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ithebookhoarder · 1 year ago

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Truth or Dare (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

Summary: Married only a few months, you are very much one of the Bridgerton brood - something that often drives your poor husband mad, especially when you happen to be every bit as chaotic and unruly as his siblings... Also known as, you, Benedict and Eloise take a game of ‘truth or dare’ a bit too far.

A/N: What can I say? It’s well and truly fluff-tober over here on my blog 😅

Warnings: Alcohol, mild smut, swearing, Anthony losing his mind, typical Bridgerton sibling shenanigans

Masterlist

There weren’t many nights Anthony spent away from your side.

They were few and far between, but that didn’t lessen how irksome you found them when the odd occasion called for him to leave you over night. You didn’t know what it was exactly, but you never truly slept well without your husband there to hold you.

Of course, it had to be one of those nights that you truly found yourself in a spot of mischief. Though, in fairness, it had all started rather innocently.

Un-beknowst to you at the time, it was Benedict that had been first outside on the garden swing, sipping from a stolen bottle of whiskey he’d pilfered from the kitchens. He’d been sat there perhaps ten minutes by himself, staring at the stars and lamenting about some problem or other.

Then Eloise had come along.

As was her habit - you later discovered - she had been swift to follow her brother’s example, sneaking out of the house in her nightgown for a reprieve in the night air… and a cigarette or two. Apparently her second-eldest brother was something of a soft touch when it came to her, not that you could blame him for it. You doted on Eloise too.

Then, finally, completing the eclectic cast of characters, there had been you.

Now, in your defence, you hadn’t intended on going out into the garden that night, but had found no other alternative suitable given the blasted summer heat. It was worse tonight that it had been all week, and without Anthony in bed beside you, you saw little point in enduring with the effort of trying to get any rest.

So, you’d decided to make your way quietly through the house and sit outside a while, and pray for a breeze. You hadn’t, however, expected to find both Bridgerton siblings already sat there, having had a similar idea.

“My, what do we have here? Another night owl?”

It was Benedict who spoke first, smiling warmly at the sight of you appearing out of the darkness. He was quick to rise, offering you his swing as a perch to rest upon, beside Eloise.

You were about to protest that it wasn’t necessary and that you could find somewhere else to sit, but a warning glare from Eloise was enough to silence you.

She was all too eager to pat the seat next to her in invitation, looking remarkably pleased to have another addition to their little party.

“Come. Sit,” she ordered. “We were simply discussing how tedious Lady Tremaine’s luncheon will be tomorrow and how we could possibly avoid the whole thing. Now that you’re here, you can help us plot our escape. Benedict’s only suggestion thus far has been some kind of contagious summer cold.”

“I think I actually said that I would use such an excuse, sister,” Benedict corrected with a teasing grin. “Not that we would share it.”

“Traitor.”

“Hardly. It is every man - or woman - for themselves. Right, Y/N?”

“Alas, I think your mother would be rather suspicious at all three of us suddenly being absent,” you sighed by way of explanation as both their eyes turned to you. “Besides, I only came outside because of this heat, not to join some conspiracy.”

“Hardly,” Eloise chuckled. “We simply had the same idea, but I am rather glad you came to join us. Perhaps we should form some secret kind of club - Bridgertons against boredom?”

“And do what? Constantly find excuses not to attend social events we deem too tedious or odious to be dragged along to?”

“Sounds like a marvellous idea to me.”

“It would, sister dear,” Benedict teased. “You always have a talent for causing chaos and anarchy. You’d suit the cause perfectly, even if we both know our mother would never stand for it. She somehow sees through even our best efforts.”

“In which case, it’s time I take a leaf out of your book, Benedict. After all, you always say social events become far more bearable after a good drink or two,” Eloise smirked, gesturing towards the bottle of whiskey Benedict had been steadily nursing. “Perhaps I should follow my brothers example and learn to hold a drink, maybe then things will be more fun.”

“Oh no.” Benedict was quick to shut down that idea, holding the bottle possessively to his chest and shaking his head. “No. I am not allowing you to start drinking. Mother would have my head if she caught you, not to mention Anthony would have all ours heads on a platter in no time.”

The thought of it made you laugh. Your husband was hardly a tyrant, even if he’d been known to have a temper but he was easy enough to handle. A few soft words in his ear or a kiss on the cheek and he was putty in your hands, helplessly and completely in love with you. Just as you were in love with him.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of Anthony, Benedict?” you giggled, causing Eloise to join you. “I assure you, he’s more a kitten than a lion and he’d probably prefer you to allow Eloise to sample alcohol here, under your supervision, than when she inevitably decides to rebel and has her first drink later on, in the middle of some public ball…”

The warning was clear and you all knew very likely true. Still, Eloise was beaming in victory as Benedict cursed to himself, muttering about Bridgerton women and the likely death he’d receive should Anthony ever find out he had allowed Eloise to sample whiskey. “Just a few sips, El. I mean it.”

“Oh hush,” she snorted, taking the bottle before he could change his mind. She was quick to throw back her head and down a rather brave mouthful, causing you to laugh even harder as she scrunched her face up in disgust. “Oh! That is revolting.”

“I told you.”

“Now you, Y/N,” Eloise grinned, turning and offering the offending item towards you. “Go on. Join us trouble makers - I won’t say a word about it if you don’t.”

“Oh, for goodness sake… Give me that then,” you sighed, earning a cheer from them both, knowing it was better to simply surrender rather than try and fight their mischievous whims. It only increased as you took an ambitious swig from the bottle, wincing at the acrid burning sensation it left in your throat.

If only Anthony could have seen you. He’d have probably had some kind of seizure - especially as you took another quick swig before handing the bottle back.

“There. Your turn again, brother dearest.”

“My my. You really are quite surprising,” Benedict sniggered, before winking up at you in admiration. “Who knew it? You can hold your drink better than Colin. He seems cursed to choke any time he drinks anything stronger than a brandy.”

“Well, it is your sex that falsely deemed us the weaker,” Eloise quipped. “It’s not our fault you were ignorant.”

“I’d like to remind you I wasn’t part of that decision and you also looked ready to choke a moment ago, El.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re still one of the enemy,” she giggled, earning another raucous laugh from you. Oh, you loved her. If you’d ever been so blessed to have had a sister, you hoped she’d have been just like her. “Now, it is your turn again, brother.”

“Oh … joy.”

“Else we shall have to have some kind of forfeit.”

“A forfeit?” you scoffed, finding the idea absurd. “Like what?”

“How about… truth or dare?”

Benedict froze. “Oh no. Not again. Pall Mall is one thing but we swore we would never play that game in this family again-“

“But Benedict-“

“What’s truth or dare?”

Your innocent question ceased their bickering instantly. Their eyes widened as they turned to you, a knowing and nervous look passing between them. Somehow, you knew this evening was about to get wildly out of hand.

Sometime later, you’d been fully apprised of the rules of ‘truth or dare’. In fact, you’d been something of a natural at it, even if you knew the copious amounts of whiskey you’d all consumed was more than likely the responsible culprit. Else, you’d probably have known better and snuck back off inside before you could make a fool of yourself.

By the end of the night, Benedict had climbed a tree, confessed to being oddly scared of spiders, and been forced to sing the national anthem in French.

Eloise had also made an admirable effort, despite her obviously lower tolerance for drink. She still permitted Benedict to try and arrange her hair, before daring to steal a sock from Colin’s room whilst he’d slept. Then she’d loosened a leg on a dining chair. (Alas, none of you could remember which one but that somehow made it even funnier - even if it would not be come morning when you were forced to sit at the table for breakfast in some kind of roulette.)

You could only pray you didn’t choose said seat.

You could also only pray neither of your conspirators shared your contributions with your husband. You weren’t exactly sure how Anthony would feel at the fact you gone for a midnight paddle in the pond, nor that you’d mixed up the papers on his desk, all before finishing the night with a final dare that involved stealing several cakes from the kitchens… you still swore Mrs Reynolds would notice, come morning, that there were no longer twelve perfect cakes.

That, and Benedict had somehow knocked flour all over the counter, causing you all to erupt in drunken laughter as you’d bolted back outside.

Needless to say, you all looked a sorry sight as you lay in the grass together, staring at the approaching dawn. Had you not been so tired, or drunk, you may have suggested retiring back to your rooms before the house awoke shortly.

“Now that… was fun.”

“Fun? That was more than fun. I haven’t laughed like that in ages.”

“Told you it was a good idea.”

You hummed in agreement with your sister in law.

“I can see why you all favoured this game so much,” you sniggered, winking at Eloise as she sat in the grass beside you. “I can also see why you all agreed to stop playing it… I don’t know what Anthony would say if he saw what we’d been up to.”

“Something sensible and disapproving most likely,” Benedict sniggered. “Our brother, and your husband, can be a right prig, no offence.”

“Oh hush. At least I didn’t let my sister dress me up in her petticoat when she was five.”

Benedict’s jaw dropped.

“Who told you about that?” he demanded indignantly.

“I have my sources.”

Benedict’s eyes narrowed as he turned his head to glare at his younger sister. “Well, you can tell your source that she’s going to have to find someone else to fetch her lemonade at the Cowper’s ball tomorrow night unless she apologises. You can also tell her that I’ll accept either a verbal or a written apology as long as it’s suitably abject. And that means very, very abject,” he added darkly.

“Tell me, Benedict, was it a lacy petticoat?”

With a wordless grunt of annoyance, Benedict groaned, but it was hard to hear over the laughter echoing from you and Eloise. You resembled more a pack of hyenas than two noble ladies - you probably looked just as feral after your night of mischief.

And of course, as was always your luck, that was exactly how your husband found you mere seconds later.

How Anthony had arrived without any of you hearing a carriage pulling up to the house at this time of the night - morning? You couldn’t be sure - was a mystery. Yet, there he was, hands on hips and looking thunderous as he stormed towards the three of you with all the fury of an exasperated headmaster.

“What in God’s name are you all playing at?”

You all froze.

It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over you as your eyes widened, and you all turned to stare sheepishly at him.

“Oh, darling. You’re home?”

“Don’t ‘oh darling’ me,” Anthony sighed, attempting to scold you but without much success. His attempt at seriousness was somewhat undermined by his brother’s heckling, singing ‘here comes mother’ and that ‘someone’s in trouble’. That, and with the way you were lying, he was upside down. “What are you doing up at this god forsaken hour? And why are you … is that flour? And why are you soaking wet?”

“I went for a swim.”

“A - you went for a -“

“And Benedict did my hair,” Eloise interjected suddenly, waving her arms about as she gestured to the tangle of hair upon her head. “Isn’t it marvellous?”

Anthony’s expression very much said that he did not think it was marvellous. Nor did he find any of this vaguely amusing.

In fact, by the way he took a long deep breath, you knew he was doing his best not to lose his temper and wake the entirety of the household. His brow always creased like that when he was faced with dealing with his family, but the expression only made him seem more adorable and handsome to you, rather than authoritative. However, you’d never told him so, knowing it would hardly be deemed a compliment in his eyes.

You also doubted he’d appreciate your usual response right now, which was normally to kiss said brow until it eased back into its relaxed form.

“We were just playing a game to escape the heat, darling,” you soothed. “We couldn’t sleep and all had the same idea to seek refuge outdoors… we simply got carried away passing the time.”

“What game?”

“Pardon?”

“I said, what was the game you were all playing?” Anthony suddenly quipped, the warning clear in his tone. That, and his eyes landed squarely on his two siblings, who at least had the decency to look sheepish… and afraid. “Because there is but one game I can think of that would result in a mess like this one, and I’m confused, because I know for a fact that we banned that game under this roof, and any other roof that houses the Bridgertons.”

No one moved.

No one even breathed.

It was as if you were all too scared to risk answering Anthony, even if the empty bottle of whiskey did most of the talking by itself.

“I don’t recall the name,” you blinked. “Right, Benedict?”

“Oh, uh… we… we were just- Eloise?”

Eloise froze, the guilt written all too clearly on her face for her to even try and salvage the situation - though that could also be down to the whisky she had consumed… it was honestly hard to be sure at this point.

“Well, dear brother,” she began, only to trail off as Anthony lifted his hand.

The silence was instantaneous.

No one dared to say another word, let alone move.

You’d never seen Eloise or Benedict so still in your entire life. Hell, you weren’t even sure they were breathing - probably out of fear Anthony would decide to inform their mother about their mischievous exploits.

If Anthony Bridgerton was scary when vexed, then Violet Bridgerton was a nightmare brought to life in human form. After all, as the matriarch of a family of eight children, she had learned a long time ago how to keep her unruly children in line - a harrowing experience you had only had occasion to witness once or twice since your marriage into the Bridgerton family. Once had been when Colin and Gregory had broken a priceless vase when racing around the house, despite being explicitly banned from doing so. The other had been when she had caught Eloise and Benedict smoking outside on the terrace one night.

It was easy to say where your husband had inherited it from.

“Not. Another. Word,” your husband growled, bending down and sweeping you up into his arms in a move that made you squeal in surprise. “Right now, I am taking my wife to bed and I suggest you two do the same - after you clean up your mess. I’ll deal with the lot of you in the morning.”

A laugh escaped you as you tried not to look like you were enjoying the sudden turn of events too much. After all, you doubted he’d be too happy once you were more sober and he discovered the true extent of your nightly activities.

It was why you were only too happy to let him put you to bed, grumbling all the while about letting his siblings run wild. He really was most handsome when he was flushed - a fact you were reminded of as he hastily changed for bed, flashing you a tempting glimpse of his bare torso in the process.

You could tell without asking he was tired from his journey home, as well as fighting the urge to rip his hair out over the chaos he had found upon his return.

Thankfully, his need to be in your arms outweighed the need to scold you over letting yourself be drawn into his siblings’ schemes. All it took was you pulling him down onto the mattress, and climbing into his lap to turn him into a needy, lovestruck puddle.

You’d equally missed having him in your arms, but you’d be lying if you said that your sudden forwardness wasn't also due to a mixture of the whiskey you’d drunk, and the residual giddiness from a night of mischief. A confidence radiated from you as you began to run your hands over his bare chest, taking care to graze the areas you knew made him groan.

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he teased breathlessly, visibly unable to refuse your advances.

“Is that so?”

Anthony chuckled, nodding as he surged his lips towards yours. “Yes, so come here, my delinquent drunken wife, and let me kiss you before you and those doe-eyes of yours drive me insane. Now.”

Your laughter and surrender was immediate. “As you wish.”

Alas, for poor Anthony, that was not the end of the ordeal.

In fact, it was the next morning as you made your way into breakfast that you faced the final consequences of your delinquency.

Despite wishing to remain abed for the entire day, you’d been granted no such reprieve as your maid had entered your room at the usual appointed time and proceeded to open the curtains with no regard for the fact that you had slept a mere handful of hours. Whereas you would normally greet the day with a reluctant smile, you were in no state to manage much more than a groan as you were harshly ripped from your slumber.

If you had somehow not yet come to the conclusion that last night had been a bad idea, then the sudden flare of pain in your head at the bright intrusion was all the proof you needed. That, and the sudden churning in your stomach.

You would never let Benedict or Eloise coax you into drinking with them again.

You had not realised, despite how the idiom went, that what went up was sure to come down again - and you had come crashing down.

Hard.

“If you’re ready to dress, my lady, then breakfast will be served shortly,” your maid chirped, a dress already picked out for you to wear. She either couldn't detect your fragile state, or didn't seem to care as she continued speaking at a painfully loud volume. “My Lord sent me to wake you as he is finishing business in the study. He was up frightfully early, I could scarce believe it went the housemaids told me they’d already found him awake when they went to start the fires this morning. Gave young Samantha a right fright he did, scribbling away at his desk.”

“Oh?” you croaked.

You hadn’t even noticed the empty space in the bed bedside you until then.

Clearly Anthony had risen early, if he’d even gone to sleep at all. Why were you not surprised? Your husband was perpetually in motion, always claiming there was something or someone that needed his urgent attention as the head of the Bridgerton clan. It was just one of the things that made you love him so much.

“Is he still there?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the young girl continued, breezing about your room. “And that’s not the only strange incident this morning. It will tickle you rotten when I tell you the latest drama, but you see, Mrs Reynolds was ranting and raving about how she swore she had made three trays of fruit tarts last night, yet this morning, there were only two. The youngest kitchen maid, Betsy, is convinced it must be a ghost but my money is on Carter - the groom’s boy - he’s always snooping about the kitchen...”

You winced. Ah. Maybe you hadn't been as stealthy last night as you’d hoped after all...

With as much enthusiasm as you could muster, you began to peel yourself from the mattress, trying to appear as if you were listening to your maid’s theories as she dressed you for the day. It then took all your resolve to make it downstairs and to the breakfast table without tripping over your own feet, or emptying the non-existent contents of your stomach.

To your relief, only Eloise and Benedict had so far taken a seat at the breakfast table - and both looked about as miserable as you felt.

“Good morning,” you mumbled, taking your usual chair next to the head of the table. You were quick to accept the steaming cup of coffee Benedict handed you, shooting him a thankful look. “Dare I ask how we feel?”

“I think better than you and my dear sister here,” Benedict chirped, gesturing at a miserable looking Eloise. She had her head in her hands and was desperately trying to look at the plate of food in front of her with something other than repulsion. “Then again, I must admit I am somewhat more experienced in the art of late-night mischief than you both. I also did not have to deal with my brother before going to bed - thank you, again, for that noble sacrifice.”

“Your welcome,” you chuckled, a faint heat rising in your cheeks as you remembered the exact events after you and Anthony had gone to bed. “I just feel bad that you both got left to clean up the mess.”

“Don’t be. I think we got it all.”

“You say that but I can’t remember anything after you started singing in French,” Eloise groaned, massaging her forehead once more. “I have the oddest feeling we may have forgotten something.”

You paused. You could only hope for your sake she was wrong.

However, you were saved from such discussion by the arrival of the rest of the Bridgerton bunch. All conversation about your night-time escapades were quickly forgotten as Colin, Hyacinth and Gregory entered the room, bickering about something you couldn’t quite make out. They were swiftly followed by Violet and Francesca, who both looked unfairly cheerful for so early in the morning.

You could only wish to look so fresh and composed before your first cup of whatever caffeinated beverage you could get your hands on.

Then, finally, came your husband. Entering the room last, he turned and shot you a warm smile. Clearly, your shenanigans had been forgotten - for now - replaced instead by the memory of your other activities, much to the relief of you and your co-conspirators.

In fact, you swore you saw Eloise exhale a breath of relief when Anthony didn't immediately launch into one of his lectures. Instead, he chose to join the rest of his family in helping himself to the awaiting breakfast spread, laid out on the sideboard for them, listening to some ongoing debate between his mother and youngest brother.

“-but you said we could visit the park this afternoon.”

“I know, sweetheart, but I have to take Francesca and Eloise for their final fittings at the modiste. We shouldn’t be too long, and we can go after? Unless, perhaps your brothers will take you. Colin? Benedict? Anthony?”

Benedict looked physically pained at the idea of an afternoon at the park, what with his current delicate constitution and all. You honestly couldn't blame him. “Well, I uh - have a drawing class, this afternoon. Very last minute. Sorry.”

“And I... um, have a meeting at the club?” Colin stammered hastily. “Anthony?”

“Please, Anthony?” Gregory begged, all but pouting at his older brother as the pair made their way to the table. “I promise I’ll do all my lessons this week without complaining if you say yes. I’ll even let you have my pudding tonight.”

“As you asked so nicely, brother, I don’t see how an hour or so at the park could do any harm -” Anthony began, pulling out the chair next to you and lowering himself onto the seat in a moment that felt like it lasted forever as a horrifying sensation swept over you.

You remembered what you’d forgotten.

The chair.

“Anthony, wait-!”

The sudden crash was startling, as was the sight of your husband being sent flying backwards as the chair collapsed beneath him.

No one moved.

No one said a word.

Benedict looked across at you and Eloise, the horror clear in his eyes as he choked the word you felt on the tip of your tongue: “Run!”

#Bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fluff #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #ithebookhoarder #thesilentmage #masterlist #Violet Bridgerton #gregory bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #francesca bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #jonathan bailey #colin bridgerton

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morganas-pendragons · 5 months ago

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sweet and soft | elrond peredhel

okay LISTEN

I read this prompt about the elves ears DAYS ago and it has not left me alone. it being their most sensitive part of their body along with touching their ears meaning you want courtship.... and I then had a dream about this with Elrond

not a drop of angst in here, I want to kiss him so bad

enjoy!

***

Sunlight cradles the two of you from where you sit among the gardens in Lindon. It is a rare day where the High King has given Elrond reprieve from his duties as Herald, and you both took the opportunity to spend the time together in the gardens where you’d met.

Elrond only had one condition: You had to play for him. As your skill with a violin was renowned, you’d earned your place as High King Gil-Galad’s violinist who was often called upon for important events. It was what had initially drawn Elrond to you, seeing you playing at Gil-Galad's feast.

That was almost six months ago. Now you find yourself enraptured by the Half-Elven man with his head in your lap, your fingers idly carding through unruly curls as you recite lines of poetry from the book he’d brought to read.

Your first mistake in being so engrossed in your poetry is that you miss Elrond’s breathing hitch when your fingers ghost the tips of his ears. He is aware, as are you, what the implications are behind touching the ears of another elf. Elrond has never made the depth of his feelings for you known.

He is cognizant of one detail, at minimum. Elrond wants to court you.

He is also aware that his cheeks are burning as he turns to press his head into your thigh.

Your fingers curl just beneath the neckline of his shirt before dancing upward once again and repeating the same motion. Out of the corner of his eye, Elrond catches the faint smile upturning your lips as you peer down to meet his gaze. His eyes are astonishing already, but washed in the glow of the morning sun, he almost seems as if he is sent straight from the Valar themselves.

“Is something wrong, Elrond?” You ask innocently. He reaches up to snap the poetry book shut, allowing him the opportunity to sit up and face you. “I thought you were enjoying the poetry. This is our weekly routine, after all.”

He takes those next few beats of silence to allow his eyes to sweep across your face. Elrond has known you to be somewhat of a mischievous person, feigning innocence and naivety in situations where repercussions are demanded if fault is admitted.

“I was simply admiring the person who chooses to spend their waking hours with me instead of making practical use of their time,” Elrond remarks, voice stuttering as you curled your fingers into the lengthening curls at his temples to tug him close to you. “And how devious you are.”

You grin widely at him. Elrond is the only person you have ever allowed yourself to be genuine with. Being in Gil-Galad’s favor means that you so often have to wear a practiced facade of grace and poise. There is no room for child like behaviors.

Being with Elrond allows you to truly, truly embrace the very being of who you are. That is one of the many characteristics you have come to love about him.

“Me? Devious? Surely you are joking." You tease. "All I did was-“

He catches your hand before you can do it again. The two of you sit there in silence for a brief moment as you stare at your hand caught in his own. It’s the first time he’s really taken it. Sure, the two of you have walked with one another in these gardens plenty of times, but only as friends.

You have wanted Elrond for what feels like lifetimes. For the sake of yourself and for him as parts of Gil-Galad’s court, you chose to love him from afar. You didn’t want to impose upon Elrond. He already carried enough.

However, given the way he’s looking at you, part of you quietly wonders if he feels the same way and chose not to speak it for fear of your rejection.

Elrond takes each one of your fingers and spreads them apart, laying a kiss on each fingertip before enclosing your hand with his own. Your breath stuttered in your chest as he leaned impossibly closer.

“You know what it means to touch the ears of another elf,” Elrond said lowly. It almost sounds like barely concealed restraint. “Do not tread upon a path you do not wish to walk down.”

You hum softly and grab his chin with your fingers so he will look at you. Trepidation lingers in the depths of the gray irises that stare back into yours. “And if it is a path I wish to tread upon?” You whisper. “Let it be my choice.”

Elrond shudders as your fingers trail upward to tangle in his hair again, and he finds himself unable to breathe as you slowly shift your positions so you can settle yourself into his lap. It's a bold move considering you have done little else outside of resting your head on his shoulder and holding his arm as you venture Lindon's gardens. You're quietly praying that you have not overstepped a boundary.

Elrond doesn’t push you away. He welcomes it. He welcomes you.

He tries to focus on the sights around him to avoid the fear of disappointing you lingering in the back of his mind. You are a sight to behold among Lindon’s gardens. Despite the wonders of the sights around him, none of the flora and fauna that have grown here over the centuries are comparable to you.

“Hey,” You call softly. “Where did you go, nin mel?”

Elrond is not usually one to fumble over his words, but they roll off his tongue before he can stop his rambling, “I do not want to bring any disappointment if I am not what you wish me to be.”

You’d be lying if you said the statement didn’t make you melt. He was so earnest and sweet when it came to ensuring he lived up to what other people wanted but so often gave himself such little credit. “Elrond,” You began, taking his hands into your own to press them against your waist. “I have wanted you for so long. You could never disappoint me, meleth nin.”

You bend your head to the juncture where his jaw meets his neck and place a kiss thereupon. As you anticipate, Elrond groans low in his throat and grasps you more tightly. “Please,” He breathes, breath hot against your ear as you drum your fingers against his neck. “Please touch me.”

It was the closest to a declaration you were going to get at that moment. He wants you to be near to him, to touch him, to be witness to the rawest and most vulnerable parts that he so often hid from everyone else. He had to hide. Who would want to see the human side of the Half-Elven Herald of the King?

You tilt your head and gently graze your fingertips over his ears as he bends his own head to meet your mouth halfway. It's cataclysmic. You've been dreaming about this moment since the first time he asked you to play for him at the very end of one of Gil-Galad's feasts with the other elves who dwelt in Lindon.

Elrond shudders as you come together and lifts a hand to touch your jaw just beneath your own ear.

The action alone causes you to gasp just enough for him to take the opportunity to kiss you more deeply, licking into your mouth with a low groan as you wind your fingers through his hair.

"Elrond," You breathe. The two of you pull away just enough to feel the warm breath of the other on your skin, your fingers twirling circles against his temples as he worked at undoing the braids that hung over your shoulders. You want more of him. You want to bury yourself in his heart and never let anyone hurt him again. "That was-"

"I would very much like to do it again. And again, and again, until you are rendered breathless," Elrond whispers, reaching to the side to pluck a lily from the flower bed before tucking it behind your ear. There is hope lingering on the edge of his tone as he looks at you. A hidden promise for something that you both can chase, not a futile dream he has to chase alone. "But only after I hear you play."

You stand to your feet and motion for the violin case beside him. "One on condition," You reply as you tuck your chin into the base of the instrument and poise your bow against its strings. "There must be more kisses at the end of this song."

You swallow the knot in your throat as the melody begins to echo in the gardens, allowing Elrond the opportunity to lean back on his elbows and peer up at you from his spot on the blanket. "I believe that can be arranged. Is there anything else?" He asks innocently. You raise a brow and pause as his shirt shifts to reveal the skin beneath. Warm, tanned skin that you wanted to... "You're staring. You're going to mess up your song."

"You are distracting me." You retort. "I do have one more condition."

There are several beats of silence between you two as Elrond goes quietly, enraptured by the melody that seems to encompass your entire being as if it comes from the very heart of you. You are the very essence of what makes music beautiful.

When your final note decrescendos into the serenity of the garden's life around you is when you open your eyes to look at Elrond once again.

"What's that final condition?" Elrond asks.

"A date, Elrond Peredhel." You muse, leaning down to return your violin to its case before swooping in to press a kiss to reddened cheeks. "Anywhere and any time. I will leave the rest up to you."

He does not dare move as he watches you walk back towards your rooms. You truly are a marvel, a sight to behold. You are the brightest light that has entered his life since he lost Elros. He would not dare to dim that light.

"Anytime and anywhere," He whispers to himself as he traces his fingers over his cheek. "For all my life-time."

#Elrond x Reader #Elrond Peredhel x Reader #Rings of Power #Rings of Power fanfiction #Elrond x Y/N #Elrond x You

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hisfavegirl · 1 month ago

Text

The Edge of Desire - Jacaerys Velaryon x Wife!Reader.

Summary : You had entered his life like a storm sweeping through the desert sands. A princess of Dorne, your heritage was as fiery as the blood of Old Valyria that coursed through his veins. Your union had been born of political necessity—an alliance to strengthen Rhaenyra’s claim and solidify ties between the Targaryens and the Martells. But what began as duty quickly became something far deeper, far more consuming. Jace had not expected to fall so utterly, so fiercely. Yet with every smile, every glance, every whispered word exchanged beneath the stars, he found himself more ensnared by you. In you, he saw a partner, an equal, someone who challenged him and brought him peace in equal measure. And in him, you had found not just a husband but a man who would move the heavens and earth for you.

Word Count : 12,4k

Warning : just a lot of sex.

Jacaerys Velaryon Masterlist.

House Of The Dragon Masterlist.

and also big thanks to @zaldritzosrose for let me using yours beautiful dividers 🫶🏻.

The sound of crashing waves filled the air as you sat in the garden of Dragonstone, the salty breeze brushing against your skin. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The soft rustle of leaves mingled with the distant roars of dragons, creating a melody that had become the soundtrack of your days here.

Life had changed drastically since you married Jace. No longer the daughter living in the shadow of court politics, you were now the wife of the next heir to the Iron Throne, tied irrevocably to Rhaenyra’s cause. The weight of that knowledge rested heavily on your shoulders, but the solitude of the garden offered a brief reprieve.

You closed your eyes, savoring the moment of peace, until you felt the warmth of familiar arms wrapping around your waist.

A smile tugged at your lips even before you turned. You didn’t need to look to know who it was. “Jace,” you murmured softly, leaning back into his embrace.

“You always know it’s me,” he said with a quiet laugh, his chin resting on your shoulder.

You opened your eyes, gazing at the horizon. “Who else would it be? You’re the only one who sneaks up on me like this.”

Jace chuckled, his grip on you tightening slightly as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “It’s because I know where to find you. You’re always here.”

“Where else would I be?” you replied, your tone light. “Dragonstone isn’t exactly brimming with excitement.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to turn you around so you were facing him. His dark brown eyes, so much like his mother’s, softened as he looked at you. “Are you unhappy here?”

You shook your head, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. “No, Jace. I’m not unhappy. It’s just… different.”

“Different how?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I suppose I miss the familiarity of Sunspear's. The life I knew before. Here, everything feels so… heavy.”

Jace’s brows furrowed as he studied you. “If you’re unhappy, we can go back. I’ll speak to my mother—”

You placed a hand on his chest, cutting him off with a small smile. “It’s not that simple, Jace. This is our life now. Your life. One day, you’ll be king, and Dragonstone is just the beginning.”

He sighed, his hands resting on your waist. “You’re my wife. Your happiness matters just as much as any throne or crown.”

Your smile softened, touched by his sincerity. “And I am happy, Jace. As long as I’m with you, I’ll always find happiness.”

His expression eased at your words, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips. The kiss was gentle, a silent promise that no matter how heavy the burden of duty became, you would face it together.

When he pulled back, his lips curved into a small smile. “You always know what to say to calm me.”

“That’s because I know you better than anyone,” you replied teasingly, poking his chest lightly.

Jace laughed, catching your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. “Come, let’s walk. The dragons have been restless today, and I want to make sure they haven’t decided to scorch the gardens.”

You laughed, allowing him to lead you through the winding paths of the garden, the sound of your joined laughter mingling with the roar of the dragons above. For now, the weight of the future could wait. Here, in this moment, it was just the two of you.

As you walked along the edge of the beach, the cool breeze tugged at your dress, the fabric flowing with the wind. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore filled the air, but it was the darkness that slowly crept in around you that made the evening feel more intimate. The sky was turning a deep shade of blue, almost black, and the first stars began to twinkle overhead.

You shivered slightly, feeling the chill of the evening air seeping into your skin, and when you noticed Jace glancing at you, his eyes twinkling with a quiet amusement, you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

"What's so funny?" you asked, trying to ignore the slight tremor in your voice as you hugged your arms around yourself.

Jace chuckled softly, the warmth of his breath brushing against your ear as he leaned in. "You're wearing that dress, and it's cold enough to make me wonder if you've forgotten what season we're in."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. "I'm fine, Jace. Let's go back to the castle. The cold doesn't bother me that much."

But he shook his head, his fingers brushing your exposed skin as he reached for you, pulling you closer with a gentle but firm tug.

"No, you're cold," he said softly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And I can't let my wife freeze, can I?"

Before you could protest, he enveloped you in his arms, drawing you into the warmth of his chest. His embrace was comforting, but you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement as he held you close. Jace's lips brushed against your forehead, a soft, teasing kiss, before his mouth trailed down to meet yours.

The kiss was tender at first, a quiet exploration, but it deepened as his hands slid to the small of your back, pressing you closer.

The cold wind still whipped around you, but with Jace's warmth surrounding you, it seemed to vanish entirely. Your breath hitched, and without thinking, you responded, your arms winding around his neck, pulling him even closer.

Jace's kiss grew more insistent, and you could feel the pressure building as his hands roamed, tracing the curves of your body through the thin fabric of your dress. The gentle sound of the waves crashing on the shore was drowned out by the beat of your own hearts, racing in the quiet night.

"Jace..." you murmured between kisses, your voice shaky. You pulled back slightly, looking up into his eyes, dark and full of desire. "It's getting late, and people will wonder where we are."

His breath was ragged as he gazed down at you, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Let them wonder," he whispered. "Let them talk." He kissed you again, his hands sliding lower, demanding more from you, more of your trust, your willingness. His touch was gentle but filled with a quiet power, pulling you deeper into the moment.

You couldn't deny him, not when he looked at you like that, when his touch made you feel like you were the only person in the world. The cold air seemed so far away now, replaced by the warmth of his body against yours, and the promise of what could come next.

"Jace….." you breathed, your voice catching in your throat, torn between the need to go back and the desire to stay. "We can't... not out here."

But Jace's smile only widened, and with a playful glint in his eye, he kissed you once more, pressing his lips firmly against yours.

"Why not?" he murmured against your lips. "What's wrong with the night? The world is ours, and right now, I want you to be mine, completely."

His words made your heart race even faster, and though a part of you knew you should stop, another part of you couldn't resist. You melted into him, your worries forgotten for just a moment, as you let yourself be consumed by the warmth of his touch, the passion in his Kiss.

The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks echoed faintly as Jace led you toward a hidden cave at the edge of the beach. The soft glow of the moonlight barely illuminated the entrance, casting long shadows that made the space feel secluded, almost like your own private world.

"Jace, what are we doing here?" you asked, a mix of curiosity and nervous excitement in your voice.

He glanced back at you with a sly smile, his hand firmly holding yours. "We need a little privacy, don't we? The castle is too full of eyes and ears."

Before you could respond, he turned and pulled you gently into the dim cave, the air cooler here but somehow charged with a tension that made your pulse quicken. You barely had a moment to take in your surroundings before Jace's hands were on you, his lips capturing yours in a fervent kiss.

Your back pressed against the rough surface of the cave wall, but you hardly noticed the discomfort with the way Jace was holding you. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips moved hungrily against yours.

"Jace..." you murmured against his lips, your voice trembling with a mix of need and uncertainty.

He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours, filled with both tenderness and desire. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, his voice husky. You shook your head, your breath catching as his hands tightened on your hips. "No, don't stop..."

That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips found yours again, and his hands roamed your back, holding you close as if he couldn't bear to let you go. When he kissed the corner of your mouth and trailed his lips down to your neck, you couldn't help the soft gasp that escaped you.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. "Every time I look at you, I feel like l'm losing control."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you arched slightly against him, your hands clutching at his shoulders. "Jace... someone might notice we're gone..."

He smirked, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear. "Let them notice. Let them wonder where we are. I don't care."

His hands slid to your waist, pulling you even closer as he continued to kiss you, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of heat along your skin.

The rough texture of the rocks behind you only heightened the intensity of the moment, grounding you in the reality of his touch.

You let out a soft sigh as his lips returned to yours, your hands finding their way to his hair, tugging gently as you lost yourself in the moment. The cave, the beach, the entire world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you.

"Jace..." you whispered, your voice barely audible as his lips hovered just above yours.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice deep and laced with affection as he gazed at you. You searched his eyes, seeing the love and devotion there, and smiled softly. "I love you."

His expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss you again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if savoring every second. When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his hands cupping your face.

"And I love you," he said, his voice steady and filled with certainty. "More than anything."

The cold night air brushed against your exposed skin as Jace's hands worked skillfully, peeling away the layers of your gown with deliberate care. His lips never left yours, the heat of his kiss contrasting sharply with the cool breeze. You gasped softly into his mouth, your breath hitching as the wind sent a shiver through you, but his touch was there-warm, reassuring, and full of promise.

"Are you cold?" Jace murmured against your lips, his voice thick with concern and something darker, more possessive.

You shook your head slightly, your fingers tracing over the planes of his chest as you tugged at the tunic he wore. "Not when you're here," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, both from the chill and the fire building between you.

He smirked, his hands steady as he slid the gown from your shoulders, his fingers grazing your skin and leaving a trail of heat in their wake. "Good," he said, his tone low and rough. "I don't want you thinking about anything but me right now."

You leaned up to kiss him again, your lips brushing against his in a way that was both tender and insistent. His tunic finally slipped from his shoulders, and you let your hands explore the hard lines of his chest, the muscles beneath his skin flexing under your touch.

"Jace," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

He paused, his dark eyes locking onto yours, his expression softening for a moment as he took you in. "Yes, love?"

You hesitated, your cheeks flushing slightly. "! just... I want this. I want you."

His eyes darkened, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a satisfied smirk. "You've always had me," he replied, his voice husky. "And you always will."

With that, he lowered you gently onto the sand, his hands cradling you as if you were something precious. The rough texture of the sand beneath you was a sharp contrast to the warmth of his body as he hovered over you, his gaze sweeping over you with a hunger that sent a thrill through your entire being.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. His fingers trailed lightly down your side, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake.

You squirmed slightly under his touch, your breath hitching as his hand moved with agonizing slowness. "Jace... stop teasing me," you managed to say, your voice shaking with both frustration and anticipation.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. "Patience, my love," he said, leaning down to press a kiss to the hollow of your throat. "I want to savor every moment of this."

His lips continued their slow journey along your neck, his kisses leaving a trail of heat that seemed to seep into your very soul. You arched into him, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, desperate for more.

"Jace," you murmured again, your voice a soft plea.

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his expression a mix of love and desire. "I'm here," he said, his voice steady. "I'm yours. Always."

As he lowered himself back down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both passionate and tender, you felt the rest of the world fade away. There was only Jace, his touch, his warmth, his love. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was drowned out by your heavy breaths and soft cries of pleasure. Your fingers tangled in Jace's hair, pulling him closer as his lips continued their agonizingly tender assault on your most sensitive spot. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you in place, refusing to let you escape the intensity of his attention.

"Jace," you gasped, your voice breaking as your body trembled under his relentless ministrations. "Please... I can't—"

He lifted his gaze, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a mischievous glint. His lips glistened, and he smirked as if pleased by your desperate state. "You can," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "I know you can. Let go for me, my love."

Your head fell back against the cool sand, your body arching as another wave of pleasure crashed over you. You moaned his name, your voice high and breathless, and he hummed in satisfaction, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine.

"Jace, please," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "I can't take anymore."

He chuckled softly, the sound deep and filled with amusement. "Oh, but you can," he replied, his hands sliding up to grip your waist firmly. "You're stronger than you think, and I want to see just how far I can take you."

Your nails raked across his scalp, and he groaned softly at the sensation, his lips never leaving your skin. Every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch.

"Jace," you whimpered, your voice breaking as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

He finally slowed his movements, pressing soft kisses to your trembling thighs before climbing up your body. His hands cupped your cheeks as he leaned down to kiss you, his lips gentle and tender against yours.

"You're incredible," he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with adoration. "Do you feel how amazing you are? How perfect you are for me?" You nodded weakly, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your release.

As the night wrapped around you like a velvet blanket, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore was drowned by the quiet, intimate sounds shared between you and Jace. His body pressed closer to yours, his touch tender yet filled with the kind of passion that only he could give you.

You gasped softly as you felt him trace the inside of your thigh, his fingers grazing your skin with care. Your breathing hitched when he positioned himself and slowly, carefully, entered you. The warmth and connection were instant, making you both moan in unison at the feeling of being so utterly connected.

"Gods," Jace murmured, his voice low and shaky as he leaned down to kiss the corner of your lips. "You're perfect, every part of you."

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer, making him groan deeply. His head rested in the crook of your neck as he started to move, his pace deliberate and gentle, his touch worshipful.

You arched your back to meet his rhythm, your hands gliding over the hard muscles of his back, nails grazing his skin lightly.

"Jace," you whispered breathlessly, your voice filled with longing. "I-"

"I know," he cut you off softly, his lips brushing against your ear as he increased his pace just slightly. "I feel it too."

He kissed your collarbone, his hands gripping your waist as he adjusted the angle slightly, making you gasp loudly. Your fingers tangled in his dark hair, tugging gently, earning a deep groan from him that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You're mine," he said, his voice rough with possession as he pulled back to look at you, his amber eyes blazing with intensity. "All of you. Forever."

His movements became quicker, more desperate, as though he couldn't get enough of you. You felt overwhelmed by the intensity, your body trembling as you clung to him, utterly powerless beneath his gaze and his touch.

"Jace-" you moaned his name, your voice breaking as the pleasure built inside you like a tidal wave.

He growled softly at the sound of his name on your lips, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he drove into you with more urgency. The raw need in his eyes only fueled the fire in your own body.

"You don't know what you do to me," he rasped, his voice thick as he watched you fall apart beneath him. "I lose myself in you, every time."

Your nails dug into his shoulders as the overwhelming pleasure tipped you over the edge, and you cried out his name, your entire body trembling as you reached your peak.

Jace's movements became more forceful, more urgent, and every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through your trembling body. You gasped his name as his grip on you tightened, his pace relentless.

His hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with your own as he pinned it above your head. With his other hand, he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin before tilting your face to meet his intense gaze.

"Look at me," Jace demanded, his voice low and gravelly. The authority in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, and you obeyed, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. His amber eyes burned with a mix of desire and pride, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you, utterly undone beneath him.

"You're breathtaking," he murmured, his voice softening for a moment before his expression shifted into something darker, more possessive. "My wife. My princess. And look at you now... completely at my mercy."

You whimpered softly at his words, your body responding helplessly to his every touch and movement. Jace's laughter was low and deep as he leaned down, brushing his lips against your ear.

"The mighty princess of Dorne," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "Reduced to this... trembling and begging beneath me. Do you know how much I love seeing you like this? Completely mine."

You couldn't respond, your voice stolen by the overwhelming sensations flooding through you. All you could do was cling to him, your body arching to meet his rhythm as he continued to push you closer to the edge.

Jace's hand on your cheek slid down to your neck, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse point as his smirk widened. "You were made for this," he growled. "For me. Say it."

You managed to whisper, "I'm yours, Jace... yours to claim, to ruin."

His eyes darkened at your words, and his grip on your neck tightened slightly-not enough to hurt, but enough to make you feel the power he held over you. "Good girl," he muttered, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Moments later, your body betrayed you, shattering under his relentless pace. You cried out his name, your body trembling violently as the waves of pleasure consumed you. Jace wasn't far behind, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release.

With one final thrust, he groaned your name, his body shuddering against yours as he found his peak. He stayed there for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as the two of you caught your breath.

"You're mine," Jace whispered again, his tone softer now, filled with a deep affection that contrasted with the raw intensity from moments before. "Always mine."

You nodded weakly, your body spent and your heart full. "Always," you whispered back, your voice barely audible but filled with conviction.

Jace smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your damp forehead before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. As the waves outside continued to crash against the shore, the two of you lay tangled together, lost in the warmth of each other's embrace.

As you tried to catch your breath, you felt Jace stir beneath you, his body once again responding to yours. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he shifted, his strong arms gently guiding you to sit atop him. His hands lingered on your hips, holding you steady as he gazed up at you, his eyes a mix of unbridled desire and tender affection.

"Looks like you're not done yet, my love," Jace murmured, his voice low and teasing. He brushed his thumb over your breast, his smirk growing wider. "You wanted to ride a dragon, didn't you? Now's your chance."

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and he laughed softly, his hands encouraging you to move. Tentatively, you began to shift your hips, eliciting a low groan from him as your movements brought the two of you closer again.

"That's it," he whispered, his voice strained with pleasure. "Take your time. Show me how much you want me."

You couldn't help but smirk down at him, placing your hands on his chest for balance as you started to move with more confidence.

Each roll of your hips drew a deep, guttural sound from Jace, his hands gripping your waist to guide you as he gazed up at you in awe.

"You're... incredible," he breathed, his amber eyes never leaving yours. "Do you have any idea what you do to me? How perfect you look right now?"

You smiled shyly at his praise but didn't stop, your movements becoming more deliberate as you found a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. Jace's hands roamed up and down your sides, his touch setting your skin alight as he leaned up slightly, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

Breaking away just enough to speak, he murmured against your lips, "You're the only one who could ever make me feel this way. My wife, my princess, my everything."

His words spurred you on, and you moved faster, drawing a low growl from him. Jace's head tilted back slightly, his eyes fluttering closed as he let himself get lost in the sensation. "Gods, you're amazing," he muttered, his voice rough.

You leaned forward, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "I'm yours, Jace."

At your words, his eyes snapped open, and his grip on your waist tightened. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice filled with both passion and possession.

"I'm yours," you repeated, your voice trembling with emotion as you met his gaze.

Jace let out a deep groan, his hands guiding your movements as his hips rose to meet yours. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice laced with pride and love. "You were made for me."

Jace let out a low growl, his hands gripping your waist as he shifted your position effortlessly. In an instant, he had you beneath him, his body pressing against yours as he moved with swift and deliberate precision. Without hesitation, he buried himself deep within you, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips as his movements became rougher, more demanding.

Your fingers found their way to his shoulders, clutching him tightly as your back arched, your body responding to his intensity. The sound of your heavy breaths and desperate moans filled the air, mingling with the faint crash of waves in the distance.

"Jace," you managed to gasp, your voice trembling as his pace quickened, each thrust powerful and unrelenting.

His eyes locked onto yours, darkened with a mix of love and lust. "You're mine," he growled, his voice rough and filled with raw emotion. "No one else will ever get to see you like this, hear you like this."

You nodded frantically, your body trembling beneath him as his words sent shivers down your spine. "only you Jace," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your shared passion.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he gazed down at you, his movements never faltering. His hands roamed your body, memorizing every curve, every reaction as he drove you higher and higher. "Look at you," he murmured, his tone almost reverent. "So perfect, so beautiful, and all mine."

Your head tilted back, a loud moan escaping your lips as he shifted slightly, his movements becoming even more precise. The sensation was overwhelming, and you clung to him as waves of pleasure coursed through you.

Jace leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I love the way your body responds to me. The way you give yourself to me so completely."

Jace growled low in his throat as his movements became more forceful, each thrust a deliberate reminder that you belonged to him and no one else. "You're mine," he hissed through clenched teeth, his hand gripping your waist tightly, pulling you back against him.

Each powerful motion sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, making your moans echo across the quiet shoreline. Your fingers dug into the sand, your body trembling beneath him as you gasped, "Jace, I... I can't—"

"You can," he interrupted sharply, his voice thick with dominance and desire. "You will. You'll take all of me because you're mine."

Before you could catch your breath, he shifted suddenly, flipping you over so that your chest pressed against the cold, damp sand. You barely had time to adjust before he entered you again, filling you completely with a sharp, relentless thrust that left you crying out his name.

"Look at you," he growled, his hand tangling in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to prevent your face from pressing into the gritty surface below. "You're perfect like this— right where you belong. Beneath me. Completely mine."

Your body trembled at his words, his deep, possessive tone weaving through the haze of pleasure that clouded your mind. "Jace... please..." you begged, though you weren't even sure what you were pleading for.

He smirked, his free hand gripping your hip to keep you steady as he thrust into you harder, faster. "Please what, my love?" he taunted, his voice low and teasing. "Tell me what you want. Say it."

"I'm yours," you gasped, the words spilling from your lips without hesitation. "I belong to you, Jace."

"That's right," he murmured, satisfaction lacing his tone as he leaned over you, his chest brushing against your back. His lips grazed your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "You'll always be mine. No one else can ever touch you like this."

His hand slid from your hair to your shoulder, holding you firmly in place as he continued to take you with an intensity that left you breathless. Your cries grew louder, blending with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, the rhythm of his movements driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"Come for me," he commanded, his voice a rough whisper against your ear. "Let go, my love. Show me you're mine."

With one final thrust, your body gave in, the overwhelming pleasure pulling you under as your release shattered through you. Your cry of ecstasy echoed into the night, and Jace wasn't far behind, his groan of satisfaction vibrating through you as he followed you over the edge.

He collapsed over you, his arms wrapping around your waist as you both panted, trying to catch your breath. For a moment, the world was still, the only sound the gentle lapping of waves against the shore.

Jace shifted slightly, pulling you into his arms as he whispered, "You're mine, now and always. Don't ever forget that."

You nodded weakly, resting your head against his chest as the warmth of his body shielded you from the cool night air. "I'll never forget," you murmured, your voice soft but certain.

As the two of you lay together on the sandy shore, wrapped in each other's embrace, you felt a deep sense of belonging that no words could ever fully capture. Jace's arms were wrapped tightly around you, his chest pressed firmly against your back as the cold sand beneath you made you shiver.

His warmth was a comfort, but your body was trembling from exhaustion, your breathing uneven from everything he had already put you through.

You felt his hand trail down your leg, gripping your thigh as he lifted it slightly. The movement sent a jolt through your already tired body. "Jace.." you whispered weakly, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. "Please... I can't. Not anymore..."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and husky in your ear. "You can," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "You're strong, my love. You were made for me-for this."

"Jace, no," you pleaded, your hand weakly gripping his wrist as he positioned himself behind you. "I'm so tired... Please..."

But he didn't stop. Slowly, deliberately, he began to move again, his motions gentle but unrelenting. "You can take it," he said softly, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're mine. You were made to take everything I give you."

You whimpered, your body responding to him despite your exhaustion. His free hand trailed along your waist, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he whispered, "You're perfect like this. So soft, so beautiful... and all mine."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as your body surrendered to him once more.

"Jace... I..."

"Shh," he interrupted, his voice soothing but firm. "No more protests. Just let me take care of you."

His movements remained slow and calculated, each one sending waves of both pleasure and frustration through you. Your body was exhausted, but the way he touched you, the way he moved, made it impossible to resist him.

"You feel that?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "This is us. This is how we're meant to be. Together. Always."

You could only nod weakly, your body melting into his as he continued to move. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his hand gripping your hip tightly as he pulled you closer to him.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly as his pace quickened. "And I'll never let you go. You're mine, now and forever."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and despite your exhaustion, you found yourself clinging to him, your body responding to his every move. As the waves crashed against the shore, you lost yourself in him once more, your heart and soul entirely his.

The cold air wrapped around you, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Jace's body pressed against yours. Your limbs were heavy, your strength long gone, yet Jace's frustration drove him forward. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he pulled you onto his lap, your back flush against his chest, and you could feel his ragged breaths against your neck.

"Jace..." you whimpered weakly, your voice trembling. "Please... I-"

He silenced you with a sharp thrust, pulling a loud cry from your lips as your head fell back onto his shoulder. His laughter was low and rough, resonating against your skin as he pressed a kiss to the side of your neck. "You're too perfect when you're like this," he murmured, his voice filled with both adoration and desperation. "I can't stop-not when you're mine like this."

Your fingers clawed at his thighs, searching for something to anchor yourself as he moved faster and deeper, his pace merciless. Every movement sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, his name falling from your lips in broken cries.

"Jace... it's too much," you pleaded, but your body betrayed you, arching against him as he hit that perfect spot once again.

He chuckled darkly, his hands sliding from your hips to wrap around your stomach, holding you in place as he drove into you. "Too much?" he teased, his voice dripping with mockery. "Yet here you are, clenching around me, begging for more with every little sound you make."

You shook your head, tears forming in your eyes as the intensity overwhelmed you. "Jace, please..."

"Please what?" he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "Do you want me to stop? To let you go?"

"No!" you gasped, your voice cracking as your hands flew to his arms, gripping them tightly. "Don't stop... just... don't stop..."

"That's what I thought," he said with a triumphant smirk, his pace growing even more brutal. "You're mine, love. No one else gets to see you like this, to hear those sounds you make, to feel you like this. Just me."

Your body trembled uncontrollably, his words and actions pushing you closer to the edge.

Jace groaned as he felt you tighten around him, his grip on you tightening as well. "That's it," he growled. "Let go for me. Scream for me. Show me you're mine"

With one final thrust, the pleasure consumed you, and your cries echoed through the air as you fell apart in his arms. Jace followed soon after, his deep groan filling your ears as he buried himself inside you one last time.

You collapsed against him, your body limp and shaking, but he didn't let go. Instead, he held you close, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder and neck as your breathing slowly returned to normal. "You're perfect," he murmured against your skin. "Everything about you is mine, and I'll never let you go."

You nodded weakly, too drained to respond with words. In his arms, even amidst the overwhelming sensations, you felt safe. For better or worse, you were his, and he made sure you never forgot it.

The first light of dawn filtered through the mouth of the cave, casting faint golden rays against the rugged walls. You caught a glimpse of it as your gaze wandered, but Jace wasn't interested in the approaching day.

His focus remained solely on you. His breaths were heavy and filled with determination as he stood, his strong arms lifting your exhausted body as if you weighed nothing.

"Jace.." you murmured, your voice weak but laced with exhaustion and yearning.

He didn't answer. Instead, his lips grazed your ear, and he whispered, "I'm not done with you yet."

The words sent a shiver down your spine as he adjusted your legs around his waist, holding you tightly against him. Your body responded instinctively, and your head fell onto his shoulder as he positioned himself once more.

The moment he entered you, a loud gasp escaped your lips. The new angle made you feel every inch of him, and your arms clung tightly around his neck for support. Jace groaned deeply, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he began to move. Each thrust was firm, deep, and deliberate, his pace quickening as he felt your body adjust to his.

Your head tilted back slightly, resting against the cool rock wall as the sensations coursed through you. "Jace... we shouldn't..." you managed to say between gasps, your words faltering under the overwhelming pleasure.

"Shouldn't?" he repeated, his voice rough with amusement and desire. His hips snapped forward, making you cry out. "You think I care about what we should or shouldn't do right now? The world can wait, but I won't."

His strength was unrelenting, and the way he moved left you at his mercy. He held you steady, his hands gripping your thighs as your back pressed against the cave wall. The harsh texture of the stone was softened by the warmth of his body shielding you, and though the position should've been uncomfortable, the sensations were too intense for you to focus on anything else.

"You're mine," Jace growled, his teeth grazing your shoulder as his movements became faster and rougher. "Every part of you belongs to me. Don't ever forget that."

Your cries filled the cave, blending with the sound of the distant waves crashing against the shore outside. "I-I won't," you stammered, your voice trembling as you struggled to hold onto any coherent thought. "I'm yours, Jace. Only yours."

Hearing your admission sent him over the edge, his groans growing louder as he pounded into you with abandon. He could feel your body trembling, your walls tightening around him as another wave of pleasure threatened to overwhelm you. "That's it," he whispered harshly. "Let go for me again."

You couldn't hold back. With a loud, shuddering cry, you surrendered to the euphoria, your entire body quaking in his arms.

Jace followed closely behind, his release spilling into you as he held you tightly against him. His breathing was ragged, his face buried in your neck as he slowly came down from his high.

The world was silent except for the sound of your labored breaths. Jace shifted slightly, keeping you in his arms as he stepped away from the wall and gently lowered you onto the soft sand. He hovered over you, brushing a strand of hair from your face as he gazed down at you with a mixture of love and pride.

"You're incredible," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of you."

You managed a weak smile, your fingers brushing against his cheek. "The sun's up," you said softly, your voice still shaky. "They'll wonder where we are..."

"Let them wonder," Jace replied with a smirk, leaning down to capture your lips in another slow, lingering kiss. "For now, you're mine. And I'm not letting you go."

It had been hours since the first light of dawn broke through the mouth of the cave, yet Jace showed no signs of exhaustion. His pace was relentless, his movements fast and rough, leaving you utterly at his mercy.

Your body was weak and trembling beneath him, each thrust sending shockwaves through your already overstimulated senses. You could barely catch your breath, your cries of pleasure and frustration filling the cave as you clung to him for support.

"Jace... please," you whimpered, your voice hoarse from the constant moans and cries he'd drawn from you. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, both from the overwhelming sensations and the sheer intensity of his movements. "I can't... I can't take it anymore."

But Jace only laughed, the sound low and rough, filled with satisfaction as he watched you fall apart beneath him. His dark eyes were full of desire as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with pride. "Completely ruined. All because of me. Do you know how beautiful you look like this? So weak, so vulnerable... so mine."

You tried to respond, but the words caught in your throat as another wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your back arched off the sand, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as he continued his merciless pace. Jace groaned deeply, clearly reveling in the way your body responded to him despite your exhaustion.

"Stop? You're asking me to stop now?" he taunted, his tone playful yet dominating. His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you closer to him as he moved even deeper. "Not until you've given me everything. Every last cry, every last moan... every last piece of you."

You could only gasp in response, your head falling back as the sensations overwhelmed you. Your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending alive and tingling as he pushed you to the edge once again. "Jace... I can't..." you whispered, tears streaming down your face as your body trembled beneath him.

But he was unrelenting. His lips found your neck, peppering it with rough kisses and sharp bites as his hands explored your body. "Yes, you can," he growled against your skin. "You were made for this. Made for me. And you'll take everything I give you."

You cried out again as he adjusted his angle, hitting a spot that made you see stars. Your walls clenched tightly around him, drawing a deep groan from his lips. He was close, you could feel it in the way his movements became even more frantic, his breathing heavy and uneven.

"That's it," he rasped, his voice filled with both urgency and desperation. "Come for me again. One more time. Let me feel you fall apart around me."

You had no choice but to obey. With a loud, shuddering cry, you surrendered to the pleasure, your body convulsing as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Jace followed moments later, his groan echoing in the cave as he buried himself deep within you, his release warm and overwhelming.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you breathing heavily as the intensity of the moment began to fade. Jace finally collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he pressed a kiss to your damp forehead. "You're perfect," he whispered, his voice filled with a tenderness that contradicted the roughness of his actions moments ago.

You managed a weak smile, your fingers brushing against his cheek. "You're insatiable," you murmured, your voice barely audible.

"And you wouldn't have me any other way," Jace replied with a smirk, his fingers gently tracing patterns along your back. "Rest now, my love. Because when we return to the castle, I'll remind you all over again who you belong to."

The soft light of dawn illuminated the path as Jace carefully helped you into your gown. His hands were gentle, his touch lingering on your skin as he adjusted the fabric to ensure it sat perfectly. Once you were dressed, he bent down and scooped you up into his arms without hesitation.

Your legs were far too weak to carry you back to the castle after everything the two of you had shared that night. You sighed softly, resting your head against his shoulder, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as he began the journey back.

The air was still and cool as the two of you entered the grand hall of Dragonstone. The moment you stepped inside, the familiar voices of Rhaenyra and Daemon echoed through the chamber. They were engaged in quiet conversation by the fire, but their words trailed off the moment they noticed the two of you.

Rhaenyra’s eyes narrowed slightly as she took in the sight of you in Jace’s arms, your cheeks flushed and your head tucked against his shoulder. Beside her, Daemon arched a brow, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. The two exchanged a glance, one filled with unspoken understanding, before their expressions shifted into subtle amusement.

“Finally decided to return, have you?” Rhaenyra said, her tone light but tinged with a teasing edge. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she folded her arms across her chest. “I was beginning to wonder if you two had gotten lost on the beach.”

Jace didn’t stop or even acknowledge her words. He strode past them without pause, his focus solely on you. “She needs rest,” he said simply, his voice firm yet protective. “It’s been a… long night.”

Daemon let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he watched the two of you disappear down the corridor. “A long night indeed,” he murmured under his breath, his smirk growing wider. Rhaenyra glanced at him, her lips twitching as she suppressed a laugh of her own.

“Young love,” she said softly, though there was warmth in her voice.

Back in your shared chambers, Jace gently laid you down on the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from your face as you looked up at him with tired eyes. “You should’ve let me walk,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Not a chance,” he said firmly. “You’re mine to take care of. Now rest, my love. You’ll need your strength for tonight.”

You let out a soft laugh despite your exhaustion, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You’re insufferable,” you teased, though there was nothing but affection in your tone.

“And you’re perfect,” he replied with a small smile, his hand covering yours. “Now sleep.”

You stirred awake, the hazy remnants of sleep still clouding your mind. It wasn't the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains that had woken you but the gentle movements of your body. Blinking slowly, you opened your eyes, your vision adjusting to the dimly lit chamber.

Jace was there, his body hovering over yours, his face illuminated by a tender, almost reverent expression. He moved with slow, deliberate care, as if afraid that he might disturb you from your rest. Yet the sensations coursing through your body betrayed him, pulling you fully from your slumber. You let out a moan, involuntary sigh, and your fingers instinctively reached up to brush against his cheek.

His lips curled into a lopsided smile as his eyes met yours. "I was trying not to wake you," he murmured, his voice low and warm, carrying a tinge of amusement. His hand caressed the curve of your side, his thumb drawing soft circles on your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"You call this not waking me?" you whispered breathlessly, your voice barely audible as you felt his every touch, every movement. There was no annoyance in your tone, only a teasing edge as you gazed up at him with tired but adoring eyes.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating in his chest as he leaned down, brushing his lips lightly against your temple. "You looked too peaceful, too beautiful," he confessed, his breath warm against your skin. "I couldn't help myself. It's impossible to resist you."

You moan again, your body relaxing beneath his as your fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently. "You're impossible," you said, though your words lacked any real weight. Instead, they were laced with affection, your heart swelling at the sight of him looking down at you with such devotion.

Jace's movements remained slow, tender, as if savoring every moment, every sound you made. His hand traveled down to rest on your waist, gripping you gently as he tilted his head, his lips trailing soft kisses along your jawline. "I should've stopped," he murmured against your skin, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "But the way you looked, lying there so serene... it drove me mad."

He let out a quiet laugh, your nails grazing his scalp as you closed your eyes, leaning into the feeling of his lips on your skin. "You're incorrigible," you teased, your words faltering slightly as his hand found a new spot to explore, his touch making your breath hitch.

"But I suppose... I don't mind."

His grin widened at your response, his lips finding yours in a slow, lingering kiss. "Good," he whispered against your mouth, his voice thick with affection and desire. "Because I'll never stop wanting you-not in the quiet of the morning, not in the dead of night. You're mine."

"Yours," you echoed, the word spilling from your lips as you gazed up at him, your hand cradling his face.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his movements steady and sure as he wrapped you in his love, leaving you both breathless, lost in the quiet intimacy of the early morning light.

Your gaze shifted toward the open window, where the sun hung high in the sky—a clear sign that morning had long passed. Before you could dwell on the thought, your attention was abruptly pulled back by a sharp, deliberate thrust from Jace, causing your body to arch slightly beneath him.

"Eyes on me," he murmured, his tone commanding yet laced with affection. His smile was both playful and possessive as he leaned closer, his hands gripping your hips firmly to keep you in place. "You don't get to drift away, my love—not when I have you like this."

You let out a soft whimper, your body surrendering entirely to him. His movements grew faster, each one more deliberate than the last. There was no hesitation, no restraint, just the steady rhythm of his devotion and desire.

"That's it," he praised, his voice warm and teasing as he watched your every reaction, his smile broadening at the sight of you. "You're so good for me... so obedient."

Your breath hitched at his words, your hands clutching the sheets beneath you as he continued. Jace noticed every little movement you made, the way your body responded to him without hesitation. It only encouraged him further, his grip tightening as he pushed deeper, faster, his focus entirely on you.

"Jace," you gasped, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

"That's right," he replied, his voice thick with pride and hunger. "Say my name. Let me hear it, love."

His pace quickened, his thrusts hitting a spot that made your body shudder uncontrollably.

You arched your back, pressing into him as a wave of pleasure coursed through you. Jace leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he chuckled softly.

"You're perfect," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "My perfect wife... always so willing to give herself to me. I'll never get enough of you."

You could barely form a coherent response, your body consumed by the sensations he was drawing out of you. All you could do was hold on, your hands sliding up to grip his arms for support.

Jace's movements grew rougher, his determination evident in every powerful thrust. He groaned lowly, his voice thick with pleasure. "Look at you," he said, his tone tinged with adoration. "So beautiful, so utterly mine."

The room filled with the sounds of your ragged breaths and his deep groans, your body trembling beneath him as he brought you closer to the edge once more. With one final, deliberate motion, he sent you spiraling, your body arching beneath him as a cry of pleasure escaped your lips.

Jace slowed his movements slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. He smiled down at you, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice soft but filled with conviction.

"I love you too," you whispered, your voice trembling from the intensity of the moment.

The air in the room grew heavier, the sunlight pouring through the window almost forgotten as Jace's movements became more relentless. The pace he set was unyielding, his determination clear as he focused entirely on you. Your breaths turned to gasps, your gasps to cries, filling the space with the sound of your surrender.

"Jace," you moaned, your voice breaking as the pleasure surged through you. His hand gripped your waist tightly, steadying your trembling body as he continued to drive into you with purpose.

"You're so beautiful like this," he said between breaths, his tone a mix of adoration and possessiveness. "So loud for me... Let them all hear you. Let them know that only I can make you feel like this."

Your heart raced at his words, and before you could respond, Jace shifted his position. His hands slid down to grip your thigh, lifting one of your legs and resting it on his shoulder. The new angle sent a shockwave through your body, and you arched your back instinctively, a loud cry of his name escaping your lips.

"There she is," Jace growled, his voice thick with satisfaction as he pressed deeper. "That's my girl. Say my name again."

"Jace!" you cried, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you as the intensity overwhelmed you.

"Good," he murmured, his smirk evident as he leaned closer, folding your body slightly to deepen the connection. His movements became harder, more deliberate, his focus entirely on pushing you to the edge.

Your head fell back, your vision blurred as the pleasure consumed you. You could barely think, barely breathe, your body responding entirely to him. "Please," you whispered, though you weren't sure what you were begging for.

"Please, what?" Jace teased, his voice low and rough as he slowed his movements just enough to make you whimper in frustration. "Tell me, love. What do you need?"

"You," you managed to gasp, your voice trembling. "I need you."

"You have me," he assured, his tone softening for a moment. "Always"

With that, he resumed his relentless pace, his hand gripping your thigh tighter to keep you in place. Every thrust was calculated, every movement designed to pull you closer to the edge until you were trembling beneath him, unable to contain the overwhelming sensation.

"Say it again," Jace demanded, his voice thick with need. "Say my name.'

"Jace!" you screamed, your body arching off the bed as another wave of pleasure crashed over you.

He groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through you as he watched you fall apart beneath him. "That's right," he said, his voice full of pride. "You're mine. Only mine."

His words were the final push you needed, and you shattered completely, your cries filling the room as your body trembled in his grasp. Jace didn't stop, riding out your high, your body too weak to resist as Jace repositioned you. His hands moved with purpose, lifting you gently before bending your body over the edge of the bed.

You braced yourself against the mattress, your muscles trembling as he took his place behind you.

"Look at you," Jace murmured, his voice low and dripping with satisfaction. He ran his hands down your back, tracing the curves of your body with a possessive touch. "The proud princess of Dorne, brought to her knees by her Targaryen husband."

Your breath hitched as he leaned forward, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Doesn't it feel right, my love? You were made for this-for me."

Before you could respond, he began to move, his pace slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. The sensation pulled a soft whimper from your lips, and your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you for support.

"That's it," he said, his voice almost taunting as he quickened his rhythm. "So beautiful, so perfect like this."

Your body surrendered to him completely, the exhaustion from the night before mixing with the pleasure coursing through you. All you could do was moan softly, each sound spurring him on further.

Jace chuckled, his hand threading through your hair and tugging gently, forcing you to arch your back. "Look at you now," he continued, his tone teasing but full of pride.

"The fierce princess, bowing to her dragon." You couldn't find the words to respond, your mind clouded by the intensity of it all. He leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before whispering in your ear. "Say it, love. Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you managed to gasp, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Louder," he demanded, his grip on your hair tightening slightly as his movements became more urgent.

"I'm yours!" you cried, your voice echoing through the room.

"Good girl," he growled, his tone filled with satisfaction. He released your hair, his hand trailing down your back and gripping your waist firmly as he continued his relentless pace.

Your body trembled beneath him, each movement drawing you closer to the edge once again. Jace's laughter filled the air, his pride evident as he watched you fall apart under his touch. "No one else will ever have you like this," he said, his voice low and possessive. "You belong to me-forever."

You nodded weakly, unable to form a coherent response as he pushed you closer and closer to your limit. The combination of his words, his touch, and the intensity of the moment overwhelmed you completely, leaving you breathless and utterly at his mercy.

As you clung to the bed's edge, breathless and trembling, the knock on the door echoed loudly in the room. Both you and Jace froze for a moment, your eyes widening as you recognized the voice of his mother, Princess Rhaenyra.

"Jace," she called, her tone firm but laced with concern. "She needs her rest. Don't forget you've both had a long night."

You felt a rush of embarrassment wash over you, your cheeks burning as you buried your face into the pillow, hoping the mattress could somehow swallow you whole. But Jace, utterly unbothered, leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back as he whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"Shhh," he teased, his voice low and playful.

"Let's see how quiet you can be, my love."

Before you could even respond, he shifted his grip on your hips and thrust deeply, hitting that spot that made your whole body jerk with pleasure. A strangled cry escaped your lips despite your best effort to stay silent.

"Jace!" you hissed through gritted teeth, your voice a mixture of a plea and frustration.

At the door, Rhaenyra sighed audibly, seemingly suspecting exactly what was happening. "Jacaerys Velaryon," she called again, her voice sterner this time. "Don't make me come in there."

But Jace only chuckled, his laugh low and rich with mischief. He moved his hand to your mouth, brushing his fingers gently against your lips. "Bite down if you must," he murmured, his tone dripping with amusement. "But you won't stop me."

You glared at him weakly, but your resolve was already crumbling as he began moving again, his pace deliberate and calculated to draw every sound from your lips.

"She'll leave," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. "Eventually."

Despite the knock and the muffled voice on the other side of the door, Jace seemed determined to push you to your limits. He quickened his movements, his hands steadying your trembling body.

"Let her hear," he muttered, his voice dark and possessive. "Let her know you're mine. Completely. Utterly."

You tried to stifle your cries, biting down on your knuckle as Jace drove you higher and higher. Your body betrayed you, trembling and arching beneath his touch, a breathy moan escaping when he hit that devastating spot again.

"You're not very good at staying quiet, are you?" he teased, his grin evident even if you couldn't see it.

Outside the door, there was a pause, followed by a resigned sigh from Rhaenyra. "I'll have someone bring breakfast later," she muttered, her voice fading as she walked away.

Once the sound of her footsteps disappeared, Jace let out a triumphant laugh. "See? I told you she'd leave."

You could barely form a response, your mind hazy and your body too overwhelmed by the relentless pace he set. Jace leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Now, where were we?" he asked, a devilish grin on his face as he resumed his movements with renewed intensity.

As Jace shifted your position, turning you to face him, his hands gripped your hips firmly. His intense gaze locked onto yours, a fiery mixture of hunger and possession flickering in his eyes. His thumb brushed your cheek for a fleeting moment before he gripped your jaw, tilting your face upward to ensure you were looking at him-and only him.

"I want to see you," he growled, his voice low and thick with dominance. "Every moment. Every expression. I want to see how I ruin you."

Your breath hitched as his words sent a shiver down your spine. Before you could process them, he pulled you closer and buried himself deeply inside you, eliciting a loud gasp that filled the air between you.

"Jace..." you moaned, your voice trembling, your hands instinctively clutching his shoulders as though they were your only anchor.

"That's it," he murmured, his lips brushing yours in a teasing kiss before pulling away, leaving you chasing him. "Hold onto me. Take me in, every inch of me."

His movements grew sharper, more deliberate, as if determined to push you past the edge. He tightened his grip on your jaw, forcing your eyes to remain on his. "Don't look away," he commanded, his voice a mix of demand and adoration. "I want you to remember this. Every time I claim you, I want you to know who you belong to."

Your body arched beneath him as he quickened his pace, each thrust pulling a cry from your lips. "Jace," you whimpered, your voice breathy and strained, your body trembling under his relentless onslaught.

"Say it," he demanded, his tone fierce as he leaned closer, his forehead pressing against yours. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you managed to breathe, your voice quivering with pleasure and submission.

"Only yours, Jace." He let out a low growl of satisfaction, his hands slipping to your waist and pulling you flush against him. "Good girl," he muttered, his lips grazing your ear before trailing kisses along your jaw.

Your body betrayed your every intention to hold back, clinging to him tightly as you felt yourself unraveling. "You're squeezing me so tightly," Jace teased, his voice a mixture of amusement and pride. "You don't want to stop, do you?"

You could only shake your head weakly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming sensations he was coaxing from you. "i'm not willing to stop actually," he whispered.

As you reached your peak, your cries became louder, echoing through the room as Jace drove you to the edge and beyond. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and his gaze never left yours, drinking in every ounce of your surrender.

When the wave finally passed, your body fell limp against him, trembling and spent. Jace gently brushed the damp strands of hair from your face, his expression softening as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his voice a mixture of awe and satisfaction . "My perfect wife. My everything"

As you lay there, your body trembling and spent from the intensity of it all, Jace let out a low chuckle. His eyes glimmered with a mix of amusement and mischief as he continued moving, his pace steady and unrelenting.

"You've came so many times," he murmured, his tone almost teasing as he leaned down to brush his lips against your ear. "And yet I'm not done with you. Not even close."

Your body arched involuntarily at his words, a soft whimper escaping your lips. You felt helpless under his control, your limbs too weak to resist his every move. "Jace... please..." you whispered, your voice barely audible, laced with both exhaustion and desperation.

He smirked, clearly reveling in your state. "What's wrong, my love?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock concern. "Tired already? But I still need you... I still haven't come."

You turned your head slightly, your gaze drifting to the bedside table. There, the faint glint of a glass caught your attention. Your foggy mind struggled to piece it together, but the realization hit you like a wave. You knew what that glass contained. You knew what Jace had consumed before he brought you to this state.

"Jace..." you managed to breathe out, your eyes darting between him and the glass. "What did you... drink?"

He followed your gaze and let out another low chuckle, his hand sliding down to grip your waist as he continued his unrelenting pace.

"Ah, that," he said, his voice filled with amusement. "Let's just say I had a little help. Something to make sure I could keep up with you tonight. Or rather..." He leaned down, his lips brushing against your collarbone," something to make sure you couldn't keep up with me."

You gasped, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as another wave of pleasure coursed through your body. "Jace... that's not fair," you whimpered, your voice trembling as you felt yourself spiraling again.

"Not fair?" he echoed, feigning innocence as he pressed a kiss to your jaw. "What's not fair, my love? That I want to make you feel this good? That I want to take my time with you?" His pace quickened, drawing another cry from your lips. "You're mine, remember? And I'll have you however I want. For as long as I want."

Your body trembled beneath him, the combination of exhaustion and overwhelming sensations rendering you completely at his mercy. Despite your protests, a small part of you relished his relentless devotion to your pleasure.

"Jace... please," you whimpered again, your voice breaking as he pushed you closer to the edge once more.

He cupped your face with one hand, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he stared deeply into your eyes. "Shh," he murmured, his voice softening for a moment. "You can take it, my love. You were made for me. For this."

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you felt yourself unraveling again, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

The sound of the waves crashing outside the castle seemed to synchronize with the relentless rhythm of Jace's movements. Your body trembled violently, consumed by another wave of pleasure so intense it left you gasping for air. You couldn't stop the broken moan that escaped your lips as your body arched beneath him.

Jace let out a low chuckle, his breath warm against your neck. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement and pride. "Completely undone, all because of me." His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched you shatter beneath him, your body quivering uncontrollably.

"Jace..." you whimpered, your voice trembling as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. "Please... I can't..."

But he didn't stop. He couldn't. His movements were fast and demanding, his hands gripping your hips tightly to keep you in place. "Oh, no, my love," he said, his tone soft but commanding. "You're not done yet. Not until I decide."

You felt yourself slipping into another wave of unbearable bliss, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you as you cried out his name. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and the intensity of it all left you weak and vulnerable.

"Please, Jace," you pleaded, tears streaming down your cheeks as your body betrayed you, responding to him despite your exhaustion. "I can't take any more. Please... stop."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Oh, you can take it. You were made for me, remember? For this. For me." His voice was laced with possessiveness, each word sending a shiver down your spine.

His pace quickened, drawing another sharp cry from you. Jace smirked, clearly enjoying the way your body responded to him, no matter how much you begged for mercy. "So beautiful," he murmured, his tone softening for a moment as he pressed a kiss to your temple. "So perfect."

"Jace, please!" you cried out again, your voice breaking as another wave of ecstasy crashed over you, leaving you sobbing in pleasure.

"Shh," he cooed, his hand gently brushing your hair away from your face as he continued to move within you, his pace unrelenting. "Just let go, my love. Let me take care of you."

Your body shook uncontrollably as he pushed you to your limit, your cries echoing through the room. Jace groaned deeply, his grip on you tightening as he finally began to chase his own release. His movements became more erratic, his breath ragged as he buried himself deeper into you.

When he finally reached his peak, his body shuddered against yours, a deep groan rumbling in his chest. He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as you lay there, completely spent.

Jace pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his hand stroking your back soothingly. "You're incredible," he whispered, his voice filled with adoration. "I'll never get enough of you."

As the exhaustion consumed you, your body still trembling from the aftershocks, Jace held you close, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"Rest now, my love," he murmured, his voice soft and tender. "You've earned it."

You fell into a deep sleep, your body utterly spent and trembling with exhaustion. Jace watched over you, his chest tightening with a mix of guilt and affection. He gently swept a strand of hair from your damp forehead, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss there. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I’ll take better care of you.”

Carefully, Jace slipped out of the bed, his every movement cautious so as not to disturb your rest. He picked up his discarded tunic from the floor and slipped it over his shoulders, sparing one last glance at you. The sight of you so vulnerable and at peace made his heart ache with both pride and regret. Determined to make amends, he decided to fetch food and drink for you, knowing you’d wake hungry and drained.

As he made his way through the corridors of Dragonstone, his footsteps echoed faintly against the stone walls. His mind replayed the events of the previous night, a mix of satisfaction and shame swirling within him. He hadn’t intended to push you so far, but his passion and love for you often made him lose control.

When Jace entered the grand hall, he immediately froze. His mother, Rhaenyra, was standing near the table with her hands clasped in front of her. Her sharp gaze cut through him, her expression a blend of disapproval and subtle amusement. Beside her stood Daemon, who, in stark contrast, had a wide smirk plastered across his face.

Daemon was the first to break the silence, clapping his hands slowly as his laughter echoed through the hall. “Well, well, well,” he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. “Look who finally emerged. I was beginning to think you’d taken permanent residence in that bedchamber.”

Jace’s face turned a deep shade of red, and he ran a hand through his messy hair, his embarrassment palpable. “Daemon,” he said tightly, trying to maintain his composure.

Rhaenyra’s lips pressed into a thin line as she looked him up and down, her eyes lingering on the faint red marks on his neck. “Jacaerys Velaryon,” she said sharply, her voice carrying the weight of a reprimand. “You’re my heir, and as such, you’re expected to conduct yourself with a certain level of decorum.”

Daemon let out another chuckle, waving a dismissive hand. “Oh, come now, Rhaenyra,” he said, his grin widening. “Let the boy enjoy his marriage. Don’t act as if we were any different.” He turned to Jace with a wink. “Your mother may try to deny it, but I can assure you, we were far from discreet when we first wed. Isn’t that right, my love?”

Rhaenyra shot him a glare, her cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink. “That’s hardly the point, Daemon,” she retorted, though her tone was less sharp now.

Daemon smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “The point,” he said, turning back to Jace, “is that you’re young and in love. Passion like this is rare, and it’s not something to be ashamed of. Just… perhaps be mindful of the volume next time, hmm? The walls here aren’t as thick as you might think.”

Jace’s ears burned with humiliation, and he quickly looked away, mumbling, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Rhaenyra sighed, her expression softening slightly. “Jace,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I know you care for her deeply, but she’s not as resilient as you might think. Don’t push her too hard. She’s not just your wife—she’s your partner. Treat her with the care she deserves.”

“I will, Mother,” Jace said earnestly, meeting her gaze. “I promise.”

Daemon clapped a hand on Jace’s shoulder, his grin never wavering. “Good lad,” he said. “Now go take care of her. And next time, perhaps don’t look so guilty when you wander into the hall. It makes things far too easy for us.”

Jace nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite his embarrassment. He continued on his way to the kitchens, quickly gathering a tray of food and drink before returning to your chamber.

When he entered the room and saw you still peacefully sleeping, a wave of love washed over him. Setting the tray down, he sat beside you, brushing a gentle hand over your cheek. As he watched you, he silently vowed to be the husband you deserved—one who cherished you, protected you, and loved you with every fiber of his being.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry

#hotd #hotd imagine #hotd one shot #hotd x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jace targaryen #jace velaryon #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x you #jacaerys valaryon x reader #hotd smut #hotd headcanon #hotd fanfic

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novaursa · 3 months ago

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To Save Us Both

- Summary: Aegon was your shadow ever since you were a child. And once you come of age and Viserys gives your hand to Lord Tyrell's son, Aegon makes a decision that would save you both—and ruin you all the same.

- Pairing: sister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

You had always been the quiet one, the shadow lingering just outside the gilded glow of your family’s attention. As the second daughter of King Viserys and Queen Alicent, you lived in the space between your mother’s careful plans and your father’s indulgent dismissiveness. Helaena had her dreams and riddles, and Aegon—your elder brother—had his bravado and recklessness. And then there was you.

From the earliest days, Aegon sought your attention with a peculiar intensity. At first, it was innocent enough. He would seek you out during lessons, deliberately sit beside you at the long table in the Red Keep’s library, or tug on your sleeve when you were absorbed in your Valyrian texts.

“Y/N, look at this!” he exclaimed one day, barely past eight, holding a wooden dragon he had carved—or at least claimed to have carved. It was crude, the wings uneven, but you smiled at him regardless.

“It’s… unique,” you replied, your voice soft, careful not to wound his pride.

“Unique?” His face fell slightly before he puffed up with exaggerated bravado. “I think it’s better than that. It looks like Vhagar, doesn’t it?”

“It’s a little smaller than Vhagar,” you teased gently, a rare flicker of mirth dancing in your eyes. Aegon’s pout faded into a grin, and he sat beside you, his body leaning just a little too close.

It was always like this with Aegon. He thrived on your smiles, craved your laughter, and seemed to falter when you turned away from him. When Helaena pulled you into her world of strange, whispered riddles or Aemond showed off his knowledge of dragons to impress you, Aegon’s mood would darken.

One afternoon, the court gathered in the gardens for a brief reprieve from the heat of the Red Keep. You had found a shaded spot beneath a weeping willow, a book of High Valyrian poetry resting in your lap. Aemond stood beside you, his expression serious as he recited lines from memory, his voice low and earnest.

“Se perzys ipradagon ziry ry,” he said, his pale gaze fixed on you. “The flame consumes it all.”

You nodded thoughtfully, your lips curving in approval. “You’ve improved,” you said, your voice warm, and Aemond’s face lit up with quiet pride.

From across the garden, Aegon watched, his jaw tightening. He drained his goblet of wine in one swift motion and made his way toward you, his steps purposeful.

“What’s this?” Aegon interrupted, his tone light but sharp around the edges. He flopped down beside you, ignoring Aemond entirely. “High Valyrian poetry? How dull.”

“It’s not dull,” you said, looking up at him with a small frown. “Aemond has been practicing.”

“Oh, Aemond’s been practicing,” Aegon mocked, his voice dripping with exaggerated awe. “How impressive.” He reached over and plucked the book from your lap, flipping through it carelessly. “You should do something more fun, Y/N. We could go riding or—”

“She doesn’t have time for your games,” Aemond said coldly, stepping closer.

“And you don’t have time for your lessons, apparently,” Aegon snapped back, his smile sharp. “Run along, little brother.”

“Aegon,” you said, a note of warning in your voice. He turned to you, the sharpness in his expression softening instantly.

“What? I’m just saying we could have more fun.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You’d rather spend time with me, wouldn’t you?”

Your brows knit together, and you glanced between your brothers, torn. “Aemond and I were having a conversation.”

“But I’m more interesting,” Aegon pressed, his grin widening as he tilted his head, his violet eyes searching yours.

You sighed, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Only for you, dear sister,” he replied, the words carrying a weight you didn’t fully grasp.

As you grew older, Aegon’s attempts to claim your attention became bolder. When suitors began to glance your way at feasts, he was quick to position himself between you and them, his arm draped casually over the back of your chair, his voice louder, his laugh more boisterous.

One evening, a young lord from the Reach had spent far too long at your side, his compliments earning your shy smiles. Aegon, seated nearby, clenched his goblet so tightly that the metal bent under his grip.

When the lord finally excused himself, Aegon slid into his place, his eyes narrowing as he looked after the retreating figure. “Do you actually enjoy listening to that drivel?” he asked, his tone laced with disdain.

“He was kind,” you said simply, glancing at him.

“Kind? He was duller than a broken sword,” Aegon retorted, his gaze fixed on you. “You deserve better.”

“And who would that be?” you asked, your voice carrying a note of challenge.

His smirk faltered for a moment, his expression turning uncharacteristically earnest. “Someone who knows you. Someone who’s been by your side all along.”

Your breath caught, his words lingering in the space between you. But before you could respond, he laughed, the moment breaking as quickly as it had come. “But not him,” he added, his usual arrogance slipping back into place. “You’re mine, little sister.”

You blinked, unsure whether to laugh or scold him, but the possessiveness in his tone left an unspoken promise lingering in the air. Aegon would always vie for your attention, no matter who tried to steal it away.

The announcement had been made during a routine gathering of the family, with King Viserys seated at the head of the table, Alicent by his side. His words were spoken with the offhandedness of someone making a trivial decision, though the weight of them crashed into Aegon like a hammer.

“It’s time we secure another alliance,” Viserys had said, his gaze landing on you. “Lord Tyrell has expressed interest in a match between his eldest son and our daughter.”

You sat frozen in your seat, your wineglass trembling slightly in your hand. Across the table, Aegon’s face darkened. His lips parted as if to protest, but no words came. Instead, he stared at Viserys, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of the table.

The conversation moved on, Viserys discussing trade agreements and naval concerns, but Aegon heard none of it. His mind was a whirl of chaos, his heart pounding so fiercely it drowned out the voices around him.

Later that evening, he stormed into Alicent’s chambers, his face pale and his violet eyes wild. She was seated by the hearth, embroidering a handkerchief with practiced precision. When she saw him, her calm expression shifted to one of concern.

“Aegon?” she asked, setting the embroidery aside. “What’s the matter?”

“I need to speak with you,” he said, his voice strained. He paced the room, running a hand through his hair, the usual air of arrogance stripped away. “It’s about Y/N.”

Alicent’s brow furrowed, her motherly instincts kicking in. “What about her?”

“They can’t marry her off,” he blurted, turning to face her. “Not to the Tyrell boy. Not to anyone.”

“Aegon,” she said softly, rising from her chair. “It’s a good match. Lord Tyrell is powerful, and his son—”

“I don’t care about his son!” Aegon interrupted, his voice rising. “I don’t care about alliances or power or any of it. She belongs here, with us. With me.”

Alicent froze, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied her eldest son. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I can’t let this happen.” He took a step closer, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Mother, you have to stop it. You’re the only one he listens to.”

She reached out, placing a hand on his arm to steady him. “Aegon, you’re being irrational. Y/N’s future—”

“My future doesn’t exist without her!” he cried, his voice desperate. “Don’t you see? She’s the only thing in this world that matters to me.”

Alicent’s lips parted, her expression shifting from concern to something more conflicted. “Aegon…” she began, but he cut her off.

“She’s everything to me,” he said, his voice softer now, trembling with vulnerability. “When she laughs, it’s like the sun breaks through the clouds. When she looks at me, I feel like I’m someone worth being. And the thought of her—of her with someone else—” His voice broke entirely, and he turned away, his shoulders shaking.

Alicent watched him for a long moment, her mind racing. Finally, she spoke, her tone measured. “You care for her deeply.”

Aegon let out a bitter laugh. “Care for her? Mother, I love her. I’ve always loved her. And if they take her from me, if they marry her off to that Tyrell boy or anyone else…” He turned back to her, his face etched with anguish. “I’ll die. Do you hear me? I’ll die.”

The rawness of his words struck Alicent to her core. She had always known Aegon’s feelings for you went beyond brotherly affection, though she had hoped it was a passing infatuation. But the desperation in his voice, the tears brimming in his eyes—it was undeniable. This wasn’t a childish crush. This was a man willing to set the world aflame for the one he loved.

“You must speak to Father,” he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Convince him. Tell him it’s not the right match, that she’s too young, that the Tyrells aren’t trustworthy—anything. Just stop it.”

Alicent hesitated, torn between her role as a mother and her duty as queen. Finally, she nodded, her voice firm. “I will speak with him. But, Aegon…” She stepped closer, placing a hand on his cheek. “You must tread carefully. This path you’re walking—it’s dangerous.”

“I don’t care,” he said, his voice resolute. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her by my side.”

Alicent sighed, pulling him into a brief embrace. “Then let us hope the gods are merciful.”

As Aegon left her chambers, a flicker of determination replaced the despair in his eyes. If his mother couldn’t stop the betrothal, he would find another way. He would fight, scheme, beg—whatever it took. Because losing you wasn’t an option. Not now. Not ever.

The candles burned low in Aegon’s chambers as he paced the floor. The wine on his table sat untouched, an unusual sight for him. Tonight, Aegon’s mind was too sharp, too focused, to indulge in his usual vices. The Tyrell betrothal still loomed like a sword over his head, and every moment that passed without a resolution tightened the noose around his heart.

He had spoken to Alicent, begged her to intervene, but her assurances felt fragile against Viserys’s iron will. His father had grown increasingly indifferent to the pleas of his children, too consumed by his own decaying health and dream of uniting the realm. If Alicent couldn’t sway him, Aegon knew he needed to act. He needed to ensure that there was no choice but to keep you by his side.

The idea had taken root in his mind slowly, twisting and growing until it consumed him entirely. It wasn’t honorable, nor was it kind, but Aegon was neither of those things. He was desperate. And desperation made monsters of men.

That night, as the Red Keep grew silent and the court retired to their chambers, Aegon found you in the library. You were alone, the firelight illuminating your soft features as you poured over a book. It was a scene he had seen a hundred times, but tonight it struck him differently. Tonight, he couldn’t afford to wait, to hope that things would somehow fall in his favor.

“Still reading?” he asked, leaning casually against the doorway.

You glanced up, startled but not displeased to see him. “I could say the same to you. It’s unusual to find you here without a cup of wine in hand.”

He smirked, though the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “I suppose even I have my moments of sobriety.”

You smiled faintly and returned your attention to the page, but Aegon didn’t move. He stepped closer, his boots soft against the stone floor, and you glanced up again, your brows knitting in confusion.

“Is something wrong?” you asked.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re hovering,” you said plainly, though there was no malice in your tone.

Aegon chuckled, but it sounded hollow even to his ears. He sat beside you, closer than usual, his knee brushing yours. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

He hesitated, his fingers tracing the edge of the table. “About the Tyrell boy.”

You stiffened slightly, your gaze dropping back to the book. “Father has made his decision. There’s little point in discussing it.”

“Do you want to marry him?” Aegon pressed, his voice low and urgent.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” you said, your tone soft but resigned. “My duty is to the family, to the realm.”

“That’s not an answer,” he said, leaning closer. “Do you want him, Y/N? Do you want to leave the Red Keep, leave me, and go to Highgarden?”

You turned to him, your eyes wide with surprise and something else—confusion, perhaps. “Why does it matter to you?”

Aegon swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Because I can’t lose you. You’re mine.”

“Aegon—”

“Listen to me,” he said, his hand reaching out to grasp yours. “You don’t belong with him. You belong here, with your family, with me.”

You tried to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened. “Aegon, you’re not making any sense.”

“I love you,” he blurted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I’ve always loved you, Y/N. And I can’t let them take you from me.”

Your lips parted, shock evident on your face. “You’re my brother.”

“And that makes it wrong?” he challenged, his voice trembling. “Our blood of the dragon is the same, our bond stronger than any lord or knight could ever offer you. Don’t you see? We were meant to be together.”

You stared at him, your mind racing, but before you could respond, Aegon leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if he were testing the boundaries of what you would allow. When you didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his hand moving to cup your cheek.

You pushed him back abruptly, your eyes wide with a mix of confusion and anger. “Aegon, this is madness.”

“It’s the truth,” he said, his voice raw. “And I’ll prove it to you. If they try to marry you off, I’ll stop them. I’ll make sure you stay here, with me.”

“How?” you demanded, your voice rising. “What are you planning?”

He hesitated, the weight of his scheme hanging heavily between you. “If Father won’t listen, then I’ll give him no choice. If you’re mine, truly mine, he can’t send you away.”

The implication of his words hit you like a blow, and you took a step back, your chest heaving. “You mean to ruin me,” you whispered, horrified.

“To save you,” he countered, his expression desperate. “To save us.”

You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “Aegon, this isn’t the way.”

“It’s the only way,” he said, reaching for you again. “Don’t you see? I’d burn the whole world to keep you.”

You turned away, your heart pounding, and fled the library, leaving Aegon alone in the flickering firelight. He stood there for a long moment, his hands clenched into fists, his mind racing.

If you wouldn’t accept his love willingly, then he would ensure there was no other path for you to take.

Whatever it cost, whatever it took, you would be his.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #hotd aegon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x y/n #aegon targaryen #aegon the second #aegon x reader #house targaryen

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shalomniscient · 3 months ago

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ever so often, arlecchino finds you outside in the house's sprawling garden surrounded by the children. at any point, you could be showing them any manner of creature you've somehow managed to grab (gently, of course). just the past week it was a crimson finch that had accidentally flown into the window, and before that it was some lizard (green horned, she can almost hear you say indignantly) that had unfortunately not managed to scurry away from you in time. the children all watch with rapt interest as you cradle the little critter in your palms, softly relaying the assortment of miscellaneous facts you have stored somewhere in that brain of yours. it's an endearing sight, and one that arlecchino indulges in whenever she has the time, or feels the fatigue of staring at inane documents press against the backs of her eyes.

today, however, she watches sat beneath the shade of a willow tree, one leg crossed over the other and fingers curled around the handle of her teacup. it is a rare day of reprieve, and she spends it here in the mild fontainian mediterranean sun, her typical uniform shed in favor of a billowy white shirt and slim-fitting, high-waisted breeches. something has piqued yours and the children's interest, and all of you gather near the garden wall. she can hear the children whisper excitedly as you crouch down, and then they gasp as you stand up.

she raises a brow in interest herself. whatever it is your holding, it seems a little larger than your usual finds. however, with the crowd of children around you, it's difficult for her to actually see what it is you're holding. you spare her a glance over your shoulder, then a minute tilt of your head. a wordless invitation; come. and she does, easily, a thorny bloom to the sun, setting her teacup down with barely a sound and rising to her feet. her heels have been traded for something more casual, and her typical imposing stature has reduced somewhat--though the children still obediently part when she approaches.

"anything of note?" she asks. she studies your face carefully; from the curl of your lip to the creases at the corners of your eyes to the slope of your brow. of all things, she finds it is mischief that inhabits your expression, and she mentally prepares herself for whatever ridiculously endearing thing you're about to show her.

that 'ridiculously endearing thing', as it turns out, happens to be a rabbit--a rather plush, black-and white rabbit, sitting perfectly content in your arms. you're supporting the creature with one hand beneath its chest and the other beneath its hind legs, holding it close to you. some of the children gently pet the downy fur along its back, and the rabbit's black-tipped ears twitch in response, almost pleased.

"we found a little guest beneath the hedge line," you answer, glancing down affectionately at the creature. "the children were hoping they'd be allowed to keep it."

arlecchino snorts. "the children, or you?"

"rude," you shoot back, though the smile on your lips is still present. "come now, we've already thought of a name."

"is that so?" she drawls, her eyes narrowing a fraction at the rabbit. its own eyes, previously closed in contentment, open, and almost seem to challenge her. her fingers twitch behind her back.

"it is," you say, and there's a lightness to your tone that arlecchino knows is a harbinger of some form of mischief. her eyes meet yours, and they gleam with mirth. arlecchino wonders if the sun is ever envious of the way it is outshone. "would you like to hear it?"

she sighs, looking away. "proceed."

"thumper seems rather cute, no?" you answer innocently, batting your lashes, and internally arlecchino cringes. thumper. a name from a popular children's book, one that even a woman as cruel as the former knave would keep in stock in her library. a name, famously, that was attributed to the companion of the book's titular character, bambi.

bambi, which was also the name of the spider she once had as a child.

you notice her brief foray back into her memories, and draw her back with a soft laugh. thumper's ear twitches, and the little beast nuzzles closer against your chest. "no? well, we could always name him after you. you both seem to look quite alike, wouldn't you say? hm, how about per--"

"thumper is fine," arlecchino cuts you off, exasperation underlining her tone. there is an almost-scowl on her face, though the relaxed line of her shoulders gives away her true feelings. "the... creature, can stay. so long as it is properly cared for."

the children whoop and cheer, and your eyes soften into a thankful, tender look. thumper, now thoroughly loafing in your arms, wags his stubby little tail. perhaps he is somewhat cute, arlecchino muses, extending a hand to smooth down his fur--

--only for the traitorous little beast to lean away, cracking open an eye to glare almost witheringly at her. you coo as he presses close, and arlecchino's eye twitches. she doesn't know if rabbits have the capacity to make smug expressions, but she's willing to swear upon the tsaritsa's name that the damn creature is making that exact expression at her right now.

in hindsight, it's been a while since she's had rabbit stew.

#sev.scribbles #sevchino #arlecchino x reader #saw hunnie's bunny arle art and got possessed #anyway thumper is fine the kids love him too much for him to be stewed

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lilacgaby · 4 months ago

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˗ˏˋdie for you.ᡣ𐭩

after an attempt on your life, the royal family turns to promising young blood, hoping to find someone to protect you. katsuki was chosen and ended up dedicating himself to you in a way even he never predicted.

✩pair. knight!katsuki x princess!reader tags. fem!reader, royalty, no quirk au, swords, violence, pet names, reader is referred to as she/her, fighting, fluff, happy ending, wc. 7k

✩note. this is like really old, i decided to let it graduate from draft jail while i work on the otherr

A sword at your throat. the familiar weight of your crown on your head.

that's all that you processed before it faded to black.

who knew a walk in the garden would be so dangerous? the attempts on your life were growing more frequent by the day, the recent tensions between your kingdom and the villages surrounding it just fueling the violence.

of course, this, much like the other three attempts in the past week hadn't worked. the witches and wizards around you successfully poisoning the man holding you and killing him instantly.

it barely shook you anymore, the feeling of waking up in your bed safe and sound after being threatened. perhaps you were getting too used to the sensation of being in danger.

but this didn't help you in the case of your mother, who worried, and rightfully so. they had called you into the grand courts the next morning, giving you a day of reprieve before letting you in on the plans.

“[name].” your father, the king spoke. his eyes looking sorrowfully down at you, as if he pitied you. “we will be searching for new crowns guard members and keeping you under full time surveillance from now on. these attempts are

becoming more and more common, and you have no means of defending yourself.”

you sighed, crossing your arms. “i don't have any say in this? being under constant watch is disgraceful.”

“my dear, it is only what's necessary! i argued over this in your stead for days, but with these recent attempts.. it is what needs to be done.” your mother pleaded with you.

a moment of silence passed over, thoughts flowing like a waterfall through your mind. knowing she had the final word, you bowed in mock agreement. “i give you my full permission to do whatever needs to be done.”

“very well then, fetch me the fresh blood.” the king barked. “only the best, i want a good bunch weeded out before the trials.”

at this, the consultants bowed and rushed out to the villages. the trip to the village was almost an hour away, and people working for the royals were not very favored at this moment because of the strained relationship. the horses led them to the villages, the sound of their stomps the first evidence of the new arrival's presence in the town.

katsuki, who had been sharpening his swords outside, was the first of the young men in the village to see the royal carriages arrive. with a glare, he waltzed over to the central square, where many others had already gathered.

“i apologize for the intrusion!” a man, wearing silks worth more than a house stood, speaking quite loudly. “we have job opportunities for any young soldiers in training! if you pass the king’s trial, your family will be greatly compensated. any willing to enter, please,” he stepped over to gesture to the carriage with empty spots. “gather your belongings and settle into the carriage before sundown. thank you!”

katsuki scoffed, looking over at the other imbeciles who thought this would be their big break. did he care for royals at all? no. but this would be a way to climb to the top. a way to become a big name. so, he'd go.

he walked right back to his mother's store, a tailoring business, and starting packing. “i'm leaving.” he announced to her and his father, a satchel packed and swung around his arm as he looked nonchalantly.

his mother only waved a hand. “go do whatever you'd like, but don't die.”

his father, with a tearful expression, wished him good luck with a smile. “you'll do amazing son.. though i don't know where exactly you're going. you've always been destined for greatness.”

“of course i am. don't fail the business in my absence.” he turned and walked out of the only home he'd ever known, to go and see what these royals were all about.

he was sat next to a lot of the village boys he'd grown up with, a bunch of them must have lost hope, because the numbers dwindled down severely. with a smack of a whip, the horses began to move, guiding the now twelve men to the kingdom.

the estate was even more huge up close, the golden sunlight from the fleeing sun making the castle seem all the more impressive. even katsuki couldn't help but voice his opinion, muttering under his breath, “wow.”

they were dropped off in front of the main door of the castle, leading to the main chamber. the twelve nervously walked in, greeted by the sight of the king’s piercing eyes, and the queen's grateful smile.

“is this all who came then?” the king said, his voice bellowing throughout the castle. at a man’s nod, he began to address the villagers.

“you all, i offer my thanks for your participation. recently, multiple uprisings have been taking place in different villages. ones that have threatened my daughter’s life. we've done our best to keep this out of the news, so most of you have not heard of this before, correct?”

the boys all nodded, surprised at the revelation that the princess might have been killed.

“the reason why i sent out for you, is because i want not only a personal guard for my daughter, but a crowns guard protecting the perimeters of the castle. all of you, for even arriving here, will be getting paid handsomely.

but, to ensure only the best is personally assigned for my daughter, you will all be dueling right now.”

surprised gasps echo and bounce off the walls, none of them were prepared, but katsuki was determined to win even in this odd situation.

“you may be forced to fight in the middle of the night or the middle of a garden, being ready at all times is key for a successful knight. if you fall to the floor you lose, this is an all out battle, so do what you must to win.”

the queen personally handed out training swords made of wood to each of them, making them all bow in thanks. even katsuki felt honored in a way, the queen’s presence the very essence of royal.

they all assumed fighting stances. since there were no rules other than to stay up, it meant they'd need to be aware of all possible threats from any direction.

“begin.”

katsuki went in with guns blazing, knocking a man to the floor instantly. others charged at him at the same time, so with a timed dodge he made them collide, then eliminated them simultaneously.

it was obvious that the king had been taken by katsuki. his eyes locked onto him, small commentary between the queen and him as they examined the way he fought, his fighting style brute yet calculated.

there was now only three left, the weaker of the men being taken out the fight in a flash. katsuki let them take the first move, them naturally charging at eachother because of their proximity.

with a smart move, katsuki knocked them over as they were on the offense, kicking the other’s lower body to knock them over.

applause rang out through the court, servants and consults clapping for him. even the king and queen gave him their respects. katsuki could only smirk, he really was destined for greatness.

“it's decided then, you my lad, will be assigned to my daughter’s detail tomorrow morning. tell me your name.”

he pointed his sword at the king, making the servants appear applauded at his audacity. “katsuki bakugo. don't you forget it.”

the king could only let out a hearty laugh. “i don't think i could bakugo. as for the rest of you, you all fought valiantly. you will all be assigned your positions tomorrow by the head of the knights. bakugo, follow that young lady over there. you will sleep in only our best chambers.”

he smirked victoriously as he followed the older servant, his satchel in her grasp. with a polite smile, she walked with him down the hallways. he decided to question her about this princess, wondering if she'd be stuck up. “hey, lady.” he asked, making the girl jump.

“ah.. yes?”

“this princess of yours, how's she act? stuck-up?” he questioned, noting the way the servant’s eyes seem to get offended for her. “no, no! i've worked for many princesses you see, and she's been the most gracious one i've had the pleasure of serving.” he nodded to signal he was listening, as she continued.

“she has her moments of frustration, but never takes it out on her staff. she's a very kind princess, the future of this kingdom is safe in her arms. that's what i believe young man.” the lady finished, stilling in front of a large door. “this is where you'll be staying, the princess herself stays in the room across the hallway. from when she wakes up you will need to be there, so get some sleep.”

she opened the door, revealing a huge bedroom the size of his shop. the bed weaved of silk and linen, pillows feathery soft, a gorgeous window offering a view of the moon. there was even an area dedicated to just weaponry, not to mention his own private bathroom. he felt speechless as he was left alone there, the clothes he wore feeling unfit for this new environment.

he fell asleep pondering this new life of his. wondering if this was going to be worth the headache of being at some princesses hand and feet.

he was woken up by the same old lady, embarrassed of how deep of a slumber he'd been in. those sheets were heavenly, he'd have to get some for his parents back home.

he was given royal clothing, the cloth feeling light and refreshing on his skin. a purple band around his arm signifying his connection to you. as he put his sword on his back, he walked over to the room across his. he knocked on the door and waited.

the sight that greeted him made him think he had died and went to heaven. the old lady had never mentioned just how gorgeous you were, the silk night robe clinging to your figure in all the right ways, your face still dreamy from being half-asleep, your hair slightly messy from how you slept on it.

“hello?” you said, your hands holding the door open while eyeing the handsome knight outside your room. he was very clearly eyeing you, you'd be flattered if you weren't so sleepy. “are you my new knight?”

those words finally snapped him back into reality. “um.. yes. yes i am. im bakugo.” he replied, standing tall and at attention now. “oh, okay. come in bakugo. i'm [name].” you stuck your hand out for him to shake, but he had to bite back the urge to kiss it.

he didn't know why he was panicking so bad, this had never happened before. he had known several gorgeous women back in town, ones that had even come on to him, but you were on a different league to them.

he had always laughed and joked about those knights who'd willingly lay their lives down for a princess, but he'd never understood them more then when he was just in your presence.

he shook your hand tightly, before letting go and just standing awkwardly. “i don't really.. know what to do.” he said honestly. “you don't have to watch me all day, just don't leave me alone. i think.” you said before going back to lay on your bed. “i don't have any meetings or stuff today so, i can give you a tour around here if you want? i don't feel like just doing nothing all day.”

“anything you want princess.” the words had slipped out his mouth before he could process it. he'd smack his hand over his mouth if he could, but he didn't want to embarrass himself further. you didn't seem to notice his turmoil though, stretching and walking over to your bathroom. “okay, that settles it then. you can lay on my bed while you wait for me bakugo.”

you changed into a casual everyday dress, choosing the one with the easiest corset to tie yourself. basic makeup and hairstyle aside, you walked out ready to take him around.

after styling your hair, you grabbed his hand off where he was sat on the bed. “let's go!”

you were going to be the death of him.

your words were barely processed as he was enthralled by the sight of you. your mouth was moving yet he couldn't hear anything more than the sound of his beating heart. your skin was glowing, lips soft and plump, eyes shining and full of intrigue.

his hands grew sweaty, he hoped you didn't notice as you pulled him along with you for the fifteenth time today. you'd finally finished he though, until you revealed you'd only gotten through one floor. you laughed at his distressed expression, and brought him out to the garden instead.

“this is my favorite spot.” you admitted, taking him to farthest side of the garden where you could get a view of the village. his village. “i wish i could visit, it seems so.. inviting, you know?”

“that's where i live.” he pointed to the house on the edge of the village, although it was small from his perspective, he could recognize the cloths laying outside from miles away. “my family owns that shop, i practiced outside there everyday.”

your eyes grew wide, smiling at the news. “really? that was you? i always saw someone running around there.”

he flushed, he'd never realized he'd had an audience. especially not a royal one. “youre not lying right?”

“of course not. people watching is all i really do out here, besides almost get killed you know?”

“huh.. those are two very interesting hobbies.” you smacked his arm playfully. he decided to keep telling you about the village. pointing out the villages, explaining what happens inside, telling you about his daily life back there.

he felt your eyes on him the entire time, though thankfully he was starting to get more used to your presence.

they had brought dinner out for the two of you, the spread being larger than katsuki ever had in his dreams. the amount of meats, salads, cheeses, and wines on the table would've lasted his family for months he thinks.

“choose whatever you'd like bakugo.” you invited. he nodded and started to eat, you did too. most of the items went uneaten though, you two getting full before even eating half of it.

“it's okay, they'll save this so don't feel bad.” you assured, taking his hand a final time. “i'm kind of sleepy though so, i'm gonna head to bed.” he followed you back to your room, feeling like a boyfriend leaving his girlfriend at her home when you left him with a, “goodnight bakugo.”

the next day was one where he actually had to work. sitting around your bed as the servants surrounded you, tightening the corset around you, doing your hair, and finishing off with your makeup. he followed you and your entourage as they led you to the meeting room.

he stood by your chair as various other royals came up to you and your family. he was surprised at the utter lack of awareness they seemed to have, asking for large sums of money and help with no embarrassment.

'aren't rich people supposed to be fancy? why do they ask for things more than the poor?’ he pondered, looking down at you and your bored expression.

for some reason, the topic of your hand in marriage was a recurring topic whenever the foreign royals didn't seem to get far. they'd talk about you like some object, a prize to be won.

all you'd do was yawn in boredom your father denying every request that day. no wonder everyone wanted to murder you.

a knife was flung at you faster than anyone could process, the only sound was the unsheathing of katsuki's sword in response. he was now in front of you, the knife in his hand as the guards swarmed the royal who had attacked you.

the king and queen looked at him in respect, as you did in awe.

that happened a lot more over the months, you and him grew closer and closer, but any public meeting where your attendance was needed would be a hotspot for potential attempts.

you had started to grow enamored with him too, his name slowly changing to a more familiar “katsuki.” his presence being by your side even when it wasn't required, you would test the bounds of his physical affection more. the sight of you two hugging as you read was not a strange one anymore, in fact it was preferred for the both of you.

he used to only had seen you as a stepping stone for his success, a rock in the bridge for his assent to victory. but as he held you in his arms, hearts in his pupils as he doted over you silently, he knew he was too far gone.

late night talks turned into affection shared between you. forbidden kisses and pleasures untold as you held eachother through the night.

his room began to dust, his bed going unused as he'd be with you eternally. it became an armory more than anything, as whenever he'd finish up any business he'd find himself running back to your side. he wished to live eternally there.

he was in his room once, disrobing after spending another day with you. he was lost in thought, before he heard you scream. he ran out, sword unsheathed, eyes rabid and wide as he saw the tip of a sword pressed against your neck, blood dripping down as the offender held you as a shield.

“you're a villager too aren't you? don't you realize with the death of the princess the kingdom will surely fall?” the man spoke, deepening the sword into your throat as katsuki gripped the hilt of his so hard he thought it'd snap. “i am a villager. im a villager at heart and in soul. but killing someone without any affinity other than blood is purely idiotic.”

the man scoffed, throwing you to the floor and making you groan. his boot pressed onto your back as his sword hung over your vital organs. “i see. you choose to be a dog.

even so, if you do behead me here it will achieve nothing. we want change, change that cannot be achieved without th–”

“shut up.” katsuki swung his sword through the heart of the man. “don't look up [name].” he directed, before throwing the man out of your window where he had broken in from. he watched as he fell to the ground, the blood of his body painting the pristine white roses red. he closed the window, closing the blinds just for precaution. you were looking at him, eyes wide and white with fear. your hands shaking

he looked at you, an expression in your eyes you couldn't place. the hilt of his now bloodied sword was still tight in his hands, until he let it drop to the floor.

he held his arms out, letting you crash into him and confide in his protection.

you sobbed in his arms, this attempt was different, it was calculated. you were all alone, and scared. he stitched your neck up, the blood spilling all over your dress as you whimpered in pain. you didn't want to be left alone now, not ever again. katsuki didn't leave your side though, he slept with you through the night. being there when you woke up.

he held you through the morning, no words leaving his lips. your eyes were swollen from crying, you face buried deep in his chest. he had a thoughtful expression on his face as he caressed you, suddenly pulling you out the bed with a determined look on his face. “trust me.” was all he uttered before leaving the room.

he dragged you down to speak with your father in the morning, he decided he was going to voice his opinions whether you liked it or not. “katsuki no! my father hates being questioned, please listen!”

as you begged him not to, he pulled you along like a ragdoll. “we have to do this princess, it's for your sake and mine.”

that silenced you for the rest of the walk, he didn't have to pull you as harshly now, walking beside you with your hand tightly gripped in his still.

you finally made it to the king's quarters, where he looked surprised at the sudden intrusion. “bakugo, [name], what are you two doing here?”

“why not just change the kingdom and appease the people instead of letting your daughter get hurt over and over? her neck had to be stitched together yesterday, and a man's corpse is rotting outside her bushes.” katsuki ranted, finally letting his inner turmoil's out.

“it's not your job to question me. silence now.”

“i don't think i will be silent, king. you'd rather let your daughter potentially die than give a bit of money to the poor? you hear out so many royals, so many failures of your rich society, yet you can't give an audience to the people who've built your wealth?”

silence loomed over the room, you'd never seen your father so angry. he bitterly laughed, clapping his hands. “so passionate, i knew you village peasants were interesting.”

“father, don't speak of them li–”

“silence. both of you.. since you believe that my kingdom isn't up to your standards.. do you realize that you are committing treason?”

your eyes and katsuki's shot up, you stood in front of him and started to plead. “father no! he was trying to protect me!”

“i know what is best for this situation. [name], leave the room. now.” the king ordered. you looked to katsuki for a brief moment, begging him silently to remain cordial, before waiting outside the door.

“come here boy.” he ordered to katsuki, making him walk closer hesitantly. the king started to speak with a smirk on his face.

“i will not be changing the way my kingdom was built solely because a couple peasants are starving to death.”

katsuki’s eyes widened, he continued. “my kingdom was built on this bloodshed, this suffering. a paradise where all are equal is just a fantasy, besides,

i can always have more children if she dies, i'd just prefer for my wife to not be upset at her death.”

katsuki felt nauseous as the king grew a sick smile on his face. “i like you. i see myself in you. i will give you two options lad. one: leave and do not utter a word to her, go far away and speak nothing of this. or two: i can strike you down right now and act as if you threatened me first.

how about it, peasant?”

katsuki packed up his things silently. ignoring your questions, the heaving of your chest as you begged him to stay. the tears staining your dress, the fear he knew would strike you at every moment.

you had turned him around, forcing him to look at you. to look at those eyes filled with tears just for him, the stitched up scar on your neck, the feeling of your hands pulling his. “katsuki.. why– why are you doing this? did he say something to you?” you hiccuped. “just answer me! please!”

the only safe response he could give you? none at all. he ripped his hands out of yours, breaking both your heart and his as he did so.

he walked away from you, not looking back as he entered the carriage that'd take him to a village, from where he'd have to walk a bit further.

he tried not to think of you, but how could he not when he saw you in everything? in the golden sun that served to mock him, in the grass that flowed freely in the winds, in the flowers that sprung from the ground.

he could never leave you behind. not your memory.. and not you yourself. as he sat in a tavern, drinking his sorrows away with the purple band clutched in his hand, he overheard a group of men speaking.

“so we do it next week, we have to kill the king.” they whispered, cloaks hung over their heads as they pointed out locations on a map. he was walking over before he even realized it, the group staring at him as he examined the map. he thinks it was just his liquid courage, or maybe it was just the desperation to go see you again.

“this is all wrong. the castle isn't laid out like this.” he muttered, grabbing a marker and starting to correct it. “hey– what are you doing man?” a red-haired man spoke.

“i'm fixing your map. you wanna kill the king right? i do too.”

“oh, awesome man!” he cheered. “sit next to us random guy.” he patted the seat next to him as katsuki sat down, finishing up the changes on the map.

“how do you know all this stuff?” a red and white haired man spoke, eyeing him curiously. “i was a knight until yesterday.”

this made them all gasp. “well.. guess that means you'd know it the best then, huh?” a green haired one spoke, “we really want to do this right so, help us with our strateg–”

“you can't kill the princess. that's my condition.” the group of five collectively eyed each other in confusion. “uh.. that's fine i guess. weren't really planning on it.” a yellow haired guy replied, “but we just want the king down. if you wanna keep her safe that'll be your job then random guy.”

“bakugo.”

this prompted them to go around the table introducing themselves. kaminari, kirishima, todoroki, midoriya, and shinsou. they had a mix of magic and manpower. but the only way they'd pull this off would be with immense planning. well, them anyways. he only had one goal: to save you.

the plan was for him to go to your quarters and escape with you while they caught the king by surprise. they'd need to cast spells and put the guards to sleep, the only blood they wanted to shed would be the king himself’s.

katsuki sighed. they had a week to prepare, but he didn't know what he'd do for that week away from you. he fell asleep to the thought of you, training vigorously for the chance to apologize. to take you with him, to build a life with you if you'd grace him with it.

to take you to meet his parents, his village. to show you how life entails, what it could be for the two of you:

during the day he'd train, detailing the schedule of not only the king but the servants around, the guard’s hours in full. he'd slash trees and bang rocks in anger and frustration over the cards you two had been dealt.

at night he'd ponder what to say to you. how to approach you, how to confess what had happened. how to convince you to leave with him, leave your life of luxury for one of uncertainty. a lifetime of uncertainty just to live with him.

the more he pondered the more he'd groan in frustration, which would make kirishima smack him on the head with a pillow. “go to sleep.”

he'd grunt and fall asleep to the moon, the same one you'd be looking at too.

you hadn't been faring well since he left. your days consisting of crying and screaming. you didn't leave your room, you didn't attend meetings or your classes. you didn't go to your spot in the gardens, the sight of the village mocking you, knowing he was so close yet so far.

he had rejected you. he probably hated you, the words from the man who wanted to kill you had stuck in his mind and now he was disgusted by royalty such as yourself.

your handmaids approached you with the caution you'd give to a baby, talking to you as if you were on the verge of a breakdown every second, which you were.

you hated that you'd let him into your life so easily, how much he held over your heart. you hated your feelings for him and how safe he made you feel.

what you hated the most was that you didn't hate him at all, you realized as you stared at the haunting moon, not knowing he was looking at it while thinking of you too.

days passed and it was time. they had spent the previous day traveling, bribing some horse traders to let them in through the gate. they all wore cloaks and had magic that would allow them to communicate throughout the kingdom together.

they all split up, katsuki by himself as he fled to your section of the kingdom. they all fled to surround the king.

not like he cared for that old man. all he wanted was to see you.

he noted how they hadn't bothered to clean the blood spilled on the rose beds under your window, the window that he started to climb. he hung on the windowsill as he peeked in to see you, with bloodshot eyes holding yourself. you looked as if you hadn't slept right in days, a look of paranoia over you.

he knocked on the window making you jump. at the sight of.. him with a cloak on? you scurried over, opening the window as he hopped in. “[name], i uh.. i came back for you.”

“why did you leave me in the first place katsuki?” you looked despaired, your hands clenched into fists as you stared at him.

“i.. i don't have much time. and i didn't have much time then. but i need you to come with me [name].”

“what?”

“we need to leave this place. you can't be here for a couple days and i can protect you. please [name].” he bowed down to you, pleading for you to just trust him though he didn't deserve it. the communication magic was setting off rapidly, they had made contact with the king already.

“get up katsuki, just– i'll go okay?” you said, helping him up. “but you're gonna explain everything.”

“right.” he helped you pack a bag full of essentials for you, helped you change into a dress that allowed for more mobility. he helped you down the window, holding you tight as you fled down the castle walls. he even let you keep your crowns and jewelry, your rings and things you'd loved from your birthdays.

you'd boarded the stowaway carriage, waiting for his ‘partners’ to get back. he neglected to tell you they were here to murder your father, the king, but from the spell tugging in his head he knew.

it was a success.

you had fallen asleep on his shoulder, cuddled up to him, snoring slightly. he held your hand as he held you close, you were so knocked out even the yells of happiness from the rebel group didn't wake you. they escaped into the night, kaminari and kirishima teasing katsuki about his relationship with you.

“no wonder you wanted to save her so bad, you're in love with the princess.”

“we can officiate your wedding man! as long as you don't want actual papers–”

“shut up.”

the rest of the ride was filled with that mockery, the rebels filled with excitement of what would become of the kingdom. the king was dead, the queen and princess were missing. well, the princess was safe and sound by katsuki’s side in actuality, but it's not like the townsmen knew that.

you woke up to the feeling of being carried, it was already dawn, the sun had begun to awake. katsuki was carrying you to a house of some sort. your arms wrapped around his neck, your eyes half lidded from sleep. “morning 'suki.” slipped from your lips as you yawned.

he looked down at you with a small smile. “good morning [name], we have uh-.. things to talk about. a lot of things.” he was nervous, you could tell from his tone. he set you down on a bed before sitting beside you, holding your hand.

“so, would you like the good news or the bad news first?” he asked you, avoiding eye contact. “bad news? what bad news?” you questioned, examining both him and yourself for injury. “well, your father is dead and your family has been dethroned.” he said quickly, not allowing for pause.

your eyes shot up in surprise, and just as quickly.. you.. yawned?

you weren't having much as a reaction as he planned for, he planned to have to beg you to stay, console you as you screamed out in terror, but you looked almost unimpressed. “i mean.. he had it coming. he treated everyone horribly, i hope mother is alright though.” you muttered. “anyways, the good news?”

he was flabbergasted to say the least, but he continued. “uh.. yeah. since he died the villagers usurped the throne, destroying the royal structure of the land.”

“can i keep my crown?"

“sure you can.”

“then it's okay with me.”

“oh..”

“is something wrong..?”

“nope, uh. thats all.”

“so, can we explore the village today?”

“yes, yes we can.”

he took you everywhere he imagined in his dreams. you got along with his mother, surprisingly. fitting in like a missing puzzle piece into his life.

wealth had spread throughout the lands, everyone prospering as the people had elected for a people run government.

you'd adjusted surprisingly well. your huge gowns had become modest smaller ones, your jewelry now gone and replaced with leather bands. you'd had to do chores now, jokingly complaining but honestly learning to like the mundane aspects of life.

with your knight at your side, now devoted to you in not only soul but heart, you knew everything would go perfectly.

tags: @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @hiimsaraaandyou @amayaaaxx

@i-the-fluffo @uy242c @irenne-stans

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bookwormjust · 6 months ago

Text

Protective shadows (Established relationship, Azriel's mate, Cassian teasing as usual, Azriel not in the mood)

The sun hung low over the sprawling courtyards of the House of Wind, casting long, golden rays across the stone floors. The Inner Circle had gathered for a relaxed afternoon, a rare reprieve from the pressures of their roles and responsibilities. You sat beside Azriel on one of the plush outdoor sofas, enjoying the warm breeze that carried the scent of blooming flowers from the nearby gardens.

Azriel’s shadows, ever-present and watchful, danced lazily around him, the dark tendrils swirling softly like smoke caught in a gentle breeze. One shadow, in particular, was coiled around your wrist like a bracelet—warm and familiar, its touch a constant, comforting reminder of his presence. It seemed to pulse with a life of its own, moving in sync with the rhythm of your heartbeat.

Cassian, always one to notice the little details, caught sight of the shadow and grinned, leaning back in his chair with a teasing glint in his eyes. “You know, Az, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your shadows so attached to anyone before. Are you sure you’re not overdoing it a little?” he joked, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I mean, they’re practically glued to her.”

Azriel’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced at Cassian. There was a flicker of something sharp in his gaze, a protective edge that made his shadows stir restlessly around him. He kept his hand resting on your knee, his thumb brushing slow, calming circles into your skin, but his posture tensed, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

“They do as they please,” Azriel said, his voice low and steady, but there was an unmistakable warning in his tone. His shadows, sensing his unease, tightened ever so slightly around your wrist, as if reaffirming their presence, their silent vow to protect.

Cassian chuckled, clearly oblivious to the shift in Azriel’s mood. “Oh, come on, Az. It’s just a shadow. It’s not like anyone’s going to steal her away from you,” he teased, the grin on his face broadening. “Besides, it’s not like she’s in danger here.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened, a flicker of anger sparking in their depths. The shadows around him grew denser, swirling with a sudden intensity that made the air feel heavier. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a dangerously quiet level. “They’re not just shadows, Cassian,” he said, each word edged with a quiet menace. “They’re a part of me, and they know exactly where they belong.”

Cassian’s smile faltered, the lightness of his teasing dimming as he realized Azriel was not in the mood for jokes. He raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender, though the gleam in his eyes showed he was not entirely cowed. “Alright, alright. No need to get your feathers ruffled, Shadowsinger,” Cassian said, though his tone was more subdued now. “I’m just messing with you.”

But Azriel’s gaze remained hard, his grip on your knee tightening slightly. “She is my mate,” he said, the words resonating with a possessive finality. “My shadows protect what’s mine, and I won’t apologize for that.”

The declaration hung in the air, charged with the weight of his emotions. Azriel’s shadows pulsed in time with his heartbeat, the tendril around your wrist tightening slightly before relaxing, as if echoing his protectiveness. You could feel the intensity of his feelings through your bond—the fierce need to keep you safe, to ensure that nothing and no one could ever harm you.

You reached up, placing a gentle hand on Azriel’s arm, grounding him with your touch. “I like having them close,” you said softly, offering him a reassuring smile. “They make me feel safe.”

Azriel’s gaze softened as he looked at you, the tension in his posture easing just a fraction. His thumb resumed its soothing motion on your knee, and his shadows seemed to calm, their movements becoming more languid and relaxed. He turned his attention back to Cassian, his expression still guarded but the anger fading from his eyes.

Cassian met Azriel’s gaze, his own expression more serious now. “I get it,” he said quietly, a hint of understanding in his tone. “I just didn’t realize it meant that much to you.”

“It does,” Azriel replied, his voice steady, though the underlying edge of protectiveness remained. “She’s everything to me.”

Cassian nodded, his teasing demeanor replaced by a rare look of respect. “Well, then,” he said, a small, genuine smile touching his lips. “I’m glad she has you—and your shadows—looking out for her.”

Azriel inclined his head, accepting the peace offering with a slight nod. He turned his attention back to you, his expression softening further as he caught your eye. The shadow around your wrist gave a gentle squeeze, like a silent promise, before settling back into its usual, comforting rhythm.

You leaned into Azriel, resting your head against his shoulder as his arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer. His wings shifted slightly, brushing against your back in a gesture that felt both protective and intimate. The bond between you thrummed with warmth, a steady reassurance that no matter what, Azriel would always be there, his shadows ever-watchful, ever-loyal.

Cassian might have teased, but you knew the truth: Azriel’s shadows were more than just wisps of darkness—they were extensions of his love, his devotion, and his unyielding promise to keep you safe. And in that moment, wrapped in his embrace with the steady presence of his shadows around you, you knew you were exactly where you belonged.

#azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel fanfic #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader #azriel x reader fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar reader imagine #acotar x reader #acotar #Spotify

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 6 months ago

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Poolside

Husband Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: You and Joel take your first vacation together, all you want to do is read your book... and all your husband wants is your attention... and a seat. Warnings: Fluff, Joel Miller greatest husband award, smut allusions, trashy romance novel, chocolate chip cookies, use of a "Birds Of A Feather" lyric, no use of y/n, not beta read. Words: 900

A/N: This was written for @beefrobeefcal's Married Joel Sits On You Prompt Challenge and woooooo beefy! This was very fun and cute to write.

Masterlist

___

Immelda tells Berlioz she’ll never love him, not in a million years, not if he was the last standing man on God’s green earth. Your eyes fight to stay open, you’re sun drunk and satiated luxuriating in the bright rays of the afternoon light.

You’re savoring every minute of this vacation, the first you and Joel have ever taken without Sarah, the two of you didn’t even have time for a honeymoon between your busy schedules and parenting responsibilities. A full week in a vacation home on the coast, complete with a beautiful swimming pool and gigantic kitchen. Just you, your husband, and a couple of trashy romance novels you’ve been meaning to read.

It feels good to celebrate, Joel just finished his biggest job yet, one of those sprawling developments full of gaudy McMansions. Miller Construction is booming, much like Joel’s stomach. Marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline.

You love your husband, no matter what he weighs, and if you’re being honest, you love knowing how happy and plump he is. He just can’t get enough of your baked goods, maybe it wasn’t a good idea that the man with the insatiable sweet tooth married a baker. Sure, you’re probably a little to blame, since you are the one that packs his lunch every morning, always making sure to include his favorite snack– your famous homemade chocolate chip cookies with dark, semi-sweet, and white chips. He can’t get enough of them, you can always tell when he’s snuck his hand into the cookie jar; the dusting of crumbs across his beard and shirt always gives him away.

Each vacation day has been lazy– waking up around noon, drinking mimosas and eating flaky croissants on the patio, discovering a new position on the chaise lounge by the pool, never having a schedule that you both have to answer to– this is the good life.

Joel swims and floats the day away, the water feels good on his often aching back. “You gonna join me baby?” he swims towards the edge of the pool with a wide smile across his face. You love all interations of your husband, but vacation Joel Miller might just be your favorite. The waves of his hair sit slicked back by the pool water, the water glints and glimmers across his body turned more bronze under the sunlight, a smile stays planted across his face miles and miles away from any responsibilities and stress.

“Maybe later,” you look up from your trashy romance novel, “Immelda just accepted Sir Sterling’s hand in marriage.”

—

Berlioz cages Immelda against the bruising stones of her garden wall, far away from the onlookers attending the regal party being thrown in honor of her engagement to Sir Sterling. He thrusts his tongue into her eager mouth, tasting the forbidden fruit of her. Finally, the story’s getting good.

The book drops out of your hands thumping onto your bare chest at the shock of Joel’s wet, warm body against your stomach, smushing your internal organs.

“This seat taken?” his Texas drawl drips with the sarcasm you’re always a sucker for.

“WHAT THE HELL?” you labor out, struggling under the full weight of Joel’s body.

“Figured since you weren’t answerin’ me, I’d get your attention somehow,” he adjusts his weight on top of you, giving you a bit of a reprieve from his full heft. You’d be a fool if you didn’t admit that you love the crushing sensation of your husband’s weight on you. “You’re quite comfy.”

“I’m glad I can be of service, even if you’re flattening my intestines.”

Joel moves to get up, but you reach an arm around him, pushing all of him back on top of you.

“Actually,” you gulp a breath in, “feels kinda good.”

He turns to you, removing your sunglasses to look into your eyes, reaching his hand down and placing it against your cheek. “I don’t think I could love you more.”

Everyone knows your husband as the often grumpy, direct, and intimidating force of a man. His workers dread him, the hardware store employees cower in fear at his knowledge, hell, even the oil change clerks hate to see him approach. What those outsiders don’t see is the softness in his eyes when he watches you and Sarah dance along to your favorite song, the hand he holds out to help you step down from his truck, the gentle touch of his lips against your skin when he gets out of bed to start his day. Joel Miller is a soft man underneath that gruff often flannel covered exterior. Now, all of his softness sits atop your body, dripping big droplets of water all over you.

“I feel the same way honey, but could you please stop sitting on me now?”

He chuckles as he stands, the shadow of your husband eclipses the sunlight before he lays his whole body on top of you; the chaise lounge groans at the weight of the both of you. He places his head in the crook between your shoulder and neck, sighing against your skin, soaking it with his wet body.

“Ow,” you whimper, when the spine of your book pushes into the soft swell of your breast.

Joel leans up, grabs your now soaked book and tosses it aside.

“Sorry ‘bout that, lemme kiss it better,” he says, angling his head down to place wet, sloppy kisses across your chest. “Hope you didn’t want to finish your book."

“I kinda did, it was getting to the good… smutty part.”

“Oh darlin’, I think you and I can make our own happy ending,” he says before taking your breast into his mouth.

#joel miller sat on me 2024 #joel miller #joel x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #tlou joel #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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romanteacism · 6 months ago

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Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Pretense

Synopsis: An afternoon of pretense that makes Ser Aemond question all that he believes and the possibility of him wanting more than what his station is fit for. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond and Reader becoming closer, infatuation, Jealousy, Aemond Discovering Emotions, Fluff, Fake-Marriage PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: I was giggling and kicking my feet the entire time writing this

“Sister, you’re absolutely flushed! Was lord Arthur here?” Your brother asked with a teasing grin, making you scowl at him as he sat across from you. As always, you were in the gardens of the summer palace with your sworn protector watching over your day-to-day activities, minus a second knight, much to Aemond’s relief. “Oh, shut up!” You muttered, looking upon your lap and bringing your clammed, cold hands up to your cheeks, attesting how heated they indeed were. “I’ve never seen you like this,” Your brother grinned as he poured himself a cup of tea and refiled your own cup as well. You grumbled and rolled your eyes as you urged your face to be rid of the flush that spread throughout.

Aemond gritted his jaw. Not only did he have to suffer watching as Lord Arthur tried to engage with you throughout the whole of the morning— and you utterly besotted by every little thing he did. Now, he had to hear the recollection of events as your brother had joined you in the gardens, offering no reprieve for your knight, who was already growing tired of the thought of Lord Arthur. “Do you think he will be the one you shall choose?” You choked on your tea, and Aemond’s gaze turned lethal at your brother’s question.

“Gods, brother— I barely know him!” You exclaimed, trying to find your napkin, but it had fallen from your lap; luckily, your knight was quick to retrieve his handkerchief and offered it to you. “Thank you, Ser Aemond.” You say and dabbed your lips. “Seriously, brother, enough with such subjects.” You say, and Aemond silently agrees as he returns to his post behind you. “You must think of your betrothal soon— you are of age, sister. Father and I are drowning in a sea of parchment, and as much as I want you to stay in our home and care, I would very much like the countless scrolls addressed to me by the eligible bachelors of the realm cease! Just earlier, I was rudely woken before the first light with a scroll marked ‘urgent,’ but it was simply a proposal for your hand!”

You shook your head. “Why are you pressuring me into a betrothal and marriage when you yourself are not burdened by such matters? Should you not be married first? You are, after all, older than me and are set to be the next king,” You raised a brow, and your brother failed to find a response to your query, simply changing the subject altogether. “So, are you ready for the end of the summer ball?” You bit your lip to hinder your laugh at your brother’s tactic to change the subject.

“Not quite— Theodore had accidentally ruined my gown,” You pouted, wholly dismayed by your pet cat who had used your dress as his own scratching post. “I’ve sent a raven home to ask the maids to send another, but I do not think it would come in time,” You sighed, troubled as to what to wear for the ball that would take place in two days' time. “Then go to town and have another made,” Your brother shrugged as he finished his tea. You furrowed your brows, “You would let me leave the castle?” You questioned in surprise. “As long as you bring your guards and do not run off again to god knows where.” Your lips parted, uncertain if your brother was being serious. “Truly? Do you mean it?” You questioned as he stood. “Yes, we need you looking your best for Lord Arthur, lest he becomes uninterested and leaves you to be a spinster.” He teased and quickly placed a chaste kiss on your temple before running off before you could retaliate at his jest.

“Your hood, princess,” Aemond said, tugging at the hem of your cover to conceal your face. “Do not fret so much, Ser Aemond. All of this disguise makes them more suspicious,” You say as you walk along the town with your knight by your side. Aemond disagreed, but he stayed silent; he turned behind the two of you to ensure the other knights were still in tow and the other guards he ordered to patrol throughout the town were by their post.

“Flowers for the lady?” A florist called at Ser Aemond by the side of the alley, urging him to take one of her bouquets. Aemond ignored the call, but you were distracted by the pretty flowers. “Ooh…” You trailed, bemused by the colorful display, burying your nose into a bouquet of lilacs. Aemond waited tensely as you made conversation with the vendor, hoping you would not be recognized. “Princess—“ He whispered, tugging at your arm as he saw the woman starting to realize who you were. “Enough formalities… would not want them to grow suspicious, would you not, Aemond?” You whispered as you turned to your knight, addressing him without formal titles for the first time. Aemond licked his lips, an odd sensation spreading through his body as you addressed him solely by his name.

“Such a pretty girl you are… it’s a shame your husband would not buy you flowers,” The vendor suddenly sighed, rendering Aemond still in his spot. He expected you to deny such claims, but you only laughed at the vendor’s tactic of trying to sell her flowers through guilt. “It truly is a pity… before, when we were courting, he would just send me flowers without me even asking for them! He would send them so often and in such large quantities that it turned my father’s home into a garden; even bees began to swarm it! Now, not even nagging or arm pulling would urge him to pick up a simple wildflower off the street!” You laughed, along with the woman who readily brought your pretense. Aemond just stood there, his cheeks flushed, and he felt his erratic pulse at the tip of his ears. “What happened to you, husband? Has marriage with me truly changed you?” You asked with a smile, your eyes urging him to join in your deception.

“Come now, wife, we must get going,” He said and handed the vendor a few coins along with the bouquet he observed you liked the most and hastily took your arm to drag you to the seamstress. You laughed and yelled a quick ‘thank you’ to the woman who seemed happy enough that her most pricey bouquet was bought by what she believed were husband and wife. “That was fun,” You laughed at your pretend husband, who was too rigid as he walked by your side. “You could have been discovered, princess! What were you thinking?” He said, exasperated. You sighed and shook your head, taking the bouquet from his hand, letting your fingers brush, and you felt how cold his touch was. “What would get me discovered is your persistence in calling me princess. Come now, Ser Aemond, address me by my name, or have you forgotten it already?” You teased, but Aemond did not find the matter amusing at all— if anything, this visit to the town had made his already tense manner more austere.

“Fine, keep calling me princess and have them discover I’m here— create a commotion and arouse more dang—“ Aemond sighed and finally uttered your name, unchained by any title. You smiled triumphantly up at him, but only an uncomfortable expression could be seen on his face as his stomach was in a knot. “You’re starting to offend me now. Am I that disagreeable that you could not even pretend that I am your wife for the afternoon?” You asked as you linked your arm with his. Aemond swallowed thickly at the question you proposed, when he did not answer because he his nerves and emotions that he always tried to conceal were starting to get the best of him, you felt dread pool in your gut.

You stayed silent until you reached the seamstress’ shop, finally letting go of your knight’s arm. You talked with the woman who ran the shop, who as well did not know your true identity. Aemond stood by the door as you began to be fitted for your gown. “Sir, you need not stand by the door. Come, sit and have a cup as you wait for your wife,” An elderly man approached, ushering Aemond onto a seat, and he began to question if you two truly did look like husband and wife because the smallfolk readily believed and assumed such notions.

“How lucky you are that your husband joins you with such errands; I could not even get my husband to accompany me to a simple walk along the town square!” The seamstress laughed as she measured the length of your arm. You laughed, turning to Ser Aemond with a teasing glint in your eyes as they were completely oblivious to who you were, too distracted with what they assumed to be a couple completely enthralled and devoted to one another. “Hm… it truly is rare to find such a man,” You smiled and returned to face the mirror, Ser Aemond shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he felt his heart flutter further. “Here you are, lad,” the old man offered him tea and sat next to Aemond.

“So, how long have you two been married?” He questioned casually, trying to converse with a man who never enjoyed such things. “A—a year,” He said stiffly, sipping the hot liquid, his eye going to you, who he knew listened to the conversation even if your gaze was focused upon the fabric selection you were presented with. “Quite new— how long did you two court?” Aemond was asked, and his hold on the cup tightened as he could not dismiss the prying old man, for you will surely scold him. “Five years,” He muttered and saw the shock on the stranger’s face for the long courtship. “Her… her father had disapproved of the match— it took time to convince him.”

“And convinced he was,” you interjected, making the two men turn to you. The old man smiled, “Lucky lad you are, such a comely wife who’s ready to defy her father’s wants— you rarely see that now. Girls are too afraid to go against their father’s order and have themselves disowned.” The man sighed, and Aemond stilled as you approached. “Better to have love and be destitute than be miserable with a dowry,” You shrugged. “What color do you think, husband? The pink or the cream?” Aemond licked his lips as you and the man expectantly looked at him, waiting for his response. “The cream, wife,” He answered, urging himself not to stutter as he was finding it harder to breathe with each moment of your pretense. “Very well, if my husband says to pick the cream, then I shall wear a cream-colored gown,” You smiled further and returned to the seamstress, giving her the preferred fabric of Ser Aemond.

When it was time to settle the payment, Aemond stood beside you by the counter. “Could it be finished by the morning after next? We could pay more,” You say, and the seamstress eagerly nodded. “Of course, and what name should we place when it is collected?” She questioned, making Ser Aemond nervous, for he himself could not think of a pretend name. “Seraphina,” You pretended, and Aemond hindered his confusion to show how effortlessly you thought of a name.

When you exited the shop, Aemond could not restrain himself to ask the question in his mind. “Where did that name come from?” He questioned, confusing you for a moment. “Seraphina?” You asked as you two walked arm in arm to the outskirts of town where the royal wheelhouse waited. Ameond nodded, and you shrugged, “I’ve read it from a book before, and truthfully, that is the name I would want for my daughter if I ever have one,” You say, taking another whiff of the bouquet Ser Aemond bought for you. “Our daughter, you mean?” He asked, gathering the courage to join you in your pretense fully. Your eyes widened, and a laugh escaped your lips as you tore away your knight’s armor— a rare grin on his thin lips that made your heart beat faster. “Yes, of course,” You laughed, still keeping up with the charade that was wholly easy to do.

When the ball commenced, Aemond was no longer glued by your side but rather at his true place, which was by the distance— a mere knight guarding his princess. He stood by a pillar a few yards away from you, but he could still hear your voice, listening to your conversations. “Look, Lord Arthur is to approach— sister, your cheeks are already blushing!” Your brother laughed, making you roll your eyes and pinch his side. In truth, a blush no longer crept up to your cheeks, not even when Lord Arthur invited you to dance or when he placed a kiss on your knuckles.

Aemond stood on his post with his jaw gritted tightly, and his hand clenched around the hilt of his sword. The lord pulled you flush to him, and the song began. He watched you dance around with the lord with the gown he had helped pick and with the flowers he bought for you, adoring your hair— his mind straying to the afternoon where you and he were husband and wife to sedate his mind and preoccupy him from the truth that a mere knight like him would never deserve a princess.

Taglist: @anukulee @ladyriverasafespace @rebeccawinters @gayfiretruck @bellarkeselection @eraenaa

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queers-gambit · 7 months ago

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The Black Dread part one

prompt: after word is sent for Dragonseeds to raise up, you shockingly claim The Black Dread. knowing your stance would all but determine the war, both Alicent and Rhaenyra send emissaries to persuade your allegiance through means of marriage. when tragedy strikes, you fly to war. -> in this part - you claim Balerion and emissaries are sent.

pairing: Jacaerys 'Jace' Velaryon x female!Tyrell!reader pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!Tyrell!reader -> hair color specified reader -> technically Targaryen!reader -> ALL characters aged 18+

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

series masterlist: The Black Dread part two: read here

word count: 4.9k+

note: ALL characters are aged up - they are NOT minors

warnings: hair color specified reader but it's paramount to the story. Dance of the Dragons AU, Balerion lives AU - kinda heavy introduction. political manipulation, i guess no Baela, Rhaena or Alys romantic interests, ALL characters are aged 18 or older, Muses aren't in this part much, stolen Olenna Tyrell quote(s), Dylan Thomas quote.

though Balerion is not shown in the shows [HOTD or GOT], these are some of author's personal favorite fan art pieces: this this one, but maybe this color

Considering the climate, environment, elements, and location of each region with no true diverse distinction or transition between seasons, summers varied in each corner of the Seven Kingdoms. Notably, the mainland experienced vastly different summers in comparison to the constantly humid Westerosi islands.

This was expected.

Where the weather endured in King’s Landing is dry and stale - lacking cloud coverage, baking all forms of life under the unforgiving sun - Dorne was ideal: temperate, tropical, the temperature usually consistently comfortable.

Northwest of the continent, off the Westerlands coast in water of Ironman's Bay so dark, secrets remain hidden, summers on the ratified Iron Islands were cold due to the winds blowing from the North. The rocky region wet and slippery from rain; never humid, usually biting.

The Reach boasted pleasant summers; lush and green with fully bloomed gardens, perfectly balmy. The Stormlands lived up to its name and was plagued with frequent storms. These were usually warm rains - opposite the Iron Islands. The Crownland's annually hosted hordes of tourists at their ever popular summer attraction: temperate beaches. And why wouldn't they? The Crownlands's usually kept moderate temperatures and plenty of vast coastline to offer reprieve in the surf.

However, the only exception to sweltering, stereotypical climate that ransacks the Realm is the North - an expansive outlier. You see, in the North, summers are cold but winters are REALLY cold. From Bear Island to White Harbor, the dreary, overcast summer sky reflects on year-round, bright, pristine summer snow, making it glitter and blindingly glow. This results in the curation of a blue-grey filter naturally exclusive in the North.

However, tonight - You weren't ankle-deep in North summer snows. You weren't wheezing in King's Landing. You weren't vacationing in Dorne. You weren't sloshing through the Stormlands.

Tonight, you weren't on the mainland.

Tonight, you were on Dragonstone - ancestral home of your distant, estranged family.

Bullfrogs belted their croaky song, loud and incessant; as if trying to individually greet each twinkling star in the inky sky - the ever faithful audience; intrigued by this reckless and dangerous suicidal showdown you embarked on. Crickets chirped in a soprano choir; dotting around the maze of tide pools - cratered by the same porous, jagged, volcanic rock that defines the unpredictable, natural coastline. Frothing alto waves of dark navy, violent, salty sea brutally crashed against rock - the booming baseline of the frog's and cricket's private duet sang in perfect harmony.

All that was missing was a little red crab with a Jamaican accent encouraging you "kiss the girl".

Night had fallen. The winds were cold as a storm rumbled overhead. Rain fell sideways. Lightning streaked the skies.

You navigated through the dark - a slippery, dangerous feat.

Few windows of the castle gave a subtle, dim light; indicating the residents were more than likely turned in for the night. Still, despite the lack of patrolling guards and other witnesses, you remained in stealth mode. Only fools allowed themselves to feel cocky when their guards go down. When someone allowed their defenses to go down, mistakes are made, capture is imminent, the mission is a failure, and surrender to the enemy's mercy is forced.

Your presence on Dragonstone wasn't for romance - no girls (or boys) for you to kiss. This wasn't a social visit to recreationally mingle with the Velaryon Prince or Targaryen Princess Twins. You're not conducting research curriculum - no time to study flora, fauna, volcanic activity.

To the winged terrors, Dragonstone Island is a recognizable safe haven that promotes healing - the one place these miraculous beasts could relax, ease their defenses; be vulnerable with lowered guards. This sense of safety gives freedom away from the confines of Dragon Riders - simply allowed to be true, authentic, and animalistic.

Currently, a couple dragons sought refuge on the island, nesting, minding their own business; others sought rest, retirement, peaceful isolation. Several took advantage of the heat and loitered around the volcano, the Dragonmont.

They weren't just any dragons, some were rogue, wild; some released after captivity; all unclaimed, riderless. This tempted several persons to rely on arrogant luck and try their hand at harnessing the terrible beasties - but they never returned.

Summer days stretched long, giving limited time to move under the cover of darkness, and the nights progressively shortened each day leading up to the solstice. Your journey was miraculous, having never navigated open water before yet somehow arriving at Dragonstone after setting sail from King's Landing by yourself. Perhaps you had a hidden talent, a subconscious sailor mentality; maybe you were just lucky, or maybe your boiling emotions made you defiantly determined - running on pure spite to stay alive, unharmed, and without capsizing in an effort to complete your mission.

Most of the time, you relied more on logic than emotion, something that helped keep you balanced, grateful, rational. Leading with logic arguably "made" someone intelligent; solution oriented, stubborn, hardheaded, unwilling to compromise (a common foundation when leading with emotion).

Yet logic made you very black and white - no grey area. Logic is cut and dry. Logic is sometimes sophisticated. Logic is also stubborn. Logic abandoned empathy. Logic could be explained. Logic identified applicable reasonings and explanations. Logic is hard to argue against. Logic sustained battles of wit. Logic is sometimes discriminatory. Logic always tells the truth. Logic has limited loopholes.

Logic is fact driven, and when paired with your own rooted moral and religious beliefs, made you subconsciously judgmental.

There's a well-known proverb, quote, "it's not the destination, but the journey." Yet some philosophers think the destination is mundane, anticlimactic, boring, sometimes disappointing and unfulfilling while the journey is much more fulfilling. The journey is what's worth; an adventure, where development inflates, where a story worth telling lies.

Logic is the destination. Leading with emotion is the journey.

Leading with emotion develops thoughtful decisions. Emotions sharpen empathetic abilities. Emotions sometimes changes perspectives, broadens horizons. Emotions allow for differences in opinions. Emotions curates safety. Emotions heightens generosity. Emotions expands willingness to help. Emotions softens situations with compassion. Emotions often strides towards peace. Emotions structures harmony. Emotions accepts all. Emotions could be overwhelming. Emotions don't always have one, single, clear victor.

Leading with emotion makes you easily reactive, being why you made a conscious effort to engage logic; keeping yourself in check.

You often never lost your cool; always having a handle on things, but sometimes, it was a challenge. Emotions demand to be felt, and no matter how hard you train yourself and practice relying on logic, you were still human.

Both leading with logic and emotion made you passionate, sometimes synonymous with stubborn. Either way, you ended up here - on Dragonstone - slinking around in the dead of night as if a criminal on the run, trying to avoid the Rogue Prince's nefarious, outlandishly violent City Watch.

You were dedicated to the truth, hence your willingness to embark on this suicide mission. You know it's out there, becoming desperate to find it; never settling, fed the fuck up of mindless gossip the court whispered and hissed about. Enduring years of scrutiny and unfiltered rudeness made you confident, wanting, and energized to justify your claims, prove self-worth, assign relief, terminate turmoil, tension, and assumption.

Yeah, yeah, yeah - but what truth are you dedicated to? Your family's lineage and heritage, your birthrights, your position in society. Your contributing livelihood. They only thought you a young lady boasting the Tyrell surname - a broodmare to sell off. After Queen Rhaenyra proclaimed herself, you became incessant to prove you were so much more than a pretty fragile rose to be set in a vase.

Truth became your Eighth God; being a dedicated, loyal, trusting, worshipping follower. And the truth was, you're a Targaryen as much as a Tyrell, and by all means, had as much of a right to claim a dragon as any of the rest of them.

You refuse to take detours, cut corners, violate, or cheat to obtain your goal(s); arriving at your desired end result with integrity, completing your mission by barreling through obstacles with laser focus - like a predator stalking prey.

Boots slapped and clicked on wet rock, splashing in puddles, splattering mud up your legs to soak into your breeches. Heavy humidity - thick and muggy air - coated lungs and stuck in nostrils, being suffocatingly stuffy; breathing becoming difficult. You could physically feel the condensation in the air - hair adopting a mind of its own; beaded, clammy skin becoming uncomfortably sticky, palms slick with sweat. You missed the dry heat of the capital.

Dark hood of your cloak hid your vibrant hair; the material swishing, swirling airy fog low to the ground around your creeping form, creating an ominous energy. You half expected a ghost to appear at your flank.

The clanking of the night patrol's armor was heard first, alerting you to a diminishing window; sliding into the mouth of one of the dragon caves in time for the White Cloaks to stalk around the castle's perimeter walkway.

Even with thick rock cocooning your form, the rumbling of the nested dragon's slumber was heard; loose pebbles, dust and other debris showered from the cave ceiling. Despite the heat of the Dragonmont, you heard the slow echo of dripping water.

Your choice to come to Dragonstone, was it a logical decision? Or driven by emotions - fed up with the rumors, sneers, disrespect, critical judgement from everyone in King's Landing? ...yes.

Navigating a dragon lair was dangerous, but navigating a dragon lair with ZERO experience was an anticipated disaster. Surely, you must've lost your mind because no mentally stable person would dare step foot in this cave - let alone scale the depths in search of an ancient beast that could (and possibly wound) treat your charred body as a BBQ appetizer. With a gasp, you slipped on the rocks, hissing when the heels of your palms took the brunt end of impact and slit open; tiny pebbles sticking to your open flesh. You whimpered gently, jagged rocks digging into your knees as you cleared your hands and slowly found your feet.

Even with knowledge of your heritage, you hadn't grown around the scaly Targaryen counterparts like any and every other legitimate offspring. You were long divided from that side of your family, missing out on fascinating Valyrian traditional customs. It made you a slightly bitter.

No dragon egg in your crib. No hours-long practice in the Dragon Pit. No reptilian anatomy studies. No personalized leather saddle embellished with a three-headed dragon. No claim to ancestral privilege or birthright. No unique morality, nor holier than thou complex. No generational beast to inherit.

Skin free from the lingering, invasive, embedded stench of dragon hide.

You used to think learning Ancient Valyrian was a redundant waste of time, education, and resources. You were raised in the ancestral keep in the Reach's capital, Highgarden, under your father, Lord Tyrell, and his beloved wife - the Vanished Princess - which made this secret sleuthing harder to rationalize or explain, given no Targaryen ever lived in Highgarden. Never before were dragons hosted in The Reach, and therefor, a Dragon Pit was never erected.

So, you know how when you're a kid and see something at the store that you really want but your parent says no because you already have too much shit? They might've made their point by saying something, like, "Where do you think you're gonna put all that?"

Well, Highgarden is the toy box and you intend on bringing home one of those enormous stuffed animals won at a carnival / festival.

If anyone knew of this plan, they might've sent you to the medical institute the Citadel in Oldtown operates; involuntarily commit you to the structured research program that studies different mental and physical medical phenomenons.

Truth was, this wasn't even your idea. Your grandmother, who definitely either spent time in one of the Citadel's cells or should, encouraged you. Perhaps that should've been a red flag, but it was too late now, her words echoing in your mind ―

Be a dragon.

The gardens you walked through were in fragrant, full bloom; providing a sweet air to combat the foul words you admitted with your arm looped in your grandmother's. You paced evenly through the overgrown foliage, the bees buzzing to drown your words.

"Perhaps, something is wrong with me," you sulked, "because surely, it cannot be this difficult to find a match. It seems I need to lower my standards, I could not attract a decent man if I were covered in honey and he were a fly."

"Perhaps try covering yourself in shit, then," she advised with a knowing smirk.

"Grandmother."

"Well, it's curious, isn't it?" Celia asked.

"What is?"

"All your life, you've always been more Targaryen than Tyrell; fierce, loyal, impulsive, strong, enduring. Yet now, you return nothing more than a rose wilted from King's Landing's stench, moping about failed relations. Have you ever considered that simple men are incapable of supporting the love and marriage of a dragon?"

"Half blooded does not make me a dragon."

"No, but the spirit, wit, intelligence, spunk, ferocity, cunningness, and determination you display proves it." She paused your stroll, secluded canopy shroud by foliage to provide a moment of privacy.

"Not all would think so," you let your eyes roll.

"Who do you speak of?"

"Those who think I am lying about my own Targaryen parentage, citing the color of my hair as evidence. You would think I'm one of the Queen's sons, the way they whisper."

"Do not listen to busy mouths, sweet child, hair cannot be a sole indication of parentage. I know it's easy to cite, but not all descendants of Valyria have silver locks, and should anyone have anything to say, know they are merely bitter and jealous for your hair is the perfect blend of Tyrell auburn and Targaryen silver. A color that is hard to ignore."

"Yet it's not enough to prove myself to them, Grandmother."

Now Celia sounded determined but angry, "You are every bit Tyrell as you are Targaryen. While you might not appear to their biased eye, there's never been denial that you are made in your mother's fire. Pure blooded or not, you're a dragon, my sweet petal."

"So?"

"Oh, for the love of the Gods - so, be a dragon! Dragons do not fret because men don't blink twice at them, they eat those men! Don't beg for approval; maintain your dignity, instill a new opinion, demand respect! Prove your strength, skill, and capabilities - everything the courts would deliberately overlook. Prove everyone wrong, offer contribution to this war, become a valuable asset who would be foolish to send away. Establish your seat at the table and never let anyone talk down on you again," your grandmother snarled with passion. "There's more than one way to prove you have the blood of the dragon."

"Such as? What would you have me do?"

"I hear rumor there remains a host of unclaimed dragons on Dragonstone. The Queen's son and heir, Prince Jacaerys, has called for dragonseeds to try their hand - they need more dragonriders for their war. Claiming your birthright might be the fastest, easiest way to earn the Realm's approval; doubling as undisputed evidence of who you are."

"What a terrifying thought."

"But what a statement it would make," Celia's lips pulled in a smirk, wrinkles deeper, more prominent on sun-soaked, wrinkled skin. "Tyrells might be flowery, we might sigil a rose - but we are resilient and refuse to wilt; even in the heat of dragon fire. The Realm thinks Tyrells are only pretty faces; pretty flowers meant to be seen and never heard, whose sole purpose is to be left on display. Preconceived as uselessly inexperienced during wartimes; criminally green, pure, innocent - judgement that makes them shockingly unprepared for how deep our thorns prick." Both of Celia's hands grabbed yours, squeezing, advising, "Do not go quietly, my petal, make those who doubted you be haunted by their foolish choice to challenge the wrong woman. Let them seep in humiliation and regret their judgement. Allow your successful conquest to be the biggest 'fuck you' to prejudice, the final nail in any coffin of doubt. Toss your wilted rose of fear aside, petal, embrace the fire that burns in your veins; you are Lady Y/N Tyrell of Highgarden, daughter of The Forgotten Princess, and you will not go gentle into that good night. You will be a dragon."

You were ensuring passage by morning light, intent to deliver yourself to Dragonstone.

Parts of the cave glittered with unharvested gems; a lost collection of rarities nobody dared pursue out of fear of the ancient, terrible Valyrian beasties that dwell in those caves. The walls sweat from combined dragon and volcanic heat, tunnels jagged and uneven; zero holes, cracks, or slits the sun could leak through (if it were up); everything terribly dark. At least there was a scattered pile of preprepared torches to light the way. A permanent odor of limestone and fractioned corpses assaulted your sinuses, dried puddles of blood seeped into rock, the scurrying critters who used dragons as hosts echoed with a twinkling charm - the least menacing reminder that you were not alone.

Claimed dragon chambers varied in size; pitstops along the winding pathways that ended at the largest chamber - a dead end. While other chambers were large enough for sometimes several dragons, this final stop could only be described as a jarring, stomach churning, hauntingly pitched ebony abyss of incalculable depth that played tricks on the mind. An abyss. It was like you were staring Death in the face and anxiety was dredged forth from white hot fear.

With a flickering torch alight in a trembling hand, you slowly stalked down the chiseled causeway that ended several lengths into the expansive, bleak nothingness. Pitch black shadows danced; the air felt electric, seemingly vibrating - alive and judgmental.

The glaring cavern besmirched your family name, hauntingly reminding that your disinheritance resulted in your late dragon bloom. The ebony airy sea identifies and heightens fearful insecurity about your estranged family's rejection, their lack of interest and care for your side of the family stinging; their rejection of familial relationships. The darkness predicted your failure, inability, and humiliation.

The cavern challenged your confidence and determination, your staked ownership and proclaimed lineage; labeling your bravery, beliefs and ambition as arrogant. It sneered about your stupidity, weakness, fear, and anxiety; belittled applied effort and desired goals; questioned your true desires and needs; tested your loyalty.

The cavern rejects any and all attempts before you could even try; unraveling your logic, shunning your emotions; proclaims reactive decisions as immature and lacking control, crowning you as dangerously naïve.

The cavern mocked your desperately pathetic need for station and acceptance; revoking and nullifying public (and private) ladyship, dubbing you unladylike - which, in itself, was insulting to your womanhood. Why do men get all the exciting adventure, but when a woman tries, she's crucified for being irresponsible? Smooth ebony waves reflected your maddening, constant effort and want for acknowledged contributions.

To the naked eye, the cavern appeared uninhabited, assuming the habitat was abandoned. The silence was eery; air buzzing with alarm, deceiving humans that attempted to see through the waves of darkness.

To a "true" Targaryen, this was just a sheet of camouflage the fire breathers wield for their privacy.

No wonder the Red Sowing was so... Bloody and devastating.

A growl was heard, something gravely and deep, intimidating and impressive. You frozen, eyes wide as if it would give you night vision, torch flickering, hands starting to shake. Then you saw prominent movement, lungs stalling and heart hammering. Slowly, a large, scaly, stained snout emerged at a sail's pace.

The more the beast stepped into your sight, your mind could only scream one thing - was coming face to face with a dragon logical or emotional? Because whether logical or emotional, this was a dumb fucking idea there was no turning back from.

So, you steeled yourself in position, dewy sweat lining your forehead to soak your hairline.

112 years After Conquest, dragons flew to war at the behest of the Targaryen family over Rhaenyra and her half-brother's claim to Aegon the Conqueror's Iron Throne. Sister-wife, Queen Visenya, rode Vhagar - said to have been the smallest dragon with bronze hide, yet, as rumor had it, still large enough that a horse could ride down her gullet. Sister-wife, Queen Rhaenys, rode Meraxes - who was larger; big enough to swallow horses whole with silver scales and golden eyes.

Then, The Conqueror, King Aegon Targaryen I, rode Balerion - the fiercest and largest, who’s wingspan could shadow entire towns, swords-long teeth assisting his ability to swallow mammoths whole, and who’s scales, wings, and fire were pitch black. Balerion was called the Black Dread and was so powerful, he could melt steel, stone, and fuse sand into glass. He never lost a battle - against human or dragon.

Balerion was also the dragon responsible for the Burning of Harrenhal, largest castle in Westeros.

In the year 2 BC, Aegon began his Conquest and engaged King Harren Hoare the Black in his keep, Harrenhal, who refused the Conqueror and was met with Balerion’s flames. In fire so hot, it melts stone like candles, the entire House Hoare was extinguished when Harren and his sons perished in the largest tower - later named Kingspyre Tower - though it’s said they haunt the Wailing Tower.

Since then, of Aegon's Three Dragons, only Meraxes boasted a single rider, but to be fair, in 10 AC, during the First Dornish War, allegedly, both Queen Rhaenys and Meraxes met their demise. Vhagar knew Prince Baelon Targaryen, Lady Laena Velaryon, and Prince Aemond as riders. Balerion knew Maegor the Cruel, Princess Aerea, and King Viserys, who, in the year 94, retired The Black Dread - thinking the beast was nearing his end. The dragon outlived every single rider.

In the year 129, Viserys died and The Black Dread stared you in the eye; curating a vibrating rumble deep within his chest that made the darkness dance. It'd been decades since anyone dared face this terrible beastie, thinking he wasn't long for this world; the pair of you curious about the other, no moves made yet.

There was no backing down, there was no turning away. This is what you wanted, for Aegon the Conqueror's mount to see you as you are - worthy of your of blood. You refused to be told you did not deserve your lineage, the Targaryen name, you would not endure disrespect any longer! You would earn your place in this Godsforsaken family, earn station in this Godsforsaken world, or die trying...

That night, Balerion took to the skies again, doing several laps in the air, soaring over King's Landing to let the residents of the Realm know - he flew again.

Your father's family hailed from The Reach, specifically Highgarden; colorful, temperate, lush, bountiful, and abundant. Your family oversaw 75% of the country's sole wheat, barley, grain, and corn production, even germinating the country's most grand gardens - which decorated a rather generous estate.

Despite the vast, open lands, there had never been need for a dragonpit before, so, when you landed your mount, he was left exposed on the outskirts of the Keep. Considering he was the largest thing, you know, ever, Balerion seemed content out there - so, you didn't worry.

It was strange, however, to see anyone without white hair on dragonback. Even stranger to the Realm to learn of your accomplishment; adding fuel to several fires.

The Green King Aegon asked lazily, a hand waving in the air, "Who?"

His mother, Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower, reminded, "She is of Targaryen seed on her mother's side, but was raised under the Tyrells. She sits to inherit all of The Reach, she will be Lady of Highgarden - "

"Until," Grand Maester Orwyle interjected softly, "her young brother, the Young Lord Tyrell, comes of age."

Aegon waved their words off, complaining, "Yes, yes, but why do we caaaaare about some red headed bitch?"

See, where the Targaryens had trademark white locks, the Lannisters had golden strands. The Starks had deep umber brunette color hair, and while both the Tully's and Tyrell's erred more on the reddish side, the Tully's had darker overtones, like an auburn, and the Tyrell's had lighter, coppery-amber waves. North of the Wall, they say "kissed by fire".

"Because Lady Tyrell has laid successful claim to The Black Dread! To Balerion!" Alicent snapped, quickly adding the snarky punctuation, "Your Grace."

"Well, we have Vhagar - "

"With respect, Your Grace, Balerion could give a singular chomp to any living dragon as Vhagar did Arrax and it would prove fatal," Otto Hightower, the King's grandfather and Hand, quickly stepped in to save his daughter from losing her temper.

"Well, she doesn't even speak High Valyrian," Aegon scoffed, rolling his eyes; lip curled, slouched in his chair.

"Neither do you," Aemond quipped in his Father's Tongue.

Otto continued loudly to prevent Aegon's response, "With The Black Dread now officially out of retirement and in play, the only choice we have is risk facing him in open battle, or..." His eyes shifted to Alicent, pausing, sighing and revealing, "Send an emissary to negotiate terms of an alliance."

"Meaning...?" Aegon drawled.

"Meaning a marriage pact, Your Grace," Otto supplied sternly.

"With respect?" Larys Strong spoke up, "But the Crown is lacking in their eligible bachelors for such terms."

"Or perhaps, what of someone outside the family? Marry two strong allies of the Crowns? Alliances henceforth might not have to include Targaryen marriages," Jason Lannister threw in quickly, but every Small Council member denied him just as swift.

It was reminded, "There's Prince Daeron."

"Lady Tyrell is actually the same age as Prince Aemond, I do not think she is looking for a husband so many years younger than her."

"Didn't Prince Aemond already secure the Baratheons through a marriage alliance?"

"Technically," Otto agreed slowly, "but given the circumstances and turning of tides, Lord Borros can be treated with in other ways should we need to offer Aemond for Lady Tyrell's willing support."

"Rhaenyra will send terms, as well," Alicent reminded. "Lady Tyrell is Prince Jacaerys' age, she might consider breaking his engagement, too."

The Small Council continued their plotting. Prince Aemond remained silent. Nobody so much as threw him a glance.

When the Black Queen Rhaenyra was informed of your heroics and your identity was questioned, her uncle-husband, Daemon, informed, "Daughter of the Forgotten Princess."

And Rhaenys affirmed, "My sister's daughter... Do not mistake her lineage for guaranteed alliance; her mother and I are long estranged, she's lived in The Reach her whole life - she does not know us. Nor owes us any loyalty."

"Perhaps she could be persuaded," Corlys wondered. "The Lady Tyrell is unwed, is she not?"

"As far as accounts go, yes," his wife reported.

"Perhaps a marriage alliance?" Corlys glanced around the table.

"To whom would you propose?" Queen Rhaenyra asked, all sat around the Painted Table.

"If I may be so bold...?"

"Please."

"Given your marriage to Daemon and his daughter's are shared with our own daughter, Laena... Is there truly need for a marriage pact between the children?"

Rhaenyra cocked her head, "You mean to... Disengage my son from his intended, and engage him again...? Like a pawn in chess? My son, Heir to the Iron Throne, married to Lady Tyrell?"

"Why do you sound displeased by the prospect, Your Grace?" Corlys wondered. "I hear the Lady Tyrell is most beautiful, and we need the Tyrell's wealth like we need their dragon, Balerion. If used properly, he can melt castles alone, Your Grace; burn towns, extinguish entire bloodlines, torch this country, melt the bloody Wall. No living dragon rivals him in size, in ferocity, in age nor experience. He's been at rest for decades now... Something tells me there's a reason he's come out of his nest."

"An omen," Rhaenyra agreed, straightening her spine.

"Precisely - the portents are cast, Your Grace."

"Lord Corlys makes a point," Daemon chimed in, "if by marriage, we secure The Reach and take back the Iron Throne with little to no carnage. Should the Greens fight, not even Vhagar could stand against Balerion."

"Prince Jacaerys is a handsome match to offer," another lord agreed, "which should help sway Lady Tyrell to our side."

"Which also frees both Lady Baela and Rhaena for other pacts - if need be."

"But if we have had this thought, I promise so has Alicent," Rhaenyra stood from the table, staring at the triangle of King's Landing, Dragonstone, and Highgarden. "Who would they offer? Who do they have, unwed, unpromised?"

"Well," Rhaenys stood to meet her Queen, "if we had the thought of a marriage alliance, and the thought to break off one engagement in favor of another, who is to say the Greens would not consider the same?"

It was quiet, a shiver shooting down the Queen's spine. "Vhagar and Balerion are familiar with one another," she grit her teeth, "and Aemond is the False King's brother. He's an attractive match, too."

"I think it's worth making the Tyrell's an offer," Corlys sat back in his seat. "They will receive us both and decide their allegiance - just as the Baratheons did, just as the rest of the Realm has or must do as well."

"Let it be done - if Prince Jacaerys agrees," Rhaenyra nodded, looking to her son - wanting his consent and participation in his own fate. Jace proudly lifted his chin and puffed his chest, nodding while nobody noted the looks of near relief on Lady Baela and Rhaena's faces. In a moment, they had been engaged to Jace and Luke without their thought, input, nor consent. In another moment, they were single young women with the tantalizing prospect to marry outside the family.

"I consider Her Grace's offer an honor."

part two: read here

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

The Black Dread masterlist

i'm already writing it, but, poll for the end ―

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