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roosterforme · 8 months ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him.

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it.

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

--------------------------

You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing.

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject.

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!"

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back.

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment.

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it.

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you.

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

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It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her.

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it.

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt.

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email.

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You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind.

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him.

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions.

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight.

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now.

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now.

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

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This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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vivid-dreamscapes · 5 months ago

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Dragon King!Bakugou, who spent many night in secret with you before finally proposing, marrying you within the month after.

Dragon King!Bakugou, who is worried you’ll feel pressured to do the after-marriage consummation ritual, so he doesn’t bring it up. But his soreness certainly do—with good intentions, of course.

Dragon King!Bakugou, who makes sure the night is perfect, having spent the day preparing everything, making sure the room was arranged to his liking. The room you two had spent so many nights before had transformed, practically gleaming with the flicker of firelight from candles and scented incense. Soft silk sheets laid over the king's bed, the room filled with the sweet scent of roses. Even a small table filled with fruit and water to replenish energy midway through sits at the beside.

Dragon King!Bakugou, who waited for you in the room patiently and calmly, but internally freaked out. After all, he was nervous about preforming this ritual with you. Not just because not most people lived through having sex with dragon royalty (yes that idea came from the webtoon The Dragon Kings Bride), but because it was you.

Dragon King!Bakugou, whose eyes immediately widened once you entered the room. They drank in the traditional consummation nightgown you had been fitted into, consisting of silky white lace that hugged every contour of your body. The bodice of the dress embroidered with elaborate patterns, the material dipping low on your chest, revealing a tantalizing amount of skin. The back of the gown completely exposed, the delicate lace wrapping around to the front in the form of a tie. Your hair adorned in flowers of his favorite variety.

Dragon King!Bakugou, who has a traditional consummation outfit of his own, a set of clothing that could only be described as borderline ancient. A simple robe of deep red and black silk drapes his shoulders, leaving his toned chest exposed. Loose, dark silk pants of the same material hang low on his hips. His arms completely bare, showcasing the intricate tattoos that wrapped around them in swirling designs. His servants had even taken the time to weave a strand of pearls through his hair. The overall image he portrays can only be described as dangerously attractive.

Dragon King!Bakugou, who informs you without a second thought that you look like a goddess. When your reply is ‘don’t insult the deities like that’, he smirks and steps closer. “Careful, my lady. Blasphemy is a very serious offense."

Dragon King!Bakugou, who sees your nervousness and guides you to the bed, hand in yours.

Dragon King!Bakugou, who lays you down on the scarlet silk sheets with a surprising gentleness for being the King of dragons.

Dragon King!Bakugou, who smiles upon hearing your a virgin, his response mumbled it or he skin of your neck as his calloused fingers brush over you collarbone, taking down the nightgown. "So, you're a virgin, my lady. The gods have clearly favored me tonight."

Dragon King!Bakugou, who starts off slow with kissing and touching, only to find out your maids had done him the favor of recommending you don’t wear underwear in the first place

Dragon King!Bakugou, who fucks you so hard your left gasping and begging, even as he tries to do it slowly so he won’t kill you.

Dragon King!Bakugou, who in the morning is left with a very alive you, curled up naked in his arms.

Dragon King!Bakugou, who opens the door with a surprisingly happy look on his face, only to find the entire castle staff waiting to hear if you’re alive or not, raising an eyebrow lazily. “Calm down. They aren’t dead. They’re…they’re fine. A little sore, but otherwise fine.”

Dragon King!Bakugou, who falls in love on sight with the little baby prince that exists nine months later as proof of the ritual having worked.

#mha #my hero academia #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #bakugou mha #dragon king bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou x you #bnha fanfiction

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angelltheninth · 2 months ago

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House of the Dragon Men + Pushing Strands of Their Hair Out of Their Face

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Harwin Strong x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, domestic bliss, kissing, subtle affection, gentle touches, hand kisses

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: Wanna be cute and domestic with these not very stable men.

Daemon allows himself a rare moment where he melts into your touch, a rare moment where he is fully relaxed. It's only under your hands that he gets like this, when you're alone in his bedchambers, away from prying eyes for which he as to be a merciless Prince. He smiles when your hand brushes against his skin before he shifts his body to cover yours, cuddling up to you. Although he might be on top of you he will let you do anything you want to him, with the way you're touching him right now, he would burn the world at your command.

Aemond pulls back, surprised when you run your hands through his hair and off his eye. This is a surprisingly sweet gesture for the activities you're doing, eagerly trying to pull each other's clothes off but here you are, almost making him laugh with how unexpectedly sweet you're being right now. Well he can be just as sweet to you, switching his kisses from hard and demanding to sweet and soothing, slowing down to take in this moment and everything about you, your touch, the feeling of your fingers, unwinding his hair before you tighten your hold and angle him down.

Harwin grins and holds still for but a moment before he turns his head and kisses your hands in gratitude. It isn't needed for something as small as this but as your betrothed and your protector he has to be chivalrous whenever he can, playing up the role of a knight to his princess. While busy kissing one hand he doesn't notice the other, brushing his hair back from his forehead for you to plant a firm kiss there, but he does sigh as you do so, his lips pressing against your pulse point harder, not wanting to let you go until you tell him to.

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flowerandblood · 3 months ago

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The Price of Pride (10/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: loss of virginity, dubcon, sex content, unprotected sex, oral sex, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power, manipulation, violence ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

"Where are you?" She asked, looking down at the large family tree spread out in front of her face, lying comfortably between his legs, leaning against his hard torso. They were both bare; to her surprise, she quickly got rid of the feeling of embarrassment when he exposed her body.

The evenings in King's Landing were hot, so they were both relieved to be lying in the cool evening breeze on his bed, the back of her head resting against his shoulder. She heard him hum under his breath as he pointed his finger at one of the last lines which, indeed, was signed with his name.

Aemond Targaryen.

"And you are here." He added, moving his finger sideways to another line.

"Unbelievable." She said surprised, feeling for some reason joy and pride that she was included in this great lineage, somehow thinking that since her father had forgotten her, so had everyone else.

"You are a Targaryen. This is your heritage as well." He said lightly, leaning in, his full lips placing a soft, gentle kiss on her bare shoulder.

She swallowed hard, feeling pain at his words.

"My father would disagree with you." She said regretfully, tracing a line with her finger down from herself, to her father, to his father, and then to his grandfather.

She blinked, seeing that almost every one of them had married their sisters.

"Good gods." She muttered, going lower and lower, seeing that the pattern repeated surprisingly often.

She heard him chuckle behind her, his arms embracing her tighter around the waist.

"Brothers love their sisters. It's natural." He murmured, the tip of his long nose sinking into her soft cheek, his free hand slowly rising higher to squeeze her plump bosom.

He loved touching and looking at her breasts – his hands and mouth kept returning to them. He wouldn't let her cover them in his presence – they were clearly the most perfect example of femininity to him.

Their shape, their softness, the way they melted between his fingers in the morning when they slept in each other's embrace and he involuntarily sought them out with his hand made him purr like a cat.

She was also involuntarily learning other things that he clearly enjoyed with each passing day, though he never spoke of it aloud.

When they were outside, he liked her hair to be braided the way Visenya wore it according to legends, when her body was framed by a riding, leather garment, emphasising her girlish curves.

It stimulated his imagination, but also gave him a sense of closeness by the fact that they looked so similar.

As long as they were among other people, she never approached him or spoke to him first – even when she was practicing archery in the same courtyard where he and Criston Cole were sparring, she didn't disturb them.

She knew he didn't wish it – the example of Lady Floris had shown her what happened when someone kept invading his space and forced him into a proximity he wasn't comfortable with.

She felt his gaze on her, saw in his healthy eye that he was thinking only of what he had done to her during the night and what he would do to her in the evening, that he would summon her again, unable to deny himself the warmth of her body in his bed.

The situation changed completely when she crossed the threshold of his chamber and they were left alone behind a closed door.

He liked to sink his hands into her curls, so her hair had to be loose, on her body only her nightgown and a thin robe – he knew that no one but him had ever seen her in such a negligee, slowly slipping off all parts of her attire, leaving her bare and exposed at last.

It wasn't long before he was joining her, though then he was always vigilant and tense – most notably when she pulled off his eye patch. He watched her then with a stony face, as if for some reason he was afraid to see a smirk of mockery or anything else that would be proof that she was deceiving him, she, however, was entranced by the beautiful blue sapphire shining in his eye socket in the candlelight.

She loved untying the black ribbon from his long white hair.

"– you look like a demigod –" She whispered once without thinking as they lay side by side on his bed, looking at each other, panting heavily after their intense closeness.

She saw that he froze, his eye grew large in disbelief, his lips pressed into a thin line in shame.

"– what do you mean? –" He asked, lying on the bedclothes on his stomach as she did, their heads lying so close together that their noses were almost touching.

She lifted her hand and combed gently through strands of his smooth hair.

"– when your beautiful snow-white hair is loose – you look like some kind of heavenly being with your bright eyes – your face and muscular figure remind me of sculptures of ancient warriors carved in marble –" She muttered in shame, wondering what had occurred to her to say such a thing, her fingers ran over his cheekbone, her gaze fixed on his jaw.

She heard him swallow loudly, looking at her in a way she rarely saw, only when he was surprised and completely vulnerable – his pupil was large, his gaze warm, his expression gentle, his full lips parted slightly in disbelief.

She moved closer to him and cuddled her face into his shoulder, feeling like a fool after what she had said, thinking that he must surely have felt embarrassment at her words, that he would never let her stay in his bed again.

He, however, embraced her and snuggled her into his body, stroking her soft dark curls, her back and her buttocks with his broad hands, gently kissing the top of her head again and again.

He answered her nothing, but that night he did not allow her body to move away from his even a little, keeping her locked in his embrace – she smiled involuntarily feeling that each time he awoke he checked that she was covered in fur and brushed her shoulder with his fingertips, returning to sleep.

Although she had to get through the thick, high wall he had created around his heart each evening, their mornings were sweet and tender.

She was always awakened by the touch of his soft, moist lips on her forehead, his thumb stroking her cheek, his warm breath indicating that he had been awake for some time but wasn't going to get up for a while yet, wanting to enjoy her closeness.

"– hāedar –" He murmured at last, running his hand down her bare back, gliding his fingers as if he were treading water with them.

"– no – just a little longer –" She whispered pleadingly, and he merely hummed under his breath and cuddled her tighter into his chest, allowing her to remain in his embrace.

She usually left before the servants brought him his morning meal – she knew that he would probably let her eat with him if she so wished, it even seemed to her that a part of him would enjoy it, however, she did not want to cross the line.

There was more gossip about them than both of them would have liked anyway.

The fact that news was spreading through the Red Keep like the wind she saw in the displeased look Criston Cole turned towards her as she passed him in the corridor.

"Is the Prince hurting you, my Lady? He is frightening and cold in manner, I am afraid to look at him." Said Lysa, weaving her hair into a braid, her riding attire on her body as it was her turn to fly on patrol around King's Landing.

She involuntarily smiled at her words, feeling a pleasant pulsing between her thighs at the memory of what she had done to him the night before.

The sweet, boyish moan he had let out when he had come deep in her mouth.

She was convinced that she would eventually vomit or suffocate, shocked by the sensation and how much pleasure it gave him, his gaze full of disbelief and fulfilment, his tender arms that embraced her, his lips kissing her forehead.

Gōntan nyke ōdrikagon ao, zaldrītsos?

Did I hurt you, little dragon?

Little dragon.

She liked it when he called her that.

Little dragon, little sister, sweet girl.

He did it to reward her, when he wanted to be tender and gentle, when, satisfied and fulfilled, he fell asleep beside her in a warm bed.

"He doesn't hurt me. On the contrary, I enjoy the time spent in his company. Unlike Ser Criston Cole, who, it seems to me, despises me." She said lightly, casting her a meaningful glance in the reflection of the mirror.

Lysa blinked and furrowed her brow.

"Ser Criston should despise himself above all. He and the Queen only pretend to be humble and full of virtue by day, spending all their nights with each other." She said disapprovingly, and she involuntarily burst out laughing.

"How do you know such things?"

Lysa smiled mockingly.

"Servants know everything, my Lady. You at least don't pretend to be someone you're not." She said and paused as the door to her chamber opened suddenly.

Prince Aemond stepped inside with a confident, lazy stride, erect and proud, not even bestowing a single glance on Lysa.

"Leave us." He commanded, towering over her figure seated in a chair.

Lysa bowed to him, pale, and left quickly without a word.

She blinked, looking straight into his face without fear, waiting for him to convey to her what he had come to her with.

"Today I will be patrolling the skies. We have received reports that a dragon has been seen nearby. It will be safer if me and Vhagar check it first." He said calmly, and she nodded, thinking he didn't need to explain himself to her or come in his own person to tell her this.

He could have simply sent his servant to her.

But he decided otherwise, and she didn't mind.

"Very well. So I will stay and repeat what you taught me last night." She said softly, smiling involuntarily when she saw that his pupil had turned dark, his lips parted slightly at the memory of what she had done to him.

He knew she had teased him.

He took a step towards her, and then another, making her have to lift her head higher to look at his face. She swallowed quietly, feeling a pleasant shiver run through her warm cunt as he ran his thumb over her cheekbone, looking at her as if he was thinking about something.

"Alone? How will you know you're not making the same mistakes? Who will guide you?" He asked softly, cocking his head to the side, his breath deeper and louder.

She looked down and saw that even though the material of his tunic covered that part of his body, his erection had swollen all over, forming a bulge.

She swallowed hard as she saw his hands slide down to his belt, which he undid with a loud click and then did the same to the buckles of his tunic, causing her to breathe louder and louder, feeling both terror and arousal at the same time.

"– do not fret – easy – I acted a little exaggerated last night – you surprised me –" He gasped, untying his breeches with his long fingers, releasing his hard, swollen manhood.

It seemed absurd to her, but his words soothed her.

For some reason, she knew he regretted letting his emotions take over.

She leaned in, gently grasping the base of his throbbing cock, the skin of it soft and delicate, placing a warm, gentle kiss on the pink head of it.

He sighed, sinking the fingers of his hands into her hair, holding her close to his lower abdomen, rubbing his length against her face – she slid her tongue out, running the tip of it over the skin of his fat erection, and he swallowed loudly, trying not to make any humiliating sound.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on his scent, thinking in the back of her mind that he had taken a bath before he came to her – she felt the pleasant, warm throbbing of her womanhood coming to the satisfying conclusion that he had planned this.

He was unable to last into the evening.

"– mmm – yes – just like that – take your time –" He whispered, as if how gentle, slow and tender her caresses were gave him even more pleasure, the thought that she wasn't doing this out of obligation, that she wasn't disgusted by him or despised him.

No.

Her feelings for him were complicated, but deep.

She opened her eyes as her lips traveled up his erection, squeezing it at the root with lazy, sure strokes from which it hardened like rock – she met his eyes, his gaze hot and misty, his lips parted wide in an exasperated breath.

He wanted it, she could feel it in the soft roll of his hips, begging wordlessly for her to let him inside her.

She closed her eyes and spread her mouth wide, leaning lower – she heard his loud sigh as the tip of his length hit the back of her throat. His fingers clenched tighter in her hair, responding to her movements as she began to suck on his manhood, following his advice breathing loudly through her nose in an attempt to control her gag reflex.

His hips began to force his erection deep between her moist lips with slow, steady thrusts, as if he wanted to savour what he was just looking at, her tongue trailing lazily over the delicate structure of his manhood full of his pulsing veins.

"– yes – oh, gods, hāedar –" He exhaled, tilting his head back, speeding up involuntarily with a loud grunt of delight, his thick cock throbbing all over in her mouth, disappearing between them again and again with loud clicks of her saliva.

She could have hurt him, she could have bitten him, squeezed him harder and caused him pain, humiliated him, destroyed him as a lover and a man.

But she didn't.

She was wet.

Her hand began to stroke the base of his manhood harder when she felt it begin to pulse aggressively deep in her throat, clearly close to fulfillment.

"– fuck – fuck, don't stop, don't stop –" He muttered, panting loudly, chasing his peak, his hips with sharp, fast thrusts slamming between her swollen, wet lips with her moan of exertion.

She felt tears run down her cheeks, one of her hands clenched on his cock and the other on the material of his tunic, thinking that she would endure this, that she would give him what he desired and fulfill his fantasy.

"– y-yes – yes, gods, swallow, swallow, swallow –" He commanded with a loud groan of pleasure, and she felt his seed spill over her tongue – this time she knew what to expect and immediately swallowed his spend, and then again and again, breathing hard through her nose, feeling her heart pounding like mad.

His release was sticky and slightly salty, like nothing she'd ever tasted before.

It tasted like sin.

His hips stilled between her lips, his half-hard manhood throbbing greedily deep in her mouth while they both breathed hard, trying to calm themselves. She heard him swallow hard and then he gently slid his length out of her with a loud smack.

She didn't know why she tightened her hands on his back and hugged herself to his stomach, why she felt warmth when he froze and then embraced her slowly, snuggling her into him, stroking her hair with his fingers.

"– I haven't wasted a drop this time –" She cooed, smiling with amusement and she heard him snort with laughter, surprised apparently by her directness and the fact that his approach didn't scare her at all.

"– indeed – I'm afraid I'm going to make more use of those moist lips – and in return –" He gasped and didn't finish, running his fingertips over her bare neck making her leaking, twitching cunt pulsate around nothing.

"– I'm wet –" She whispered and felt his manhood respond before he could react in any way, throbbing hard, pushing between her breasts.

"– how much? –" He breathed out, clamping his fingers down on her flesh, as if her words meant he couldn't just leave it like that.

"– very much, lēkia – my womanhood is all soaked and pulsing with pain –" She mumbled, snuggling into him tighter, feeling her nipples harden all over at her own words.

In a moment, he lifted her from her seat and pushed her onto the table, forcing her to lie down on it – it wasn't a comfortable position, but she didn't think much of it when she spread her thighs in front of him and let his hands undo the ties of her breeches.

He leaned over her, looking down at her with his lips parted in lust, his gaze dark and filled with something that both terrified and attracted her at the same time – she moaned involuntarily, writhing before him and as he rested one hand against her head and slid the other under the material of her trousers, sinking his fingers into her leaking, swollen cunt.

"– quiet – good gods – so wet just from sucking my cock – you have no fucking shame –" He hissed coldly, and she threw her head back as his fingertips immediately pushed against her quivering slit, invading her insides, hitting her sweet spot again and again with aggressive, sharp thrusts.

"– oh gods, oh gods, ah, lēkia, yes –" She whimpered, clamping her hand on his arm wanting more, more, harder.

"– shut the fuck up –" He growled through clenched teeth, quickening his pace – she saw out of the corner of her eye, looking down, that his manhood was thick and hard again, sticking out from between the fabric of his breeches.

"– lēkia – help me – save me –" She mewled, feeling her hot, fleshy walls begin to tighten around his fingers, his sigh of satisfaction and desire making her feel that she was close, so close.

"– come on – soak my fingers – please your brother –" He breathed out and she came with a loud, girlish cry of delight, feeling tears of relief run down her face as wonderful waves of fulfilment shook her body, a pleasant tingling in her fingertips, her lips, her nipples and her throbbing, greedy cunt.

"– that's it – easy now – easy –" He hummed, just looking at her, holding his two fingers deep inside her, focusing on the way her warm flesh pulsed around them, soaking his whole hand.

She knew he would leave; she knew he had to, and perhaps it wasn't his desire at all but still the way his fingers slid out of her body, his look turned away as he knotted his breeches testifying that he was back in the fortress of his mind made her feel an uncomfortable ache in her heart.

"Come to my chamber tonight, as usual." He said, forcing himself to be indifferent, and left, leaving her lying on the table.

She closed her eyes and exhaled loudly, for some reason feeling tears under her eyelids.

She covered her face with her hand and burst into silent sobs.

Who was she?

His whore?

His lover?

His pet?

His object?

His whim?

She couldn't decide.

Whatever she did she would not be his sister.

Not really.

She swallowed hard and breathed deeply, wiping the warm wetness from her cheeks, trying to calm herself, thinking it didn't matter.

She was what he wanted her to be.

Nothing more.

Just when she was deciding she didn't care, the evening came, and then the night, and with it his hungry mouth sunk into her throbbing cunt, his tongue thrusting again and again deep inside her, building her way to her fulfilment.

His face above hers, his sapphire and eye fixed on her, soft strands of his hair teasing her cheeks before he leaned lower and his lips clung to hers in a sweet, soft, wet kiss.

They lay on their sides facing each other, cuddling their bodies into each other's in a tender, thirsty embrace, their lips finding each other in new, deep, soft caresses almost as if they cared for each other, almost as if they missed each other, almost as if they were happy.

Almost.

His broad hand ran over her hair and face, the tips of his fingers trailing over her cheekbone, jaw and neck, his gaze fixed on her, his lips slightly parted.

"– aōha laesi issi hae zōbrie hae lī hen iā myrdys (your eyes are as dark as those of a doe) – gevie (beautiful) –" He whispered, and she felt a squeeze in her heart and burning tears under her eyelids.

Don't do this to me, she thought.

Don't give me hope.

She snuggled into the hollow of his neck, drawing in the air loudly, not wanting him to see the tears running down her cheeks, and he simply kissed her bare shoulder, enclosing her in his embrace.

"– ȳdra limagon daor, zaldrītsos – aōha lēkia iksis kesīr –" He whispered, but his words only made her whoop with her own tears.

Do not cry, little dragon.

Your brother is here.

Gods, how she wished she could love him.

But she couldn't.

She couldn't offer him her heart because she knew he would crush it the moment he ripped it from her chest.

And then she unintentionally told him his mother's secret and saw his real face for the first time.

His tears, his despair, his figure curled up as if he were a infant in her arms.

She was horrified by how vulnerable he was.

How fragile he was.

She realised that the rider of the greatest dragon in the world was a scared little boy.

Some part of her wanted to protect him.

When the King summoned her to a meeting of the Small Council she wondered what had happened – she guessed it had something to do with Cole's and their army's march on Harrenhal, praying that it would turn out that his brother had told him everything, as she had requested.

As she stepped inside, her one-eyed cousin gave her a quick glance, a serenity in his healthy eye.

They both knew that she would spend this night in his bed too.

"What is this important matter that could not wait any longer?" The Queen Mother asked, and everyone's gaze turned to the King.

Aegon grunted and nodded, spreading himself comfortably in his chair at the head of the table.

"I wish to relieve our subjects who live in hunger. This fucking blockade has gone on for too long and I have decided to take measures to remedy it. Greyjoys are tactically avoiding choosing sides in this conflict, and only their fleet could face the Velaryons. In such situations, things are usually resolved through marriage. Lord Greyjoy has two sons, Toron and Rodrick, who are looking for a suitable candidate to marry. My mother and I believe that our beautiful cousin and her dragon will meet all of their father's requirements."

She felt her heart stop for a moment as she looked at him dully, not believing that this was really happening.

My mother and I believe that our beautiful cousin and her dragon will meet all of their father's requirements.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

Here was her home.

Here, with him.

Alicent looked at her son, who was as shocked as she was, his eye and mouth wide open in panic.

Help me, she thought in her head, feeling her body begin to tremble.

Protect me.

"You knew it would end like this. Your irresponsible behaviour forced us to take the right steps." Queen Alicent said, and she clenched her hands into fists.

You are fucking your guard.

You're as much a whore as I am.

She swallowed hard and looked at her king-cousin, feeling her eyes glaze over with tears.

"– here is my home, my King – please –"

"It would happen sooner or later. Better sooner, given the rumours that reach our ears about where you've been spending the last nights. My brother did not deny it, conversing with me today, that he is taking advantage of your…kindness. I want to put an end to this sinful practice." He interrupted her and she was already about to answer him, but they were interrupted by another, familiar voice.

"No." Her lēkia said. "She is a Targaryen. 'Tis I, as your younger brother, who, by all rights, have precedence to her hand."

She is a Targaryen.

'Tis I, as your younger brother, who, by all rights, have precedence to her hand.

Good gods, he wanted to marry her.

He wanted to marry her to protect her, so that she would not lose her home or him.

I will care for you, and your place will always be by my side.

Aegon only smiled at his words.

"You can bed whomever you want, brother. But it is I, as King and her protector, who will decide who she marries, and sooner Vhagar will fit into the Dragon's Pit than I'll give you her hand." He said, causing heavy tears to run down her cheeks one by one.

Why?

"Why?" Asked her cousin at the same moment in a way that made her feel a squeeze in her heart, his voice breaking as if he was really in pain, his eyebrows arched in despair.

"Good gods. Since when can the Kingdom afford marriages out of the need of the heart? Your subjects are starving. This agreement can make us break the blockade. Are your desires more important than the sake of the Realm?" Aegon sneered, and she burst into a loud sobs, hiding her face in her hands.

They will send her away.

She will lose everything again.

She'll be a nobody again.

She will become another man's toy.

"My decision is final. I will have the crow sent to the Iron Islands with our generous offer later today. That is all."

Her lēkia came to her chamber despite the fact that the evening had not yet dawned and she was always the one to visit him – she threw herself into his arms and cried out loud, overcome by complete hysteria, his hands clamped on her body.

"– no – please, don't let him do it, don't send me away, don't send me away, don't send me away –" She begged him and heard him swallow hard, his lips placing warm, tender kisses on her face.

"– shhh – shhh, sweet girl – I won't –" He assured her.

"– you're lying – you're going to sell me, you're going to abandon me like he did –" She sobbed, choking on her own tears, tightening her fingers on his back.

Don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me.

She sighed as he grabbed her by the hair and gently tilted her head back, forcing her to look at him.

"What did I tell you? Back then, when we were lying under the stars. What did I promise in return for you taming a dragon?" He asked quietly, and she swallowed hard, looking at him with big eyes.

"– that my place will always be by your side – that you will protect me – that I will be your little sister –" She mumbled out with difficulty, and he closed her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers, exactly as he had done then.

"– and you are –" He hissed, his fingers clamping in her hair. "– you are fucking mine –"

You are fucking mine.

For the first time, it was he who stayed in her chamber – they just lay together in her bed, taking off all their clothes beforehand and kissed, stroking their naked bodies with their hands.

She fell asleep in his embrace drenched in tears.

She didn't believe him.

She did not believe a word he said.

She knew he was just telling her what she wanted to hear, so that she wouldn't panic and run to her father, changing sides at the last moment.

During the night she dreamt that despite her cries and pleas he had stabbed a dagger into her heart, telling her that after the war was over she had become a threat to him, that she and her dragon were no longer necessary to him.

"Did you really think I would let you live?" he asked, and she awoke with a cry of despair, clutching at her heart, on which she clasped her hands.

"– gods – what is it? – what happened? –" She heard his sleepy muttering beside her, his hand touched her shoulder, and she pulled away from him as if burned, thinking that he really wanted to do this to her.

He really wanted to kill her.

He looked at her with big eyes, the pain of rejection in his gaze, as she pulled away from him despite him extending his hand to her.

"– breath, hāedar – a bad dream? –" He asked and she nodded, whooping, unable to catch her breath.

"– yes –" She mumbled out.

He swallowed hard, making a renewed attempt, this time touching her calf, stroking it reassuringly, and she didn't move away.

It was only a dream.

"– Daemon? –" He asked further, and she shook her head.

"– you –" She mumbled, his eye big in shock. "– you stabbed me in the heart – and asked if I really thought you would let me live –"

She mouthed with difficulty and burst into sobs, hiding her face in her hands.

She heard him freeze in disbelief, breathing loudly, his hand clamped down on her ankle.

"– gods, hāedar – no – no, come here –" He muttered, grabbing her arm, and she shook her head, wanting to pull away from him.

"– please – don't deceive me anymore – we both know that when this is over you will kill me –"

"– no –" He exhaled, pressing his forehead against hers, clasping his fingers in her hair. "– I wanted to do it – then, in the Vale – but I wasn't able to – I won't hurt you – after the war you'll stay by my side – as you are now –" He gasped out, pressing his lips, swollen with emotion to hers in loud, aggressive, desperate kisses.

"– warming your bed while you're married? –" She breathed out into his throat, responding to his caresses, melting with him into one in greedy, passionate dance of their slick tongues, their hands enclosing them in their tight embrace.

"– you are the one I will marry –" He growled, as if her words enraged him, turning her onto her back, his knee forcing her aggressively to spread her thighs apart.

They both sighed and froze when she felt the tip of his swollen cock push against her throbbing slit.

"– A-Aemond –" She mumbled out terrified and aroused, feeling the movement of his hips push his hard erection deeper into her with their loud, surprised moans.

She felt she struggled to catch her breath, stretched to the limit on his throbbing manhood, strangely filled, at his mercy.

Her hands clenched on his naked, muscular arms as he lay on top of her and pressed her to the bed, her plump breasts pressed against his torso, the fat head of his cock deep inside her.

"– I can't take it anymore –" He breathed out, and she whimpered, tilting her head back, feeling him thrust deeper and deeper into her, pushing against something inside her that made her feel discomfort and stinging pain. "– I crave you –"

He said and covered her mouth with his hand when finally with one, violent push he ripped something deep inside her, making her squirm in pain, tears of exertion and horror running down the sides of her face, her whole body quivering.

Gods, he had taken her maidenhood.

If part of her had wanted this for so long, why was she so terrified now?

"– shhh – shhh, little sister, the worst is behind us –" He exhaled tenderly, pulling his hand away from her mouth, allowing her to take a deep breath.

"– I'm scared –" She mumbled in a voice trembling with fear and his eyebrows arched in pain at her words.

He made no movement, looking at her as if worried and concerned, stroking her cheek with his fingers, trying to soothe her, his swollen manhood throbbing hard deep inside her.

"– do you want me to stop? – I will if you want me to – forgive me –" He whispered at last in a voice breaking with shame, as if he was horrified by what he had done and how he had achieved it.

She swallowed quietly and shook her head, thinking that if he did this, something would end between them – he would feel rejected and not want to touch her again, and she needed him, craved him and what he was giving her.

He sighed, pressing his face against hers, kissing her plump, hot cheek with some kind of gratitude, as if he appreciated her effort, understanding that she was doing this for him.

"– don't be afraid, zaldrītsos – we'll do it slowly – I won't hurt you –" He assured her, stroking her head as if she were a small child, his forehead pressed against hers.

She sighed as he gently slid out of her before sinking unhurriedly back deep into her body, making a sound stuck in her throat – this experience, of another body deep inside her, filling her to the brim, was so foreign and strange that she didn't know how she should react or what to feel.

He pulsed aggressively inside her and he was hard – a quiet moan rippled out of her throat each time he opened her wide again and again on the thick part of his cock with quiet clicks of her wetness – she closed her eyes as she felt him begin to hit the sweet spot he always sought with his fingers with each thrust, and the first waves of pleasure flowed along her spine like a tingle.

"– ah –" She mewled, opening her eyes, meeting his heated gaze, their breaths heavy and raptured – she dared to let go of his shoulders and slide her hands down his back, to his buttocks, clamping her fingers on them, emboldening him to move inside her faster.

"– does it hurt? –" He breathed out, thrusting into her a little more confidently, stroking her hot face, wet with tears, with his thumb, kissing the tip of her nose again and again, brushing her puffy lips with his own.

"– n-no – not anymore – but – how should it look? – how have you done it with other women? –" She gasped in a trembling voice, and he stopped moving, looking at her with his mouth wide open.

"– do you want to see for yourself? –" He asked, and she nodded.

"– fuck me –" She whispered.

Fuck me.

She gasped and closed her eyes, throwing her head back when he pounded aggressively into her core with a throaty groan of pleasure, as if he himself was surprised at how pleasurable it was, slamming into her with loud, sticky splats of their bodies against each other.

He moved inside her so fast that she could only spread her thighs wider, crossing them over his sweaty back, their moans pathetic and high-pitched as he hit the same wonderful spot deep inside her tight cunt with each push, himself clearly taking immense satisfaction from this wet, intimate act.

Their hands clenched helplessly on their bodies as their hips began to meet – she felt that what he was doing to her dulled her to pain, instead arousing tension in her loins that grew and grew in her lower abdomen, making her leak all over, soaking his cock with every sharp thrust he made.

"– fucking mine –" He hissed through clenched teeth, locking her moans between his lips, which he pressed against hers in an aggressive kiss – she felt his tongue invade between her teeth, repeating the movements of his hips, forcing itself deep into her throat just as his swollen erection burst between her fleshy, throbbing walls.

She was unable to take a breath between his one thrust and the next, panting hard along with him, her core slick and warm, despite her initial resistance accepting him now with ease.

He pressed his fingers against her bare skin, pounding into her with low grunts of pleasure so fast that he no longer slid out of her, his gaze fixed on their joined bodies.

"– vok syt nyke (perfect for me) – ao se aōha byka orvorta (you and your little cunt) –" He praised her, and she spasmed in euphoria as she felt something approaching – she seemed to howl his name as the aggressive, overpowering pleasure shook her body, loosening her completely, pulling a sigh of relief from her throat, tears of emotion and exertion rolling down her red cheeks.

"– oh gods – oh gods, yes, yes, yes, hāedar –" He gasped out and closed his eye, coming so hard that he cried out along with her, a convulsion shaking his body, and then she felt something warm spill inside her in waves.

His seed.

He came inside her.

Good gods, she thought, lying with closed eyes completely without strength, her hands placed numbly on either side of her head.

She sighed as his body fell against hers, their breaths heavy and hitched, their bodies hot and sweaty, his half-soft manhood still pulsing deep inside her.

It was such an intimate sensation, so strange and sticky – two bodies being one, him, filling her to the brim.

"– I will take you as my wife as soon as I return from the battlefield – I promise –" He breathed out into her ear, and she closed her eyes and swallowed hard, wondering why he was saying that.

"– your brother will never agree to this –" She whispered, feeling that she was a different person now.

She was no longer a maiden.

She twisted restlessly in her place hearing that his silence answered her, his face nestled against her temple, the tip of his nose sinking into her cheek before he whispered the words into her ear as if he was telling her his secret.

"– leave it to me –"

453 notes · View notes

animeyanderelover · 26 days ago

Text

Anon: Can I have Chrollo, Feitan, Jouno, Inumaki and Gojo with a s/o that has social anxiety?

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, manipulation, isolation, abduction

Tags: @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @hyakki-yosai @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59 @shumidehiro @izanami78 @lovley-valentine7

S/o with social anxiety

Chrollo Lucilfer

📖How sweet of you to gift the devil in human clothing only more possibilities to manipulate you and trap you within his spider's web. For Chrollo your social anxiety isn't something he seeks to cure. No, it is something he only plans to worsen. The only people you should be comfortable around are him and other members of the Troupe, but mainly him. And it is delightfully easy to push you into withdrawing yourself more and more from others, even those you are close with. It is easy to stir your already overthinking mind into wrong directions, to have you question even the bonds you have already established and to slowly crumble all relationships you hold until only he is left. Chrollo hords you mostly only to himself like a dragon would his treasure but you do not really mind as social events are far too overstimulating for your emotions and he takes great enjoyment in this. For Chrollo you are an open book as he always notices when you're anxious, your hands clammy and your muscles tense. Usually he reassures you, his voice, scent and touch surrounding you to ease your anxiety. It truly is a bitter pill to swallow that Chrollo is such a soothing presence yet makes you completely dependent on him.

Feitan Portor

☠️You are just pathetic to watch with the way you stutter and walk nervously around, always contemplating long and hard before you dare to approach someone. It's so pathetic that Feitan isn't sure if he should laugh at you or pity you. Honestly, your anxious and quiet behavior threatens to drive him mad with the amount of frustration he experiences yet at the same time he also finds himself torturing those who dare to take advantage of you. Ultimately unable to watch you defenseless mouse out there he abducts you as he is fed up with your inability to even hold a simple conversation. He is nowhere near as smooth as his leader is though. Annoyed glares and quiet threats he utters are mostly what you receive from him, only heightening your anxiety. Feitan has little to no patience, often grabbing your chin and hissing lowly at you to just speak properly whenever you stutter and stumble over your words only to walk away annoyed when you burst out in tears, surprisingly enough not taking joy in your tears. He realises that he should make you at least more comfortable around him though he's also smart enough to know that with his impatience and your fear this won't be easy.

Jouno Saigiku

♦️Jouno uses your social anxiety to his own advantage too as he has pretty much just a kink for making his darling skittish and nervous for his own entertainment. Your quickened heartbeat and short breath are always dead giveaways for your current emotions, the stutter in your voice always indicating your anxiety in that moment. He often taunts you that it is always easy to track you down within a crowd, the anxious melody of your heart always guiding him towards you. Still, Jouno remains possessive in quite a twisted way as he is not fond whenever it is someone else who frightens his darling. It is a pleasure he only allows himself to indulge in, the delightful sounds of your heart only meant for his ears. It is for this selfish reason that you are extremely isolated once he transfers you under his care with the help of the government as only he remains as your sole form of social interaction. Mocking you isn't uncommon, especially if he senses that you're upset. After all you were already avoiding people left and right before he brought you here. Jouno really only did you a favour in that aspect. As much as Jouno enjoys it, occasionally your anxiety may overwhelm him due to his sharp hearing in which case he avoids you.

Inumaki Toge

🗣️The only one from this post who actually wishes to help you. If you were simply more introverted like he is, Inumaki wouldn't have a problem and just let you be. That isn't the case though as you actively avoid people and social interactions altogether, always overthinking or drawing a blank within your mind. You isolate yourself, never ask for help and that is where the problem lies. You can't even use Inumaki as your shield as he can't talk for you due to his abilities. Instead of throwing you directly into cold water though he asks other students from Jujutsu High if it would be alright for you to meet them as he briefly explains that he hopes to help you. Luckily no one of them minds and so he soon brings you along, clutching your clammy hand in his own as he can already see how worried you are already. He's a tad bit worried that Maki may intimidate you but thankfully she holds her normally harsher tone back. When you buy something he usually remains close to you or even allows you to hold his hand tightly if it lowers your anxiety even a bit as you pay, constantly giving him anxious glances as you do so. Slow and steady is the way with him but it must be done.

Gojo Satoru

🩵Any hope you might have held somewhere in your heart to one day be more courageous turn into dust once Gojo enters your life. He takes over every aspect of your life, orders everything you need for you and always is the one talking when both of you are around people. Partially because Gojo realises the golden chance he is presented with and partially because he hates sensing your fear and nervousness whenever you are under a lot of people or attempt to talk with someone. Isn't it just so much easier to let him do everything for you? Indeed, he stays true to his words as he isolates you more and more and only worsens your social anxiety as a result. If you were to argue against his treatment he wouldn't listen to you because even if he might acknowledge the truth in your words he knows he wouldn't be able to hold himself back the moment he would let you attempt to socially interact again only to experience your anxiety much more intensely after so much isolation due to him. Is it really that terrible to only spend time with him? He loves you, he spoils you, he adores you so much that he feels like he can't breathe without you. He needs you. You need him too, now more than ever.

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iamyourdailydoseofbi · 5 months ago

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PROMISE NOT TO DROP ME? ONLY A FOOL WOULD DROP YOU. ( HOTD x Reader ) [ Pt. 2 - FINAL ]

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: Prince Aegon Targaryen x Lady-in-waiting! Reader prompt: Aegon attempts to get you to ride a dragon once again, this time more gentle and whiny than before. word count: 1, 000+ words

After his failed attempt to get you on dragonback, earning him a bruised ego and a hard kick to the groin. Aegon knew that he needed to try a more softer way. If not for your sake, then for the sake of his groin avoiding your heel meeting it once again. He couldn’t handle the pain or the judgmental look from the Maester as he was given milk of the poppy. So, he was left thinking one thing.

How would Helaena sway you into going on dragonback?

It was hard. Helaena was different and her way of coaxing you was foreign to Aegon. She would just leave you be. But, he attempted to do it more gently. He would fly overhead the Red Keep on Sunfyre, the golden dragon twinkling in the sunlight. He would speak of his dragon and the wonders of flying on dragonback. He would offer then leave you be when you said ‘no, you fucking idiot’.

Surprisingly, it worked well. Your eyes would twinkle with wonder. Your face, full of curiosity when you listen to him speak. It was subtle little things. He had caught your interest in flying on dragonback. He loved it, like a cat who had caught his prey. Then, you had caught him off guard one day.

Watching you chew on your bottom lip, you stand far away from Sunfyre, arms crossed over your chest. He could practically smell the nerves wafting off you. The battle of whether or not to go through with the action of getting on the saddle is clear on your face. Biting back the cruel comment on the tip of his tongue, he stands by your side, patiently waiting and waiting. He wanted you to fly with him. He wanted it more than anything. So, he was determined to not ruin this.

“We can turn back.” He whispers, leaning in closer to you.

“No. I came all this way, I will continue.” You shake your head, “I just..I just a moment.”

Nodding his head softly at your words, he fights back the giddy smile that threatened to spread on his lips, not wanting you to use that against him. Watching as you take a step forward, he perks up, only for you to take that step back. A scowl slowly spreading on his lips. He did not get dragged at the ass crack of dawn just for you to back out now.

Tucking his hands behind his back, he rocks on the heels of his shoes, boredly chewing on his bottom lip to hold back his comments. He wanted you to hurry up, but he was going to wait. Hopefully, not any longer. He couldn’t handle the tension anymore of ‘Will she? Won’t she?’ bullshit.

“I hate you.” You state out of nowhere.

“Wonderful.” He sighs, “Does this mean you are going to get on?”

“I really hate you.” You mumble, hands shaking at your side.

Nodding his head in agreement at your insults, he lets out a soft irritated breath, resisting the urge to just throw you on the saddle. He would wait, for once in his life. Watching you tightly close your eyes, you press your hand against the wall, slowly inching toward Sunfyre. Snorting loudly at your behavior, he trails after you in amusement, no longer irritated and fully amused. You looked like a child about to go to the Maester’s for an illness.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” You mumble, words falling out like a mantra.

“Many do. But, this is really entertaining.”

“I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.” You mumble, slowly inching closer to Sunfyre’s nest.

“Just a little more, Y/n. Tis’ not so bad once you get on the saddle.” He encourages gently, not bothering to hide his amusement.

“I hate you. I detest you. I hope you choke on your wine tonight. Why did I let you talk me into this?” You whimper out, eyes tightly shut.

Hearing him laugh and snort loudly, you didn’t have it in you to open your eyes and scold him, too fearful of opening your eyes and seeing Sunfyre looming above. Dragon’s were not supposed to be ridden. It went against nature. Yet, here you were, letting Aegon Targaryen, the drunken fool⎯who more than once pissed his pants, talk you into going on a flight with him. Letting out a loud groan, you attempt to hype yourself up, earning a loud laugh from Aegon.

“Tis’ not so bad, Sunfyre is a good boy.” He laughs, “Come on, now.”

“Tis’ not the dragon that I fear, tis’ the foolish rider that I am about to share a saddle with.” You scoff, opening your eyes slowly.

“I am not a fool when it comes to riding on dragonback.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

“You carried me to the dragonpits against my will.” You glare at him, “Are you truly asking me to trust you now?”

“Fair enough, fair enough.” He nods, accepting defeat.

Fighting back the urge to throw up and pass out, you slowly turn your head away from him to look at Sunfyre, the dragon bolting up from his rocky nest in a flash. A blur of gold flashing by before a loud territorial screech filling the air. Scrambling backwards out of fear, your back bumps into Aegon’s chest, his arms securely wrapping around your waist.

Letting out a loud gasp of fear as the dragon looms over intimidatingly, you try to get out of Aegon’s arms, but are unable to. His grip was firm, keeping you locked in place, forced to face Sunfyre. Two big green reptilian eyes staring you down like you were prey. All and any confidence dying in a blink of an eye.

“Easy, easy. He’s just curious and tends to get excited.” He dismisses, his hot breath fanning your ear.

“No, no, no! Let me go! Let me go!” You screech, “I don’t want to do this anymore!”

“Easy, Y/n. Just let him sniff you, you’ll spook him if you just leave.” He whispers, “Just breathe and stay still.”

“Aegon!” You screech, voice dripping with anger.

Refusing to let you go, you cower in his arms as Sunfyre lets out a huff, the stench of dragon and ash filling your nose. Feeling your heart stop as Sunfyre screeches territorially, the dragon takes a step forward, the ground vibrating with each step. Slowly tilting your head up as he stands at his full height, the dragon takes a big whiff of the two of you, nearly making you pee in your pants. He was pretty, a glittering gold. But, seven hells and heavens, was he the utmost and utterly scariest thing you had ever laid your eyes upon.

“He likes you.” Aegon chuckles, “He’s already gotten territorial over you.”

“I hate you.”

“Yes, yes, we’ve well established that you hate me.” Aegon nods boredly, “Can we now pet him?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Come on now, just a small pat. So he knows you better.” He pesters, “You’ve already faced him, you can just give him a small pat.”

Shaking your head in protest at the suggestion, Sunfyre bends down in front of the both of you, also as if he knew what Aegon was attempting to do. Cringing as Sunfyre snuggles his snout towards you to touch, you cower in Aegon’s arms, not wanting to touch the dragon. This was already enough for your liking.

Going to the Dragonpits willingly? Good enough. Actually coming face to face with Sunfyre? More than good enough. But, petting Sunfyre? Actually getting on the saddle? Aegon would owe you everything for this. If you could actually find it within yourself to do it.

"Come on. Don't be a coward."

"I won't hesitate kicking you, again." You threaten, digging your nails into his forearm.

"No, no, no need. I take it back, forget what I've just said." Aegon quickly rambles out, "Actually, just pretend that I never spoke in the first place."

Letting out a nervous grumble, you shakily reach out, your hand extended out in front of Sunfyre’s snout. The golden dragon staring you down. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slowly press your hand against his snout, feeling the rough scales against the palm of your hand.

Feeling a cold shiver run down your spine, Sunfyre purrs loudly at the touch, like a little kitten. Going to pull your hand away, Sunfyre lets out a high pitched whine, chasing after your hand. For a split second, it reminded you too much of Aegon. But then again, like rider, like dragon.

“Don’t get too comfortable with her, she’s my friend, not yours.” Aegon scolds, glaring at Sunfyre.

The dragon huffs loudly.

“Do not huff at me.”

The dragon flicks his tail, some dust flicking at Aegon.

“Oi, I’m the one who brought her here. She was mine first.” Aegon scowls, “And she’s going to be mine when we go back to the Red Keep.”

Rolling your eyes as Aegon bickers with his dragon, you hesitantly brush your fingers against the leather dragon saddle, the leather worn and rough. Looking back at Sunfyre, the dragon lowers himself onto the ground, almost as if he was telling you it was okay to climb on. No, no, no. This was mad. Completely and utterly mad of you. But, the curiosity for the unknown wonders of flying gnawing at your self resolve. Pulling back your hand, you turn to Aegon, muster up the little courage you could find.

“If..If I do this, actually do this. Promise not to drop me?”

“Only a fool would drop you.” He whispers reassuringly, nodding his head.

And you truly believe him.

---

#house of the dragon #house of dragons #house of dragons x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd imagine #hotd imagines #aegon ii targaryen #hotd x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii #aegon x reader #aegon the elder #king aegon #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon the second #hotd aegon #hotd season 2 #hotd #hotd fanfic

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yan-lorkai · 1 month ago

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I’m not sure if I can request this and I don’t know much about Halloween but I can totally imagine the first year gang starting a little pumpkin farm at Ramshackle. They’d carve pumpkins together and maybe sell some of them to earn a little pocket money

If it’s too much, no worries. just ignore this. Have a great day

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: This is such a lovely idea tbh, now i kinda of want to do something like this with my friends aaaa. This was supposed to be posted at 6am as always and i forget to queue it lol. Anyway, enjoy it darling!

The Ramshackle Dorm had never been busier nor more vibrant than now. It all started with a simple idea from Ace: “Hey, why don’t we grow some pumpkins here?” he had said a sunny afternoon, eyes glinting with mischief as gestured to the dead garden of his dorm.

“We can carve them for Halloween, and maybe even sell a few. Easy money, right?” He turned to Epel, who, just as mischievously, nodded.

With a few enthusiastic nods from Jack and Deuce, the plan was set in motion. Soon, even Sebek, who had initially scoffed at the idea as "a frivolous waste of time," found himself secretly invested when Malleus found out and praised him for having a hobby with a bunch of friends.

Days turned into weeks, and the once dead, wild yard of the Ramshackle Dorm was transformed. The first-year gang tilled the soil, planted seeds, and tended to their patch diligently. They took turns watering the sprouts, pulling out weeds, and shooing away curious crows. It was hard work, but there was a certain joy in it.

Jack took special pride in watching the tiny green shoots grow into fat, round pumpkins, while Epel appreciated the physical labor - he said that in that way he could gain muscles. Ace and Deuce made it a game, challenging each other to see who could grow the biggest pumpkin, which led to much bickering and laughter.

The yard was filled with the warm, earthy scent of pumpkins, and the air was filled with laughter. Each carved pumpkin was a reflection of its creator, scattered around the steps and windows of Ramshackle, glowing with flickering candles as the sun dipped below the horizon.

As the pumpkins ripened, the dorm's front yard slowly turned into a sea of orange, each pumpkin unique in size and shape. On one particularly crisp afternoon, as Halloween approached, they gathered around to start carving. Carving tools in hand, they sat in a circle, some humming, others chatting about what designs they’d make.

Ace boasted that he would create the scariest face, while Deuce shyly admitted he wanted to make a pumpkin with a cute smile so he could take a photo and sent it to his mother. Epel’s was, of course, carved with incredible detai l— a miniature masterpiece of intricate patterns, as he was used to carve apples. Jack’s was simple and classic, just like him. And Sebek, determined to outshine the rest, carved an elaborate dragon that he claimed was a tribute to his master, Malleus.

“Not bad, huh?” Ace said, admiring their work. “I mean, I could probably sell mine for way more than any of yours, but still.” He smirked, dodging a playful punch from Deuce.

“We’ll see about that,” You shot back, wiping your hands on your overalls. “Who wouldn’t want to buy one of mine?”

Throughout the day, the first-years ran the stand, chatting with students and selling their carved pumpkins. Sebek was surprisingly the best salesperson, his loud voice catching everyone’s attention and his pride making each pumpkin sound like a royal treasure. Epel made sure every customer left with a smile, slipping them a little extra vine or a perfect pumpkin seed as a token. Even Grim, though not directly involved in the growing process, found himself helping out, lured by the promise of sharing in the profits.

With their pumpkins carved, the group turned to the next phase of their plan. They set up a small stand by the gate, decorating it with the leftover vines and smaller pumpkins. A hand-painted sign read, "Pumpkins for Sale! Buy 1, Get 1 Free (if you can guess who carved it)!" It was Ace’s idea, of course, to add a little game to attract more customers. They were soon joined by curious students from other dorms, many who had heard about the little farm project and wanted to see the fruits (or rather, gourds) of their labor.

You still were surprised that their idea really attracted people. Even Sam was there, examining the pumpkins.

By the end of the evening, the pumpkin patch looked a bit emptier, but your pockets were a little heavier. All of you were tired, but it was the good kind of tired, where your cheeks hurt from smiling and your muscles ache in a satisfying way. As you sat together on the steps of Ramshackle, trapped between Deuce and Ace, watching the last of the daylight fade, there was a warm sense of accomplishment between them.

“This was a good idea,” Jack said, breaking the comfortable silence. “We should do it again next year.”

“Yeah,” Epel said, stretching out his arms. “Maybe we’ll even beat the big guys at their own game. Imagine if this little patch becomes the talk of Halloween.”

"What if other dorms try to do something like this, though?" You asked them.

You had so much fun those past few months, working at their side after clubs ended and the homework was made. You laughed, you chased them when they teamed up to tease you. Overall, it was the most fun you had since coming to this world.

Ace, who was using your left shoulder as a pillow, leaned up so he could see your eyes. "If this happens..." he looked at the other boys before catching your eyes again. "Then we'll crush them, no doubt."

"Figuratively speaking, right?"

Deuce smiled spread through his face as Epel laughed and Sebek and Jack tried to hide their face from you.

"Yeah... Figuratively speaking, of course, Prefect."

The others nodded, their eyes bright with ideas about what to do if the other students tried to do something like that.

As the night settled in, the carved pumpkins flickered warmly, casting playful shadows across the yard. And you felt as if, for just a moment, like you were back home with your small, happy family — gathered around a shared project, their laughter and camaraderie filling the air with something brighter than any candle could provide.

If you were here the next year, then you wanted to do the same thing with them again. And if you aren't... You wanted them to continue that little tradition.

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princessbellecerise · 1 year ago

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With A Modern!Reader

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | How the House of the Dragon characters would react to a reader from our world

warnings | None

this is a work of fiction. i do not own these characters

divider by @princessbellecerise

Jacaerys Velaryon

Jace is surprisingly cautious. It’s not as if he’s afraid of you, you’re just so…different that it takes a while for him to even approach you

When he does, you may think he’s being hostile but really he’s just curious

He keeps his distance at first, but out of everyone he’s the first to warm up to you

He likes hearing about your world, taking walks with you and listening intensely

He thinks it’s fascinating, but more than anything Jace would be the one not afraid to truly introduce you to his world, taking you on tours, showing you around and even letting you pet his dragon while he watches you with a smile

It’s clear that the main difference between your worlds is the magic aspect, so while he’s fascinated with all your technology, you’re fascinated by his dragons and the fact that actual witches exist

Both concepts are very hard for the other to grasp, so you and Jace spend your time discussing and having fulfilling conversations, telling the other facts and details about where you’re from and enjoying every minute of it

Daemon Targaryen

Daemon is amused

He is the first to believe you when you say you’re not from his universe because my gods, it’s obvious from your clothes to your speech you obviously weren’t raised in this world

And man, he gets a kick out of watching you struggle with the social norms, often laughing and whisking you away when your mouth gets you in trouble more than once

He scoldes you and tells you that things are different where he lives, that the social customs require you to remain proper and not curse out every Lord that has something problematic to say

He’d teach you how to ‘behave’ while simultaneously encouraging you to be yourself for his own sake, because Daemon loves watching you start arguments and debates, trying to catch his people up with the modern terms you’re used to

Of course, it never works but he looks forward to it nevertheless because it makes the otherwise insufferable events that much more bearable

Lucerys Velaryon

Luke is very cautious at first. Even more so than his brother, because while you talk like you’re from more advanced times, Luke is still convinced that you’ll view and treat him the same as everyone else in his world does

It’s only when you happen to bring up the fact that you and your siblings have different dads is he really interested in what you have to say

And when you tell him that the rumors you’ve heard about him don’t matter, that nobody really cares about blood that much where you come from, will he really start to warm up to you

You’ll see a whole other side to Lucerys that no one has really seen before; he’ll open up to you and tell you all about his worries of possibly being a bastard

Likewise, you’d tell him that you relate to feeling out of place seeing as you’re not even from the world. You’re used to people gossiping about you as well and when it all becomes too much, you and Lucerys have a way of seeking comfort in one another. This caused you both to form a strong bond over your shared feelings

Aemond Targaryen

Aemond is confused

He’s perplexed, and at first he doesn’t like you because he’s never met someone that’s challenged him so much

From your clothes to your speech to your strange gadgets, everything about you is just so…weird. He doesn’t understand where you came from and why, but out of everyone he’d be the most willing to get you home

During this time, you both would more than likely bond in a sort of frenemie way

Aemond with his constant teasing of your lack of knowledge on how things worked in his world, and you because of his so called out-dated attitude

He’d be shocked when you completely disregard his status and talk to him like he’s just a regular person. You don’t see him as Prince Aemond, just the Aemond that’s slightly stuck-up; which you also never fail to remind him.

You’re just so casual with how you interact and joke with him. And over time, Aemond finds himself more and more attached to you. Because by gods, all he’s ever wanted was for someone to appreciate him for him, and not because of his title or standings in the world

And you being you, you don’t really care about any of that and he can’t begin to explain how grateful he is that the universe decided to send you to him, even growing to be sad and a little more hesitant when it’s time to send you home

Aegon Targaryen

Aegon is fascinated

Less so by you and more so of the world that you left behind. And even more so of the trinkets that somehow came over with you

In all his life, Aegon had never met someone that had things that he didn’t. After all—he was a prince and that meant he usually had the best of the best

But you? You have things he’d never even dreamed of having. Like glasses that block out the light (perfect for his hangovers) and medicine to also help with the aftermaths of his drinking

He’s so fascinated when the guards empty your bag, never once hesitating to pick up your strange stuff and demand to know what it does

Of course, you have to tell him to chill out a little bit and that his title doesn’t really matter to you because you’re not from his world

And Aegon is perplexed, and honestly slightly jealous that he can’t control you, nor can he compete with all the technology that you have

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Out of everyone, she is the most understanding of your situation

When you first arrive, Rhaenyra takes you under her wing and never once makes you feel like an outsider. She’s a little bit hesitant, sure, but it’s really not all that hard to believe you

She’ll listen to you and when you need help, she’s always there to offer her aid

With her around, it’s super easy to understand the world that you’ve landed into. After all, Rhaenyra is happy to show you the ropes herself and fill you in on all the ways you have to act in order to survive in her world

You quickly become grateful for her presence because it helps to soothe all of the rumors and questions people may ask about you. After all, she’s no stranger to them herself

And with one look from the princess/future Queen, people are bowing their heads and running off, leaving their intrusive words abandoned

#hotd #hotd x reader #hotd headcanon #house of the dragon #jacaerys valaryon x reader #daemon targeryen x reader #lucerys velaryon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader

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cherryheairt · 2 months ago

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Dragon Dreamer pt. XIII

cw: Some blood, gore mentions? Wounds.

tags: @beebeechaos @emery-aka-emmy @r-3dlips @watermel0nsugarhigh @delaynew @thelastemzy @pedro-pascal-love @hueanhdang @purple-1995 @littleblackcatinwonderland @fall-winter-heart97 @mandeepandee1997 @reyndaisy @saintkittykat @theadharablack @alexandra-001 @itsaslaminak

Cregan spent much time with Daenys in her chambers, standing vigil in her desolate state. When he asked for a bowl of water and a maester, Cregan was surprised to see a young woman walk in with some supplies in her nimble hands.

The woman, who introduced herself as Alys, simply set her belongings on the nightstand next to the bed and took a seat next to Cregan. She wordlessly worked for a few minutes, feeling over Daenys for any breaks, dislocations, burns, and so on.

When the Maester had declared Daenys to be in fine physical health, she stood gracefully from her little stool. Hesitating, she lingered a hand over the burnt sleeve of Daenys' dress before taking her leave.

Cregan almost felt like he should have hidden such things from outsiders, but he deemed Alys to be a secretive and private woman. Hopefully, she would keep such a discovery to herself, if her loyalties truly lied with the Blacks.

Cregan was quick to scoot his chair forward, closer to the bed. Gently, he brushed blood-hardened strands of hair from his bethrothed's face. The color was monochrome in its covering, leaving only peeks of pale skin behind the blood. It left a hot, smokey scent behind on her, similar to the way Morningstar smelled after burning her prey. Except Daenys wasn't prey, she was as much predator as her dragon. Cregan knew this well, she had fought two mighty dragons and lived to tell the tell. She didn't look the part now, curled up on cream sheets, but he knew she was.

The water was still warm when he took the cloth in his hand and wrung it out. With the damp cloth, he carefully wiped at any exposed blood from her skin. Her hair would have to be washed in a bath basin, either by herself or her maid, Cregan couldn't do so in the confines of the bed.

While he worked, he hummed a tune that had become familiar to him over his time with Daenys. Whether she knew it or not, she often hummed the same song that he had caught her singing to her dragon. A High Valyrion song, with words unknown to him, but no less beautiful. On her horse, when she braided her hair, when she checked or set up traps: all were times that she unconsciously droned on to it. Cregan found it stuck in his mind, even when he was meant to be deep in focus. Writing letters, reading over bannermen's ravens, even meeting with the important councilmen and Castle Black's Commander. Every time, he found his mind drifting to the silver woman. The one he found a reason to fight for in.

After minutes passed with only his deep hums in the air and soft strokes of the Warden's gentle touch, he was able to be content with his work. "Daenys," he whispered, sitting the rag down and grabbing her hand. She was not sleeping, hadn't been the whole time judging by her breathing patterns.

"The blood will stain your hair. I'll have the maid draw a bath." He murmured into her ear, kissing her cheek before walking out of the room to summon the girl that had been taking care of the Princess.

Surprisingly, Cregan almost found himself flinching when he opened the doors to see the mousy young girl already standing in front of them. She did flinch, however, at the door's abrupt opening. She perked up, ready for the Lord's instruction.

"Bring some hot water in for a bath, please. She needs some good oils and soaps for her hair, it will be hard to wash out."

The maid nodded, bowing swiftly and scurrying off down the hall to boil water. If it were Winterfell, the process could be done much quicker with their pipes of hot spring water running directly through the walls of the Great Keep. He reminded himself to take her to the hot springs in the Wolfswood someday, where he was sure she would enjoy the scalding hot water more than he ever could.

Turning back to the bed, he sat beside her again as he waited. The maid worked quickly, dumping pales into the copper basin with the speed of a much more experienced laborer. When she left for the last one, Cregan moved to exit the room for the ladies to handle the bath.

A hand tugging at his sleeve prevented him from moving any further. Though the tug was faint, he still felt it enough to know Daenys wanted his attention. Leaning down, Cregan asked, "what is it, my Lady?"

She lifted her head, only enough to face Cregan instead of the pillows and blankets surrounding her. "Stay with me." Daenys muttered out.

Cregan glanced between her and the door, watching the maid come in and pour the last bit of hot water into the tub. She waited, hands clutching the bucket, for the Lord to leave. He shook his head, gesturing for the young woman to leave once more. "I will ensure she is taken care of." He told her.

Confused, the girl shifted on her feet for a moment before hesitantly nodding and walking to the door. "I will prepare a dress for the Princess." She told Cregan, who nodded in response. Finally, he crouched down next to Daenys, who still held his sleeve in a two-finger grasp.

He grabbed her hand in both of his, softly kissing it for a prolonged moment. Violet eyes stared up at him as he did, neither saying a word for a few moments.

"To stay with you, whilst you bathe?" He asked, needed confirmation. She nodded, still unexpressive but now in much better condition than he received her in. He nodded, digging him arms under her and lifting her in a princess-carry. He hesitated a moment, mentally battling between letting her into the basin fully clothed or helping her undress and get into the water. The former meant she would still have to be in her blood-covered burnt dress, while the ladder meant him dishonoring his intended before they wed. His first time seeing her bare was on complete accident. He wished for any time after to be her choice alone.

He shifted her in his arms briefly, allowing her head to rest on the crook of his neck. "Can I help you out of your dress?" He decided, leaving the shift on underneath would be cover for her privacy and relief for the heavier dress. Daenys hummed into his neck.

Carefully, he set her on the bed sitting up. He unlaced the back of her once light blue dress (taking an embarrassingly long time) and slipped it down to her torso, Daenys standing to aid him. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving only the remaining shift on her person. Although she was standing, Cregan took it upon himself to pick her up into his arms again. A soft gasp left Daenys, not expecting to be lifted once more. He stifled a laugh at the sound, elated to see her reacting to her surroundings more.

Slowly, he dipped her into the scalding hot water. She had little response to it, which he dained to be the Targaryen resistance to heat. Perhaps all of her kin shared such a trait. A detail useless to the public, so it was unintentionally a secret.

The white shift floated around her like a cloud as she hugged her knees to her chest. Resting her chin on her knees, she allowed Cregan to pour cups of water over her head, softly guiding any water away from her face as he did. The soaps, which had been quietly brought in along with a new shift on the bed, were scrubbed just as gently into her hair, bringing it to its former state of silkiness. Around her, the hair stuck to her stick and floated on the water, seemingly a lot longer in its wet state than its dry one. When Cregan rinsed out the soap from her hair, he allowed it time to dry before he messaged a scented oil into her scalp and hair tips. He messaged her scalp with a tenderness he was unused to. When it came to his own hair, he had little care and used heavy hands to get the work done with speed and precision. There was little time to spare in the North, when his duties called him at the break of dawn til the late evening. The gentleness came easily with Daenys, however, and Cregan found himself thoughtlessly caring for the Princess every second she was near him.

With a soaped sponge in hand, he was able to scrub any ash and blood left on her. The bath water tinted pink with the remaining blood, though Daenys didn't seem to care. Only able to get whatever skin was left exposed by the shift, his work was done fast.

As soon as he finished, Daenys laid her head back to rest on the basin's rim. She met his eyes, which gleamed in the afternoon's light. A hand reached out to him, beckoning for his own to hold. He obliged, of course, easily. He laced their fingers together, leaning down to kiss the scar on her forearm. The raised bite marks tingled at the delicate touch.

"My grandmother is dead." She managed.

Cregan stilled, furrowing his straight brows. "The Princess Rhaenys?"

Daenys nodded. She looked to the window straight ahead, avoiding his worried gaze. "I saw Cole's army marching on Rook's Rest, last night. I knew a dragon would be sent by my mother to guard Ser Staunton's keep. It was an ambush."

He nodded thoughtfully, sitting up straight in his stool. "Who was sent?"

She scoffed out a bitter laugh. "Who else do they have to send but the kinslayer? Aegon, too, came with Sunfyre. We beat Aegon quickly, it was Vhagar who killed Rhaenys."

"They sent their King to fight in the war?" Cregan asked, bemused at the information. Kings rarely fought battles themselves, only overlooked from the safety of their castles. It was the smart option, to keep the figurehead of a cause alive and well.

"Mayhaps. Or he was drunk and thought himself righteous for teaming up against the Red Queen." She bit out. "Either way, he will not see battle again. His own brother...Aemond burned him and his dragon. I do not know if he is even alive."

For once, she prayed for Aegon's safety. If Aemond were to be named King in stead of his elder brother's death, Seven Hells would reign down on the entire realm.

Cregan wouldn't even fathom burning his own brother, no matter what bad blood got between them. For Aemond to do such a thing—after killing two members of his family already—showed how truly heartless the young man was. Though, undoubtedly the most dangerous enemy the Greens had. With Vhagar's formidability and Aemond's sharp mind for stategy, it would be hard to find weak spots within the false crown.

"I could have saved her." Her words interrupted his thinking, perking up. "I had Meleys in the grasp of Morningstar's claws. I reached out to her—but she wouldn't take my hand." Daenys murmured, still avoiding his eyes.

Cregan took her face gently in his free hand, facing her towards him again. "Daenys, you mustn't blame yourself for that. The Princess lived a long life. She went into that battle knowing she might not return. I'm sure she would be content knowing that her granddaughter is safe."

His words rang true in her heart. Of course, Rhaenys had lived upwards of sixty years during her life. Had children and grandchildren. A husband. Despite the prospect of being Queen being ripped from her unfairly, she still lived a good life. More than most Targaryens did.

"You have seen battle and won. As long as you live, it is a victory for the realm, for your mother. For me." He stated, reassuring her.

"I have seen battle and fled. We have lost our most experienced dragon, as well as the Queen's most loyal and trustworthy advisor. Rhaenys kept the peace in the Black Council. They hardly listen to Rhaenyra, though she is their queen. With Daemon gone, they think themselves worthy to hold the realm in their hands."

Cregan could sympathize greatly with Daenys, having been no stranger to undermining older men. "We will be there for Her Grace. Daemon and Rhaenys might be gone, but we will be there to stand in their place."

She nodded after a second of simply staring into his grey eyes. A million words lie on the tip of her tongue, almost breaching and spewing nonsensical ramblings just to keep his attention on her.

Daenys sighed heavily, bringing their interlocked hands to her face, resting her cheek upon Cregan's large hand. "I am sorry. For not coming to you this morning. I knew that you would have advised me not to, and perhaps I would have listened." The outcome wouldn't have changed whether she did or did not go, it seemed. Morningstar would be uninjured, and Daenys wouldn't have witnessed her grandmother's demise, but simply read about it in a raven's letter.

Cregan was quiet for a few beats, simply studying Daenys' face. He reminded the swell of anger and hurt in his chest that very morning, the same mixed feelings that tormented him for hours while Daenys was missing. He had no way of knowing where she was or if she was alive, only being told by Simon Strong and Davos fucking Blackwood of her asking about Rook's Rest. She had told this strange young man of her destination, but had not even said goodbye to her own bethrothed. He was hurt, and confused. All feelings of bitterness washed away when the sight of Morningstar came into view again, lower in the skies than she should be.

The red staining her scales had been his first cause of panic. It was not often that Cregan Stark lost his cool, as he had to be collected and steadfast in his position as Warden of the North. But this wretched day had caused him a panic like no other. Seeing Daenys, covered in blood, landing right in front of Harrenhall's gates had stirred Cregan to action. She looked dead slumped over the dragon saddle like that, but he knew if she truly was, then Morningstar would not have returned to Harrenhall.

"I will forgive you. If," He paused, sternly meeting her violet eyes. "You promise to leave this purgatory with me on the morrow."

Shocked at his ask, Daenys was lost for words. Was that it?

"We have stayed in this place long enough. We sit idle and vulnerable and out of touch with any recent news. I have entertained our stay here for you, but I cannot any longer." He told her.

Daenys swallowed, almost nervous at his tone. He commanded it like a true Stark, tired of feeling useless in the near-abandoned halls of Harrenhall. In truth, perhaps they were. Daenys had planned on making use of herself in median between Daemon and the Riverland lords, but had not truly done anything of note. Though Daemon was insufferable and inflicted by the torments of his own mind here, he was still getting his buisness done in his own time.

Another good reason to leave was to never see Daemon's face again. Perhaps he would be doomed to these halls, becoming another one of its ghosts. It was a fate unbecoming of him, but one he deserved for his treachery today. Daenys knew that if Caraxes had joined the fight at Rook's Rest, then Vhagar would be beat. Three dragons against one. The histories would call it unfair, but Daenys would call it justice.

Finally, she barely nodded. "We will leave to Dragonstone tomorrow." She promised Cregan.

He nodded firmly. "Good." His expression lightened from its intense conterance as he softly thumbed the apple of Daenys' cheek.

She shifted her position, sitting up in the now cold water. For a moment, her eyes lingered on his pink lips, debating her actions. She leaned in, eyes flickering between his lips and eyes. Cregan sat very still, allowing Daenys to choose what she would do. At the last moment, she turned slightly to place a lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth, feeling nerves fluttering in her stomach at the closeness.

The corner of his mouth perked up at the delicate kiss, Cregan using much of his refined willpower to not turn his head ever so slightly and meet her lips with his own. Instead, he allowed her to lean back in the basin, water swishing around her at the movement. They stared at one another for a long moment, basking in the comfort of each other. "Would you stay with me, tonight?" She asked him.

"I would uproot the Heart Tree from mine own Godswood before I refused you, my girl." Cregan said, kissing the spot between her brows briefly.

Daenys grinned, humming thoughtfully. "If that is so, then you wouldn't mind helping me out of this ice bath?"

Cregan felt the water, feeling it had only reached a lukewarm temperature, a pleasant condition for him. Snorting, he nodded at her dramatics and helped her out of the water, the sound of dripping water from her shift echoing across the room. Cregan nodded towards the dress and shift placed on the bed. "I will get you supper while you dress." He said.

It was only a few minutes that he was gone, the maid slipping back into Daenys' chambers to quickly tie her laces of the powder pink dress for her while the room was free. She did not question the view of the Princess in the bath with the honorable Lord Stark right next to her tub, simply hummed along idly as she nimbly tied the corset.

Daenys thanked her just as Cregan stepped in, holding two plates. The maid slipped out behind him, her job done for the day. The sight of Cregan, even still dressed up in his usual attire, bringing meals to her chambers felt awfully domestic to her. She oft took lunch and breakfast in her own chambers at Dragonstone, when she felt like eating or was even present in the castle. Dinners were shared most days between the entire family, a small tradition that she enjoyed because it guaranteed quality time with her loved ones.

Soon, Cregan would be the only one she had living with her in the North. They would share all meals together, or none if he were busy with Lordly duties. Daenys wasn't sure how she would fit into Winterfell's routine, especially since Cregan had been leading as its head completely alone for the past five years. Since he was six and ten years of age, he had led Winterfell with only his council to guide his decisions, and even then rarely leaned on them to show that he was capable. There was rarely a day when he was free of responsibility or worry. Daenys hoped that she could share his burdens at the very least and earn the people of Winterfell's grace at the most.

They sat together at the little table in her chambers, enjoying the hearty meal of potatoes, carrots, and a meat Daenys could not care to place. A warm silence dragged over the afternoon, no conversation needed between the Princess and lord.

When they finished eating, Daenys cleaned her hands in the water basin on her vanity. The rag lying next to it reminded her, "Cregan, how did Morningstar look when she landed?"

Cregan turned to her, wiping his own face down. "Red. I did not pay much attention to anything bit you, but her scales were stained red."

She nodded, biting the skin of her cheek and shifting on her feet. "I can not do anything for her without the dragon keepers, but I can clean Sunfrye's blood from her."

Cregan followed her from the chambers, carrying the basin for her. On the way, she asked for more rags to be brought outside to the entrance for her dragon. And buckets of water, while they were fetching the cloth. Outside, the sun was still high enough for plenty of daylight to work in. Caraxes and Daemon were next to Morningstar, where Daemon was assessing the white dragon. Immediately, Daenys seethed at the sight of her stepfather. How dare he show up now, hours after she needed him? After his aunt has died?

Daemon faced her when he heard the grass shifting behind him. Wrinkles formed on his forehead, brows both raised and furrowed in a mixture of emotions. "What has happened to Morningstar?" He asked, moving his hand off her scales. She was tempted to take Ice from Cregan's shoulder and slice the hand that dared to lie on her dragon.

"Exactly what I told you would happen if we did not fly together to Rook's Rest, Daemon." Daenys told him, clenching her jaw.

He straightened, placing a resting hand on Dark Sister. Realization settled onto his face, guilt overtaking his concern. "You were—What happened at Rook's Rest?" He fixed his words. She knew. She knew that he had thought her to be a mere hallucination, as he had called her when he held that steel sword to her throat.

She walked past him, in front of Morningstar, almost protectively. "You would know if you listened to me."

"Daughter—" He started, but was cut off by a sneer from Daenys.

"You've earned no right to call me that. Leave, like you've grown so adept with doing. You have important Kingly duties to attend to, with the Brackens."

Cregan stepped past the King consort to meet Daenys' side, earning a wayward glance from Daemon. "He is still here. Why has he not gone to Dragonstone yet?" He asked, speaking to Daenys as if Cregan were not in front of him.

"Lord Stark is to be my husband. He stays by my side." Daenys stated firmly. She felt Cregan's heavy stare on her, but willfully ignored it.

"By who's order? Rhaenyra did not send you to the North to bring back a husband, she sent you to bring back an army."

"It is none of your concern whom I return with. It is the Queen's." She turned away, refusing to humor his tantrums any longer. Morningstar rumbled, twisting her neck around to cover Cregan and Daenys from outsider's sight. When Daemon stepped forward, the dragoness gave a sharp warning growl. He paused, knowing that even his rapport with the dragon wouldn't get him any luck when Daenys had closed him off already. Huffed, he strided back to Caraxes, leaving quickly like he had originally intended. It was only another minute before the maid shouted for help at the entrance, refusing to test her own luck going anywhere near the bloodied beast. Cregan took the pail of water and rags from her gratefully, dismissing her afterwards.

Daenys dipped a rag into the pail, not squeezing any of the water out as she dragged it over Morningstar's snout. She earned only a cuff at the cold water, but no complaints as blood was cleaned from her nostrils and around her eyes and ear holes. It took good scrubbing since the blood had dried during the flight and hours since Daenys disappeared into the castle. Finally, Cregan and Daenys worked together to swiftly return Morningstar's face to its usual pristine color. The wound was next, something that Daenys had never dealt with before. It was the dragon keepers' job to feed and heal the dragons, and they had not needed healing for a long time.

Daenys turned to Cregan, "I cannot guarantee that she will not lash out in pain. Wait for me on the stairs." It was an order, though she did not wish it to sound like one. Dragon keepers were not even safe from a hostile dragon's wrath, though they had been trained generationally for the sole job. Cregan hesitated before he nodded.

"I will fetch you a tea while I'm gone." Before he left back inside.

Daenys wrung the new rag out carefully, assessing where the deepest and shallowest scratches were. Around the shallow ones first, she carefully wiped blood from around it. Then, after only receiving a glare from Morningstar, she moved on to the deeper ones. Even the area around it was irritated, the penetrated and lost scales a deep pain for the she-dragon. She whined and growled as Daenys worked around them, earning her soothing coos from the Targaryen.

Once her scales were cleaned, Daenys tipped the rest of the water over the wounds themselves. Morningstar grew restless, almost shaking Daenys away from her and nipping at the air around her. With all adrenaline gone, the dragon could feel all the pain that she had been able to ignore during battle. Once the bucket was empty, Daenys dropped it to her feet and moved to Morningstar's eyeline. She connected her forehead with the area in front of her slitted purple eye, murmuring apologies to her over and over. "Once we fly home, I will get you proper care, sweet Tubis." Morningstar trilled lowly in response, lifting her head once Cregan stopped behind them both.

Daenys turned to him, feeling Morningstar lift herself to stand and find herself a place to rest for the evening. "I brought you a tea. She said it was lavender and chamomile." He said, handing her a cup of darkened warm liquid.

Daenys thanked him, locking arms with him before being guided back inside. Alys waited for them at the top of the steps.

"Alys," Daenys smiled, greeting the witch pleasantly. Aly's striking blue eyes never left her, though a smile all the same graced her fine features.

"I hope you can find rest with the blend I made. It always helps me sleep better after a day like this." The woman told Daenys, holding a little brown owl on her arm. Daenys was surprised to see such an animal obeying her, but supposed that was hypocritical considering she had command of a dragon since birth.

"I think it will find me well. Thank you for making it." Daenys paused before she went past the woman. Alys turned, black hair flowing over her shoulder, an almost expecting look on her face.

"About Daemon," She started. "Have you spoken to him?"

"A few times, yes. When he is in need of council or sleep." Alys nodded.

Daenys hummed thoughtfully. "I see. Perhaps, if you are willing, you might provide some...encouraging words for the King Consort?" She glanced to the cup in her hand and then back to the blue eyes of Alys.

The older woman smirked, huffing a short laugh. "I see no trouble with it, Princess. Consider it done."

Daenys shared an understanding nod with the witchy woman, going on her way towards the chamber hallway with Cregan. She knew not the exact ways of witches, but knew that they always provided. She did not wish to tell Daemon of Rhaenys' death, but for him to experience it for himself. Perhaps then, he would see it reason enough to return to his place at Dragonstone.

"What was that about?" Cregan asked, glancing over his shoulder at the woman.

"Nothing important, just a favor." Daenys reassured, patting Cregan's arm. He nodded slowly, not quite catching on but trusting the Princess' choices.

They discreetly entered Daenys' room, though they had little reason to with Daemon gone and the rest of the residents of Harrenhall being wholely uninterested in risqué affairs. She finished off her tea with a heaviness to her eyelids, making a note to ask Alys of the blend's full recipe before going through her routine. They changed into night gowns quickly, settling down into Daenys' fresh sheets. The sun had set over the horizon, leaving the room only lit by the door's torches. In the dim light, Daenys could only make out Cregan's figure and whatever parts of his face the light touched. Though his back faced the doors, she was able to see most of it.

🗡

Daenys nosed her way to the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent like it was the most comforting thing in the realm. Perhaps it was, in the moment. Cregan set his chin atop of her head, the baby hairs on top tickling his nose briefly before he adjusted. An arm laid firmly around the small of her waist, resting on her back and rubbing in small circles. They both fell asleep fast.

🗡

A whispering stirred her from sleep, lifting her head from Cregan's chest curiously. It was too faint to fully make out, coming from beyond her chamber doors. Slowly, to not wakr Cregan, she lifted the covers and stood from the bed.

"Daenys..." The voice whispered, louder this time. It was a young boy's voice, one that tugged at the back of her memory.

She pressed an ear to the door, hoping for sounds of shuffling feet or breathing. Nothing. Slowly, she creaked open the door to see a disappearing form walk behind the hallway wall. She followed after it despite her gut feeling telling her not to.

Fast walking, her shift flowed around her as if she were the ghost of Harrenhall herself. Only catching glimpses of the boy, she started to run after him. Finally, she met him outside in the Weirwood tree clearing. His back was toward her, and he doned a red tunic and black cape. Brown curls lay on top of his head, unruly and untamable. Stilling, she held her breath. Lucerys.

Lucerys turned to face her, and she flinched at the sight. Almost gagged in distress and horror, the sight unlike anything she had seen before. He was soaking wet, with blood covering nearly his entire body. His eye was missing as if it had been torn out with a jagged and rusted knife. An arm, too, torn from his body and the massive wound reaching toward his shoulder and torso. It was unclear as to which body parts had been taken, under his tunic and cape, but very clear that the boy had suffered great pain.

"Luke." She whispered, choking back a sob.

"You saw me." He said, voice cold and distant. "You saw Vhagar chase me down in the skies, and did not even come for me."

Daenys nodded quickly, admitting fully to her shame. "I know. It is my deepest regret. If I had known it was the truth, I wouldn't have spared a second to reach you, my boy." She stepped forward.

His brow only furrowed, sneering at his sister with a furious look in his brown eye. "He took my eye. Aemond took my eye in Lord Baratheon's hall, and still killed me after I repayed my debt." His voice was taut with both anger and pain.

Tears fell from Daenys' eyes, "I am sorry, Luke."

"You don't get to be sorry." He quipped.

"Did you see how I died?" Lucerys asked.

Daenys could only shake her head, not trusting her voice.

"I did not die immediately, but Arrax did. Vhagar bit his head off and my arm. I was stuck in her mouth—I dont know how long it was. It felt like forever. When she finally spat me out, it was the sea that took me, not her."

She shook her head, mumbling incoherent apologies to her little brother. "I did not mean for this."

He took a step foward, nodding back over his shoulder. Behind him, a few paces back, was Rhaenys and Jaehaerys. Their sight was equally as grusome. Rhaenys held the young Prince in her arms as he held his own head up on his neck. Jaggged cut marks marred his pale neck, and blood dripped down to his nightgown. Rhaenys, covered only in black ash and dragon blood, stood tall with her head held high the same way it did when she fell to her death. Daenys had to force herself to look at the three of them together.

"Maybe not. Maybe you couldn't have reached me." Luke admitted. "But you could have reached them. You were only a minute away from preventing Daemon from speaking to Blood. You held grandmother in Morningstar's claws!"

Daenys fell to her knees, covering her ears and shutting her eyes tight. "I know, I know..." She repeated over and over until her voice was nearly lost, dry and hoarse.

He stood menacingly above her, a complete contrast from the demeanor he held when alive. He was always the sweet child out of all of Rhaenyra's children. Jace was an image of their mother, steady and intelligent. Daenys was withdrawn and in the shadows. Joffrey was always at someone's feet, begging to play or see his dragon Tyraxes. Luke was effortlessly kind and compassionate, though perhaps the most wary of his bastard heritage. He hated eyes on him, much like his sister, and did not take criticism in stride like Jacaerys could.

Sweet, innocent Lucerys who died too young to even discover the world or make a name for himself like any Prince should. Now, the ghost of his soul had come to torment Daenys.

Would he have thought the same things this Lucerys did? Surely, he must. Otherwise, the words would not be said.

Rhaenys and Jaehaerys had stepped forward, circling Daenys in a whirring wind of shouts and cries. The sound of sawing. The sound of a great splat hitting hard floor. The sound of screams being drowned out by water. No matter how hard he hands pressed, Daenys could not prevent the sounds from reaching her ears.

Another voice joined the frey, a deeper and steadier one than the others. It was loud enough to drown them all out. Heavy hands were placed gently on her arm and back, rubbing soothing circles and steadying her to her feet. "It's alright, my girl. 'Tis but another dream."

Daenys dug her nails into her palms, facing Cregan with bleary eyes. "No. Not this time." She said weakly.

Though Cregan was left confused by the vague refusal, he still clutched the girl close to him and petted her hair down from its ruffled state. "Shall we go back to bed? It is chilly out." It was not, but the thought warmed her heart.

"Take me to our room." Far away from this clearing. After tomorrow, she would not return to Harrenhall unless absolutely necessary.

short 'between main events' chapter, I couldn't find any time to write this week was so so busy 🥲

Nonsexual intimacy is the shit

rip Targaryens, you would love purple shampoo

I debated leaving the blood to stain her hair for a cool ombre look, but I feel like I would forget about it and not describe it ever again after this chapter, so she returns to her silver hair 🙂‍↕️

Saw a tiktok comment on an Alys and Daemon edit that the reason Alys was crying randomly was because she knew what would be her fate after Daemon left her alone in Harrenhall. 😭 Don't know how accurate that theory is, but it does make a lot of sense. We must save Alys from Aemond at all costs.

Also, to clarify, Alys did not put anything in her tea it was simply tea. I see the sudden vision that she had, like Daemon had, to be a sleep-aid side effect that made Harrenhall get to her mind easier. Kind of like getting nightmares after taking melatonin or sleep paralysis after taking benedryl. Daemon's felt more targeted, like they were sent to him to guide him on the right path and guilt him for his shitty behavior.

#dragondreamer #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #hotd fanfic #cregan stark x oc #cregan stark #hotd #hotd season 2 #targaryen oc

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