his lips at the sensation of your lips around him. His curls were splayed out on the mattress surrounding his head. He looked so handsome; the way his features contorted as he whined and moaned were reminiscent of a sculpture, an artist chipping away at beautiful marble and stone until the features were defined, each chip shifting the features, however they never lost beauty.

You began to bob your head up and down, and you admired the way Jacaerys’s stomach tightened with each stretch of his back or sharp inhalation.

You could hear when Jacaerys inadvertently let himself get lost in the pleasure, because his heavenly sounds were growing rapidly in volume and length.

One of his hands found the back of your head, and he did not apply pressure, but simple kept his hand there for the comfort that it meant you would not pull away.

You felt a tap on the inside of your left thigh. “Wider,” Aemond commanded.

You lifted off of Jacaerys’s cock with a pop, turning your head around to look at Aemond. “Or what?”

Aemond nearly growled, knowing you were too stubborn to not get your way. He swallowed his pride, and through gritted teeth, said, “please.”

You smirked at your success and widened your legs. It forced your backside higher, leaving you on display for Aemond and Aegon, who resided next to his brother in anticipation.

Your mouth resumed its attention toward Jace, and he let out a rather filthy moan of your name.

Aemond ran a slender finger through your folds, drawing more wetness from you. He knelt to the ground, still almost taller than you on his knees from his extravagant height.

His hands wrapped around your thighs as he delved into your cunt, his tongue dancing through your folds.

You remained attached to Jace, but that did not stop whimpers and moans. The vibrations around Jace’s cock send shivers up his spine.

“Can’t,” was all Jacaerys could say to signal that you had to cease your actions, or else he would come.

You pulled off of him and immediately let out a strangled moan. Aemond moved his tongue faster and faster monitoring your facial expressions the best he could from behind you.

You dropped your head onto Jacaerys’s thigh, one cheek pressed against his skin and the other toward the sky, allowing him to watch your face as Aemond ate you out.

Jacaerys could not help but stroke your hair, pushing the sweat-soaked strands out of your face as he watched your brows furrow and lips part in pleasure.

Your back arched and straightened slightly every few seconds as you moved against Aemond’s tongue. He was as skilled as you had expected. His nose hit against you every few movements he made, adding to your arousal.

His grip on your hips was becoming tighter and tighter. He felt a certain possessiveness take over as his brother, who typically got everything while Aemond got nothing, and Jacaerys, the one who actually got you, watched him pleasure you so good you nearly fell apart.

He licked and sucked at your cunt, his grasp on your legs definitively hard enough to bruise as your whines became higher and higher in pitch.

It was not until you began to grind yourself against his tongue that he stilled, allowing you to use his tongue for your own pleasure.

Your ever so slightly bounced your hips upward and downward against Aemond’s face, and the sight just about killed Aegon.

Jacaerys continued to stroke your hair as a reminder that he was there, and he was your husband.

Aemond pulled away without warning, leaving your core exposed and cold. He circled the bed until he was in front of you, but he was still fully clothed. He was playing a calculated game, and you caught on. Knowing Aemond, he would only take his turn when it was the least convenient for you.

You knee-crawled back to Jacaerys’s hips, looking down at his face as you searched for any signal that he was not ready for you.

You took Jacaerys’s cock in your hand, and after a few short strokes, you lined it up with your entrance, slowly sinking down until he was entirely inside of you.

You placed your hands on either side of his head, your back slightly arched as you searched for his reaction.

“Holy- oh my- fuck,” Jacaerys moaned. You had yet to move.

Aegon stood behind you, simply enjoying the sight of you as his cock throbbed with desire.

“Let me know when I can move, Jace,” you spoke softly.

“Oh my gods please move,” he nearly begged.

You appeased him but lifting your hips a small amount before dropping them back again, and Jacaerys lost all control. His body writhed beneath you, and you had to place a hand onto his cheek to draw him back to earth.

“Relax, Jacey.”

Jacaerys took a deep breath. “No.”

Jace wrapped a strong arm around your waist and pulled you into his body, causing your head to fall into the crook of his neck as your body pressed against his chest.

He began to thrust his hips upward, pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. The arm around your waist held you in place, allowing Jacaerys control as he used you.

“Shit- you feel b- better than I imagined,” he sighed out.

You moaned in response, unable to make much noise since one hand was against the back of your neck, holding you in place against him, and your voice fell straight into the mattress.

Despite his own selfish desires, Aegon allowed Jacaerys quality time to feel and connect with you. He could wait another few minutes if it meant he didn’t have to give you up.

Jacaerys pressed down on your lower back, pushing you back against his thrusts, causing his cock to hit even deeper within you. You arched your back and moaned in his ear at the sensation.

You whisper-whined so only he could hear, “doing so good, Jacey.”

The praise only egged him on more, and he began to thrust inside of you as quickly as he possibly could.

He tired quickly, resetting a steady pace.

Aegon took it as an opportunity to touch you again, this time by tapping his hardened cock against one of your ass cheeks.

“Jace, baby, wait a second,” you said.

“I don’t think I can- shit, can ever stop fucking you,” he moaned.

“One minute, my love, just still for one minute,” you pleaded, and Jacaerys forced himself to stop moving.

He gave Aegon a dirty look, so as to say ‘how dare you interrupt my fun.’

Aegon used his fingers to circle your folds for a moment, causing your core to clench around Jacaerys.

He used your wetness to lubricate his cock as best as he could before he lined it up with your backside.

You inhaled a sharp breath when his tip prodded past your ass. He stopped in fear that he had hurt you, and you noticed. “I’m okay,” you assured him, looking back at him.

“Just take it slow,” Jacaerys said, “if you hurt her, I swear to the sept-“

You leaned down and kissed Jacaerys to quiet him down as Aegon pushed further and further into you, slowly, almost excruciatingly so, until he was bottomed out inside of you.

Jacaerys was careful not to move until you had adjusted to Aegon as well.

When the burning sensation of pain subsided, you caught your breathing and told Aegon to be gentle and move.

Aegon did just that, fighting with every cell of his being to treat you kindly, when all he truly desired was to take you as he had in King’s Landing. He moved only halfway in and out, scared that any more intensity or movement would be too overstimulating.

Aegon set a slow rhythm, and Jacaerys gripped your hips to still them as he himself began to move.

You inhaled a sharp breath at the sudden stimulation. You had been in a room with two men before, but had never taken them at the same time.

“Are you alright?” Jacaerys half-whispered through shuddered breath, evidently struggling to speak and keep his composure.

You kissed him to ease his worries. He reciprocated instantly, and became greedy. He cherished that intimate moments like this could be his and his alone, despite what his two uncles may attempt.

You whined and whimpered as the two men fucked you in tandem. The pressure was enough to break you, but you refused to focus on anything apart from the intense pleasure of it all.

Just as it became pure ecstasy, you felt Aemond’s slender fingers stroke your hair. You lifted your gaze to meet his eye, then dropped your head slightly to see his hardened cock patiently waiting for your attention.

You began to shake your head. “No. Not unless the- fuck, shit, Aeg- take it easy- not unless, fuck! Eye patch. Off.”

Aemond stared down at your frame, gazing up at him expectantly, waiting for him to remove his eye patch while your body jolted forward and backward every few seconds or so.

Aegon’s presence was the reason Aemond was hesitant, and you knew it. Aegon had spend his entire life relentlessly teasing his brother for his handicap, but as Aemond looked to Aegon, he realized that Aegon did not even have the capacity to pay attention to his actions. Aegon was blissed out, a way Aemond had never seen when he had interrupted his brother with previous suitors and whores.

Aemond suddenly became violently aware that all three men currently occupying you were in the same boat; Jacaerys and Aegon were no strangers to Aemond’s feelings toward you. Though your relationship to Aemond was different, and his feelings were of different reason, they were present in all of them nonetheless.

Aemond almost felt bad for you, worried that the sheer amount of men surrounding you was much too overstimulating for you, but you hoisted your upper half upward, no longer laying on Jacaerys’s chest, but arms propped up on either side of his head as you looked to Aemond.

You reached up as far as you could, but could not stretch yourself high enough to capture Aemond’s eye patch in your hand. The new angle proved positive for Jacaerys, who threw his head back against the mattress and he rutted his hips even faster within you.

Aegon, ever competitive, felt the change in pace, and met it, fucking you faster and faster.

Jacaerys and Aegon entered a silent battle, each trying to fuck you faster and harder than the other, all the while still consumed in their own pleasure, and never looking at one another.

Your body subsequently collapsed onto Jacaerys. You allowed your body to adjust to the new brutal pacing, and when you looked back up to Aemond, his eye patch was gone.

“Beautiful,” you mouthed to Aemond, and you could have sworn you noticed a faint blush creep up to the apples of his cheeks.

Without breaking your eye contact, you opened your mouth and stick out your tongue, inviting Aemond to take the lead, as you couldn’t hold yourself up without falling straight back down onto your husband.

Aemond took his length in one hand and gripped your jaw in the other. His gaze was harsh as he pressed the head of his cock against your tongue. You closed your mouth around the muscle and he pushed in slowly, bottomed out, and immediately pulled out.

“You will not break me, Aemond, take me how you wish.”

Aemond did not need to be told twice.

He shoved his cock past your lips and began to fuck your mouth in a steady pace, not nearly close to the vigor Jacaerys and Aegon had, but steady nonetheless.

You moaned around Aemond’s cock as you squeezed around Jacaerys’s, and both men groaned in tandem.

“Fuck,” Jacaerys whined.

You could have waged that Jacaerys would be the first to come. He was the least experienced and the most pent up. You guessed that he would have come even earlier had he not pushed himself through a few near-orgasms to save himself from the teasing of his uncles.

Jacaerys grunted as he pistoned his hips against yours. He had no space to pull out of you to come, and he did not want to anyhow. His breathing quickened as the coil snapped in his lower abdomen.

Your head was still as Aemond fucked your mouth, and you squeaked around his cock when you felt Jacaerys’s seed paint your walls.

Jacaerys hit your hips with a few harsh thrusts, using you to milk his cock dry, and the thrusts pushed you further into Aemond’s cock. You fought back a gag as his tip brutally hit the back of your throat.

Clearly it was proper pleasure for Aemond, since he snaked one hand through the hair on the back of your head as he held you in place, and continued to hit the same sweet spot at the back of your throat.

“Aemond, fuck- can you, can you just come already? I’m dying here,” Aegon snapped through labored breaths.

Aemond, completely composed as if he wasn’t currently shoving his cock down your throat, spoke without stopping, “who said you had to wait for me, brother?”

Aegon groaned as his grip on your hips tightened. Jacaerys lay beneath you, still inside of you, simply enjoying the sight of you wrecked.

“I’m not going to finish before you, she finishes with me,” Aegon said.

Jacaerys placed his arms behind his head and watched in amusement as a small bulge appeared where your chin met your throat with every thrust from Aemond.

You forced yourself off of Aemond’s cock with a pop to say, “are you two seriously arguing right now?”

Aemond just shrugged. You turned back to look at Aegon, and his resolve broke. Seeing the look in your eyes as you gazed back to him, his cock in your ass, was enough for him to quickly unsheath his cock and release all over your back.

The moment Aegon pulled out of you, Aemond grabbed your arms and pulled you closer, which pulled you off of Jacaerys’s cock. He wanted you to kneel, but he did not want to hurt you by having you sit.

You remained bent over as you began to suck his cock again, this time bobbing your head and assisting in the work. Aemond threw his head back, and you admired the way his toned stomach flexed when his hips jutted forward.

You ran your tongue along the underside of his cock, swirling it around his tip as his thrusts continued. You looked up at him, teary-eyed and fucked out, and the sight was prettier than he could imagine.

“Don’t look up at me,” Aemond said, “or else I’m going to come down your throat.”

If your lips weren’t around him, you would have grinned. You didn’t break eye contact as you moved your head faster, and Aemond gripped your hair.

“I said don’t look up at me.”

You released from his cock, only momentarily, to say, “after all this time, you’d think you’d know that I don’t take orders from you.”

You went back to sucking and licking at his cock, staring into his eye as his cock twitched and swelled until he released into your mouth.

You remained in place until you were confident that he was completely finished. You pulled off of him and showed him your clean tongue.

He could not help it- he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips. “You’re my only equal, you know.”

“How sentimental,” you teased.

You rolled over and laid down on your back. The sheets felt soothing and comfortable beneath your aching, naked form.

“You alright?” Jacaerys checked in.

You simply smiled, looked to the ceiling, and began to uncontrollably giggle.

“Y/N?”

“Mhm?” you stopped laughing to hum.

“What now?” Aegon asked.

You shrugged and continued to smile as you caught your breath.

────── ☾ ──────

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[minetteskvareninova]

I don't know if I agree with this; Alicent's writing, especially in season 2, is a burning dumpster fire, and some of OP's point are definitely spot-on:

Listen, gurl, they didn't even properly explain what this relationship is about, so her leaving the door unlocked is the least of our worries. Like, if she just wants to get some dick, why is Criston The Honourable indulging her? It's implied that he's in love with her, but she isn't with him, and somehow this is not a problem for, like seriously, WHY DOES NOONE IN THIS SHOW EVER SAY "I LOVE YOU"?! I've never seen a show so devoid of romance that wouldn't be just subtext and mindreading, yet at the same time teeming with possibly romantic relationships. This ambiguity could work, if we otherwise got a good look at the interiority of the characters involved, AND YET. I am serious when I say we have a perfect understanding of what Aegon the Trashy is feeling at any given moment, but Alicent, whom the show presents as an equally, if not more important character, is an enigma wrapped in a mystery.

I mean, at this point I am glad we at least got some development of her relationship with Helaena, even if it wasn't a lot and it was just as messy as everything else. This one is a general problem with the show, in that it is nominally about familial drama blowing up into a country-wide civil war, yet some members of the family are consistently designated as "lesser" and treated as an afterthought in-universe and out. Like even Helaena's reaction to the death of her child is extremely confusing - it COULD be that her relationship to her children and motherhood is dysfunctional in a way that may or may not be related to her implied autism, but how the fuck are we as the audience supposed to know?!

I mean, her contempt for Aegon is at least consistent and understandable? It wasn't very strategically sound, but how in-character do you think this stupidity was is kind of a YMMV in my opinion. Also not to say anything, but she couldn't have known what Aegon would do as a result of her words! Jeez, give the man and his infinitely bigger stupidity some credit!

I don't know what this one is referring to, and honestly I don't think she's THAT guilty, so that's fine with me.

Again, the fact that her relationship with her children is a bit troubled was well-established in the previous season, so I actually don't mind that. And I mean she did try her best to stand by Helaena, so...

I am not sure if I agree; she was clearly plenty politically active during Viserys' lifetime, and was basically the regent in all but name (you could argue that Otto was her co-ruler, but splitting hairs). On the other hand, Aemond is (in the eyes of the council) the heir and a war hero, yes, but also an 18-year old, too young to be a good ruler in his own right, too stubborn to serve as a puppet king. So I could see a potential council member go either way, with misogyny potentially playing a part, but I am chafing a bit against the show seemingly assuming that just because Aegon's council doesn't support female succession, it's a priori against a well-established female political figure serving as a regent. For example, Ottoman or French succession laws were vehemently against female succession, yet both monarchies had plenty of powerful female regents, especially mothers of underage rulers. This is kind of a problem with show!Alicent, who had the chance to gain more influence during her husband's illness than her book counterpart, yet somehow is merely a person with some influence at court, just like book!Alicent. Is there really noone in the council who has, over the years, come to like and respect her (well, except for that maester, I forgot his name)?!

I mean that scene was extremely stupid for a lot of other reasons, but I could rant about for way too long, so I'll just leave it at that.

That one I sort of understand, in that she was kinda done with politics and the whole cause of her nominal faction in general; if she just fucked off to Oldtown with Helaena and Jahaera or whatever, with the intention to sit the whole war out, I'd get it. It's the "surrendering to Rhaenyra" part that I find baffling.

Okay, this is where I disagree with the OP the most; if Daemon was the future ruler, I'd get it, but he isn't, and I am pretty sure he'd have to contend with Rhaenyra if he tried to do anything. Would she come off of this confrontation as a victor? God knows, but in any case, I can see her giving mercy to Daeron, and maaaybe even Aegon - or at least I can see how Alicent might've thought that, even though she literally crowned him herself. But still, in Rhaenyra's point of view, Aegon committed the crime of usurpation, unless they are able to blame the whole thing on the Green Council "leading him astray" - which he could actually pull off, considering he had to be dragged into kingship kicking and screaming! But yeah, Otto is a toast in either case, and so is Aemond, who again in Rhaenyra's eyes murdered one of her sons. Like, Alicent must know that whatever happens, if Rhaenyra wins AT THE VERY LEAST Aemond is fucked. And it's not like Aemond, who owns the biggest fucking dragon in Westeros by far would take all of that lying down, either! Alicent opening the gates of the city to Rhaenyra gives some advantage to the Blacks, but doesn't end the war by a long shot. For Aemond, keeping his faction on the throne is a matter of life and death, and as long as a good chunk of Westeros is willing to stand by him, there is nothing Alicent could do to actually end the war.

...come the fuck on. You can't be serious. You just can't. "Doesn't have the decency to die" is such a stupid and needlessly mean-spirited sentiment. Go to hell OP.

Okay, I can actually suspend my disbelief in this case and say these people don't want war because of some vague sense of noblesse oblige and because even in a feudal system, civil war (as opposed to a war of conquest) is a supremely destructive enterprise that just needlessly devastates your future domains. You're supposed to feed the sheep, not torch it with a big fuck you dragon.* The problem of course is that, as I've pointed out a million times by now, THE WAR HAS ALREADY STARTED. There is no peaceful solution to this situation, period, and the show's attempts to pretend otherwise just reflect badly on the characters.

Those random things were meant to give us some insight into her interiority and I cannot overstate how much they didn't do that.

And your final conclusion on the character is... Wow. No words. Congratulations, you somehow manage to be even less charitable towards Alicent than the show and me, a Black partisan! Impressive. Gold star haterdom. Mahidevran sultan would be proud.

*A reference to the famous Maria Theresa quote "You need to feed the sheep if you want to shear it." Basically, this is how she justified the state-ordered limits on feudal rents and obligations, which were previously the sole prerogative of the landowners themselves. In other words, "don't keep the peasants that you live off of on the brink of starvation".

An analysis on how the show turned Alicent into an accidental villain (part 2)

The portrayal of Alicent in season 2 is bizarre to say the least. On one hand, it seems like the writers are trying to keep her as a "good" character. On the other hand, it seems like they are trying really hard to humiliate her.

First of all, this desire to “humble” Alicent seems very strange considering they’ve went out of their way to portray Alicent as possible by making her crown Aegon based on a misunderstanding, she wasn’t aware of the plan to crown him, she refused to have Rhaenyra killed. 

Second of all their attempt to make Alicent sympathetic or a victim also fail spectacularly.

Alicent's behavior this season is utterly self-centered, delusional and stupid. To the point that it's comical at times

In this season she :

sleeps with Cole while leaving the door unlocked

barely gives a shit when her grandson is brutally murdered. Seriously, Alicent's lack of care for her grandchildren is disturbing, does she even know their names?

recognizes that Aegon is eager to please, proceeds to do nothing about it despite her "intelligence" and later insults him while he's already down and causes him to put himself in danger

feels very shallow guilt for that

doesn't take time to help her children with their grief, even though it's not even like she feels any grief herself that would overwhelm her

never proposes any plan of action at the council, yet expects not only to be taken seriously but to made regent, even though making Aemond regent makes perfect sense since he's the heir and the Green's biggest advantage

has the enemy near her, unprotected, and lets her go because of sentimentality

after not being made regent, instead of trying trying to leverage her influence in other ways, she just abandons, and then soon after betrays her entire family and faction

SHE CONDEMNS HER FAMILY TO DEATH. Seriously, Aegon, Aemond, Daeron and Otto are all dead if Rhaenyra becomes queen.

She doesn't even have the decency to share their fate (since she's admitting her mistakes), she is ready to just go live her best life in peace (where and how exactly, we don't know)

In the show, she is largely responsible for the beginning of the Dance, since apparently Rhaenyra would not have done anything to her siblings if Aegon was never crowned and the King's word is the only claim considered valid, yet she acts all season like she has no responsibility for it and condemns violence (like what did you think would happen when you dragged Aegon to the throne????). Which also feels very shallow because as a youtuber pointed out in their video about s2 of HOTD, just because we believe war is bad, doesn't mean we will automatically buy that medieval characters would believe that. They needed to establish in s1 that Alicent and Rhaenyra care about the innocents, not just be like we'll they are woman of course they care ! That's lazy

Plus all the random things Alicent does while her family is tearing itself apart like getting eaten out before a council, taking baths, lighting candles, swimming fully clothed, which many find boring but I just find very funny in how absurd it is.

In conclusion of both parts of this analysis, Alicent is a crazy, petty, bitter, jealous, self-centered, dumb, incompetent, delusional, hypocritical, judgmental, treacherous abusive mother with no self-awareness who doesn't love any of her children except Helaena (and that's debatable considering she was willing to let Daemon get away with what he did to her, she's more of a prop to her than a daughter), doesn't care about her grandchildren, doesn't care about her father, brother and lover, who refuses to take responsibilities for her action and is ready to sacrifice tons of people for her "freedom".

Which is fine, but then go all in, make her a soap opera villain and make us love to hate her. They could do that by stressing the comedic elements of a character like that, example: Joffrey is horrible but he is often very funny to watch, Lucille Bluth is another good example of a horrible but incredibly entertaining character.

[sukibenders]

Aegon, Aemond, Helaena, and Daeron looking at Alicent after she washes her hands of a war, that she (and Otto) dragged them into, and the throne, that she (and Otto) forced them to grasp/fight over even though they obviously didn't want it, and goes off to live her best life while they are all still stuck in a cycle forced on to them without their input (obviously this is about the s2 final):

[allyriadayne]

We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance in our steads.

[mutter-of-dragons]

One criticism I have about the hotd adaptation, especially now that we're going to see more of Aegon II in action, is that I can't fully buy on his hatred of Rhaenyra because of what happened to Jaeherys. Even him cursing her felt jarring. The writers spent so much time bulding Rhaenyra and Alicent's relationship that when it comes down to Rhaenyra and her siblings, it's pretty much non-existent. And they HAD time to show us that. I can buy Aemond resenting his older half-sister for the loss of his eye, since her son was responsible for it, even though he - and everyone else both in team green stans and in-universe - ignores the fact that he was the one who was ready to bash Jace's head with a stone. So there's also that. Yet, when it comes to Aegon, even seeing the cast's interviews where Tom talks about how Aegon had always resented his sister for being the favorite, why don't we see more that? Season 1 had Aegon barely acknowledge her existence and vice-versa, even when his mother was berating and slapping the shit outta him when he was young. I can see clearly him (and Aemond, and maybe Helaena if she cares) resenting Viserys for favoring Rhaenyra, but not to the point of "oh, there she goes, father's favorite child. I hate her because father doesn't pay attention to me when she's around". So yeah, I have a lot of trouble trying to buy the conflict between siblings that was born out of a plot to usurp Rhaenyra, and a misuderstanding where his son became the target of assassination that was meant for Aemond (carried out by two very incompetent people, btw. Daemon should've tried to infiltrate that goddamn castle if he wanted the service done properly. Not to mention Ser Idiot Incel Crispy being the worst kingsguard ever getting a promotion after his absence resulted in the death of Jaeherys. Oh well, the woes of being doomed by canon, I guess.). If they ever interacted in season 1 instead of just sharing/existing in the same space at the same time, I would have buy the anger, the hatred, the pain. Now Aegon going along with Crispy's plan of sending Arryk to Dragonstone, which failed miserabliy and resulted in both twins deaths btw, just makes him sound stupid. I can't even blame Otto for being so frustrated with him (that would also be another topic on itself).

[emilykaldwen]

MY GUY IS A MESS AFTER THE MURDER OF HIS SON! but yeah sure lets all yell at him and demean and belittle and talk down to him immedietly after that and then continue.

Alicent: I am full of grief and loss, excuse me for not giving a shit.

Aegon: YES SO AM I

it’s fucking crazy how no smart manipulative mastermind in hotd (except for slightly larys) has learnt how to get through aegon with a good 20 years of knowledge because it took me two episodes to understand that guy will do anything for a chance to be called a good boy. literally been begging for a crumb of validation since he was 14. they keep giving him the tough love treatment as if his life isn’t tough enough😭

[atopvisenyashill]

oo, what's the podcast name?

history of westeros! it was their most recent episode “the dragon’s undoing” which was just kinda tracking every dragon fight in terros’ history that we are aware of, and analyzing why dragons were used.

jsyk it’s Thee most mainstream asoiaf podcast, i think they stay away from having more juicy opinions bc of that fame (altho the older guy Loves to be a contrarian about really random stuff, he’s funny to me). it’s not that they don’t have interesting things to say tho, im terrible with remember the dates and names and they’re great with explaining the entire history of a specific subject in a way that is engaging, but whenever they get into discussing like ~theories~ i noticed they never get WILD about it lol they never get CONTROVERSIAL with it.

[doloresabernathypiplup]

“Assurément, je ne suis qu’une jouvencelle et je n’entends rien aux voiees de la guerre. Votre avis, messires ?” Daenerys IV, ASOS

“Par ailleurs, nous dit septon Eustace, le roi accueillit ces décrets “avec courtoisie” et remercia lord Peake de sa sagesse, puisque “je suis toujours un enfant, comme votre seignerie le sait bien, et manquant d’instruction sur ces sujets”. Si ses véritables sentiments étaient autres, Aegon choisit de ne pas les exprimer, et préféra se retirer de nouveau dans le silence et la passivité.” Feu et Sang : Sous les régents. La guerre, la paix et les foires au bétail.

“Vous ne devriez pas vous attarder ici trop longtemps, Votre Grâce. On nourrit les Astapori, comme vous l’avez ordonné. Nous ne pouvons rien faire de plus pour ces malheureux. Nous devrions regagner la cité.

- Allez-y si vous le souhaitez, ser. Je ne vous retiens pas. Je ne retiens aucun d’entre vous.[...] Je ne puis les guérir, mais je peux leur montrer que leur Mère se soucie d’eux.” Daenerys VI, ADWD

“L’autre héros, à la stupeur de tous, fut le jeune roi. A l’horreur de sa Garde Royale, Aegon passa ses journées à visiter les malades, et il restait souvent assis avec eux des heures durant, parfois tenant leur main, ou adoucissant leur front enfiévré avec des linges frais et humides. Bien que Sa Grâce parle rarement, il partageait ses silences avec eux et écoutait quand ils lui racontaient des histoires de leur vie, imploraient son pardon ou se vantaient de leurs conquêtes, de leurs bonnes actions et de leurs enfants.” Feu et Sang : Sous les régents. La Main encagoulée.

Some parallels between my two favourites Targaryen rulers I thought about when I read again Fire and Blood. The quotes are in french because I only have the french versions of the books. 

[princessbellecerise]

Unlikely Places

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

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

Jacaerys Velaryon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aemond Targaryen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aegon Targaryen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daemon Targaryen

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

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

…Including fucking in his bed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cregan Stark

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Benjicot Blackwood

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

tags 🏷️

@alyssa-dayne

[scorpiosbite]

the time actress!reader mentioned obx in her interview

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── while the obx cast were together in drew’s hotel room madelyn in her ever obsession of game of thrones brought up that you had mentioned how much you love obx in an interview. causing them to watch the interview together.

𝜗𝜚 pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey

author’s note: this takes place in 2023 during the filming of obx 4 and 3 weeks after the first time they watched the show together. at this point of my timeline the cast have watched the entire first season of game of thrones.

drew was scrolling through his phone, you had followed him back on instagram a week ago and he was on the moon. though he hadn’t messaged you yet. unsure on what to say to you. drew prided himself on being a confident man yet, your ability to make him nervous through a screen was unprecedented.

while stalking your profile for the umpteenth time he found himself wondering about you yet again. your limited amount of posts made you even more intriguing to him. he wondered what kind of person you are. what things made you tick, whether you would stare up at him with those siren eyes, whether you moaned or whimpered during sex, whether your face scrunched up and your mouth hung open as your chest heaved like it did in your sex scene that hasn’t left his brain since the moment he watched it.

just as he fell into a spiral of thoughts about you madelyn spoke up from her seat across the room, drawing the attention of everyone else, and drew was suddenly reminded that he wasn’t alone in his room. “oh my fucking god! i forgot to tell you guys!” she was staring down at her phone. but drew was having trouble focusing on her, still consumed in his thoughts of you.

the others, however, had no problem driving their attention to her, so drew remained in his bubble staring at the most recent post on your profile, a vogue magazine cover from three months ago, of you, seated, legs spread on the iron throne with the sword dark sister held in your hands standing between your legs, the crown of aegon the conquerer tilted on your head, the lace thigh high socks with garters disappearing under the skirt of your tight mini dress and the bold red coating your lips enticing him further.

it wasn’t till he heard your name slip from madelyn’s lips, was his attention torn from the captivating sight on his screen. “wait, what you just say?” madelyn smirked “of course, only when i say y/n’s name, do you listen.” drew blushed lightly. but didn’t make the move to defend himself, after all they would be right, he had been distracted from the moment he saw you in all your glory stealing the screen.

“what i was saying that y/n mentioned obx in an interview, just pass me the remote, i’ll show you.” drew’s heart rate spiked, the thought of you having seen him in his element, doing his job, made him self conscious in a way that he wasn’t ready to admit. once madelyn had the video loaded on the screen, drew was once again struck by how effortlessly beautiful you are. dressed in simple black pants and an off-shoulder cream long sleeve top, brown boots disappearing under your pants and simple gold hoop earrings, your brunette hair loose and following in natural waves. drew looked at your empty neck and thought how good you would look if there was a necklace with his initial hanging there, branding you as his.

madelyn skipped through the video until the moment you were talking. the interviewer asked you and your cast-mate what shows you watch during your down time when filming, your voice rang through the silent room and drew was struck once again by how attractive your accent sounded, your british accent deep and sultry but more casual than the tone you use when playing visenya. “oh, well mimi and i love outer banks a lot, to the point where we quote it on set quite often. i think we’ve annoyed everyone.” you laughed and drew thought about how he wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

your cast mate and best friend, mimi who plays arianne martell laughed and agreed and the interviewer who was surprised by your answer said that obx was one of her favourite shows too. your face immediately brightened as you watched her intently as she spoke about the show. what drew would give to have you look at him like that.

madelyn paused the video and drew knew that once everyone had left his room he was going to watch the entire video. “that’s so cool!” jd gasped. “i know right? that’s so crazy that she’s seen our show.” madison replied. but drew couldn’t bring himself to speak, he wondered what you thought of him after watching his performance. he wondered if you had the same all consuming thoughts he had about you, about him.

“i followed her when i first watched the show and she followed me back, but after seeing that clip a week ago i messaged her and we’ve been talking back and forth ever since, she’s so fucking cool, it’s insane. i think we’re friends now!” madelyn raved. “you’re friends with her?!.” drew was baffled, how was madelyn just bringing this up, she has known about his developing crush for weeks. “ah, now you want to chime in drew?” “yes, we’re friends and she’s gonna be in la when we get back so i told her she should come hang out with us, what you guys think?”

drew’s heart felt like it was going a mile a minute, he was gonna meet you. what the fuck.

thank you for all the love on the first part i’m so grateful. and for everyone who wants to be added to the tag list i’m figuring out how to do that so please be patient with me. also please send me asks about this au i would love to do like a drew starkey x actress!reader thoughts thing, but let me know what you thought of this part!

[targaryen-dynasty]

SET ME ALIGHT AGAIN.

Cregan Stark x female!Targaryen!Reader (Part 2 here)

"It was on request of your younger brother's small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And now it's at his hands that the haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s giving back to you. And you let it flood you."

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; p in v, oral (fem receiving), angst (?), breeding kink, size kink, size difference, romantic fucking in front of the fireplace, afab reader, post dance of the dragons

WORDS: 4.8 K

NOTES: I dedicate this to @sylasthegrim. You're not only one of the few people I really grew fond of in the short time we truly got to know each other, but since both our minds basically came down to the same idea, this is for you! Thanks for beta reading this. 💕

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

You’ve been in Winterfell for a moon’s turn by now, and have quickly noticed that the ancestral castle possesses a beauty and calmness the Red Keep can be jealous of. But even that isn’t enough to make you feel at home – as if you could ever call a place your home again. Not after you’ve witnessed almost everyone in your family, no matter whether you liked them or not, perish at the hands of each other. 

It was on request of your younger brother, now dubbed King Aegon the third, or rather of his small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And while you’re grateful for the chance to flee the one place that has caused you more hurt than good, riding in a carriage up to the far North like a commoner wasn’t exactly pleasant. 

But how else should you have gotten there when your precious mount died along its kind as the common people stormed the Dragonpit?

For the past month, you’ve very rarely seen the sun – or anyone else than your maids. 

Your days are spent in your chambers, not leaving the safety of the Guest House as you often try to find the sleep you can’t seem to get at night. And during the night, when the Hour of the Owl strikes and no light other than that of the moon reaches Winterfell, one often finds you wandering the quiet halls of the castle. Sometimes one even spots you outside in the Godswood, regardless of the low temperatures that make the three pools fed by an underground hot spring look even more inviting. 

But warmth and comfort are never what you’re after. 

You feel incredibly daring tonight, sitting beneath the ancient weirwood tree on one of its roots. Although there is a thick fur coat draped around your frame, the thin nightgown beneath does not allow you to be kept as warm as one usually desires, your bare feet hidden inside of the coat not a big help either. 

Tiptoeing barefoot through the snow was the hardest part, but it was worth it as it gave you exactly what your body longs for. 

You’re far too absorbed by the reflection of the moon dancing on the pool of black water beneath the tree, and the peaceful allure of the snow-covered night that you don’t notice you’re not alone anymore.  

“Princess?” a husky voice rings out from the shadows, one you’d even recognize in a room full of loud and drunken men. 

Almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, the tall frame of the Lord of Winterfell approaches you without any sudden moves, becoming more visible with the moonlight shining down on him. “What are you doing out here this late?”

Only when he’s stopping not far away from you do you avert your eyes from him to the water again. “I could ask you the same, Lord Stark,” you reply softly. 

A chuckle rumbles in his chest at your remark, and you can’t help the tint of heat hearing it brings to your cheeks. “Indeed you could,” he says. “I have not slept well, and the night has a peaceful allure. But you should not be out in the open without any guards, especially not this late at night.”

You drag your index finger through the snow at your side, drawing a mindless pattern in the dark as you do not pay any mind to his words. “And why is that, Lord Stark?” you ask, a certain snarkiness to your tone. “There is nothing worse that could happen to me than what I have already endured.”

Cregan sighs, and even in the dim light you can make out that he’s scratching his stubble covered chin. “And yet, should something else happen to you, I would not like myself for neglecting you and not protecting you just as I have sworn to the king,” he explains. “Besides, there is a cold chill in the air that I can not believe you are not feeling right now.”

“Perhaps that is the answer you’ve been looking for, my lord,” you mumble. “Perhaps I came here to feel something.”

The Wolf of the North doesn’t immediately answer you. Instead, there lingers a pause between you. But it’s not uncomfortable or feels as though it doesn't pass, no, you find yourself to actually enjoy his company. 

His next words, however, even surprise you as you didn’t think he was capable of it. “Feeling the cold of the snow has its way to make one feel alive, that much is true,” he agrees, and then looks up to the dark sky. “You wish to feel something else than the pain of the absence of the people you’ve lost in this war, I understand… I think.”

His words make the feeling of emptiness, the hollowing ache of loss just worse, while at the same time, he seems to know the feeling of craving pain when you’re just so used to it. 

“This cold bite, the chill that lingers on the skin — no one should want to feel it, Princess. It makes even my bones shake, do you know that? Surely you must be shivering, and we should be getting you inside. I should be getting you inside.”

You know he‘s right. While his words are blunt in nature, they are very much that of truth. You shouldn’t be out here, nor should you want to be out here. There‘s nothing to enjoy about this cold chill and the snow, not when you‘re as sparsely dressed as you are. You‘re not yet used to the chill of Winterfell, of the North. 

Cregan offers you his hand, but you‘re still hesitant to take it. Albeit you reach out, your significantly smaller hand hovers over his, not yet grabbing it. “You‘re not exactly wearing proper attire to be out in this wretched cold for very long,“ he remarks. “Let me help you get up, your feet must be in agony by now.“

“And what if I don‘t want to?“

“Then I will still get you up.“ There is a tinge of amusement in his voice now, seeing this little bit of rebelliousness from you, your strength of mind. Even if he doesn’t exactly approve of it. “I shall simply pick you up myself, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you inside to your chambers, even though I‘d get you quite angry and don‘t imagine you want me to do just that.“

You don’t believe he actually has the gumption to do something like that at first, although you know he’s able to muster a decent amount of strength that would easily allow him to lift you up. But then, you wonder if he would truly do it if challenged. “Try that, if you dare, my lord.”

He lets out a snort of amusement, enjoying the teasing that slowly shapes between you two. It still is a challenge, and as a man of his station, he could never let words like this go unspoken. “Oh, I dare, Princess.” 

Putting forth his arm, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and easily pulls you forwards onto your feet without applying too much pressure. You’re certainly caught off guard by his actual willingness to lift you up, and a squeal escapes your lips before you’re tossed on his strong shoulder as if you are some silly, helpless girl. 

Cregan carries you through the Godswood and towards the Guest House, though you don’t resist too much as you’re hanging there over his shoulder – a part of you is grateful you don’t have to walk through the snow with your bare feet once more. 

“Lord Stark, put me down at once!” you demand with a little twinge of laughter in your voice. You feel so light, much lighter than you imagine he’s used to lifting up, almost as if it’s taken all of the pressure off your shoulders. 

But when there doesn’t come an answer from him, you grow slightly frustrated. “What if anyone sees, you madman!” you remark, embarrassment warming your cheeks. 

“Madman? That’s rich coming from the woman who was willing to freeze to death in the snow,” he says jokingly, approaching the large doors. “Who do you think could see us at this hour, princess? The rats? And what if they do? What if someone sees me carrying the poor princess, who had the gall to get out of her bed after midnight and wander the Godswood while in her nightgown?” Although there is amusement in his voice, you also notice the faintest hint of flirtation laced within. “Will they judge me for carrying her, or would they judge her for her imprudent midnight excursion?”

You stay silent thrown over his shoulder, not sure how to reply. You thought you had a good comeback, but it seems Cregan is one step ahead of you. The flirtatious teasing you’ve heard catches you off guard, not expecting to hear it from him at all. It makes your cheeks flush with even more embarrassment when you notice that he’s actually right. But you don’t want to admit the truth in what he’s said. 

“You mock me, but you shall see there would be much scandal if someone were to see this,” you retort, trying to keep calm as you’re now a little bit flustered by these sudden developments. “Besides,” you say, trying to remain unbothered and nonchalant, “who says I won’t tell a tale of you being the imprudent one?”

“Ah, you little rascal,” Cregan replies with a chuckle, giving your thigh a tight squeeze. “I see you’d find a way to turn the tides and have it end up with me being the bad guy, taking my chances on a vulnerable woman in the guise of protecting her.”

You’re clearly enjoying the teasing a tad too much, enjoying these quick and witty back-to-backs with him, taking your mind off of your grief. Drawing in a deep breath, you hold onto Cregan’s thick coat. “What would you have been protecting me from, Lord Stark?” you ask with feigned innocence. “Were the trees too menacing that you just had to sweep me off my feet to carry me away from their clutches?”

“No, I am afraid it was not the trees that had me worried, Princess,” Cregan replies as he brings you further into the Guest House, easily opening the door to the sleeping quarters with one hand. “The cold was the greater menace, and it had you in its grasp.”

Your words die in your throat when he puts you down on your bed, the soft furs very welcomed beneath your cold feet. You look up at him with wide eyes and a heaving chest as he towers over your significantly smaller frame, and you wait for him to make the next move. 

There’s a moment of silence between you, obviously he’s considering his next words. 

And boy do they disappoint you. “I shall make sure a fire is lit for you to warm yourself, princess,” he says, turning around to approach the hearth on the other side of the room. 

Cregan crouches down to build and start a small fire in the hearth that should last the night, not wanting you to stay too cold. But you wouldn’t be a thoroughbred dragon if it didn’t mean for you to take any risks. And so you get onto your cold feet, the coat still draped around your shoulders sliding down to the ground. 

Feeling a bit too exposed too quickly, you grab one of the thick fur blankets laying on your bed instead and wrap it around your frame, before you tiptoe towards the large wolf kneeling in front of the fireplace. 

“I have something different in mind,” you speak softly. Cregan, startled by your words and your sudden approach, turns around and faces you as he rises to his feet. You reach and bury your hands in the collar of his coat, the blanket falling to the ground in the process, and when you use your grip to pull him close, you find that he does not shy away in the least – if anything, he follows the tug to connect your lips in a heated kiss. 

He brings his large hands to your waist with ease, and presses his body against yours. The wolf feels like he’s drowning in you, in your lips, your warmth, your presence and scent. Wanting to lose himself in the moment, in you, his hands wander lower to your hips. 

“I did not expect you to do this tonight,” he breathes against your lips, breaking the silence. 

“And I did not expect some things from you tonight either,” you reply, breathlessly, voice breaking with every breath you take. “Is that a bad thing?”

His voice is low and smooth as he speaks, shaking his head. “Quite the contrary.” There is a flirtatious smile on his lips, and a playfulness you haven’t seen before in his gray eyes. It’s as if that small spark between you has quickly evolved into an inferno that now burns bright in the both of you. 

It’s a fierce and burning kiss when your lips connect once more, fueled by the fires coursing through your veins. You release a soft whimper with his large paws trailing over your sides, feeling the fabric of your nightgown. 

“If we continue this, I won’t be able to stop myself,” he rasps.

You tilt your head back to look at him, a cheeky grin on your lips. “Perhaps I do not want you to.”

Cregan’s eyebrows raise at your reply, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist once more. He can’t help but feel a jolt of arousal run down his back, which prompts him to release a low chuckle. “Well, if you wish for it that much…” he whispers in response, before pulling you back toward him, kissing you passionately. 

A breathless chuckle slips past your lips as you pull back from him, licking your kiss swollen lips. “But there are a few things we need to get you out of first,” you tease, tugging at the thick, furry coat that’s draped over his broad shoulders. 

“Are you this eager to have your hands over all of me?” he replies with a flirtatious smirk, but still unclips the coat and lets it fall to the ground. He doesn’t mind you seeming quite intent to get him out of his armor, allowing you to fumble with the clasps and buckles, and eventually helps you remove the heavy bits until he’s left wearing nothing but his breeches. But even those are quickly unlaced by you, left to be a puddle around his feet. 

“My my, do you not feel a little too hot still, Lord Stark?” you tease, letting your fingers wander over his exposed stomach. You can’t help but feel warmth creeping onto your cheeks as you see him in such little clothing, so exposed. He’s a muscular man, tall and large, and the sight of his bare skin with the dark of hair on his chest and a trail of it running below his undergarments is a welcoming one. 

Through the linen you see that he’s already hard and begging, waiting for you to take things further. Truly a shame you seem to relish in the teasing. 

Goosebumps prickle on his skin in the wake of your finger, making you smile. You drag your finger along the waistband of his undergarments, hooking it beneath to tug on it. He knows what you desire, and he’s not ashamed to give you just that. “I do not see you so eager to remove your own clothes, Princess,” he teases, undoing the laces in the front for his undergarments to join his breeches. “It is hardly fair you want to see all of me, yet I am not allowed to do the same.”

You take in a sharp breath at the sight of his hard cock, standing to full attention. It has you licking your lips. Batting your eyelashes at him, you’re quick to pull your nightgown over your head, a smirk on your lips. A flimsy piece of linen conceals what lies between your legs, but it’s still enough for him to all but devour your almost bare frame. 

“There,” you whisper, “now we are on equal grounds.”

Cregan takes a moment to look over you, licking his lips at the sight of your breasts fully exposed mto him. He knows you’re no maiden who’s completely untouched, you wouldn’t be as confident if you were, but it doesn’t stop him from appreciating the sight in front of him. 

“Equal grounds, truly?” he asks you, taking a step toward you. One arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against him, as his other hand fists the linen of your smallclothes. “I think you still have an advantage over me, Princess. Because I have yet to see what lies beneath your undergarments.”

Your palms rest flatly against his chest, and you press a chaste kiss to his skin. “I will not stop you, Lord Stark,” you whisper, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. 

“Then let’s make these ‘equal grounds’ a little bit more equal, hm?” Cregan whispers as well. He sinks to his knees with his mouth trailing a path down your body, licking and kissing over your skin until he reaches your navel. His large hands trail over your sides and thighs on his way down, the movement and sight making your breath hitch in your throat. 

A shudder ripples through your body as he tugs your smallclothes down your legs, and while you watch him with your hands buried in his dark curls, his eyes are all but focused on what’s between your legs. 

He drapes one of your legs over his broad shoulder, his dark blown eyes darting up to meet yours, and before you can make any teasing remark, his mouth is on you. A gasp catches in your throat. “Cregan, please,” you whimper, forgetting all courtesies the moment his tongue drags through your slit. There’s no softness, no gentleness in the way he all but devours your cunt, the previous teasing having made his patience run thin. 

Your head tips back in pleasure as his tongue alternates between sliding into you and swirling around your pearl, noticing both options have you grind your hips against his face. The tip of his nose rubs so perfectly against your pearl when his mouth pays attention to your entrance, and Cregan’s fingers dig into your flesh with your body tensing up already, keeping you steady. 

The Wolf of the North growls against your cunt as if he’s truly turned into one, devouring you with all he’s got, the sheer pleasure brought by his tongue and lips taking over you. 

As you look down at him again, you find him already staring up at you, watching you carefully as you slowly but surely unravel on his tongue. It’s intense, but you’re captivated enough not to break eye contact. 

“Gods, yes, I–” you whimper, and fall apart all over his tongue with a shudder. If it wasn’t for Cregan’s paws on your body, you would have lost balance by now, especially with the way he seemed to work his tongue in and out of you faster just in rhythm to his nose rubbing your pearl. 

He pulls away from you slowly as your peak subsides, and with his beard and lips glistening with the remnants of your arousal, how could you not pounce on him right then and there?

He supports his body with one arm placed on the ground and stretches his legs as you push yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his strong neck. The taste of yourself on his tongue makes you moan against his lips before you deepen the kiss. 

Cregan’s hard cock is nestled between your bodies, and you can’t resist wrapping your hand around it, stroking him once, twice, before you shift your hips and slowly sink down on him. 

Muscular arms completely wrap around your waist, making you very well aware of the size difference between the two of you. You’re significantly smaller than him, and relish in the feeling of being safe and protected with him around. You two haven’t been too close upon your arrival in the North, but it seems that there has been a hidden attraction lingering for quite some time. 

You know your hips would sooner or later become sore from pumping him with your core, hence you stick to rocking your hips back and forth with his cock stuffed deep inside you. It’s intimate and slow, but with the coarse hairs around the base of his cock dragging over your pearl with each swivel of your hips, you’re still racing for completion. 

While he mouths along your jaw and the curve of your throat, one of his hands comes up to cup your breast. Rolling the perky bud between his index finger and thumb, the slight sting works wonders to amplify the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

“By the Seven,” you whimper, grinding your hips against him with more determination. 

There comes a sharp hiss in return from him, barely audible between the open mouthed kisses he presses to your collar bones. You’re clawing at his shoulders and neck by now, scratching it despite the sensuality of your movements, and it feels as though you’re even drawing blood. But he doesn’t care about that – he rather enjoys having a woman that doesn’t hold back. 

Trailing his lips up to your throat, he nudges your chin with his nose, prompting you to tip your head back. “It’s not them you need to pray to right now, Princess,” Cregan rasps, a clear strain to his voice. “But perhaps I should take that as a compliment, hm?”

His words cause you to chuckle, and you’re grateful that he’s quickly distracted by kissing your throat again, because otherwise he might have noticed the heat his words bring to your cheeks. “If that is…” you trail off panting, burying your hand in his curls to tug his head back, forcing him to look up at you. The sight of his dark blown eyes hungrily gazing at you sends a shiver down your spine. You feel desired. “If that is a compliment, then I shall have to say it much more often.”

You’re not sure if it’s the fact you state wanting to compliment him more often, or if he’s just not used to having an appreciative lover in general, but your words seem to flip a switch inside of him. You quickly find yourself lowered on the fur blankets, warming your back while the flames heat up your skin and Cregan your blood. 

Nestled between your legs, he’s growing more determined now, the sensual rocking of your hips clearly not enough for him, but you don’t mind it. As much as you enjoy being in control, setting the tone, you also revel in following the lead. 

He’s propped up on one elbow, supporting himself as he thrusts into you, rolling his hips that make his cock drag so expertly against the sweet spot inside of you. 

With one hand, you hold onto his broad shoulder, digging your nails into his skin, while the other gropes at his chest, teasing his bud just like he’s done with yours before. The feeling of his coarse hairs beneath your fingers feels somewhat strange at first, for Aemond hasn’t had as much chest hair as Cregan does, but it’s also comforting. 

The familiar coil in the pit of your belly tightens slowly with his hips snapping into yours over and over again, split open by his hard cock.  

“Will you fill me up, my lord?” you moan breathily, arching your back with your breasts pressing against his sturdy frame. 

Cregan releases a choked groan at the question, and for a moment you can feel his hips stutter. You briefly wonder if you’ve pushed your luck too far, especially with him not replying immediately, until his raspy voice cuts through the heavy pants and moans. 

“Only if you let me take you to wife, Princess.” 

You inevitably clench down around him as a small, hiccuped gasp catches in your throat, resulting in Cregan drawing in a sharp breath. The haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s now giving back to you. And you let it flood you. 

Your hand comes from his chest to his biceps, holding onto it as you gather your thoughts. His hips haven’t slowed down one bit, and he’s truly expecting you to answer as if he wasn’t repeatedly impaling you on his cock right now. 

Staring up at him with wide eyes, your voice isn’t any louder than a whisper. “It would be foolish of me to turn this offer down,” you reply.

An impish smirk dances along Cregan’s features. “Is that meant to be a yes?”

“Y-Yes, it is, “ you whimper beneath him, arching your back once more. 

The warmth of his body, his weight and scent cloud your every being, and his thrusts are determined and harsh enough to render you speechless, your mind and body completely claimed by him. 

His hand snakes between your bodies, aiming for your sensitive pearl. Though the coarse hair around his cock has granted you at least a bit of friction, it’s not enough to bring you to your peak. His thumb circles over the little bud, fully coated with your arousal, and the thread in your belly is close to snapping. 

“Then I just might,” he grunts in return. 

Your body jerks at the sudden touch, but his muscular frame between your legs is enough to keep you pinned to the ground. “I need you… Cregan,” you whimper, bringing a hand behind his head to pull him down for a heated kiss. Your lips hardly part to release whimpers and moans, swallowing each other’s sounds of pleasure without any shame. “Let me give you a spare.”

It appears that your words give him a new-found vigor that leaves you gasping, the pace of his hips increasing. As you start to roll your hips against his thumb, you not only create some friction that feeds your pleasure but his as well. It’s not long after that your peak washes over you with a soft gasp, walls clenching around him like a vice. 

With your small frame trembling between his strong arms, Cregan releases a strained grunt, his own peak being milked out of him by your cunt fluttering around his cock. He keeps on dragging his thumb over your sensitive pearl, prolonging your peak and the pleasure that comes with it.

You stare up at him with wide eyes as you’re milking him for every drop, because there’s something so vulnerable in this wolf of a man, towering over you with his skin glistening with sweat, so desperate to fill you with his seed and breed you. 

The last jolts of his peak force him to languidly rut his hips into yours, desperately chasing the feeling of bliss that courses through your veins. His chest heaves with every heavy breath he takes, and the dark curls are damp and fall into his face. 

Only as Cregan is certain there’s not one drop of his seed left inside of him does he slowly stop his ministrations, and the hand that has toyed with your bud seizes your hips, stilling them.

His erratic breaths fans over your sweaty skin with his lips pressing to your temple. The feeling of being whole with him doesn’t leave you, not when his weight pins you down and keeps you grounded, easing your tumbled mind.  

“I shall welcome the arrival of any child you bear me,” Cregan says, inevitably breaking the silence. 

A smile spreads across your lips as you wrap your legs around his hips, and your arms around his neck. “Be careful what you wish for. My children will certainly be just as stubborn as me.”

His heart is practically pounding against his ribs, and he can feel himself on the verge of being lost by your touch alone again. You make him go wild and feral, your bold and flirtatious nature bringing out another side to him that’s completely unexpected. And yet it feels so right.  

The teasing banter brings a smile to his lips and a light to his gray eyes, your wit and humor shining through. “Let them be stubborn, then,” he chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “They only need to be half as feisty as you, and I shall be the happiest man in Winterfell.”

[entitled-fangirl]

War prize.

Cregan Stark x Targaryen!reader

Summary: The North hates Cregan's wife and shows it rather harshly. Cregan is there to tell them off.

Warnings: violence, sexism, talks of losing virginity unwillingly, the poor reader just going through it😭

A/n: My writing is kinda eh on this one but I got it done which is all that matters. Huge italicized sections mean like a little flashback in case you needed to know that. Based on an ask!

Masterlist

........................................................

She watched her guard lock the door behind him.

How long had she been stuck in this castle?

She felt used. Taken as a trophy and nothing more. Purely a way to show status.

Purely a way to show who won the war.

Cregan Stark had won the war. And now she was his.

He was kind and caring, quick to compassion and slow to anger. If not for the others, she could've seen this as a happy marriage.

But the others made that impossible.

For the door was not locked to keep her in, but to keep others out.

Cregan saw the very actions his people tried against her, and he was concerned. 

It didn't help that all of her dresses were green. A reminder of what had come to pass.

Anytime Cregan's back was turned, something happened to her. Whether it was harsh words, spitting at her feet, or even once a manhandling that almost turned into a mob.

Cregan knew she deserved better. She was kind. He hardly believed her to be a Hightower. At first glance that day in the Keep, he thought perhaps she was Aemond's wife, or another one of Aegon's whores he had always kept around.

But no. Aemond's twin sister.

…

He felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness when two men threw the woman to the ground in front of him.

Her dress was torn in places. Her hair was tangled and dirt ran from her temple to her chin, clearly having been thrown around a lot. She wiped the falling tears from her face with bruised hands. 

"What is this?" He asked the men. Others began to crowd around them to see what would become of her.

The men had only seen prostitutes along the path from the North to the Keep, and even those were few. Seeing a highborn lady was a rare sight.

"Found her hiding away," the man on her right commented.

Cregan sighed and reached down, pulling her chin up so he could look at her. He tipped her face from side to side, observing her. "And what did you hope I'd say when you threw a princess down at my feet? Did you expect me to reward you?"

The man paled. "Well, this is a traitor, my lord. Surely-"

"-Her only crime was the womb she was born from."

"She wears their colors still, Lord Stark-"

"Is she? I can hardly tell under the mud you've drug her through." He huffed, "I want you two out of my sight."

They looked at one another and nodded, moving to pick up the girl again. She jerked back in fear. 

"Leave her," he grumbled. "Well? Be gone. All of you!"

Slowly, they filed out of the room. "Are you gravely injured?" He asked softly.

"Not particularly, my lord," she whimpered.

He sighed and bent at the knee, joining her on the ground. "Did any of them truly put their hands on you? More than to drag you here?"

She wiped her face again, "Are you hoping to take my innocence, my lord?"

A noise involuntarily left his throat. "What?"

"I… It is yours. Just please don't harm me," she sniffled.

Any motion he made to comfort her, he pulled away as if burned. "I'm not going to do that."

"No, no please don't leave me to them," she begged when he pulled away. "Please don't let them have me. I'll do anything."

"They won't have you," he tried again. "Nothing more is going to happen to you. Now, go get redressed and come back. You're not leaving my side until I get this situated."

…

After a few hours, Cregan unlocked the door and entered their shared chambers. "My love?"

He cursed under his breath when he noticed she had fallen asleep on the bed. He wouldn't have been so loud had he known.

He sat on the bed and brushed her hair from her face. "Wake up, dear wife."

She hummed in discontent.

His lips pulled into a thin line. Things had gone especially wrong lately and it had begun to show in her actions. 

"C'mon." He began to pull her up. 

She whined and began to lean into him, tucking her face into his neck.

He chuckled, "I have something for you."

Her eyes opened, "Oh, do you?" 

…

There was outrage when Cregan took her as a wife. The North fought against the idea of having a Southern traitor as their Lady.

He had promised King Aegon III to be fair and just, and the boy said okay, knowing that he would stay honest to his word. 

But the North hated her all the same.

Cregan never considered to fear for her safety, for she was the Warden's wife, and he thought the people would know better than to touch her. 

That, and she hadn't told him of the things said right to her face when he wasn't around. She figured he knew. 

They walked through the city, her arm in his as he showed her around. She took in every sight she could, entranced by the culture of the North. 

But that also welcomed the stares.

Cregan had noticed them immediately, and he flipped her hood up. He didn't care about them, but he knew she would. So by doing so, he was hoping it would bring her a little more comfort. 

Anyone in Westeros would recognize that silver hair.

He leaned down just a bit. "Just tell me when you grow tired or cold."

She nodded, "May I go explore?"

He smiled, "So eager to get away from me?"

"No," she corrects.

"I'm only jesting. Go on."

She grinned and began to look around, trying to decide where to go first.

"Don't wander off too far," he remarked as he moved towards a lord to chat.

She nodded and went, walking a little further down the road. She looked back occasionally to make sure she was still in his line of sight. In doing so, she bumped into a woman harshly.

Y/n pulled back and apologized. "Forgive me!"

The woman set her basket down and straightened her skirt. "Foolish girl. Watch where you step next time."

"I do apologize." She dug in her pocket, pulling out a few coins. "Here. For your trouble."

The woman's eyes widened. She pulled the coins from her hand accusingly. "Where did you get these?" She hissed.

"Well… I… just from…" she turned back to where she could see Cregan. 

The woman grabbed her arm. "Did you steal these? Tell me where."

She jerked against the woman's movements. "No. No, I didn't."

"My lady, is this girl bothering you?" A tall man interfered, helping the woman.

The woman tilted her head, "She's throwing around coins like she's something of value. Look at 'er."

The man eyed her and reached up, pulling the princess' hood down. Their eyes widened. 

She turned to try to catch Cregan's attention, but the man pulled her to him. "A Targaryen, eh? The usurper's bitch sister, aren't you?"

"Please let me go," she whimpered.

"A green traitor in Winterfell? Seems the rumors were right."

She tried to pull her arm away, "Unhand me."

"Shut it, traitor scum."

"CREGAN!" She yelled out of instinct.

Cregan's head snapped immediately, his heart dropping to his stomach. His eyes scanned the crowd, trying to find her amidst the people that had begun to gather. But he couldn't see her. His worry grew and he began to step out into the crowd in hope of finding her.

She fought against the man's grip. She remembered this feeling of helplessness from only weeks before. "Stop! Please… Please, I'll do anything! Just stop!" 

Anyone around them was stopped now, onlooking or shouting at what was going on.

Cregan's jaw set as he figured she was in the midst of it, and he rolled his shoulders back.

"CREGAN!" He heard again, and that was all he needed.

He began to shove people to the side in an attempt to move through the mob that had begun to form. His angered shouts were drowned out.

Luckily, the Northern Warden was burly and built like a wall, so he was able to work through the crowd by sheer force alone. 

Once towards the middle, he finally saw her. 

The man held her tightly by her silver hair. Her hands were trying to lighten his harsh grip on her as she cried. She couldn't stop the others’ hands from pulling at her skirt or the way they spit at her, but she could at least try to stop the pain erupting from her scalp.

"ENOUGH!" Cregan yelled. He finally made it to them, and his hand gripped the man's throat tightly and he leaned down to his ear. "Unhand her."

She sunk to the ground and clutched at her dress.

Cregan kept his hand firm but looked out at the others that still surrounded them. "Leave." he growled through his teeth. "All of you." When no one moved, he threw the man to the ground and turned to them in rage. "LEAVE!"

One by one they left quietly. He looked down at the man. "May the gods have mercy on you, for I have none."

…

"Keep your eyes closed," he chuckled when she almost stumbled. "I've got you."

"How far must we go?"

"Almost there, I assure you."

After a while, he finally sat her down and instructed her to hold out her arms.

A heavy weight was placed in them. Something soft. Something moving.

"Open."

"A dire wolf?" Her eyes widened.

"Mere pup now, but a mighty predator later. I felt I owed you one."

She frowned, "You don't owe me a thing. I… I feel as if I owe you."

He couldn't stop a bright laugh from escaping his throat. "Hardly."

"Cregan," she began, trying to ignore the way the pup cuddled into her for warmth. "You have saved me time and time again. Without you, I would be in some brothel, or maimed by a man without heart, or…" her voice faltered, "Paraded through King's Landing as a true war prize. But I am not. I'm your wife instead. That is a fate I did not deserve."

"But I failed you. I promised to protect you, but I find that I cannot do that as well as I had hoped. This war was hard on my people. While I cannot fault them for their anger, it is wrong to use it on their Lady of Winterfell." His voice grew persistent. "You are mine. You are no Hightower anymore. You and I both know that."

She nodded and began to pet the wolf. "I pray that the North does one day."

"They will," he confirmed. "I shall make them if I must."

"I just don't want to be stuck in this room anymore. These walls are driving me mad," she admitted.

He sighed. "I'm sure they are. But soon you shall have a protector for when I cannot be there." He leaned down to pet the small pup on her lap. "This too will pass eventually."

"Once I give you an heir?"

"Once we have a child," he corrected, "I'm sure they shall be lighter on you."

"And until then?"

He smiled sweetly, "I'll do all I can. Now." He brushed hair from her face. "Please say you like it," he said as he looked down at the pup.

Only then did she let herself truly consider that she now had a dire wolf. "It's beautiful. I just…"

He held a finger up, "Enough of that. I promise you that I and this pup will not let another hand touch you."

She flushed lightly and smiled. "Thank you. I do not say that enough."

He shrugged. "You do, it just usually looks like other things instead."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he looked down at her dress, "wearing the dress that I had made for you is a thank you in and of itself. Blue suits you well. I could name things for all eternity. You are a perfect wife. And I admire you greatly."

"You've only known me seven moons."

"And that is seven moons enough to know."

"Cregan, I am a trophy of your accomplishments."

"You are hardly that."

She sighed, "But that is what they see me as."

"Do I?"

She considered his question. "I don't believe so."

"Then does it matter? I respect you, and with time, I will make sure they do as well."

She nodded and adjusted the dog in her arms. "Very well. I trust you."

He smiled and stood. "That's all I ask for. Now, name your pup and dress for supper. I'll come collect you myself. Is that alright?"

She nodded again.

"The North will like you," he left off with as he closed the door behind him.

She heard the lock behind him.

In time. 

In time.

Either they learn to like her, or they shall meet a Stark dire wolf closely.

The actual dire wolf or Cregan Stark, it didn't matter.

Their jaws would both equally snap at any threat.

.................................................

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[shrimpybbq]

a contended husband is no menace to the kingdom

Aegon being forced to marry his niece instead of Helaena, much to his chagrin. At least Helaena wasn’t a bastard, but now his father wishes to embarrass him more by wedding him to a brown-haired princess and keep him aside. Aegon is so grumpy until he meets the newly-grown Velaryon Princess once more. He underestimated how much of her beauty she got from her mother, and truthfully, she was more comely than he’d expected.

At least he should have something pretty to look at, he thinks.

However, he’s soon shocked by just how much he seems to like the Princess. She’s sweet and kind to him, despite her timid nature. She tries to stay close to him and speak and learn of his interests - only his less than savoury responses seem to leave her crestfallen; something Aegon has found he doesn’t like. He doesn’t like to see the way her smile falls when he is rude to her, or when his mother spares the girl another insult. It’s incredibly unlike Aegon when he first stands up for his betrothed against his mother. He didn’t even stand up for himself and yet he couldn’t take watching the sweet princess curl in on herself anymore.

Aegon and the Princess marry in the great sept, both bride and groom feeling surprisingly pleased with their fate. Aegon has warmed to the girl and begun to feel the impacts of being loved and cared for for once in his life. The Princess has realised that behind the cold and crass exterior of the Prince, he is but a boy wishing to be loved and held.

Rhaenyra comes back for Luke’s petition years later to see her daughter again in person, giggling away with her husband in the throne room. The husband and wife are clinging to each other, the princess dressed in a resplendent gold gown, as they whisper conspiratorially whilst looking around the room. Rhaenyra feels her chest tighten at the small bump protruding from her daughter’s skirt - she had yet to receive a letter announcing this most recent pregnancy. Rhaenyra had wanted to keep her daughter away from the greens at all costs but now looking at her daughter so happy and content, she wonders if maybe her perceptions of Aegon had been incorrect.

(please why couldn’t this man just be happy!)

[just-some-random-blogger]

Losing Dogs

Neither you or Aegon wanted to get married. Neither you or Aegon wanted to marry each other. But at some point, you figured you should make the most of what you had, and so you offer your husband a deal he cannot refuse.

Aegon Targaryen x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, arranged marriage/loveless marriage, smut (piv, virginity loss, rough/loveless sex) DD:DNE, alcoholism, violence, suicide/suicidal thoughts & ideation, mentions of domestic/child abuse, death, pregnancy/miscarriage, aegon's mommy issues, insecurities, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ... i had something to say about this fic but i forgot... maybe ill remember later???? edit: i did not remember. i thought of mitski while entitling this so go play i bet on losing dogs ig?

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @azperja @sloanexx @risefallrise

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

Aegon only truly understood what this meant the day he was married and he was forbidden to drink a drop of alcohol.

As if it wasn't painful enough that he was going to be married to a complete stranger from some house he's never fucking heard of, he was erratic and uneasy the whole day because of the withdrawal. He loathes the preparation, the ceremony, the fucking pageantry of it all.

He thinks it was worse that you seemed to be so chipper the entire time. You smiled with a halo, skin shining with the light. You also seemingly did no wrong, judging by the praises you received from his mother and grandfather. But, who was he kidding, of course they fucking loved you, they chose you to be his prison keeper.

You did not press him once, not when you were preparing for the ceremony, not when you were at the feast, not even after the Queen encouraged you to dance.

Anyone with eyes could see from how he slumped on his chair during dinner that Aegon would rather die than circle around the room to this grating noise echoing in the chamber.

The band begins to play another song and another round of dancing ensues.

He stares at the food on the table. Oh, to be a suckling pig.

The relief that coursed through him when he could finally leave was enough to knock him out. Except, he really wanted, no, needed a drink.

He crashes on his bed, belly down, and reaches for the cabinet door on his bedside table. He feels for his bottle, hand knocking into the corners of the compartment, but he sits up when he finds nothing.

He growls in frustration upon realizing this was definitely his mother's doing. Thief!

"I managed a cup."

Aegon struggles to look over his shoulder from his position. He rolls on his back as you walk to the side of the bed.

He stares at you. You offer a glass holding burgundy liquid. Your voice is soft and kind as you explain, "your mother would suspect me if I took a whole bottle."

Aegon pushes himself up and sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. He gulps at the wine you were offering.

Sure, he may not be the brightest, but anyone could tell this scene was the epitome of ulterior motives. Aegon leans on his thighs, "why are you doing this?"

You stare a moment. You clutch the cup in both hands and examine it. Again, your voice is gentle, "you are clearly in torment. It hurts my heart."

His eye twitches.

I see. It seems you were a fucking saint.

Aegon rips the glass out of your hands, some of the wine spills over. He downs the contents in one go, then chucks the glass across the room once he finished.

He looks back at you, glaring with watery eyes. He was exhausted, he was angry, and he wanted you to know it. But you don't flinch at the sound of the glass breaking. You didn't flinch at all when he showed aggression. Why didn't you flinch?

You press your lips and sigh. You step towards him and reach out.

He nervously straightens up and tilts his head back as you approach. His breath hitches when your warm hand touches his cheek. He blinks rapidly.

"It's been a long day. Would you like me to help you change?"

Again, his eye twitches.

And then he realizes what you mean.

Ah. So, this is what you wanted?

He releases a breath, eyes lowering. Your face falls into a slight frown.

He thinks about it for a moment. I mean, sex was sex and he was game. It didn't matter how he performed, his completion was all that mattered, really. And you were pretty enough, albeit irritatingly good.

When you stroke his hair, Aegon pulls at your skirts, causing you to squeak and topple, hands flying to his shoulders for support. Your faces are inches apart. He pulls you down until you have no other choice than to sit on his lap.

You can smell the remnants of the wine he just drank on his breath. Aegon brings his face closer to yours, and you let out a soft 'hmp'. You mutter, "I gather you don't want to change, but want to get out of your clothes."

He narrows his eyes as you shift on his lap and undo the buttons by his chest. He mutters dumbly, "this is what you wanted."

With knit brows, you retort, "I've not yet told you what I wanted." You shift on his lap again as you peel his top off. Amidst it, he asks, "what do you want?"

You grunt after ridding him of his top. You fold it in your arms then set it aside on the bed. You turn back to him. Aegon's breath hitches when you fondle with strings of his undershirt. He watches your lips as you mumble, "I want you to give me a ride on your dragon."

He furrows his brows. But that's what he just said.

You stand, only to lift your skirt and take your place back on his lap. This time, you straddle him.

Aegon gulps, hands coming to your hips like a magnet. He feels you grind on him; shaky breaths leave his lips in response. His hands scratch up your back and a moan escapes him when your nails trace his collarbones.

"Allow me one trip on Sunfyre, and in return, I'll be your magic lamp," you whisper, taking one of his hands, bringing it to the side of your ribs, "you may rub me where you like-"

His heart skips when you kiss his cheek.

"-and I will grant you all your wishes."

Aegon ticks.

The next moment, he pushes you down on the bed. He doesn't bother getting either of you naked, nor does he prepare you at all in fact. Thankfully, you were already wet.

You don't have the opportunity to ask him to be gentle, to explain you were a bride after all, and it was your wedding night.

Aegon grips your skirts as he fucks you like he means to prove a point. He snaps his hips roughly into you to assert dominance, to exemplify control. Sure, you offered yourself to him, but he was the one doing the work, and you were the one beneath him.

In truth, the pace he set gave you more pain rather than pleasure. And with how pent up he was, the rough tempo he set burnt him out way too quickly before it could make any of you feel good. And when he begins to lag, you start to feel good.

You notice this change and rub your nose against his. He recoils, unused to affection when fucking. It snaps him back into an aggressive trance.

You yelp. Aegon convinced himself it was a sound of bliss.

You kiss his jaw and work your way to his ear, hoping to calm him down. He tenses at the feel of your tongue on his lobe. It stokes flames in his belly and makes him involuntarily roll his hips slower to focus on the attention you're giving. In return, his pace is just enough for him to hit that spot that makes you throw your head back.

Aegon is startled by the scratchy groan that leaves your throat. He finds himself lifting his head to spectate, but you pull him into you by the nape and groan, "like that. Please- gods - that feels good."

His brows tense and he rolls his hips again, finding the same reaction.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, uncaring of how hot and sweaty you were getting. In the heat of the moment, you reach for his lips, needing them, needing something to wrap your own on.

Aegon kisses you. He kisses you with a strange twinge in his chest. He kisses you until he has to pull away and reposition himself to catch his building climax.

In a second, he's back to his fuck-loving self, only self-serving and lustful. As he gazes upon your writhing body, catching the beads of sweat on your skin, the concentration on your face, and the way you chant his name as you part your legs for him, he's overcome by another spirit. To watch you break, to watch you coil and collapse around him felt just as urgent as his need to come.

And so Aegon rubs your clit and forces you to peak first; you do it so well he curses loudly and comes after.

He lays on top of you for a moment, the overwhelming need to be held ripples through his body. He recalls how his whores shoo him away after he's done fucking them though. Before you can cradle him in your arms, he rolls off you.

You close your legs and and watch him strip himself and sequentially change. You watch him get back in bed and bring himself underneath the covers. He goes to sleep.

He fucking goes to sleep.

You feel hollow after this, but tell yourself it's nothing personal. You repeat this as you, yourself, get up and change, sequentially sleeping too. Or at least you try. You have fight the urge to cry for hours before you do.

The next morning, you bring up dragon riding to Aegon, and disappointed as you are, you are unsurprised to find that he was unwilling to give you such a thing.

It was a plain thing you were asking for, you explain. And it's exactly why he doesn't want to do it. It's clearly some trick, something to trap him, something he's going to regret. It was probably some ploy orchestrated by his mother.

Oh gods, he thinks, it's worse. It's a bonding experience so you can make him into your puppet. Fuck. No.

So, he does what he does best, and makes an excuse, "I don't feel like riding today. I'm still exhausted from the festivities."

You purse your lips and nod, "that's understandable. Would you like for me to get you something?"

Wait. You weren't going to argue about him not keeping his end of the deal?

You seem to catch this, considering your response and the way you take his hand. You place his palm on your chest. He can feel your pulse quicken as you mutter, "I am your magic lamp, husband. I wish to please you. I will prove this until you trust me enough to grant me a ride on dragonback."

He narrows his eyes, "you would grant me wishes, all in return for a ride on Sunfyre?"

You smile softly at him, "in return for respite, yes."

He doesn't trust your smile.

"I want to visit the Grey Cliffs. I have for a years now. I went there once as a child and long to go again."

"Why?" he knits his brows at your explanation, "what's there?"

You lower his hand and rub his skin, "respite, my prince."

Aegon pulls his hand away.

Very well. If that is what you want, then he will wear your wishes dry until you find it no longer worth the trouble.

Aegon wishes on his lamp everyday, and his wife sequentially plays entertainer, jester, servant, and slave.

He makes you bring a bottle of wine with you everywhere, and pour him a cup when he wishes. He loathes how you seem unbothered by it. He loathes how you don't even correct a visiting Lord who mistakes you for a cupbearer and simply serve him some wine. The Lord is mortified when he realizes you are his wife, a fucking princess. Aegon hates how you tell the man you were unbothered because you spent your whole life being a cupbearer to your father anyway.

He makes you do trivial tasks as well, sometimes tasks meant for more than one person at a time, and yet you still manage to do them, annoyingly better than the maids. When he demanded you cook him a full course meal, you did so all by yourself, and had the servants looking at you like you were some goddess.

He ripped a hole in his clothes then made you mend it. You covered the hole so seamlessly that he poked a bigger one right in front of you. And even then you don't give him the satisfaction of getting angry. You tell him you will embroider something on top of the hole and he storms off. He overhears you telling the servants, who applaud your level-headedness, that you were used to angry men, because your father was just the same.

You use each of these moments to somehow tell him you were the perfect wife and he had to oblige your stupid request at some point.

But then he found your flaw.

Aegon asked you to play the harpsichord for him, and you told him you did not know how. The woman who knew all did not know something? He would then proceed to hang this over your head. When he asked you for food, he'd tell you how much better it'd taste if he had entertainment. If he asked you to do something physically taxing for him, he's say that he wouldn't have asked you to do it, had you known how to play his 'favorite' instrument. He would use this as the reason why he could never bring you to Grey Cliffs.

It was all fun and games, but then you had to snitch, hadn't you?

"What are you doing to that poor girl!" Queen Alicent barked, making his ears ring.

Aegon groans from where he lies in bed. His mother rips the blankets off him, making him wake in a sour mood.

"She is your wife!" Alicent yells, "not your slave! Fine, you wish her to do tasks for you, tasks for your betterment. But to insult her standing by treating her like a maid is beneath a prince, Aegon!"

Aegon feels his throat tighten at the sight of his angry mother's face, "she is my wife," he growls, "I do with her as I please."

She strikes his cheek.

Aegon's head whips to the side. He doesn't have the energy to look back at her.

"You will no longer parade her as a cupbearer. I will have it decreed you are not ever served a drop of wine if you don't."

Alicent leaves after this. Aegon's anger explodes when the door closes.

He screams and rips at his hair. He kicks furniture around and eventually drops to the floor, exhausted, furious, and hurt. This was all your fault.

He screams again and claws the tears on his face. He slowly exhales through tight lips. His cheek is hot with saltwater. Who was he joking, this was all him.

This was all Aegon's doing.

His breathing is impeded by snot. He walks over to his window and stares at the ground below. If he jumps head first, not even the best maester in Westeros could fix him.

Before he can lean on the ledge, he is paralyzed in his spot by the sound of the door opening.

"I did not know she would be angry with you," you say.

Aegon looks back.

You see his red eyes and wet skin. He is a mirror to your younger self. You feel sick to your stomach. You try to explain, "I only asked if she could find a harpsichord teacher. I did not realize she would take offense in wanting to learn to play for you."

Aegon's heart aches at your naïve response. You were a stupid, perfect wife, and he, a stupid, petulant husband.

"I'm better off dead," he mumbles, looking back out the window. The call of the fall felt inviting, "want to push me, wife?"

You don't respond.

Aegon looks back at you, and suddenly you're only inches away. He tries to evade you, but you manage to catch his hand.

"We could jump together."

"What?"

Your face is blank. You part your lips, and for a moment, your eyes seem desperate, but then it's gone. You sigh, "dying is quite lonely," looking down, "I could keep you company."

Aegon stares at you. Tears stream down his face. "You're mad," he sniffles, yanking his hand away.

He walks over to his bed and collapses on it. He wraps himself in a blanket and feels sorry for himself, and angry at you for suggesting such a thing. Even now you want to be perfect by dying with him?

"I am," you mutter.

Aegon watches as you walk over to him. You sit on the floor beside his bed and look at your hands as you rub them.

"I cannot play the harpsichord, because my father does not like noise," you explain, "I was not allowed to make a sound or else I would be punished."

Aegon covers his head with a blanket but keeps his face visible, "he beat you, didn't he?"

You look at him, eyes melancholy, but still, he is the only one crying, "he beat everyone."

Aegon does not respond.

"I can sing though."

His brow raises, "how can you sing?"

"I would practice whenever he was gone, and sing for my mother in secret. It made her happy... happy enough."

He knew there was more to this confession, but he was too tired to ask about it, too tired to shed more tears.

"Would you like me to sing for you?"

"No."

"..."

"..."

"Would you like me to hold you?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

You stand from where you sat and get on the edge of the bed. Aegon watches as you slowly lie beside him. You bring an arm over him and pull him close. Aegon closes his eyes as you bring him into your chest.

You hold him until he falls asleep. Later that night, he asks you to hold him again. He also asks you to sing to him.

Aegon nestles his face in the crook of your neck. He wraps his arms around your torso, digging his fingers between your flesh and the bed. Your hushed voice reverberates in the bedroom, the song you sing is haunting and soothing. The vibrations from your chest lull him to sleep. You feel wetness pool by your clavicle but you make no note of it.

Aegon asks you to hold him the next morning after breaking fast. He asks you to stay with him in bed and to sing to him some more. When you have to leave his side, he asks to join you and waits until he can have you in his arms again.

Aegon becomes your shadow, and follows you around, under the promise of getting to share in your embrace. As you read and review letters or ledgers, your seat becomes Aegon's lap. He sleeps against you while you work without a fuss, cheek pressed against your back, arms fastened around your waist.

Sometimes, he notices the line that forms between your brows while you read and at some point, asks about it. You explain what causes it, and he is unmoved, as he is uninterested in politics that stress you. But when you read out to him, he finds comfort in your voice and asks you to read some. He falls asleep to your calm droning of circumstances he could not care less about. He groans and groggily awakens when you stop. He mumbles against your skin that you continue, pleadingly so.

When you had to leave the Keep for business, Aegon insisted that he joined you. When you brushed his cheek and explained to him why he could not go and that you would not be long, Aegon pushed you away and stormed off. You left without him anyway, and the treachery he felt was so great, he realized then how he could no longer go day to day without you. What was there to do, if you were not there?

And so Aegon desperately rubs his magic lamp and wishes upon you.

He wishes that you never leave without him again once you return.

He wishes that you promise to no longer make plans without him.

He traps you beneath him on your shared bed and wishes to be inside you. He kisses you and wishes to see you completely bared to him.

Aegon's mind is dizzy as he gazes upon the glory of your skin. He kisses your thighs, your hips, your breast, your lips.

Aegon wishes to surrender to you. He wishes that you undress him. He wishes to pull you on his body like a blanket. He wishes to see you take control. He wishes to see you cast your eyes upon him and lay your weight on his body.

He wishes to see you use him, to take what you need from him, to pleasure yourself, and to make him yours. He squeezes your thighs desperately when you moan out his name. This was much more maddening that what he imagined it would be.

He wishes to feel you come undone around him. He wishes he could forever feel the pleasure he did when he comes right after you do.

He wishes to hold you after. And when he holds you, when you lay on his chest and kiss him there, he wishes to never leave this moment ever again. He wishes to sing to you like you've sung to him.

"What are your plans tomorrow," Aegon asks as he draws nothings on your back.

You lift your head from his chest. He looks at you. You smile, "whatever you wish them to be."

He rubs your back and smiles, "I wish to take you to the Grey Cliffs."

Your expression drops, "what?"

He raises a brow at your reaction. You shift on your place. You straddle him again.

He looks up at you, noticing the line between your brows. He rubs your thighs, "you've granted me all my wishes. It's time I grant you yours." He shifts on his elbows and sits himself up, "it's time you meet my mount and-"

"We don't have to," you cut him off, placing your hands on his shoulders.

Aegon examines your expression. He listens to you sigh.

"I'd like to keep you-- wish to keep you..." you correct yourself, pushing him back down.

He looks up at you, feeling your hands rake up his body.

"...just like this," you finish, eyes solemn, lips curving into a soft smile, "I've not felt a thing like this in my entire life."

Aegon takes one of your hands and places it on his cheek. He whispers it like a secret, "neither have I."

You lean down to kiss him, "I wish to keep like this."

He kisses you back.

He is blindsided by how his wishes came to bite him in the arse. It's all crashing down on him. Suddenly, he wishes he didn't actually do any of those things with you.

He most of all wishes he heard you wrong. He wishes you didn't repeat yourself when he stupidly said, "what?"

"I'm with child," you speak slower, less excited yet excited still.

Aegon wishes you didn't look so excited. He wishes he fucking pulled out, but gods, you felt so good-- you feel so good around him, he felt so good inside you.

He realized the next moment, it couldn't be helped. You were going to have to bear his spawn at one point or another. He wishes you didn't have to. He wishes his seed wouldn't take completely. He wishes you don't take it to term. He wishes he won't have to be a father. Fuck.

He realizes he's been too quiet and you were waiting for a response from him. Your face began to twist. Your smile fades.

"Congratulations," Aegon musters. He feels like he swallowed a metal ball. His eyes wander to your belly. He mumbles mindlessly, "I suppose."

Your face falls.

Aegon looks back at you. Your face is devoid of any semblance of the glow it normally holds. You look sick. You feel sick.

"I see," you say, unintentionally allowing him to hear your voice break. Aegon's brows furrow at it.

He shakes his head, "you will be a great mother," he chuckles dryly, "you mother me so well."

You offer him a smile, but Aegon can see how disconnected it was from your eyes. You say, "thank you."

When you leave him after this, he wishes he hadn't said a word. He wishes he just left it at congratulations. He wishes he just pretended like the idea of having a child didn't mortify him and make him sick to his stomach. He wishes he wasn't so ill-suited to be a father.

Ageon no longer wishes for anything after this.

He no longer wishes to hold you, though he so badly wanted to. He no longer wishes to hear you sing, nor does he wish to hear you read to him. He no longer wishes to be around you, though his body urged him to follow you around like the lost soul he was.

He wishes he didn't wonder what you were doing at every moment of the day. He so desperately wishes to rid you from his mind completely that he drowns himself in his first and only true love, alcohol.

Fuck. He wishes he hadn't taken this route to his room. He wishes you hadn't taken this route to wherever it was you were going. He wishes he just turned around and fled like the coward he was, because then, you wouldn't have spoken to him.

"Husband," you curtsey.

Aegon stiffens and uncomfortably avoids your eyes.

You catch it, feeling your chest tighten painfully. You clear your throat and take a deep breath to steel yourself, "I thought you should know that I will be travelling."

Aegon looks at you.

"I have a ship ready and I'll be visiting the Grey Cliffs. Do not wait up for me."

His face falls. He opens his mouth, but doesn't have an opportunity to speak.

"I thought you should also know that I am no longer carrying."

His eyes widen.

"It's not an uncommon occurrence the first few months," you say simply, "I suppose the gods do not wish me to be a mother."

Aegon feels like a murderer. He wants to say something, to apologize, to comfort you, but he can't. He's too taken aback to do a single thing.

He turns into stone when you take his hand. You step forward and place his palm on your chest. Your heart is slow as you speak, "you won't have to worry about anything anymore, Aegon. Today is the end of our shared torment."

Aegon's stomach drops when you kiss him.

His eyes are glassy. You pull away before he can kiss you back. He wants to hold you, but the sadness in your eyes reminds him he is undeserving. You kiss his wrist, "goodbye, my love. I love you."

His heart thumps as you walk away.

Aegon is manic. He basks in the mess he's made and feels crushed by it all.

He finally acts after wasting so much time feeling sorry for himself. You were long out of his sight by the time he started running. This is why he headed to the dragonpit and got on Sunfyre.

"WAIT!" he screams, just as your boat leaves the dock.

Aegon watches as you run to the edge of the boat. He lands Sunfyre and runs as far to the edge of the docks as he could.

"Aegon-"

"Take me with you!" he pleads, "let me be the one to take you to where you must go!"

You look back. The ship stops. The crew brings down a boat and on it, you are rowed back to the dock.

He crushes you in his arms once he reaches you.

"Aegon," you mutter.

"Forgive me," he shudders, "I... I wish you let me do this for you."

"Aegon," your voice croaks. You push him away, "go home."

His heart drops. He breaks away to look at you. Your words feel like a stab at his thorax. It was presumptuous of him to assume you'd want him back, but it doesn't kill him inside any less.

"I've come to realize this is a trip I must go on myself," you mutter.

He shakes his head, "no. Please." He motions an arm out to his mount, "one wish. That I grant you one wish before you throw me away forever is... is--"

Your throat constricts at his words. Tears rush down your eyes, "I'm not throwing you away--"

"Please," he squeezes both your hands in his, "please, let me do this for you."

The flight to the Grey Cliffs is quiet, save for the whoosh of winds and the roars of the golden dragon you both rode. You always imagined it would be freeing, but only now did you know how it freeing it truly felt to fly. You knew now you'd forever chase the euphoric crush of air against your skin.

Aegon, who sat behind you, looks at your form as you outstretch your arms and close your eyes. Your body presses against him, and in this moment, he is unable to hold back from wrapping an arm around you and sparing a kiss on your shoulder. You are snapped out of your trance because of this.

The Grey Cliffs are dark and gloomy when you get there. Aegon realizes when you land that it got its name from the weather conditions.

He helps you down and surveys the area, trying to make out which part of this drear land was so special to you that you wished to go here.

You catch his expression and squeeze his hand.

Aegon turns to you.

You give a solemn look, "the view is better on the edge."

Aegon strokes Sunfyre's cheek, commanding him to stay before you lead him by the hand to the edge of the cliff. Once you get there, he feels queasy looking down at the crashing waves far beneath him. In contrast, you seem comforted by the view. His brows furrow at the deep breath you give out.

When you look at him, his stomach feels it, the comfort you felt upon witnessing the violent waves. Whatever it was that compelled you to this place was the same force that compelled him to kiss you.

He reaches out for your cheek, his other hand coming to you back. He pulls you close. His heart twinges when you stop him from kissing you.

"Aegon-"

"Forgive me," he cuts, "I beg."

You gawk at him. He brushes your hair which was wildly flinging with the breeze.

"You must know by now that I am craven. I lack the spine and the wit to be of any use to you."

Your eyes water. Your lips quiver.

"I would be a hopeless father, worse than my own, no doubt."

"Aegon," you babble as sobs overtake you.

Aegon, himself, succumbs to tears. He wipes the ones streaming down your face before taking a breath, "but you made me feel a love I do not deserve."

You swallow a heavy lump in your throat.

"I love you," he confesses.

"No," you pierce his heart. You shake your head in disagreement, "Aegon, this is a mistake. Bringing you here was a mistake."

"No!" he blurts louder than needed, "this was a choice," he looks down, "I choose to rip my insides out for you to devour. I am miserable, much more in the heat of your hate, but most of all without you."

His downturned eyes land on your face when you grab his wrists. You croak, "I do not hate you."

Aegon is not relieved by the admission, but he chooses to believe you mean it. He smiles softly, "good."

"But I do hate this life I live."

He clenches his jaw. Of course you do.

"You saved me," you press a hand on his cheek, taking your turn to wipe his tears, "even if for a moment."

"I made you miserable."

You chuckle. The sound makes his heart skip.

"You filled my life with purpose," you smile softly, "even when you did not mean to."

Aegon knits his brows deeply and takes your hands. He brings them to his lips and kisses them.

"But accidents happen. You must remember that accidents happen all the time."

Aegon shakes his head, "this is not an accident. Believe me when I say I chose to do this, I- ... I choose to love you."

You sob and turn to your feet.

"Please... believe me."

You sniffle and nod, slowly looking up at him, "I believe you."

You lunge into his arms and seal him into a tight hug. He hugs you back like it's his only way of surviving.

A crack of thunder startles Sunfyre. He becomes restless and steals away Aegon's attention, panicked that he might flee and leave them here.

He pulls away and takes a step towards her. He holds your hand, urging you to follow, "we should go before it rains."

You hug him from behind and press your face into his back, "thank you for taking me on Sunfyre."

"It was a long time coming."

"I've always wondered what it would be like to fly. And now that I know how peaceful it is, I'm ready to fly one last time."

He turns to you as you slowly come to his side. You hold his hand. He looks at you as you turn to Sunfyre. He promises, "I will take you on dragonback as many times as you wish."

You smile, but your eyes are fixed on his dragon. You release his hand and wrap your arms around yourself, "he is beautiful. You must never tire looking at him."

Aegon gazes upon Sunfyre. He takes in his golden scales and has newfound appreciation.

You take a step back.

"He is. To be honest, it's been long since I, myself, took him out of the pit. He must enjoy this day as much as you do."

"Aegon, you must understand that what I have to say has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me."

Aegon turns to you. He watches you tighten your arms around yourself. You must be cold. He rubs your shoulders.

You shake your head and turn him back to his dragon, "look at Sunfyre."

He knits his brows, "I'm looking."

"For so long," you release him, "I've wanted to fly free, to find my peace here in the cliffs. This was before I even met you." You point at the golden dragon, "I choose to love you too, but accidents happen, like if Sunfyre were to fly away, and you were to be left here alone."

Aegon stares at his ride for a moment as you lower your hand. He tries to makes sense of your words, but he cannot for the life of him understand.

He sighs, "what accident? Why do you keep-"

Aegon is flooded by confusion when he turns and finds you nowhere behind him. A split second later, he lets a horrified scream and the fear that claws into him makes his knees buckle. He crumbles to the ground and crawls to the edge of the cliff. He screams so loud that Sunfyre roars back and comes towards him.

Aegon watches as the red seafoam bubbles at the foot of the cliff. He watches as the crimson waves slowly slosh back into its original tint.

Rain begins to pour, and his tears taste no longer salty.

Was this the flying you ached for? Was this the relief you sought?

When he returns to King's Landing, dripping wet, he breaks down in front of his mother, weeping as he clutched his skirts.

Queen Alicent is obviously disturbed. She instructs her servants to get his son a change of clothes and some towels. She looks down at him, "what's happened? What's wrong, Aegon?"

"An accident-" he barely manages to say, "there's been an accident."

"An accident?!"

Aegon's mind goes blank. A bitter taste

You don't know what you have until it's gone.