#harwin x reader x rhaenyra

[marthawrites]

A Shared Bed

Harwin Strong x Betrothed fem reader x Rhaenyra Targaryen

Word count: 4.2k+

About: Harwin gets into an arranged marriage to stop the rumors about him and Rhaenyra. He really likes his betrothed but he loves Rhaenyra. He tells his betrothed, "I can't choose between you and her." She says, "I don't want you to choose. I want in, the bed is large enough."

Includes: SMUT. Featuring sexual tension, reader's first experience with a woman, milf Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra likes to play a little rough, m/f/f threesome, vaginal fingering, (f) oral sex, handjob, face sitting, multiple orgasms, unprotected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is based on a request from @the-wonderland-madnesss ♥ Thank you for being my sous chef in cooking this up too! Rhaenyra is married to Laenor in this fic. She's already had Jacaerys. For plot sake (lol what plot? this is mostly porn) reader is from House Oakheart and is non-descript. Reader and Nyra are friends in this fic. I hope you enjoy it! ♥

Cross posted on ao3 too! First time ever posting there. Will I keep it up? No idea!

The day’s golden hour flooded your abode through open windows and silken curtains. The warm beams highlighted your late-summer skin and you relished its sensation. King’s Landing, with its climate and sea breeze, was pleasantly cooler than your home in the Reach. 

Sitting in front of a well-polished looking glass, you carefully dabbed another layer of color on your lips. Pretty. Feminine. The hue unquestionably brought out the best of your complexion. 

You’d already finished everything on your to-do list. Now the only thing left to do was wait for a visit from your betrothed. His visits were a favorite pastime of yours–even before the official betrothal. As it turned out… he was quite good at dice. Always in the back of your mind you wondered if he had loaded dice. A soldier of the City Watch could very well get their hands on some, right? Or learn a trick or two from gamblers… Off duty Harwin learning tricks of the trade from cut purses and pickpockets! That idea brought an amused smirk to your lips. 

You highlighted your features with a little more cosmetics.

A knock on the front door sounded. Before getting up you readjusted your bosom, making sure your gold and green dress accented your breasts to perfection. “Be right there!” you called. Once satisfied, you moved to answer the door. Opening it, you smiled in preparation for Harwin. “My, you’re early tonight, aren’t y–,” but the rest of your words were cut off by who was indeed at your door. 

The Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen stood an arms length away, grinning the tiniest feline smile. 

A commoner's cloak of homespun concealed her true identity from passersbys–sly. But, more surprising than the Princess at your door, was the fact she came alone. Not a single guard stood behind her or appeared to follow. Her expression twinkled as she watched you take everything in. “Lady Oakheart,” she said with quiet warmth. “Mind if I come in?”

Pleasantly surprised, you swung the door wide for her to enter. What in the name of the Seven would cause this visit? “Not at all,” you answered to your friend whom you hadn’t seen in some time. “I was not expecting this, princess. If I’d known I would have prepared better!”

“Needn’t worry,” she said with a dismissive wave. Removing her hood, she used the same looking glass to check the long braid of her silver hair. Once any stray strands were tucked away to her liking, she hung her cloak on the back of a chair. “I’m very glad you’re home at this hour. I wasn’t sure if you would be.” 

Confusion frowned your brows. Sitting upon one of your lounge settees, you turned your full attention to Rhaenyra. She looked lovely in a black and red dress. Its neat trim and accents highlighted the quality of its tailor. “I’m normally home by this hour.” You poured her a cup of water from the side table. “Excuse my brashness, princess, but what brings you here? Is something the matter?”

Rhaenyra drank as she sat beside you. Her knee brushed against yours and you tried to ignore the butterflies in your belly from her accidental touch. “There is something I wish to discuss with you, yes,” she said, a glint of something… mischievous? Behind those Targaryen eyes.

The last time you and Rhaenyra had a visit like this was at her wedding to Laenor Velaryon. You and your brother (despite his still slightly wounded feelings about his courting attempt being turned down) were invited, and you wouldn’t miss it. She truly was The Realm’s Delight! That was over a year ago, now. Since then, she and Laenor have welcomed their first child into the world–a healthy boy with a head full of black hair, Jacaerys Velaryon.

You searched her eyes for a moment before offering a slight tilt of your head. “And what might I help you with?”

“Ser Harwin has told me of the betrothal,” she answered.

You didn’t have a reason to blush. Yet, warmth bloomed beneath your cheeks. “Has he? I know you two have a… close relationship. The proposal was actually suggested by his father, Lynoel, in an attempt to–”

The Princess arched a perfectly manicured brow. “–stop the rumors of him and I?”

You nodded a little sheepishly. There were rumors before Jacaerys’ birth, yes, but afterward? Hearsay of his true father spread throughout the court like wildfire.

That tiny feline grin reappeared upon her mouth. In her eyes. She grabbed your hand. Her smooth touch caressed over yours. “He also told me something else. It nearly had my jaw on the floor.” She leaned into you slowly, deliberately, angling her head so she spoke low by your ear. “That you wish for all three of us to share a bed.”

If your face wasn’t hot before–and it was–it blazed now. You wondered if she could see your pulse thrumming at the side of your neck.  “It seems there’s little my betrothed doesn’t speak to you about,” you said as if proclaiming a secret.

Rhaenyra made a small noise of acknowledgement. Her gaze landed on your fluffed breasts and the necklace that sat upon them. Gently, she trailed the very tips of her fingers down the golden accessory. Its pendant was a polished ruby in a classic setting. She circled it; your goosebumps not escaping her attention. Her gaze found yours again, regarding you with a heavy curiousness.

“A gift,” you whispered, raspy–under her spell. “From Harwin.”

That same noise from before vibrated between her lovely lips. “I know,” she purred. “I helped him pick it out. We have similar taste in jewelry, you and I. And men, it would seem.”

Your skin hummed. Tightened. Despite your’s and Harwin’s conversation about Rhaenyra, you never thought it would happen like this. “Princess…”

“Shh,” she cooed, leaning in to you with a slight tilt of head. “Your bed is indeed big. Large enough for the three of us, easily.” 

Your lips were so close–close enough to share breath. Recognizing her silent question of consent, you gave it to her. Now it was you who leaned forward to close the remaining space between your mouths. A kiss. Light, at first. Curious. Despite your attraction to women–as well as men–you’d never explored your desires with another woman. Kissing the princess felt divine. Liquid fire spread through your body. And, when you slanted your mouth against hers, deepening the affection, she delicately cradled your jaw.

Bells chimed in your head. Forbidded. Dangerous. Exciting.

Tentatively, you moved your hands to rest upon her thighs. You gripped the fine material of her dress and squeezed; pulling her to you, and you to her. 

Rhaenyra smiled. Her tongue licked slowly into your mouth. 

Fire roared through your bloodstream–you yielded without a second thought.

And that is how Harwin found both of you. So enthralled by one another, neither of you heard his gentle knock nor the rustle of movement as he came inside. He uttered your name in delighted shock. Then, “princess?”

Meeting your betrothed’s attention, you blushed from the tips of your ears down to your collar. “Harwin,” you whispered. Panting softly you added, “I meant what I said before. You don’t have to choose. The bed is large enough.”

Ser Harwin Strong looked like he’d already cleaned up. He wore a simple neat garb–clean–and his dark curls were tossed as if freshly washed. Sometimes after serving his guard shift duties he stunk to the high Seven. And you, being his lovely, tidy lady, didn’t appreciate it much. He knew it, of course, and was happy to clean before sharing evenings with you. He gave you a knowing nod; dark eyes glittering with an array of emotions. “I never doubted your word, sweetheart.”

Rhaenyra gently turned your attention back to her. ���Do you regularly entertain any other visitors after hours?”

No wonder Harwin was enchanted by her. Those eyes shone with a deep fire from within, the hue simply otherworldly, and for a moment you wondered if the princess practiced witchcraft with how mesmerized you were. Sorcery, wizardry, love spells… no, nothing like that. She was a Targaryen–blooded from both sides–and it was at that exact moment you felt the old saying: Targaryen’s are closer to Gods than men. You shook your head. Your body buzzed. “No. No one else will be coming over tonight.”

“Good,” she cooed. “You are mine and Harwin’s tonight, Lady Oakheart. Let us test these new boundaries and passions properly before the official wedding, hm?”

With a thundering heart you matched her smirk. “Gladly.” You swore you could hear Harwin’s blood rush through his body, too, lightning bolting through him at a dangerous speed. Like a magnet, he was drawn to you. To the princess.

Rhaenyra’s mouth was on yours again. And, then, from behind, Harwin’s hands settled on your shoulders, the tickle of his beard on your neck making you quiver.  Anticipation vibrated through your bones. 

Oh, you were dead. They were going to murder you. It’d be a miracle if you made it through the night!

Harwin’s brown eyes glittered like dragonglass when he looked down the front of your body–your welcoming bust, the ruby necklace, the fine cut of your bodice. Then he peered at Rhaenyra from over your shoulder with nothing but the utmost admiration and love. “You’re both wearing far too many clothes,” he said against the delicate curve of your neck.

“As are you, Ser Harwin,” the princess said without missing a beat.

Your brain was currently unable to form any coherent thoughts.

Vaguely you heard a rustle of cloth behind you, followed by the cotton ‘thmp’ of your betrothed’s shirt tossed to the floor. Skilled fingers then unlaced the back of your dress. 

Harwin. Ever the gentleman. 

Once finished, he stepped with deliberativeness to Rhaenyra. He towered over her as he stood behind her and carefully opened the back of her dress. The difference in their height… their size… lust clouded your brain with each passing moment. 

The princess stood, then, that sly little grin dimpled one corner of her mouth. Despite this being your house she tilted her head in your bed’s direction. “Come,” she said. 

You took her outstretched hand and stood. Looking between her and Harwin, he gave you a similar expression followed by a proud nod. Fuck. Your insides were about to explode from nerves. 

“If at any time it becomes too much, sweetheart, all you have to do is say something and we will stop,” Harwin reassured you. 

When he spoke in that tone his voice was velvet over gravel. He could get you to do almost anything with that voice. All of your clothes were too much. Too heavy. Too restrictive on your humming skin. You wanted nothing more than to feel Harwin’s warm, hard body against yours. The scratch of his chest hair against your back, your beasts… the rasp of his powerful legs against the smooth lines of your own–between them. Even more sinful than those thoughts, however, was the yearning to feel Rhaenyra’s smooth body against yours.

The delightful darkening of both their expressions told you they knew what you were thinking. How easily they read you. How dazzled they were by your transfixion. 

“Understand?” Harwin pressed.

“Mm-hmm. I understand.”

Rhaenyra walked backwards with you until you were both at the foot of your bed. It was slightly awkward, in a humorous way, and it had both of you giggling as you tried to not step on her feet. She stepped out of her shoes before shrugging out of her dress. It pooled on the floor like a shadow. Her shift was a clean white cotton which left little to the imagination.

Harwin stood at your side and used two fingers to tilt your head to him. He kissed you. Deeply, thoroughly, slowly. He was such a good kisser. Your knees weakened where you stood, using him for support throughout the affection. You moaned softly into his mouth before he pulled away.

He moved to Rhaenyra, then, and kissed her. Soft. Tender. She had a similar reaction to you. His lips along her jaw, down her neck, and over the exposed top of her shoulder. Whereas he kissed you thoroughly, he kissed her reverently.

Part of you felt as if you should look away. But, you couldn’t. Seeing your betrothed with another woman like this had your thighs clenching. You knew you should be jealous. Should want to claw the eyes out of another woman who kissed your promised like that. Yet, it was Rhaenyra. You only wanted to be in between them. Reveling with them.

They were the most gorgeous pair you’d ever seen.

The princess, with the knight’s assistance, pulled her shift up and over her head. Finely made smallclothes were the only thing that shielded her womanhood from your eyes; as near perfect a human could be. She was all pale skin, soft lines, and pink pebbled flesh. In the waning golden hour her milk veins stood out beneath her alabaster skin; those breasts surely heavier now than they were before her son’s birth. With those eyes, and that body, she could have anything she fucking wanted. And, likely, she did.

“Your turn,” she purred to you. “Help her like you did me, yes? She’s looking a little… spellbound.” A quiet giggle escaped her as she turned and crawled up your bed, sitting at the head of it as she watched and waited.

Spellbound. The perfect word.

Harwin helped you indeed, kissing and caressing over your body as he did. Sharing sly smiles and twinkling looks, consent passed between you two again and again. ‘Yes, I’m okay with this,’ your eyes said. ‘Yes, I want this too,’ they also said. The callouses of his big warm hands scratched over your skin and shift alike; sensation arching your back into his body. Everywhere he touched, you burned. In the wake of his attention, the delicate space between your thighs matched your pulse. 

He still wore his trousers and made no move to yet take them off; arousal hot and strained beneath.  When your hand teased over his bulge he swatted it away. “Not yet,” he crooned. “Go sit between Rhaenyra’s legs.”

Now it was you who obeyed. Crawling up your mattress in much the same fashion as she, you kissed her again. 

Standing at the foot of the bed Harwin admired every fucking second of what was unfolding. His princess, his swoon to be wife… the curve of your ass and dip of your spine and shape of your legs had him impossibly hard. Your position had the wet spot of your smallclothes on perfect display and he groaned. 

“Be a good girl and rest against me,” Rhaenyra whispered.

You did. It was easy–wonderfully easy–to sit between her soft, spread thighs, with your back against her breasts. You bit your lip at the sensation of her covered cunt against the small of your back. How different it was than cuddling with Harwin. 

“Look at you listening so well,” she cooed again. “Good girls get rewards. Isn’t that right, Ser Harwin?” The tension of their eye contact had you squirming and you barely had a chance to regain yourself from the teasing praise before you gasped. Rhaenyra’s hands bushed the underswell of your breasts. Lightning shot down your spine. She played with them, teased them, circling and sliding her fingertips over your nipples. “So pretty,” she said as she squeezed one of your sensitive tits, pinching the peaked nipple of the other.

You couldn't help it. You moaned and arched your chest deeper into her touch. She kissed over your neck, your shoulder, continuing her blissful exploration of your breasts.

Harwin lowered onto the bed and laid between your legs, grinning up at you and Rhaenyra. As she continued to tease you, he kissed the insides of your thighs. One, then the other. Lips, and tongue, and teeth, he teased you as much as she was. The tickle of his beard was beautifully maddening and it didn’t take much for your thighs to be quivering beneath his mouth. “Always so responsive,” he said.

Never had you been with two people like this before. If they kept it up any longer you’d be a whining panting mess! “No more teasing, please,” you begged. 

The lovers shared a look you weren’t quite aware of. With an arched brow, Harwin asked, “let’s stop torturing the poor girl, yeah?”

Rhaenyra nodded impishly. 

Before your hazy brain realized, your betrothed was pulling your smallclothes down your legs. He spread your thighs, giving himself more room between them, and a low satisfied sound rumbled in his chest. “Look how wet she is for us, princess.” 

You throbbed. His words echoed in your head. You were fucking soaked. 

Using one hand, Harwin spread your cunt for his greedy gaze. “My, my, sweetheart. Aren’t you a needy little thing tonight?” 

“Just how I like my playthings,” Rhaenyra quipped. “Since I can’t see, will you let me feel?” She asked against the shell of your ear.

You nodded. “Yes. Please. Both of you.”

Again, the secret lovers shared a heated stare.

The princess’ hand slid down the front of your body until the tips of her fingers brushed against your slick cunny. “Oh,” she purred. “I don’t know who’s wetter, Lady Oakheart. You or I.” 

Her center was still hot against your back. You desperately wanted to explore her as she explored you. But, the position didn’t quite allow for it. You whimpered behind a bit lip.

Harwin watched as Rhaenyra began to circle your swollen clit. Women knew what women liked, and she knew just how to touch you. Circles, and slides, and flicks, she lavished your little bud with the sweetest attention until the sweetest sounds began to pour from your mouth. For a moment she thought you might come from that alone. So, she slowed her ministrations and nodded to Harwin.

As the princess continued to play with you–slowly–he eased one finger into your aching cunt. Immediately your toes curled with a gasp. “Go-ods!” You squeaked, legs flexing and hips rolling with the double stimulation. Each downward movement of your hips sent his finger deeper into you. Each upward motion sent Rhaenyra’s fingers sliding over your clit. It was the loveliest feeling you’d ever experienced. You ground against both of them. Used both of their hands for your own bliss. “Please don’t stop!” You half stammered, drunk on the pleasure they gave you. 

They each held one of your thighs open, not letting you close them. You were at their mercy. You loved it.

A second finger joined Harwin’s first, and now he pumped them in and out of you. With a flex of his wrist he crooked his fingers inside you, hitting that small, deliciously spongy spot that always had you gasping his name. Your incoherent babbles along with Rhaenyra’s soft praises had his cock aching. His mouth watered as he watched your body take his fingers again and again, as your pearl glistened beneath the princess’ touch. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He leaned forward to lick your pretty clit.

Seeing what Harwin was doing, Rhaenyra clicked her tongue and pushed his face away. “Greedy knight,” she scolded. 

Harwin glared up at her.

She smiled sweetly. 

You were too lost in your pleasure to notice what exactly happened.

“Let’s make her come and then you can put that mouth to use,” she goaded him–loving his brief moment of fury as she took away something he wanted; his own soon-to-be wife.

Working in tandem, the princess and the knight pushed you over the peak of pleasure; awed, shuddering, weightless. Your sounds a song to their ears.

They let you come down easily, kissing and caressing you throughout. If this is what it’d be like to share a bed with the princess you planned to never leave her in the dark. Ever.

After a few moments you rolled onto your back and stared up at your ceiling, smiling like a loon. “That was… wow,” you giggled.

Harwin was the first to move. Sliding off the end of the bed he stood and moved to the side of it nearest Rhaenyra. With you no longer sitting against her, he grabbed her by the legs and pulled her to the edge of it. Swift. Deliberate. Right where he wanted her. A small squeak sounded from her. “Get these out of my way,” he growled as he yanked her smallclothes down her legs with little regard to their preservation.

Rhaenyra looked down the front of her body just in time to see him kneel before her–big hands curling around her thighs, spreading them wide open. His mouth was pure magic on her eager cunt. Her head rolled to the side as she leaned back, bracing herself up with her elbows. Soon, moans and whimpers began to spill from her.

Coming out of your reprieve, you watched the secret lovers; desire stirring in your core once again. Rhaenyra, ethereal. Harwin, worshiping. They complimented each other in ways that had you weak. One of his hands rose to the little swell of fat on her belly and squeezed it adoringly. Gasping, she ground against him, seeking her high.

It was your turn to roll off the bed. Walking to the other side, you too knelt in front of Rhaenyra. Harwin smirked at you. “I wondered when you might join me,” he said. 

Despite your nervousness you were feeling bold, too. “Show me how you do it.”

He groaned somewhere low in his throat. Then, his mouth was on yours. He kissed you deeply. Rhaenyra’s taste lingered on your tongue and it wasn’t unpleasant. Quite the opposite, if you were being honest with yourself.

Above, an entirely different type of pleased sound came from Rhaenyra. Seeing you two kiss between her spread legs had her going half crazy. “Have you noticed how much he likes his hair pulled yet?” She asked you innocently. Before allowing you the chance to answer, her fingers curled into his hair and she pulled him back to her center. Right where she wanted him. Harwin moaned into her cunny, licking and slurping against her obscenely. “He likes to be pulled around a little bit,” she said. Lewd. Panting.

Fuck.

Unable to resist any longer, you fumbled with the front of your betrothed’s trousers until his belt and laces were open. You tugged his pants down the firm curve of his ass, the thick trunks of his thighs, until they bunched down around his knees where he knelt. As he feasted on the princess’ cunt,  you stroked his cock. He was so hot, and thick, and hard, you wondered if it physically pained him. 

He moaned harshly. “I don’t wanna come yet,” he rasped, the muscles of his pelvis already twitching with restraint.

“No, no, not yet,” Rhaenyra agreed, breathless. “His seed needs a womb. Both of you up here, now. I have an even better idea.”

You both obeyed. Rhaenyra gestured for Harwin to lay flat on his back in the middle of the bed. Smirking like a cat she perched herself over his face. She wasted no time in sitting back against his mouth, grinding against him purely for her own pleasure. Nose, lips, bearded chin… she dragged her slick cunt back and forth. Again and again. Her fingers squeezed his firm pectorals as she used him for her gain. “Take his cock,” she told you wickedly. 

Was this truly real? You were still half dumbstruck that this was happening in the first place! Harwin’s arms looped above her thighs, holding her where he wanted her, and the sounds that were coming from both of them were obscene. Heavy breathing, slurps, smacks; you were about to peak again from simply watching them. 

You straddled over your betrothed’s waist and sunk down onto him. Fuck fuck fuck. He was so big. The stretch of your body accommodating him had you inhaling sharply. You allowed your walls to fully adjust, and while you did Rhaenyra leaned forward and crashed her mouth to yours. Tongue, lips, a tease of teeth, she kissed you like she wanted to fucking consume you. Pure lust fired through your veins and you began bouncing on Hawin’s cock.

The princess’ hands were all over your breasts again. And, now, yours on hers, too. 

That’s how you all stayed for a time. Fucking, sucking, riding, reveling in each other as bliss blindly guided you to new heights of lasciviousness.

It was impossible to know who peaked first. It might have been Rhaenyra for how she shuddered upon Harwin’s face. It might have been him for how he flexed and roared beneath both of you, cock twitching mightily as he spent himself deep inside you. It might have been you for how you simpered his name again and again like a debauched prayer.

Whatever the case might have been, slowly you all came back to your senses. Sticky flesh, sweaty skin, and bedclothes that needed to be washed, the three of you cuddled amidst the lovely aftershocks of climax.

Each of you smiled broader than the other. Eyes, somehow, out twinkling each other.

“How do you think she did, sweetheart?” Harwin asked you, his gentle touch trailing over your arm.

“If tonight was a test, the test has been surpassed,” you answered with a giggle, idly playing footsie with the princess.

She beamed. “Good,” she said. She made delicate circles below your navel as she added, “the seed is strong, Lady Oakheart. Perhaps Harwin will give you one, too.”

-

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[hauntedfictionland]

❝His dear princess❞

☾︎✰❛❀ Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem! Reader!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jacaerys did not want you, or the vow he was bound to for life. Yet when he makes a big mistake, and potentially loses you for good. He realises just how much you meant to him.

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬/𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Bastardphobia, mentions of death and grief, kissing, marrage of convenience and grumpy X sunshine trope, Jace is down bad, flirty!reader, guilt and anxiety and happy ending;)

🪐𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: This is one of my first house of the dragon fics ever, so I truly hope it's not too bad. Jacaerys is one of my favourite characters in hotd after Alicent so I really wanted to get his characteristics and behaviour right. Also, I didn't like the way they showed his grief after Luke died, as if he just moved on after two or three days. But overall, I enjoyed writing this:)

Jacaerys was infuriated with you.

You—his betrothed, acted like you owned the castle as soon as you strutted in. Speaking with no formality and a sharpness in your tongue that only infuriated him further. And especially when you did not seem to care for his heritage, who he was. The heir to the iron throne. Yet you acted as if he didn't exist to you. As if he meant nothing to you.

A marriage pact with the martells was only one of convenience. You, a princess of dorne, he, the firstborn son of queen Rhaenyra. Yet, they were stuck in dragonstone, and needed support to match the strength of the green armies. His mother needed this arrangement more than the martells did, and you made that very clear by acting carelessly and so freely, like you were in your own home. By taunting him, sitting at the great council table with your legs on them, a coin in your fingertips and a smirk in your lips. He hated it, he hated especially how good you looked.

He hated being betrothed to you already.

Rhaenyra had told him martells were rather, open and modern people. They took part in adultery even after being married, especially with the consent of their own partner. He did not know how anyone could be okay with such acts. He did not know what to expect when he met you, but it certainly wasn't how you commented on his face, calling him one of a beauty. It was inappropriate, calling a prince by such bold remarks on the first meeting, yet you did not seem to care.

But what edged him to his limit was the day you called him a bastard.

Jacaerys had been worried, he couldn't find you anywhere. Not that he cared, he was just stressed you would create another ruckus. He looked around everywhere, the garden, the great council, the dining hall, your room, even his room, but you were nowhere to be found. His chest tightened, a restlessness growing in his stomach. It seemed he always felt that way without being with you for too long. Not because he missed you—of course, but because he wanted to ensure everything was going smoothly.

He was going around circles, head spinning with a feeling that made him uncomfortable. Where were you? did you flee the castle? or were so bored of him you went to the city to a brothel in search of another man to keep you company. Anger and jealousy filled in his chest at the mere thought of that.

Jacaerys did not seem where he was going, many thoughts inside his head, before he harshly opened a door to the library. And to his surprise, there you were, a book in your hand. ‘Adventures of Aegon the conqueror’, he could read the name of the book by how you were holding it. He felt he could breathe again. By the loud sound of the door opening your head flitted towards him. Your usual smirk growing up your lips. Something that made his heart flutter in a way he didn't want it to. He clenched his jaw, holding his fists in a tight ball.

“Where have you been?” he asks, desperate tone in his voice.

“Ah, Prince Jacaerys.” you smile, closing the book and turning your attention towards him. He hated how your eye lashes fluttered, your hair falling down in just the perfect way. “I've been gaining some Targaryen knowledge, as you can see. Since we are to be married, I thought I should know my husband's family. Don't you think?”

Husband.

That word rose heat to his cheeks, quickly clearing his throat.

“I'm not your husband.” he spoke, in a tone harsher than he intended, “At least not yet anyway.”

You smile wider, making his heart race. He was always a bit stubborn, and uptight. Yet you were always so carefree and light, always so kind with his demise. He didn't know what to make of it all. A curious look grazed upon your face, eyebrows furrowing. You sat up, walking onwards another shelf of books, lips pursued. Before looking at him.

“I have always wondered, hmm,” you say, your finger coming up to your lips, “do tell me prince Jacaerys, is it true that you were born out of wedlock?”

His eyes widened, “What did you say to me?”

You either did not notice the offend and defensiveness in his tone, or simply pretend not to. Turning to look at him, “I mean, all Targaryen children have white hair. Do they not? Even if they did not, none of your formal parents have black, dark hair like yours.”

His breath hitches, all of the insecurities he had contained in a jar of fireflies fled out the second you brought out his hair. A wall rising inside him. You were acting as if you just did not ask the most dangerous question ever. As if it did not matter to you.

“How dare you insinuate such filthy claims?!” his voice rises, almost shouting. Your eyes flicker surprise for a moment, before turning back to the usual stoic look.

“Ah, you are offended.” you state, as if he shouldn't be, “I meant no harm, my prince. I have no problem with you being a bastard. In fact, it only makes you more interesting. The thing I don't like is your distaste for the truth. One should own up to who they are.”

Bastard.

You, called him a bastard. He isn't able to speak for a moment, too tongue—tied. You....think of him this way too? you? he can't hear as you speak further, a ringing in his head. It only intensifies. Only when you start talking about dorne is when he snaps back from his haze.

“And I have thousands of brothers and sisters back in dorne, no one cares ther—”

“I don't care, what you dornish do back there, but here you don't speak to me with filths of a claim.” he grits, his voice cold, “I am the queen's son. And if I hear you say one word about that again, I will see you hanged.” his words held so much malice in them, one would believe it to be true.

Of course, he could never actually do that, the blacks needed martells armies more than ever. His mother couldn't afford them raging war at her and joining the green's side. And, he could never harm you either. It was just a baseless threat, one he said out of anger and insecurity. He immediately regretted it when he saw the look on your face; hurt. But even worse, fear. Before he could even begin to take them back, it was too late. Your spot, where you stood, was already empty.

You had seen him less and less after that. Of course, you were your usual self. Taunting and teasing him, but something was off. Something distant. He hated it. He hated how much he missed it. Your remarks, your witty replies, your cockiness. He wanted it back. He wanted you back.

Next time he sees you, it's in a completely unexpected place. Dragon—pit. He was about to ride on Vermax to patrol the skies, when he stops. There you were, sat on the hard rock, legs swinging at the edge of it and his dragon's head in your hands. You..you were feeding him. “What the hell do you think you're doing?!” he shouts, eye wide.

You turn your head to him, a smirk on your lips grows. You enjoyed the fact he was on his nerves, furious.

“What does it look like? I'm feeding this cute little angel right here.” you coo, talking to his dragon in a baby voice. Vermax was known for her temper, yet with you it magically dis—appears? a little bit inside him was flustered, heart beating faster than ever that you and his dragon, a very important part of his life, bonded flawlessly. But he shrugs it off, he has to. Flushing over you isn't his duty.

Protecting you is.

As much as he would like to deny it, you're his now. Lawfully so. And he wouldn't let anything happen to you. Especially Vermax. He wouldn't know how to live with himself if his own dragon were to be the cause of, of.. your demise. His throat burns, even the mere thought of harm coming to you feels as if he's being drowned to death. After Luke, he cannot lose anyone. Jacaerys cannot lose you. Even if that was the first thing he tried to do after meeting you. You were the most part of his frustrations yet the only thought when he's in his bed at night.

“Have you lost your mind?” he asks, his voice harsh, as if you were his child and he was scolding you for doing something childish.

“Have you had no fear? you could have died what were you even thinking?!” you falter for a moment, upon seeing the trembling of his hands and the tightness in his voice.

“Jacaerys—”

“No!” he interrupts you, “You, you could have been...do you even realise..”

Your eyes widened as he struggled to even breath, huffing for air anxiously. You quickly get up, walking towards him. He's so much inside his head that he doesn't notice your hands coming up his face, slinging through his dark curly hair. An act that slowed and claimed his beating heart down. Your soft palms make contact with both his cheeks, a peaceful shush in your voice and he finally breathes. Properly. He sighed, eyes closing as his hands came up to hold yours.

This, you, him? this felt oddly peaceful. This felt like home. Vermax watches the whole interaction with a quiet huff, turning away back to the pits. You nudge closer towards him, resting your forehead against his. Love. This felt like love. “Promise me” he starts out, his voice low and timid, “promise you will never do that again.” Instead of putting on a fight like you usually do, you nod, gently caressing his cheek. His head leaned further into your touch, putty in your hands.

“I promise.”

That, gives him great relief. “Good.”

Time seems to slow down, Jacaerys could count every freckle on your nose to cheeks, every small cut in between your knuckles or lips, every curve of smile you put on. And all the scents coming from your body that drove him crazy. You notice his lips still trembling, and above your judgement, you decide to kiss it better. He inhales a sharp breath as your lips touch his, but makes no movement to push you away. It's gentle, barely brushing against his. Jacaerys realised how they fit perfectly amidst his, and how much he was craving it all these months until he finally tasted them.

You slowly pull away, hesitantly. His eyes are still closed. Hands crawling up your waist. He speaks again, a whisper almost.

“I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

He's talking about the library, and you smiled softly, shaking your head.

“It's okay. You can't get rid of me that easily, Jace. Should have known that when you got betrothed to a dornish princess.”

You had already forgiven him. But he didn't want you to. He didn't want to be at your mercy this easily, not when he wasn't able to forgive himself. You, you had crept your way into his heart when he didn't want you to, and now he never wanted to let you go. It was all your fault.

“No I...” he shakes his head, “I never should have said that. Not only because it was so wrong but also because it was completely untrue.” Jacaerys swallows his breath, every bit of him wanted to turn away and never look back, but he couldn't do that. “I have been called names, about my heritage. Ever since I was a child. About my parenting and what not. And it's very...when anyone talks about it, it's like a bandage ripping off a new and fresh wound. No matter how many years pass by, it's still like that for me.”

You nod your head slowly, in understanding. This was raw. He had finally told you one of his darkest parts, his worst fears, and you hadn't run away.

“I understand. I should have never said that. I did not know it was like this for you.” He feels relief in your words.

But there was still something he needed to let out.

“But I...” he didn't know how hard this was for him until he started to actually say it, “I really could never mean it. What I said. Even if you have committed the worst treason or crime, even if you had taken my heart and carved it out, I still wouldn't be able to do one thing that might be even close to harming you. Believe me I have tried. And I have failed.”

He looks away from you, cheeks closing red. Jacaerys had just poured his heart out and gave it to you. But the chances of you, and feeling the same? were very dim. He sees stars when he sees you, what do you see? just him? or even worse? a filth in the name of a true born prince. A gasp leaves his lips as your fingers trace the outlines of his jaw, trailing down to his neck to his chest. You stopped at the red and black three dragons symbol made on the polish cloth he wore.

“Why do you think I agreed to this marriage? not because of this.” you point to the very symbol engraved on his chest, of the house targaryen, “If it was just for this, I certainly would have never.”

He turns his head back to you, confusion in his face. He also feels a bit of guilt in him. At first, he only agreed to this pact because his mother had no choice. Because of your house. Nothing else. And you're saying that his house didn't even matter to you when you agreed to this betrothal? then why? you did not even know what he looked like, and you simply agreed?

“Why then?”

That's the question that's now left in him. Why, if his house and title didn't matter?

“Well,” your lips curl up, a glint in your eyes, as a blush arose your cheeks, “From years I had heard stories of Targaryen princes. How arrogant and unkind they were, your cousins, Aegon and Aemond, well I certainly didn't hear anything good about them. And then you came. The velaryon prince, the son of the realm's delight, born with a kind heart and a fierceness to protect. I knew I had to marry someday, but I only agreed to marry you because I knew—you wouldn't mistreat me. Because I fell in love with the stories of the dark haired prince who had the most beautiful brown eyes ever, who protected his brother when he was a child himself, who stole my heart before he even claimed it.”

Jacaerys doesn't know what to say, his throat falls dry. It doesn't feel real, when he's wanted something so dearly and someone just gives it to him freely; it does not feel real. You do not feel real. But you are. He knows you are when your hands tug at his collar, his face close to you as you pull him towards you and your breath fanning on his cheeks. He knows this is real, and it's better than any dream he's ever had.

“I do not want our marriage to be an unhappy one.”

You say, a plea in your voice.

He smiles, wide. And he doesn't even have to make an effort this time, “For me, the words unhappy and you? well they don't go in the same sentence.”

That seals it for you, he can see that. As you kiss his words, an unspoken understanding and passion in it. Jacaerys realises he could get used to this. Kisses, hugs, reading each other books, waking by the warmth of your body besides his; in fact, there's no one else he'd rather do it by. And nothing he would want more.

𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑚:) 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ�� 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛! 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒.

[novaursa]

The List Of My HOTD Reader Insert Works:

The list received a makeover. There is no longer a second one. All is here, in one place.

Requests are closed! Please stop sending them to me, and respect me enough to understand how I'm unable to be doing anything outside my schedule right now!

Aegon II Targaryen

Helaena Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen

Daeron Targaryen

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Jacaerys Velaryon

Daemon Targaryen

Baela Targaryen

Otto Hightower

Gwayne Hightower

Alicent Hightower

Cregan Stark

Harwin Strong

Criston Cole

Jason Lannister

Tyland Lannister

Davos Blackwood

The List Of My ASOIAF Reader Inserts Works:

Oberyn Martell

Aerys II Targaryen

Rhaegar Targaryen

Arthur Dayne

Robb Stark

Sansa Stark

Jon Snow

Euron Greyjoy

Tywin Lannister

Jaime Lannister

Tyrion Lannister

Robert Baratheon

Eddard Stark

Brandon Stark (The Wild Wolf)

Lyanna Stark

Roose Bolton

Ramsay Bolton

Jaqen H'ghar

Sandor Clegane

Khal Drogo

Styr the Thenn

Ser Duncan the Tall - A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

The List Of My FAB Reader Insert Works:

Aegon I Targaryen

Visenya Targaryen

Rhaenys Targaryen

Maegor I Targaryen

Torrhen Stark

Orys Baratheon

Aegon (The Uncrowned) Targaryen

Daemon I Blackfyre

Aerion Targaryen (Brightflame)

Brynden Rivers

Dune Crossover

Requests are closed!

About Me

[maidragoste]

The Decision

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, minor Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader, Rhaenyra Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

Again another AU with the reader of The Sea Dragon, The Clubfoot and The Green Queen (you don't need to read it to understand this one shot because this story starts LONG BEFORE the canon of that universe).

Summary: When King Viserys announces that he plans to marry you, you make a decision to avoid becoming the king's wife.

Now you can read this bonus!

TW: This is NSFW (if you don't like it you can read only the Rhaenyra and Harwin parts)

I was dying to share this with all of you so I hope you like it!

If you want to read more of this Reader and Daemon, don't hesitate to let me know in the comments or in my inbox 🤭

REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated 🥰🥰💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Also this is my first smut so sorry if it's weird to read.

You felt your heart hammering as you waited for the king to make his announcement. Your stomach wouldn't stop spinning and you have no idea how you still hadn't vomited up what you had for breakfast.

With every passing second you have to keep yourself from running out of the council chambers. You couldn't stop looking at your father, a part of you wanted to take his hand and ask him to get you out of here but you didn't trust him anymore. You were in this situation because of him. You always knew that your father is a proud and ambitious man but you never thought that his ambition would be greater than his love for you. If your father really loved you he wouldn't have sent you to the king's chambers. He wouldn't have made you start wearing dresses that showed more skin for your visits with him. Gods, you wanted to hit your father so badly, you wanted to wipe the smile off his face because both he and you knew what Viserys was going to announce. Everyone knew it, you noticed that Otto Hightower was trying to hide his annoyance from everyone, the only one who seemed unaware of the tension in the room was Rhaenyra.

“I have decided to take a new wife,” the king began and you noticed how he and Rhaenyra exchanged a look. You were surprised to see your cousin nod as if she was permitting him to move on. Did Rhaenyra know? Did she approve of this? “I intend to get married,” he continued, this time looking at you and your father. You forced a smile as you dug your nails into your palms, feeling helpless for being in this situation “with Lady Y/N Velaryon before spring.”

Your eyes met Rhaenyra's purple ones. There was none of the love or fun you usually saw. Now she was looking at you with a mixture of pain and fury. The pain in your stomach got worse. Nyra had never looked at you like that. This shouldn't be happening.

It was obvious that she didn't know that her father was planning to marry you. You wanted to scream, you wanted to hug her and tell her that this wasn't what you wanted, that you weren't trying to steal her mother's place, that you would never do anything to hurt her.

"Rhaenyra" the king called her but the princess left the chambers anyway. You couldn't take this anymore so you went after her, ignoring your father's calls.

You followed the princess. You could feel the fabric of your dress sticking together due to perspiration, you didn't know if it was because of your nerves or because you were practically almost running after Rhaenyra. It was uncomfortable but right now you didn't care. You needed to clear things up with her. You couldn't stand that she hated you.

"Nyra" you called when she finally stopped. You two were in the gardens, in front of the heart tree. Where more than once you had Rhaenyra lay with her head in your lap while you sang her any song she wanted. Where you two used to stay out in the sun complaining about the septa's lessons while you combed her hair. This tree has so many good memories and now you fear there will be no more.

"How could you?!" she yelled at you furiously. She couldn't believe how you had been by her side, comforting her, accompanying her in her grief, remembering the stories the both shared with her mother so that later you went behind her back to conquer her father. When her father told her that he needed to take another wife she thought it would be Laena Velaryon. Not from you. Never from you. You were supposed to be hers.

"Please, Nyra, don't hate me" you begged and grabbed her hands desperately, pulling her closer to you "I swear I didn't want this but my father" you shook your head and forced yourself to continue talking trying to ignore the knot in your throat "I'll find a way to fix this, I promise" you kissed her hands.

The princess studied you for a few minutes. She needed to check that you weren't faking this just to avoid her anger. Your eyes seemed to be glazed over from the tears you were holding back and your hands clung to her desperately.

“I believe you,” she finally said and you sighed in relief.

"Thank you", you said with a shaking voice

This time it was Rhaenyra who kissed your hands and rested her forehead against yours. You closed your eyes feeling at peace for a moment knowing that she didn't hate you.

"I won't marry your father, Nyra. I promise."

If it weren't for the fact that she was now the heir to the throne, Rhaenyra would have told you that you would run away with her, that the two of you would go together on your dragons and travel the world together, and that you didn't need a husband, that if you wanted her, she would take you as a wife. But now she had obligations, she couldn't abandon everything for you even if her heart screamed for her to do so.

After clearing things up with Rhaenyra you went to your chambers. Of course, your father was waiting for you, he scolded you for your abrupt departure but he left you alone once you told him that you had managed to calm the princess's annoyance. Being alone you decided to put your plan into action, first you took a bath with the purpose of relaxing and getting rid of any trace of nerves you had before, then you put on one of your simplest dresses and placed a hooded cape on top to hide your hair. You were leaving the castle and you didn't need anyone to follow you.

You successfully slipped away and headed out into the streets in search of Harwin. You knew that today he had to stand guard on the streets of Flea Bottom. A girl in your position shouldn't be here but you didn't care. You needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

“Harwin” you called him when you finally found him.

“Lady Velaryon, you should not be here,” said the guard, gently hugging you by the shoulders and taking you to a corner further away from the people.

It felt bad to hear him call you in such a formal way when for weeks he had been calling you by your name or “sunshine”, the nickname he had given you. You remember like it was yesterday when you kissed him for the first time after he explained to you that the reason he called you that was because you brightened his days every time he saw you.

This sudden formality was like a slap in the face and he confirmed what you already feared.

“You know,” you declared sadly.

“My father told me,” he admitted, releasing you. You weren't surprised since Lyonel is on the council and had been present at this morning's meeting. You suspected that Harwin's father thought it would be best for him to find out from him rather than from someone else since you were sure that Lord Strong and your parents knew about the meetings between you and Harwin. You thought it was no secret that he was courting you, but apparently, not everyone knew because otherwise, Viserys would not have chosen you as his wife. Or maybe he knew but didn't care.

“This doesn't have to change what's between us,” you said as you stood on tiptoe to have his face closer to yours. “I don't want to marry the king. I want you” you whispered against his lips but without touching them. Harwin had to control himself from closing the small distance between you and kissing you. “Make me your wife,” you asked before capturing his lips with yours.

You froze when Harwin walked away from you.

“I can't,” he whispered and closed his eyes to avoid seeing the disappointment on your face.

“I thought you loved me” In your voice there was more anger than sadness but your body language was different, you found yourself hugging yourself trying to comfort yourself. You were disappointed.

“I do,” he stated firmly, opening his eyes so you could see that he spoke sincerely. “I love you. If it were any other man he would fight for you but…”

His silence told you everything. He loved you but it's not enough to face the king.

“You're a coward,” you spat and left the way you came.

You didn't really think Harwin was a coward but you were hurt by his rejection. You felt stupid to believe that whatever Harwin felt for you would be bigger than any coherent thought but you can't blame him after all any intelligent person would be afraid to go against the king's wishes and steal his fiancée…

But all was not lost, you knew someone well who was not afraid of Viserys and could help you. It was a desperate move and your parents would think you were an idiot for this but you refuse to be the king's wife. You had seen how as the years went by and with each pregnancy, Queen Aemma deteriorated. You didn't want the same thing.

You wrote to Daemon. You told him that the king wanted to marry you but that you were seeking to avoid this marriage and that you needed his help. You waited anxiously for his response while you had to feign excitement every time someone talked about your wedding preparations. Luckily it didn't take that long for a crow to arrive with the rogue prince's answer. There were no reassuring words in his letter, the only thing the scroll said was "Come to Dragonstone."

And that's what you did. Nobody suspected when the next day you went on the back of your dragon since everyone knew that there was not a day in which you did not disappear for a couple of hours to go flying with Nightwing.

"My prince, Lady Y/N Velaryon!" The guard announced your arrival before letting you enter the chambers where the prince was staying.

Daemon, who had seen you approach with Nightwing from the window, had his back turned but turned to look at you. He hasn't seen you in months. Your hair was longer and you seemed to have changed the way you dressed. The blue dress you were wearing seemed to have more cleavage, it wasn't anything scandalous enough for the court to talk about but it did draw attention.

"It's good to see you, Y/n" Daemon stated making you smile. You were sure that this was the first sincere smile you had given in days.

You waited for the guard to leave. Once you heard the sound of the door closing, you began to walk towards the prince without haste, trying to show as much confidence as possible. Normally you wouldn't be nervous around Daemon but you hadn't seen him in months and he was the only person who could help you. You didn't want to ruin this.

*I'm wondering the same. These months without you were boring "You weren't lying or trying to sugarcoat it to achieve your goal, it was simply the truth. Every time he leaves court you wish for his return.

"You still didn't come after me" Daemon held back his smile when he saw the surprise in your eyes.

He liked seeing that look in your eyes. Every time he brings you something new from his travels, every time he teaches you a new move in the training yard, every time he asks you for his favor in tournaments. How he had missed seeing you. He wouldn't tell you but he had missed you these past few months. So imagine his fury when after so long the first news he receives from you is that his brother plans to marry you. You are too much of a woman for Viserys. His brother wouldn't know what to do with you. You would spend the rest of your life bored. Daemon couldn't allow it.

"I didn't know you wanted that," you said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"I invited you to go with me on my next trip, didn't I?"

Before Queen Aemma's death, when you helped Daemon put on his armor for the tournament you complained about the lengthening of his travels. The prince's response was to invite you to go with him next time. You were so excited to accompany him on his trips that you didn't wait for the tournament to end to ask your parents for permission. But then Aemma died and you didn't dare leave Rhaenyra.

You laughed. “That wasn't a trip, Daemon. Viserys exiled you.”

"And now he will exile you" he mocked, making you irritated but you quickly forgot about your irritation when Daemon placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him, leaving your bodies pressed together. You should be uncomfortable with this but you're not. "You understand? Right? You know what you were asking for when you asked me for help?" He asked, studying your reaction. He needed to see that you really understood what you were about to do. This was your time to repent. But he didn't find uncertainty in your eyes if not desire, you looked at him with pure desire.

"I know," you responded, trying to ignore the flutter of emotion you felt at the intensity of the prince's gaze. You should be against doing this after all your reputation would be ruined but deep down you always wanted to have even a little bit of Daemon.

In reality, there was always a tension between the two of you. More than once you two ended your fights in the yard more irritated than you were before you started because after so much friction, touching, and sweat you both wanted to do something else that you couldn't. You didn't want to be the other woman and Daemon for once wanted to make things right with you. He hoped that one day Viserys would annul his marriage to Rhea Royce to take you as his wife. That day never came but that didn't matter anymore.

"You will take me as your second wife" While you spoke your eyes couldn't help but stop a couple of times on his lips.

Daemon tilted his head a little and gently brushed aside a strand of hair to whisper in your ear "I'll do it. If you want that" you shivered as you suddenly felt his breath on your neck. It doesn't take long for you to feel his warm lips against your skin. You unconsciously stretched your neck, leaving him free to continue spreading more kisses. With each kiss, you felt your body warmer. You can't help but wonder how his lips will feel just as good on another part of your body. “People will talk about us,” he warned, snapping you out of your fantasy.

You knew what Daemon was referring to, not only would it be a scandal if the king's fiancée married another but also if that other is Daemon Targaryen, the king's brother, and an already married man. People who don't understand his family's customs won't think your marriage is legitimate, and if you were to have children with him people would probably think of them as bastards. Also, the court could compare your marriage to one of Maegor Targaryen's many marriages. The kingdom would talk a lot about you two, even your family's name and respect could be damaged by this. Your father might never want to speak to you again in your life and your mother would be disappointed in you. You had thought about all this at night before receiving the prince's response. And yet you were determined to go ahead with this.

“Are you worried that the court will call you Second Maegor? Because I'm sorry to inform you but they already call you that” you said, managing to make Daemon laugh a little. You smiled when you heard him but your smile was soon replaced by a gasp as you felt his teeth biting into your neck.

“A wife shouldn't make fun of her husband,” he said making you roll your eyes, knowing that he wasn't serious and just wanted to mess with you. “If you marry me, this will not be just a marriage in name.”

You weren't an idiot. It wasn't enough for you to just marry Daemon. Viserys might still want to annul the marriage if he saw that you were a virgin but if it was known that Daemon had already had you then the council would tell the king that he should take another wife.

You walked away from him. “Are you afraid of taking me as your wife? You keep walking around instead of ordering them to start preparing everything for the ceremony. “The prince could see the challenge in your eyes and he loved it.” I'm not a little girl, Daemon. I know what I'm getting into by marrying you."

And those words were enough for Daemon to finally join his lips with yours. There was nothing soft about his kiss, not like Harwin's. This kiss was hungry, you felt like he was devouring your mouth but you weren't far behind either, taking him by the neck, pulling him closer to you. It seemed as if neither of you two could get enough of the other. Finally giving free rein to the desire the both felt for a long time. You felt his hands trying to untie the back of your dress so you walked away from him with heavy breathing.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you hummed, now placing your hands on his chest, hoping to keep a little more distance. “You can't have me until we're married,” you declared, looking at him mischievously.

“You're so fucking annoying” Daemon complained and tried to kiss you again but you pulled your face away with a teasing smile. "Good. But then you won't leave the room until I'm done with you,” he warned you and he gave you a little squeeze on your waist before leaving, determined to prepare everything in the shortest possible time.

Daemon thinks he'll never get tired of this. See how you move on his cock, how focused you look with every jump you take in search of your pleasure, how you open your mouth and let those sinful sounds escape when you finally find your sweet spot, and above all the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock.

Hearing Daemon's groan overwhelms you. It overwhelms you because, for the first time, you realize that you have power over him. It's too much to hear him say your name like you're a god while you're riding him. See how hungry he is for you, how he can't seem to get enough of you, how he can't go a minute without his mouth on you, without biting or sucking on your neck, without having his hands touching you. By now your body was covered in hickeys, marks, and bruises leaving the trace of your crime on display. You're sure that tomorrow when the maids came to help you dress they would be horrified to see the mark of Daemon's palms on your thighs after he held you for what seemed like hours while he devoured your cunt over and over again.

Your husband noticed that you were starting to get tired but you still didn't want to stop, not when you were already so close to cumming again but you were too proud to ask him for help.

“Let me take care of it,” he said, stopping to suck on one of your nipples.

He knows how stubborn you are so he didn't even give you a chance to refuse when he lifted you off his cock. You groan against his neck as he pushes you down onto his cock again. He begins to move you up and down as if you weighed nothing.

"Faster" you demanded with heavy breathing, feeling dissatisfied with the pace of his movements.

Daemon doesn't hesitate to follow your orders and makes you bounce faster. His grunts and moans do nothing but send heat to your core. You feel your legs tremble at the speed and depth of his thrusts. You want to have your share and leave your marks on your husband too but you can't focus as much time on biting or sucking on his neck when he's fucking you so good. You sob when you finally feel the knot in your stomach release and you cum on his cock.

Suddenly one of his hands leaves your waist and pulls your hair, stealing a gasp from you, making you stop hiding your face in his neck and thus trap your mouth again in a messy kiss.

"You take me so well," Daemon gasped against your lips, feeling your warm cunt not stop squeezing his cock.

The sound of skin slapping only increases the temperature of the room. Like the groans and gasps. Neither Daemon nor you were trying to be quiet, it was more like you were both competing to see who could make the other louder. You should be embarrassed and try to be quieter, that's what a good lady would do but you couldn't care less what people thought, not when you felt so good. And while you felt how Daemon filled your cunt with his seed a petty part of you couldn't help but think that you were hoping that this would reach Viserys' ears, that one of the servants would write to the king to inform him of the spectacle you and Daemon were putting on so that Viserys wouldn't want to have anything more to do with you.

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[blakeswritingimagines]

Leaving Kiss Prints On Them

Aegon: He's amused, maybe intrigued as to why you've done it in the first place. But at the same time, he would be strangely touched, flattered that you would want to leave your mark on him, to show others that you own him.

Aemond: As he looked into the mirror, the glistening traces of a deep red lipstick print stood out boldly against his pale complexion. A sly smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the mark's presence. The memory of the partner flashed through his mind, your passionate kiss leaving a lingering kiss upon his skin.

Jacaerys: "Oh, you cheeky wench", Jacaerys exclaimed, surprised by the bold display of affection from his partner. He touched the mark on his cheek, feeling the slickness of the lipstick and a smile playing on his lips. "You know you're marking your territory?", he teased. "This better wash off, or I'll be walking around with your signature smudge for days."

Lucerys: He would blush and smile genuinely, appreciating the sign of affection from you. He'd gently touch the lipstick print, feeling a sense of closeness and love. After a moment, he would take your hand, intertwining your fingers and pulling you close for a tender embrace.

Rhaenyra: Upon realizing the lipstick mark, she would feel a rush of warmth and affection. She'd reach up to gently touch the mark, a sly grin curling her lips in appreciation of the affectionate gesture. Her fingers might linger there for a moment, tracing the faint outline of the mark, her thoughts filled with the memory of the kiss that left it behind. "Attempting to mark your territory, huh?"

Daemon: He'd chuckle, running his hands through his hair before giving you a playful smirk. With a gentle tug, he pulled you closer until your front was flush against his, a hand moving to rest at the curve of your waist. "Leaving your mark on me again, darling?" He says, arching a brow in amusement.

Alicent: It is a pleasant surprise to find a mark of affection on her cheek, like a colorful stamp of love. She might glance into a mirror to appreciate the delicate contour and color of the imprint against her skin. A smile would likely spread across her face, touched by the thought that you took the time to leave this intimate memento as a silent declaration of tenderness. She might even feel a slight flutter of affection, feeling her cheeks warm up with a hint of bashfulness.

Helena: When you leave a lipstick print on her cheek, she feels a mix of amusement and flattery. She can't help but smile at the playful gesture, knowing that you've marked her as yours in a subtle but endearing way. The glossy imprint on her skin reminds her of your presence and the affection you have for her. As she catches a glimpse of the colored stain, it serves as a pleasant reminder of the intimate moment you shared or the playful banter you engaged in.

Harwin: He would chuckle softly as he felt the warm, familiar softness of lips against his cheek, leaving a trail of a vivid lipstick stain. The subtle scent of sweetness and roses gently drifted to his nostrils, prompting him to lift a hand and brush his fingers against the mark. A soft smile played on his lips. “You’ve left your mark, I see,” he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice, though the words were laced with an unmistakable fondness.

Cregan: He noticed the lipstick stain on his cheek and ran a finger over it, a sly smile spreading across his face before he turned to you, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Well, well, it seems someone has marked her territory." He leaned back in his chair, still smiling as he regarded you with a playful gleam in his eyes. "And here I thought I was the possessive one."

Criston: At first, a flush of embarrassment washes over his face as he becomes self-conscious of the lipstick mark. However, it quickly dissolves into a smirk at the realization that you have marked him as yours. A wave of possessiveness washes over him, and he can’t help but feel a sense of pride knowing that everyone will know whom he belongs to. The rest of the day, he’ll find himself subconsciously rubbing his hand over the lipstick print, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

[getyouanearthygirl]

We forgot about him far too soon…

Where are the fanfic writers?!? No character has ever needed you more!

[starogeorgina]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

Pairing: Harwin Strong x reader x Rhaenyra Targaryen

Warnings: Praise kink, threesome, breeding kink, fingering, oral sex, swearing

“Why am I not surprised to find you like this?”

You look over your shoulder to see Harwin grinning at the sight before him; the bulge in his breeches was obvious.

“How long have you been watching?” The room was hidden deep within the castle walls; only you and your two lovers knew about it.

“Too long.”

Hearing a desperate moan, you return your attention to Rhaenyra, who was face down in the bed with her ass sticking upwards. You swipe the flat of your tongue over her dripping cunt, taking great pride in making her so wet.

Harwin comes up behind you and starts to massage your breasts through the fabric of your dress. He kisses your neck, “These are getting so large.”

“You are distracting me,” you giggle.

“Hmm, soon these will be filled with milk for the babe.”

In roughly seven moons, the new addition to your family would be safely in your arms, much to everyone involved delight. Both you and Rhaenyra found yourself in similar situations, both in need of heirs and with husbands who prefer the company of others, and Ser Harwin was the savior the both of you needed, not that he minded being kept a secret. The knight took great joy in seeing the both of you swell with his seed.

You slide two of your fingers into Rhaenyra’s cunt, making sure she was ready for Harwin’s cock. “You’re taking my fingers so well.”

“She always does,” using his free hand. Harwin brushes Rhaenyra’s hair out of her face. “Always such a well-behaved princess, I can’t wait to see the both of you pregnant with my child at the same time.”

“Do you think Ser Harwin would enjoy that Y/N?” Rhaenyra says. Her peak was approaching fast; she began rocking her hips back onto your fingers. “It would be our dirty little secret; nobody but us would know how good a job he has done by helping to create heirs for our houses.”

“I think Harwin would thrive off that,” you kiss the knight while feeling Rhaenyra come apart on your fingers.

“You’ve done such a good job making our princess reach her peak. Go sit in front of Rhaenyra so she can do the same while she takes my cock.”

Doing as Harwin says, you move to sit in front of Rhaenyra on the bed and pull your dress up to your waist, baring your glistening cunt for them both to see. After a few moments of reposting, Harwin sinks his cock deep into Rhaenyra while she pry’s your knees apart, gently spreading your folds and pushing her tongue into you.

“Even after being stretched out, your cunt is still so warm and tight,” Harwin says, praising her.

Rhaenyra got off on being praised more than you did; calling her a good girl was the quickest way to get her wet. You grip onto the sheets tightly. “You’re doing such a good job eating me out.”

Rhaenyra smirks up at you; she knew exactly how to fuck you. “Your taste is addictive.”

You could tell Harwin wasn’t going to last much longer; his cock was always throbbing after he watched you and Rhaenyra be intimate. You throw your head back and moan loudly when Rhaenyra slides her fingers into you and begins to suck on your clit.

The room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping together, moans, and panting.

You take a tight hold of Rhaenyra’s long white hair, keeping her in place as you cum on her fingers and mouth. “Oh fuck, fuck! You've done so good, such a good girl.”

She keeps her mouth on you and flicks her tongue over your sensitive clit as Harwin thrusts a few more times then comes inside her.

“Gods, the two of you will be the death of me.”

Harwin's seed was strong, and you had no doubt Rhaenyra would be pregnant soon, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep trying.

[aelenavelaryon]

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen Reader

Summary: Daemon finally finds love

Aella Targaryen was nothing like the rest of her family. She couldn't be. Many would often said she was a sweet girl whose only mistake was to have Valyrian blood cursing through her veins. House Targaryen had been on the Iron Throne for over a hundred years, she could remember the throne, it was rather beautiful she would admit. But, House Targaryen was a cursed lineage. Aella thought it was because they were all related. Brothers married sisters, uncles married nieces, cousins married cousins.

When Aella was brought to court she was nothing but a babe. Only one perhaps two moons old. Daughter of Saera Targaryen and her brother Rhaegar Targaryen. Rhaegar and Saera had both been wild and untamable. The two ran away after Saera escaped Old Town and they were never seen again until now. Aella Targaryen was born in the year 105. Rhaegar brought his daughter to court, to present among the realm. Saera had died in her birthing chamber. Viserys, who had lost his wife a nearly two years prior welcomed them both. Aella grew up beside Alicent’s children and Rhaenyra's children.

Aella although growing up with her cousins she preferred to be alone, sitting in the gardens or her room and reading a history book. Her father wondered where she had gotten all of that, she was not like her mother or him. But, there were things he did like singing, poems and song writing much like his daughter. Aella had the basic training, in case she had to protect herself but the young girl no matter the circumstances could never and would never bring herself to hurt anyone. It wasn't in her blood no matter how much her father tried. But Rhaegar would protect his daughter no matter the cost. She rode Meraxes, queen Rhaenys dragon, the princess died that day but her dragon lived.

As the years passed, Aella Targaryen grew into a beautiful maiden. "The Realm's Angel" or "The Realm's Desire" surpassing her cousin Rhaenyra in beauty and everything else. Aella had reached her ten and five name day and was yet to be unmarried. Her father was the reason for that, although he was no king he saw that no one was fit to marry his only child. No one would ever be good enough. Alicent thought it would be a good idea to marry her to Aegon or Aemond if she wished. Rhaenyra thought she would be a great match for Jacaerys or Lucerys. Rhaegar Targaryen refused, once again. But, a few moons later he passed from a swollen belly, leaving his only child at the mercy of her family.

Aella didn't know who to choose as her family had given her the choice to marry who she wanted between the four boys. She was dutiful, whoever her uncle had chosen she would have married but she did not want to disappoint anyone by choosing wrong. The council knew that Aella marrying either of her nephews was a tragedy waiting to happen, so the young girl offered a marriage between another house but Rhaenyra, Alicent and the king denied her. Daemon who had recently lost his wife asked her to marry him, to unite themselves and protect each other. Aella was young, only fifteen summers old what did she know about love. She knew more about duty than love.

So, to stop any family issues or more drama she agreed and secretly married Daemon, consummating their marriage, now it could not be broken. The news reached King's Landing the morning after, creating chaos in the court. The king was fragile in health so he did nothing, besides they were married and they had consummated there was no breaking anything. Rhaenyra stayed in King's Landing, while Daemon, his wife and two daughters remained in Dragonstone. Nearly a year after their wedding Baelon Targaryen and Rhaegar Targaryen were born. Strong boys. On their second named day, their sisters Rhaella and Visenya had been born. When the boys were five, their sisters three Aemma and Viserys were born.

Baela and Rhaena quickly accepted Aella as she had this motherly warmth the girls loved and she had glady taken the role as their mother, not that she would try to replace the girls mother but she did her best to love and care for them as she did for her own children. Aella with Daemon's approval let the girls ride their dragons to Driftmark to visit their grandparents. Rhaenys and Corlys were grateful that the young girl allowed them to visit their mother's family as much and as often as they could. The six children had been kept a secret through out the years. Aella was near her one and twenty name day. As a result, the king had invited her and her family to celebrate as a family.

Her arrival had been expected, Aegon was now married to Helaena and had two children, twins. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Aemond was unmarried but as far as she knew he was bethroted to a Baratheon girl. Jacaerys was to marry soon but his mother and father were looking for a suitable match. When she arrived, Daemon and the girls were waiting as her and the children had sailed there due to the young kids. Rhaenys and Corlys who were there watched their granddaughters run to their new mother. They saw the love the two girls had for her. King Viserys recovered and went back to being the peaceful king he was. He waited with his family as he watched Daemon help his wife.

She had turned into a beautiful woman, everyone could agree. She seemed happy with Daemon. And she was, he treated her good and with respect. "My king, my queen" she  greeted with a nod. "Princess Rhaenyra, Laenor" she said with a smile. She greeted everyone. "Now, may we present our children?" she asked and everyone turned to her. They were surprised. The king nodded and Daemon signaled the maids to bring them. "Baelon and Rhaegar, our oldest. Visenya and Rhaella out second oldest. Viserys and Aemma our youngest" Daemon introduced as the four oldest made their bows to the king and queen. The youngest were only one.

"May I?" the king asked as he took Aemma, she had her eyes. Rhaenys took Viserys. "Baelon looks like our father, and Rhaegar looks like Aemon" Rhaenys nodded in agreement. Everyone cooed over the Aella'a children and all she did was smile. During the feast for her nameday, Daemon and his wife could see the tension between Alicent and Rhaenyra. "I would like to propose an alliance between our families" Aella began. She had spoken with Corlys and Rhaenys, and of course her husband. "A bethrotal between Jacaerys and Baela. And Rhaena with prince Lucerys" she said with a smile. Rhaenyra smiled. "I think that is a great idea" Daemon held her hand and nodded. "In addition, if Aegon and Helaena agree Jaehaera could marry Baelon and Vinseya Jaehaerys" the table was quiet but Alicent smiled. "I think that is magnificent idea" the king nodded in agreement. "Our house will be united" she smiled happy with the outcome.

Aella Targaryen was a woman many remembered, she had given her family peace but that peace nearly broke when Otto Hightower deemed her dangerous, sending for someone to kill the princess. The princess perished on top of her dragon as a scorpion hit the beast right in the neck, killing it instantly. She received the same fate as queen Rhaenys. The lady didn't survive the fall. Daemon Targaryen never remarried but once he found out who killed her, the Hightowers, more importantly Otto, he was killed soon after. Alicent was pardoned as she didn't know anything. Rhaenyra was crown queen and the princess match's were honored as Baela married Jacaerys, Rhaena Lucerys, and once older Baelon and Visenya married Aegon's children.

The Sweet Summer Child died but her memory remained throughout the years. Aella Targaryen iii married her brother Rhaegar, giving him the heirs he needed. House Targaryen didn't end with Daenerys Targaryen, it went on. It prospered. From Aella Targaryen the first, came the prince that was promised and the realm lived in peace.

[criminalamnesia]

Pretty like the sun

warnings: reader described as having long, silver hair; no use of y/n; female!reader; Targaryen!reader; sneaking around with harwin; little sliver of angst but that’s it; fluff; not proofread sorry

summary: you spend a morning with harwin.

author’s note: I miss harwin strong. that is all.

The soft, early morning light poked through the thin fabric covering your window. You stirred in bed, eyes scrunching tighter together as you attempted to will yourself back asleep.

“Good morning,” Harwin’s chest rumbled with the sound of his voice. He was almost whispering, as if afraid to spook you. One of his hands trailed up your back, his fingers ghosting over your bare skin.

“Mhm,” you grumbled, refusing to open your eyes. You snuggled closer to his side, your head laid right over his heart. The reassuring rhythm of its beat brought a small smile to your lips.

“What time is it?” You asked after a moment of comfortable silence, your eyes still closed. You could feel the heat of the sun now, its rays more intense as it rose in the sky.

“Almost time for me to go,” he replied. The hand trailing up your spine moved to rest in your hair, his fingers lightly scratching at your scalp. His free hand moved over your body, looping around you and pulling you impossibly closer.

It was always like this in the mornings you spent together. Hushed words and warm touches. The two of you tangled together, holding each other as close as possible. This time was sacred to the both of you. It was stolen from the rest of the Keep, something just for the two of you to share, damning the rest of them.

“Do you have to?” You asked, but you already knew the answer as you finally opened your eyes. You tilted your head back to look up at your lover. His eyes met yours, and he gave a small smile as he nodded.

“You know I do, Princess. I cannot be caught in here, your father would have my head.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned your head to plant a kiss to his sternum. He hummed in contentment.

“You underestimate my power in this keep, Ser. At most, my father would have your finger. Maybe a hand, if it were a bad day for the King,” you grinned as you teased him, meeting his gaze once more.

It was Harwin’s turn to roll his eyes now. His fingers dug deeper into your scalp, massaging the skin there. You groaned and swatted his hand away, knowing his actions would put you back to sleep.

As much as you wanted to succumb to the welcoming embrace of slumber once more, you knew you’d regret it. Harwin wouldn’t want to wake you, and so he’d slip from the room quietly, depriving you of the chance to wish his farewell. You despised it when he did that– and he knew as much, yet he still tried.

He told you once that he hated seeing the look in your eyes as he left, and that’s why he tried to lull you back to sleep. He didn’t want to watch the sadness and anger seep into your expression as it did every time he snuck away.

It wasn’t sadness and anger aimed towards him, of course. It was at this whole situation– the fact that you two had to hide your affections. The King had made it quite clear you were to remain untouched and unmarried until your sister, Rhaenyra, found a match.

You disobeyed his wishes, but what the King didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him– at least that’s what you believed.

“Where do they have you stationed today?” You questioned the man below you as you turned your gaze to the villainous window that disturbed the peace the night gave both of you. “Guarding ‘Nyra again?”

“Guarding you, actually,” he said, and you sighed.

Having your lover guard you was a double-edged sword. You were with him all day, but you were not allowed to truly be with him. It was almost torture, how the man you loved was right beside you and you couldn’t touch him. You couldn’t even speak to him the way you wanted. You had to remain proper, as did he, and you had to keep up this carefully constructed facade of a princess and her loyal guard.

“You do not wish to be accompanied by me today?” He asked, and you finally pushed yourself up, your hand resting on his chest to support yourself.

The arm he had looped around you fell, his grip now at your waist. His thumb caressed the skin there as he watched your face with concern. His other hand remained in your hair, moving to brush strands of silver from your eyes.

“You know that is not the issue,” you told him.

“Sometimes it is the issue. Remember just a fortnight ago, when you asked for another guard just because I slipped out the night before?”

“You did not tell me you had to go,” you said as you shuffled over to the other side of the bed. His hands retracted from your body to let you move.

“I was not aware I needed to ask your permission to get a glass of water,” he retorted, and you scoffed.

“The last time you snuck out during the night, it was because you were sent to guard my sister for her two week journey to see whoever that lord was. Lannister? Baratheon? I do not recall— but it does not matter. You did not tell me you were leaving!”

“Love–” he began, but you spoke again.

“No, I know, Harwin. You did not know either. I am not trying to fight,” you reached a hand towards him, which he clasped in one of his own. His fingers intertwined with yours, and you smiled.

“I just worry for you. I fear one day you will slip out before I can say goodbye, and I will never see you again.”

Harwin frowned, his eyes trained on you as he gave your hand a small squeeze. You inhaled deeply. “I do not want to keep sneaking around,” you admitted.

“Nor do I, but–” he began.

“But we must,” you finished his sentence with a sigh. “Just until my sister finally meets her match. Which will probably be after we are all dead.”

Harwin laughed and used his grip on your hand to pull you back into him. You gave a sound of surprise as you fell onto his chest, both his hands snaking around your body to keep you glued to him.

“The Princess will wed soon, my love. Your father will make sure of it. And if not, then I am sure you will make sure of it. Gods help Rhaenyra if it gets to that point. You are quite scary when you are angry.”

“As scary as Daemon?” You questioned, your eyebrows raised as you glanced up at Harwin. A teasing grin painted your lips.

“Oh, much scarier. The Rogue Prince wishes he was as terrifying as you.”

“Careful, Ser,” you giggled. “My uncle would feed you to Caraxes for such an insult.”

“It would be an honorable death, dying to defend my Princess.”

You shuffled upwards so that your face was right above his. Your hair fell around the both of you, creating another barrier the sun streaming through the window fought to break through.

“You are insufferable,” you whispered, your nose brushing his.

“Am I?” He asked with a grin.

“Mhm,” you hummed in answer before lowering your lips to his.

The kiss lasted a few wonderful, peaceful seconds before a sobering knock sounded at the door.

“Princess!” Your lady-in-waiting called from behind the door, her knock becoming louder as she tried to rouse you. Unbeknownst to her, you were very awake at the moment.

Your eyes widened as you looked down at your lover who was very much naked, very much still in your bed, and very much late to his post.

“Princess, are you awake? Are you in there? I don’t see Ser Harwin out here. Are you alright?” You could hear panic begin to sneak into the woman’s tone. You knew how it looked to her– a locked door, no guard, and a silent princess? She probably thought you were dead.

You pulled yourself from Harwin’s embrace once more and hurried out of bed, reaching for the night clothes you had discarded the night before. Harwin followed suit in rushing from bed. He began grabbing at clothes and armor, trying to be silent but quick as he redressed.

“I’m awake!” You shouted to your lady-in-waiting as you ran a hand through your hair. You turned to watch as Harwin gave up on buttoning his shirt and began gathering his armor in his hands.

“You have got to go!” You whisper-shouted at him.

“I am trying! This damn armor–” he groaned as he nearly dropped his metal chest plate. You cringed as you watched his barely catch it, releasing a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. That sound would’ve had your lady busting down your door in an instant.

“Princess, are you alright in there?” You heard your lady ask as the door knob jiggled.

“Quite!” You yelled back, your pitch rising in panic. You rushed to Harwin’s side and began snatching up the remaining pieces of his armor. You ushered him to the secret passage in your room, prying open the door and all but pushing him inside. “Just looking for something!”

You pushed the armor in your hands into Harwin’s, who was looking at you with a wide grin.

“What?” You asked incredulously, curious as to how he could be smiling at being nearly caught.

“Looking a little disheveled, Princess.”

“Gods, go!” You scolded him with no real bite to your words. You shoved at his broad shoulders, careful not to disturb the mountain of metal in his arms.

He gave a quiet laugh as he swiftly ducked down to kiss your forehead. “See you soon, Princess.”

With that, he disappeared down the dark passageway and you all but slammed the door closed. You quickly concealed it once more before smoothing down your nightdress, taking a deep breath, and opening the door for your lady-in-waiting.

“Gods, I thought you were being killed!” She cried, her voice shrill as she surged into the room.

You gave a breathless laugh as you shut the door behind her, noticing a forgotten trinket of Harwin’s laying on the stone floor. You swiftly kicked it under your wardrobe before your lady turned to face you.

“Where was Ser Harwin? He was not by your door,” she questioned as she began to assess your appearance.

“Oh, I sent him to fetch me a glass of water well before you arrived. He never returned. I suppose he was roped into something more important.”

“Hm,” your lady hummed, unconvinced, but she didn’t press the topic further.

The two of you fell into comfortable silence as you went through your routine of dressing.

Finally, as your lady finished clasping a ruby necklace around your neck, she cleared her throat to speak.

“Did he at least take all his armor with him this time?”

Your cheeks turned a deep red, and your lady laughed.

[witchofhimring]

Being the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen

Rhaenyra Targaryen x daughter reader (platonic)

Reader can either be read as the child of Laenor, Daemon, Criston Harwin or other

-As her only daughter you are especially cherished. The moment they place you on her chest she instantly, unconditionally loves you. While she does not have favorites, you are cherished.

It was with one last agonizing push that Rhaenyras only daughter came screaming into the world. "A daughter, your Grace!" With trembling arms Rhaenyra took her daughter from the midwife. Y/n Velarion's e/c eyes opened and Rhaenyra instantly fell in love. Secretly, she had always harbored hopes of having a girl. She knew the realm prayed for a son, but deep inside Rhaenyra yearned for a girl. A daughter to love and cherish and protect her from all that she herself had suffered.

-You are absolutely doted on my your mother. She makes sure you have the best of everything. She loves to order sweets brought from all over and give them to you in elaborately decorated boxes. She has you all decked out in red and black clothing. Rhaenyra likes to do your hair and make elaborate hairdos. Whether for a special occasion or any normal day she takes great pleasure in showing off how pretty you are!

Y/n squealed in delight as Rhaenyra pulled out a box. Knowing that it held some kind of delight behind its wooden covering you wasted no time in hastily opening it. Tiny hands seized the sugar covered fruits from Dorne. The mother giggled as with great enthusiasm Y/n chomped away at them. "Remember to share them with your brothers!" Rhaenyra called out to her daughters. "Gods I love her." Rhaenyra thought.

-Because of the political situation you are heavily guarded. Your friends/ladies in waiting are carefully picked amongst Rhaenyra's closest allies. From the time you are old enough to walk she hires a personal guard to follow wherever you go. This is especially true if Otto, Alicent or Criston Cole are near. Unlike with her sons I don't see Rhaenyra letting you near your uncles. Partly because it would be seen as inappropriate but also for safety sakes.

-Princess Rhaenyra, Princess of Dragonstone, eldest child of Viserys and heir to the throne, ran in great haste down the hall. She payed no heed to the sudden stairs of people. Most of the time she would care, but not now. Not when she noticed her brother Aemond speaking with her baby girl under the Weirwood tree. She did not know his intentions and frankly, did not care. None of Otto Hightowers grandchildren would be in any position to harm her daughter. "Y/n." Rhaenyra hurried down the path to see two children quite peacefully reading a book. Aemond was the first to look up and scowled. Rhaenyra didn't like it. Even something as innocent as this could insight trouble. Gods know Otto might even consider marrying the two if he could get away with it. A perfect way to tether the Princess of Westeros to himself forever. She would never let that happen.

-Obviously you will have a dragon from day one, if there isn't an egg already placed in the cradle. She will likely want you to have a new one rather than an older one. This is mainly because she worries an older one might be too aggressive and large for tiny you to manage. Of course she will take you for flight on Syrax, high in the sky. She uses these times to bond, even going on short daytrips for fun.

If she gives you an egg:

Rhaenyra cradles the large opaque egg in her hands. It was a good size, this dragon would be healthy. It was placed right beside the infant who was roused to the waking world. Her large e/c eyes focused on the egg with such intensity that Rhaenyra could hardly believe it. Her fingers brushed against the thin hairs that had just started to sprout up. Her little Targaryen.

If you claim your own dragon:

She would have preferred Dreamfyre. That dragon was so gentle and lovely, a perfect fir for her gentle daughter. Not fucking Tessarion. Anxiously Rhaenyra waited as Y/n advanced forward. The dragon keepers were on standby. But if Tessarion became volatile then......... The great dragon moved its head. The Valyrian coming out of Y/n's trembling mouth would barely be heard over the beasts rumbling. Horrified, Rhaenyra moved to intercede. But suddenly the dragon lowered its head and Y/n's hand placed itself on its snout. "Look mom! I'm a dragonrider!"

Riding a dragon with her daughter:

At five years old Y/n mounted a dragon for the first of many times. Rhaenyra had been hesitant. Normally Targaryen's took their children on a flight during babyhood. But in her anxiety Rhaenyra waited until her daughter was slightly older. She had a small harness made for the baby and herself. Part of Rhaenyra didn't want to stay on the ground, but Y/n was a Targaryen, a Valyrian ancestry going back thousands of years. The dragons wings expanded and in a great bounding leap Syrax was in the air. Y/n's small form was shaking and Rhaenyra wrapped an arm around her. They stabilized once above the clouds. Y/n finally had calmed down. Soon, she was giggling and enjoying the height. Rhaenyra smiled.

-When it comes to betrothals Rhaenyra will wait until you are grown before any of that comes to fruition. Like her father she will let you chose. That is, up until the events of episode 7 where Vaemond makes his bid for Driftmark. Even though she will not be aggressive about it, your attention will be directed to Cregan Stark. Of course you will get the talk, and what to expect during pregnancy/childbirth. Your also likely to get a new wardrobe. This is even more expected if where your moving to (think Winterfell and Dorne) has a drastic change in weather compared to Kingslanding/Driftmark. If you do end up married then she will make frequent visits to where you live.

Everyone bellow was mingling during the Red Keeps most recent party. Everyone except for Rhaenyra and Y/n. Mother and daughter observed the happenings bellow, talking in low voices. "Have you met anyone who appeals from you?" Rhaenyra closely watched her daughters expression. Y/n's eyes skimmed the handful of eligible bachelors that a Princess of the realm could take. "Hmmmm. Uncle Aemond is looking rather appealing these days." Y/n jested. Rhaenyra snorted. None of Otto's grandchildren would ever taken her daughter to wife. Only last week Alicent had requested a possible betrothal between their two children. As far as Rhaenyra was concerned, that would only happen over her dead body. "Who is that?" Rhaenyra's eyes lit up. Now this was a much better match. "That is Cregan Stark."

Extra

What is your fathers relationship with you (excluding non cannon father)

Harwin Strong:

Like with his sons he is very close with you. Your his only daughter and so he is very protective. He will hold you as a baby and try to be there for everything. First words, steps and your progression into adulthood. He likes to carry you on his back during his time off. Even though you are a girl you will likely be taught to fight if you so chose. Although that will be in secret. I think that as the daughter of Rhaenyra and Harwin you will feel like you all are a great big family.

Leanor Velarion:

Your his only biological child. Because of this the family dynamic will change, with Laenor being far more involved with his family.1* Rhaenyra and Rhaenys will push hard for him to be a good father, the best he can be. Its a rocky start. But he gets better and does his best. Your time together is usually one on one with Laenor. Stuff like taking you on dragonrides and going to Driftmark.

Criston Cole:

This one is a doozy because he can't be sure until you are older that your his (given that Rhaenyra's likely got involved with Harwin shortly after marriage). But once he finds out....wow. Because as much as he loathes Rhaenyra he can't bring himself to hate the daughter. He will, very subtly, try to ingratiate himself to you. This will be sneaky and behind Rhaenyra's back. Of course Alicent will get wind of this making Otto aware. He will absolutely try to use this to his advantage. This of course puts Criston in a very difficult position.

Daemon Targaryen:

This pregnancy takes place shortly before the marriage to Laenor, meaning Rhaenyra was pregnant although very early on. I have a feeling Daemon might not even know the baby is his, thinking it is Harwin Strong's. So he as nothing to do with you until the funeral of his second wife. It was there that Rhaenyra reveals he has another daughter. The reason he was not informed earlier is because she was worried someone might get ahold of the note and Daemon was in Pentos all this time. This revelation will be surprised. When your parents marry he will take an interest in your education. You are expected to be an example of pure Valyrian, perfecting Valyrian and being a dragon writer. The two of you will sometimes read together and he likes to tell stories of his adventures.

Note: I'm gonna make one for Alicent and maybe Aemond. If you guys want me to make any more of these then please feel free to requested☺

[therogueflame]

Steel and Silk

Hi my sweetlings,

Here is the promised Harwin x Reader fic! After writing Through Storm and Silence, I reeaally needed something to lighten the mood. I love Harwin sm :'). (Possibility of subsequent parts based on reception!)

✨My Masterlist✨

WC: 5.6k

Summary: After brandishing some wounds in a heated training session, Harwin seeks out the comfort of your embrace.

Warnings: 18+, sex (p in v), oral (f!recieving), multiple orgasm, no use of y/n, smuffy goodness

Harwin Strong x Targaryen!Fem!Reader

MDNI!!!

The clash of steel tore through the training yard, breaking the stillness with a brutal rhythm that echoed against the ancient stone walls of the Red Keep. The air hung heavy, thick with the weight of unspoken tension that had drawn a small circle of knights to the dusty ring. Their gazes, cautious and uncertain, lingered on the combatants, each man unwilling to intervene yet unable to look away. The midday sun bore down with relentless heat, clinging to the air and earth as though it too braced for the storm brewing within the circle.

Harwin Strong stood at its center, his broad frame taut with restrained fury. His chest rose and fell steadily, but the tight grip of his knuckles on the hilt of his sword betrayed the simmering anger that burned just beneath the surface. Across from him, his opponent staggered to his feet, arrogance still etched into the lines of his bloodied face. A smear of red stained the corner of the knight’s mouth, but his sneer remained intact, insolent words still lingering in the air like an unwelcome shadow.

“You’ve had enough,” Harwin said, his voice low and steady, the calm before the inevitable storm. The weight of his words cut through the murmurs of the onlookers, a warning carried on the edge of his barely restrained temper. “Stand down before you make a greater fool of yourself.”

The knight wiped at his mouth with deliberate slowness, the smirk on his lips deepening with every passing moment. “Temper, temper, Strong,” he mocked, his tone dripping with false amusement. His movements were unhurried, calculated, as if testing the boundaries of Harwin’s patience. “Tell me, what inspires such fire? Most men only fight this way for someone they hold close. Family, perhaps. Someone they love.”

The insinuation struck its mark, slicing through Harwin’s restraint like a blade. His jaw clenched, the tension in his frame growing as he stood frozen, unmoving. A ripple of unease passed through the onlookers, their shifting feet betraying their discomfort, but none stepped forward to break the moment.

The knight took another step closer, emboldened by Harwin’s silence, mistaking it for hesitation. The grin on his face widened as he raised his chin. “Or perhaps,” he continued, his voice softening into a goad, “it’s something more. What drives you, Strong? What makes a man risk so much for someone who will never truly be his?”

The knight’s words landed like a spark on dry tinder, igniting Harwin’s fury in an instant. He moved without hesitation, swift and deliberate, his sword flashing in the harsh sunlight. The strike was precise, unrelenting; the knight’s blade flew from his hand, clattering uselessly to the ground. The man barely had time to register his defeat before Harwin’s fist crashed into his jaw with a sickening crack. The force of the blow sent him sprawling, dust rising in a choking cloud as he hit the ground with a thud that seemed to echo in the still air.

The knights who had been watching froze, their breaths catching as the scene unfolded. Harwin didn’t pause. He dropped to his knees, pinning the man beneath him with a force that left no room for resistance. His fists came down like hammers, each strike landing with brutal precision. The sharp, visceral sound of bone meeting flesh punctuated the knight’s groans, his earlier arrogance dissolving into pitiful whimpers. Dust and blood smeared across Harwin’s knuckles, but the fury in his eyes didn’t waver. It burned, raw and unyielding, a silent warning to anyone who dared linger too long.

“Harwin, stop!” one of the knights called, his voice edged with alarm. It took four men to seize Harwin’s arms, their combined strength barely enough to drag him away. Even as they restrained him, his chest heaved, his muscles taut with the effort of holding himself back. The tension radiating from him was palpable, a storm not yet spent.

“You’ll speak no more of her,” Harwin growled, his voice low and venomous. Each word struck the air with the weight of a promise. “Not here. Not anywhere.”

The knight groaned weakly, his head lolling to the side, his broken form a stark contrast to the bravado he had carried mere moments before. The yard fell into an uneasy silence, the onlookers shifting awkwardly as they exchanged wary glances. Harwin wrenched himself free from the hands holding him, his movements sharp and purposeful as he turned on his heel. Without sparing the knight another glance, he strode away, his shadow stretching long and dark across the sunlit dirt, leaving behind the image of a man both feared and resolute.

⚔

The whispers began before the dust in the training yard had even settled. By the time the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting its golden light across the Red Keep, the tale of Harwin Strong’s fury had reached every corner of the castle. Servants murmured in dimly lit hallways, their voices a blend of awe and speculation. Knights recounted the scene over their cups, their retellings growing more embellished with each round. Even the ladies of the court, draped in silks and jewels, leaned in close with hushed voices to trade fragments of the story like secrets too potent to be spoken aloud.

And yet, for all the exaggerations that followed, it was the truth beneath it all that lingered in your mind, the fragments that carried the weight of why it had happened.

You moved through the halls that afternoon with practiced grace, your head held high and your steps measured. The air around you felt charged, buzzing with glances and murmurs that trailed in your wake like shadows. The weight of their stares was nothing new—you had long ago learned how to steel yourself against their quiet judgments. But this felt different. Harwin’s actions had carved a story into the fabric of the day, one that would not be forgotten easily. Though the rumors stung at the edges of your composure, there was something else nestled within your chest, a warmth that refused to be ignored.

As dusk fell, the day’s oppressive heat surrendered to the cool stillness of evening. You retreated to your chambers, seeking solace in the quiet, though it brought little peace. The faint hum of the castle drifted on, the occasional clatter of footsteps and low voices a distant reminder of the world outside your door. You sat in silence, your thoughts restless, turning over the events of the day like a worry stone. The stillness of the room felt heavy, pressing against your chest.

It wasn’t until a soft knock broke the quiet that your heart stilled. The sound was hesitant, almost reverent, yet it carried a weight that settled low in your chest. For a moment, you hesitated, your hand brushing the arm of the chair as though the act of rising might anchor you more firmly in the present. Then, with slow, deliberate steps, you crossed the chamber, your bare feet ghosting across the cold stone floor.

When you opened the door, the flickering light of the torches outside cast long, uneven shadows across the threshold. Standing there, framed by the golden glow, was the figure you had expected—yet seeing him still made your breath catch.

Harwin Strong. His broad frame filled the doorway, his City Watch armor scuffed and dulled, streaked with marks of the day’s ordeal. His face was unreadable, though his dark eyes searched yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt fragile, heavy with all the words left unsaid.

“Your Highness,” he said softly, his voice low and edged with a weariness he couldn’t quite mask.

You stepped aside without a word, the flicker of your gaze enough to convey permission. He hesitated, lingering in the doorway as if weighing the impropriety of entering your chambers at such an hour. But the look you gave him—a silent command wrapped in quiet understanding—left him with no choice. He stepped inside, the sound of the door closing behind him swallowed by the stillness of the room.

“Sit,” you said gently, gesturing toward the chair by the hearth. Though your tone held no sharpness, it allowed for no argument. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing,” he replied, but his voice faltered as he crossed the room. Lowering himself into the chair, his movements betrayed him—stiff and deliberate, a faint wince flickering across his face as the bruises beneath his armor made themselves known.

Without hesitation, you knelt beside him, your hands moving to the straps of his armor. The cold metal was unyielding beneath your fingertips, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from him. He tensed at first, his shoulders tightening as though bracing himself, but as you worked, his breath eased, and the tension began to melt from his frame.

“You’ve been the subject of much talk today,” you murmured, your voice low and measured, your focus never leaving the clasps beneath your fingers. One by one, they loosened under your careful touch. “The Red Keep is alive with whispers about the training yard.”

His jaw tightened at your words, the shadow of something unspoken flickering in his eyes. He turned his gaze away, letting it settle on the darkened hearth, now faintly glowing with renewed embers. “I regret nothing,” he said after a pause, the resoluteness in his tone firm yet quiet, like steel forged in fire.

“I’m not here to demand your regrets, Harwin,” you replied, your voice steady though a trace of softness lingered at its edges. You slid the breastplate free, the weight of it pressing briefly against your palms before you set it aside with care. “But you must understand how this looks. A knight of the City Watch, losing control, laying a man low with his fists. It’s not a story they’ll forget.”

“I know,” he admitted, the tension in his voice softening into something quieter, more vulnerable. “And yet… if I had to do it again, I would.” His eyes flicked to yours, dark and unyielding. “He spoke of you as though your name were his to wield. As though your honor was a thing to be mocked.” His jaw tightened, and his voice dropped to a near whisper. “I could not stand it.”

His words struck you like a sudden wind, stealing the air from your lungs. The raw honesty in his tone caught you off guard, and for a fleeting moment, you faltered. But you masked it quickly, your hands resuming their work as you moved to undo the vambraces strapped to his forearms. Beneath the polished steel, his skin bore the marks of the day—a collection of fresh bruises and a shallow gash along his arm that gleamed faintly in the firelight.

The sight made your chest ache, a pang of something sharp and unnameable lodging itself beneath your ribs. “Reckless,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him, the word carrying both reproach and quiet affection. Rising, you crossed to the small table near the hearth, pouring water into a basin with practiced ease. The cool splash of it was the only sound in the room as you retrieved a clean cloth and returned to his side.

Kneeling once more, you dipped the cloth into the water and pressed it gently against the wound. His sharp intake of breath was the only sign of discomfort he allowed, and as you worked, your touch firm but careful, you felt his gaze on you—steady, unwavering.

“They don’t understand,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet. There was no bitterness in his tone, only quiet conviction. “What it means to protect something worth more than your own life.”

The weight of his words settled over you, silencing any reply that might have formed. You kept your focus on the task at hand, the cloth brushing over his skin in slow, deliberate strokes, but your heart beat faster beneath his unrelenting gaze. The warmth of the firelight seemed to intensify, cocooning the two of you in a fragile moment suspended from the world outside.

The cloth in your hand hovered above his skin, forgotten in the tension that thickened the air. Slowly, you exhaled, finding your voice once more, soft but firm. “You are brave, Harwin,” you murmured, “but bravery and wisdom are not the same. What good is your protection if you destroy yourself in the process?”

His eyes searched yours, unabated, his jaw tight. “And what would you have me do, Princess?” he asked, his voice low and laced with frustration. “Stand by while they speak of you that way? Pretend I don’t hear it? Pretend it doesn’t tear me apart?”

His words hit you with the force of a wave, and you faltered, the breath you’d drawn catching in your chest. For a moment, the room was silent but for the faint crackle of the fire. At last, you shook your head, a soft sigh escaping as your hand resumed its careful work. “No, Harwin,” you said, your voice trembling just slightly. “But you must remember—your life is not so easily dismissed. Not to me.”

His shoulders eased slightly, the hardness in his expression giving way to something gentler, something unspoken. He watched you with an intensity that made your fingers feel clumsy as you worked, and the weight of his gaze sent a warmth rising to your cheeks. The air between you felt fragile now, the earlier tension softening into something tender, something that seemed to close the space between you with every passing second.

As you shifted to reach for the basin again, his hand moved. The warmth of his palm closed around your wrist, halting you. “Enough,” he murmured, though his voice carried no edge, only quiet insistence.

Before you could respond, he tugged gently, the motion steady but unyielding. You stumbled forward, your balance catching as he guided you into his lap with ease. A soft laugh escaped you, startled and unbidden, as you found yourself straddled across his lap.

“Harwin!” you exclaimed, the word more breathless than scolding. Your laughter softened as his arms wrapped around you, steady and sure, holding you close against him.

The corner of his mouth curved into a faint grin, the earlier shadows in his expression lifting. “You were fussing too much,” he said lightly, though there was a warmth in his voice that sent your heart fluttering. “I thought this might quiet you.”

“Oh, so you think this is better?” you retorted, though the mirth in your tone betrayed any attempt at reproach. Your hands rested lightly on his shoulders, and the solid warmth of him beneath your palms only deepened the blush rising to your cheeks.

“I do,” he replied simply, his grin softening into something sweeter, his gaze dipping to yours. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as his hand shifted, settling at the small of your back. The gentle pressure sent a shiver up your spine, and the playful tension between you melted into something quieter, something far more intimate. The firelight flickered against the stone walls, casting the two of you in its soft glow, but all you could focus on was the steady warmth of him, the way his thumb brushed absentmindedly along your side, the weight of his gaze fixed entirely on you.

“Harwin…” you said again, his name falling from your lips softer this time, the sound of it barely audible over the crackling fire.

“Yes?” he murmured, leaning closer, his breath warm against your skin.

You allowed yourself to relax, the tension in your shoulders melting away as his hand came to rest at the small of your back. His fingers moved absentmindedly, tracing slow, soothing patterns that sent warmth curling low in your stomach. “You’re lucky I don’t scold you more,” you murmured, your voice light, though the weight of your concern lingered in your tone. “Throwing yourself into fights as if you’re made of stone.”

Harwin let out a soft chuckle, the sound deep and resonant, rumbling through his chest beneath your cheek. “And yet, here you are, tending to me every time,” he replied, the hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “Perhaps I’ve grown fond of your care.”

You pulled back slightly, shifting so you could look up at him, your hands braced lightly against his chest. The firelight cast golden shadows across his face, softening the sharp angles of his jaw and catching the warmth in his dark eyes. “You’re not invincible, you know,” you said, your voice quiet but firm, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Even the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms can break.”

His grin widened at that, spreading slowly across his face, the kind of smile that made your heart stutter. “So you admit I’m the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms,” he teased, though his tone carried a gentleness that softened the jest.

You rolled your eyes, though your smile lingered. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m practical,” he countered easily, leaning back slightly, though his hands didn’t loosen their steady hold on you. “If I’m to be scolded, I might as well be comfortable.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you, soft and unguarded. The sound seemed to catch even him by surprise, his gaze softening further as his thumb brushed along the curve of your arm. The space between you felt impossibly close now, the air warm and heavy with something unspoken.

“You know they’re still talking,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter, almost hesitant. “About the fight. About you.”

“They can talk,” he said simply, his tone calm and unbothered, but there was an edge of steel in his words. “I’d do it again. A thousand times, if I had to.”

The unshakable truth in his words struck you, made your chest tighten with something too complex to name. Your hands shifted against his chest, your fingers toying idly with the fabric of his tunic. “You shouldn’t have to,” you murmured, your voice barely audible above the crackle of the fire.

His hand moved to yours, his palm steady and warm as his fingers curled around yours. “But I will,” he said, his voice low, filled with quiet conviction. “Because you’re worth every blow, every scar, and every rumor.”

The raw sincerity in his voice made your breath catch, and your heart rate increased as he locked eyes with you. You couldn’t tear yourself away from his gaze, feeling a change between the two of you. Without thinking, you shifted your body, aware of the warmth emanating from him through his trousers and the thin material of your nightgown. 

Harwin stilled for a moment, his hands steadying at your waist, his fingers flexing slightly against the fabric of your gown. His gaze flicked down briefly before meeting yours again, darker now, the tension between you thick and electric. “Princess,” he murmured, his voice softer, lower, his grip tightening just slightly as though to keep you there.

Your hands rested against his shoulders, your fingertips grazing the strong curve of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his tunic. “Yes?” you replied, your voice soft but laced with a teasing edge, the smallest smile tugging at your lips as you leaned closer.

His lips curved, his grin both tender and filled with a quiet challenge. “You’ll be the ruin of me,” he said, his tone low and almost reverent.

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with promise and unspoken desire. Your breath caught in your throat as you gazed into Harwin's eyes, seeing the intensity there, the raw emotion barely contained. Your fingers curled against his shoulders, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath your touch.

"Perhaps," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, "but what a sweet ruin it would be."

Something shifted in Harwin's expression then, a dam breaking. In one fluid motion, his hand moved to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer. His lips met yours with a hunger that stole your breath away, passionate and demanding. You melted into the kiss, your body pressing against his as your arms wound around his neck.

The kiss deepened, igniting a fire that coursed through your veins. Harwin's large arms encircled you, pulling you flush against his chest as his lips moved against yours with increasing urgency. You responded in kind, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently as a soft moan escaped you.

The world beyond this moment ceased to exist. There was only the heat of Harwin's body against yours, the taste of him on your lips, the intoxicating scent of leather and sweat that clung to his skin. Your hips rocked instinctively, drawing a low groan from deep in his throat.

"We shouldn't," Harwin murmured against your lips, even as his hands roamed your back, tracing the curve of your spine.

"No," you agreed breathlessly, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. "We shouldn't.”

Your eyes locked with Harwin's, both of you breathing heavily. The firelight danced across his features, highlighting the conflict warring in his dark eyes - desire battling with duty.

"We shouldn't," you repeated softly, your fingers tracing along his jaw. "And yet..."

Your words trailed off as Harwin surged forward, capturing your lips once more in a searing kiss. Any remaining hesitation melted away as you surrendered to the passion building between you. His hands roamed your body with newfound urgency, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

You shifted in his lap, pressing closer as a soft moan escaped your throat. Harwin's grip on your waist tightened in response, his fingers digging into the fabric of your gown. With a low growl, he stood suddenly, lifting you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. He placed you softly on your bed, and you watched as he removed his lingering undergarments from a day spent under armor.

As you lay back on the bed, Harwin's eyes raked over you with undisguised hunger. His hands moved to the laces of your gown, fingers working deftly to loosen them. With each inch of skin revealed, his breath grew heavier, his touch more urgent. You arched into his caress, helping him peel away the layers of silk and linen until you lay bare before him.

Harwin paused, drinking in the sight of you. His calloused palm skimmed along your side, igniting sparks wherever he touched. "You're beautiful," he murmured, voice rough with desire.

Harwin's lips trailed down your neck, kissing a blazing path along your collarbone. His calloused hands caressed your sides, drawing soft gasps from your lips as he explored your body with reverent touches. You pressed yourself closer to him, yearning for the heat of his body to seep into yours.

"Harwin," you breathed, fingers tangling in his dark hair as his mouth moved lower. He looked up at you, eyes dark with desire, before pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. The anticipation built as his breath ghosted over your center.

As his soft lips pressed against your most sensitive area, you couldn't help but stifle a cry of pleasure. His tongue moved with fervent passion, eliciting breathy moans from your throat that echoed throughout the room. Your hips eagerly rocked against his face as the pleasure built, each wave crashing harder than the last and sending shivers down your spine.

Harwin's skilled hands and mouth worked in perfect harmony, savoring every taste and driving you to the brink of ecstasy. You clutched at his hair, pulling him closer and gasping for air as the tension within you coiled tighter and tighter. In this moment, nothing else in the world mattered except for the exquisite sensations he was drawing from your body.

You pleaded, your body writhing in pleasure on the bed as you approached the brink, "Harwin, please." He responded by intensifying his actions, one hand gripping your hip to hold you steady while the other skillfully worked to push you over the edge into pure bliss.

As release finally crashed over you, it was with Harwin's name on your lips. Your body trembled and shook as he continued his attentions, drawing out your climax until you were trembling and oversensitive. Every nerve ending was alive, every touch amplified into pure ecstasy.

As you came down from the high, Harwin moved back up your body, pressing tender kisses along your skin. His mouth trailed fire as he made his way up your thighs, hips, stomach, and chest. When he reached your lips, they tasted of him and of yourself, igniting a new wave of desire within you. Your hands roamed over the planes of his muscled back, feeling the strength coiled beneath his smooth skin.

"I need you," you whispered against his lips, your voice laced with want. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, smell the musk and sweat that only added to the intensity of your desire.

Harwin groaned softly, his hips pressing against yours in response. "Are you certain?" His dark eyes searched yours, even in this moment of passion giving you a chance to change your mind. But there was no hesitation in your heart or your body.

In response to his question, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you. "I've never been more certain of anything," you breathed against his lips, knowing that this was where you belonged - in his arms, in this moment of pure bliss.

With a low groan, Harwin slowly pushed into you, both of you gasping at the exquisite sensation. He paused, giving you time to adjust, his forehead resting against yours as he struggled for control. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the restraint it took not to move.

"Harwin," you breathed, rocking your hips slightly. "Please..."

As Harwin's strong, calloused hands gripped your hips, you gasped and wrapped your legs tightly around his waist. With practiced precision, he moved inside of you, each thrust igniting a fire within your body. Your fingers tangled in his thick hair as he kissed you hungrily, his need evident in the way he devoured your lips.

Your body responded eagerly to his movements, arching against him and urging him on. The room was filled with the sounds of your lovemaking - the wet slap of skin against skin, your breathy moans, and Harwin's gruff groans of pleasure. His muscles tensed beneath your fingertips as he buried himself deep inside of you, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

In that moment, nothing else existed but the two of you, lost in a world of pleasure and desire. And as you clung to each other, consumed by the intensity of your passion, it was clear that there was no one else who could make you feel this alive.

"Gods, you feel incredible," Harwin groaned against your neck, his voice rough with desire. His lips trailed a path of fire along your jawline, adding to the overwhelming sensations you were feeling.

Lost in the ecstasy of the moment, all you could do was whimper in response. The tension continued to build rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter until it felt almost unbearable. Sensing how close you were, Harwin's movements became more focused and intense. One of his hands slipped between your bodies, his fingers deftly finding that sensitive bundle of nerves that sent you over the edge into pure pleasure.

Your body curved instinctively, a graceful response as waves of pure bliss cascaded through you, Harwin's name escaping your lips in a breathless cry. The intensity of your release triggered his own, and with a low groan, he buried his face in the crook of your neck as he found his climax. For several long moments, you clung to each other, bodies trembling with the shared passion that pulsed between you.

As your breathing began to steady, Harwin shifted to lay beside you, the comforting warmth of his body close but no longer pressing down. Propped on one elbow, he gazed at you, his dark eyes brimming with a tenderness that sent your heart fluttering. You turned your head to meet his loving gaze, his presence grounding you in the moment.

Gently, he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His calloused fingers lingered against your cheek, their warmth seeping into your flushed skin.

"My princess," he murmured, his voice low and thick with emotion. "My heart is yours, now and always."

Your lips curved into a soft smile as a wave of deep contentment washed over you. Lying there, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of Harwin's affection, you felt a profound sense of safety and love, a certainty that you were cherished beyond measure.

A soft sigh escaped you as your fingers traced slow, idle patterns across his broad chest, savoring the solid feel of him beside you. "And mine to you," you whispered, your voice laced with tender affection. "Always."

Harwin’s lips twitched into a gentle smile, his eyes softening further as they held yours. Slowly, he leaned in, pressing a reverent kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek, before finally capturing your lips in a kiss so achingly sweet it left you breathless. When he pulled back, the look in his eyes—so full of adoration—stole the air from your lungs all over again.

"I would move mountains for you," Harwin murmured, his voice low and fervent as he lay on his side, facing you. His gaze was steady, filled with an intensity that made your breath catch. "I would fight armies, slay dragons, challenge the gods themselves if it meant keeping you safe and by my side."

“Please do not slay my dragons, Harwin.”

Your soft, melodic laughter filled the quiet room, and you turned your head on the pillow to meet his playful grin. His chuckle followed, a deep, rich sound that rumbled softly between you. "Very well," he said with a teasing glint in his eyes. "I shall leave your dragons be. But the rest still stands."

Your gaze softened as you looked at him, your hand resting lightly against your stomach. "My brave knight," you murmured, your voice tender. "I need no grand gestures or heroic deeds. Just you, here with me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted."

Harwin shifted closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a delicate reverence. "And you shall have me," he promised, his voice low and earnest. "For as long as you’ll have me, I am yours."

A quiet peace settled between you, though it carried the faintest edge of sadness, as Harwin rose and began the methodical task of donning his armor once more.

The soft clink of metal filled the air as Harwin fastened the last pieces of his armor. You watched him from the bed, the sheets pulled loosely around you, a bittersweet ache settling in your chest. As he reached for his yellow cloak, you rose, wrapping yourself in a light robe before crossing the room to him.

"Let me," you said softly, taking the cloak from his hands. With careful movements, you draped it over his shoulders, smoothing the fabric across his broad back. Your fingers lingered on the clasp at his throat, reluctant to complete the final step that would transform him back into Ser Harwin Strong of the City Watch.

Harwin's hand came up to cover yours, his touch warm and comforting. "Dawn will come too soon," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with wistfulness.

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. "It always does," you replied softly, your fingers tracing the edge of the honey-hued cloak. The fabric was cool beneath your touch, a stark contrast to the lingering warmth of Harwin's skin.

For a moment, you both stood in silence, the air heavy with unspoken words and shared longing. Then, with a gentle sigh, you fastened the clasp at his throat, completing his transformation. The golden cloak seemed to glow in the dim light of your chambers, a symbol of the duty that would always stand between you.

Harwin's hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch impossibly tender. "My heart remains here," he murmured, his dark eyes searching yours. "Even when duty calls me away."

You leaned into his touch, savoring these final moments. "And mine with you.”

Your eyes met his, a silent understanding passing between you. "Go," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Before the castle wakes."

Harwin nodded, his jaw tightening as he steeled himself. He leaned in, pressing a final, lingering kiss to your forehead. "Until next time, my princess," he murmured against your skin.

Then, with a swirl of his yellow cloak, he was gone. The door closed behind him with a soft, measured click, leaving your chambers quiet once more. For a moment, you stood where he’d left you, your fingers brushing the place where his lips had lingered, the memory of his touch still warm against your skin. The silence around you wasn’t empty—it thrummed with the weight of what had passed between you, a fragile, fleeting gift stolen from the demands of the world beyond these walls.

You exhaled slowly, your gaze lingering on the door he’d vanished through. Duty would always call him away, that much you both knew. Yet tonight, in those stolen hours, the weight of that truth had felt lighter, bearable even. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you turned back to the hearth, his warmth still clinging to your skin like the faint glow of embers. For now, it was enough.

[marthawrites]

'Member when I said I was writing harwin x betrothed reader x rhaenyra? Promise I'm still working on it! Slowly! 😅 She's at 2.3k right now and I'm hoping to get some more time to work on it this week ❤️

[hauntedfictionland]

❝Euphoria❞

☾︎✰❛❀ Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem! Reader!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jacaerys loves you. But he cannot have you. And it is killing him slowly.

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬/𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Heartbreak, one sided feelings and lots of tears.

🪐𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: In this timeline, Rhaenyra never moves to dragonstone so reader and Jacaerys grow together because I didn't really know how to fit it otherwise. It's something shorter than what I would usually write.

Jacaerys significantly remembers the first moment he fell in love with you. You, Aegon and Aemond's sister, younger than the eldest but older than Daeron. Kind of in the middle really but you fell in the youngest ones. After Criston had urged Aegon to spar with him, and ser Harwin Strong saved him, you came. He had been sitting in the garden with an oak tree above, a frown on his lips and a cut on his left cheek by one of Aegon's kicks. And you walked up to him. That same glow on your face and a light that didn't seem to be there until you arrived.

He never really noticed you until that moment. Jacaerys was the first born son of his mother. The heir after heir. While you were the fourth child, after Haelena and of course, Aemond. You weren't a son. Or a first born daughter. He didn't seem to have any particular reason to talk to you. But that evening changed it forever.

You bend down towards him, a comforting smile on your lips. He watches as you ruffle his hair, so gently it sends shivers down his skin. You were called the pink doe, because of how kind you were. And you wore pink and white most of the time. And of course, very beautiful. He never noticed it until that moment. How? he didn't know. Jacaerys was a child, but he could feel love. You pull out a white flower from behind you, tucking it behind his ear.

Jacaerys closed his eyes when you pressed your lips to his ear, right where the cut was. And suddenly he can't even feel the pain anymore. Not when there was you. And there was euphoria.

He started paying a lot more attention to you afterwards. In fact, you, were all that he had on his mind. How you laughed, the blushes on your cheeks when someone—especially Aemond, complimented you, or when your embroidery got noticed by your mother. The queen Alicent. He noticed it all. And Jacaerys couldn't get it out of his head. He figured it was a phase, that he'd eventually grow out of it, yet years passed by, you both turned ten and three and he was speechless when you would show up in a golden and red dress at some family dinner, then fourteen came and your scent, vanilla and rosemary, stuck in his nose when air blew and your gorgeously blonde hair waved in his face.

And then fifteen came, when he finally accepted the fact he was oh so inevitably and irreversibly in love with you. Everything about you, he would accept. That you were a green, that your brothers were Aegon and Aemond. And even if you were like them, like the hightowers—which you weren't, you were the kindest and most gentle heart he had ever met, but even if you were, he would accept it with open arms. Because you, to him, were his great love. His euphoria. A feeling he always felt with you.

A dream. Because one day becoming king, and you, to rule by his side? to be his queen? it was a dream. And it was the best and most beautiful one he wished for. However little did he know, it would only stay a dream.

Because one windy day, right when he wanted to ask you to marry him, right under that same oak tree, you told him something that broke him in two.

You were betrothed to Aemond.

“What?” his heart falls, throat swelling dry. He can barely speak.

“Our mother arranged it. She thought he and I made good company and...” you sigh, your eyes closed as you smiled, “I've loved him for so long. It finally feels a dream come true.”

Oh. He watched as you look so in love, just with the thought of him. Just like how he looks thinking of you. He watched as a feast was thrown in the celebration of both your betrothal, he watched as you dance with each other, his hands on your waist and a gleaming smile on your lips, he watched as you take your wedding vows, and share a kiss. He watched Aemond claim his euphoria and love it like he was the one meant to be with you. Not him.

Jacaerys never imagined himself crying under that same oak tree after your wedding was over. He also never thought he would cry himself sleep, pillow soaking in tears you caused. He never thought he would get betrothed to any other that wasn't you. Well, Baela now, looked joyed to be his future wife. And the future queen. Yet he can't stop thinking about the crowns you both would have worn. The children you both could have had. The love you both could have shared. He can't stop thinking about his euphoria.

And he doubts he ever would stop.

𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑚:) 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛! 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒.

[novaursa]

Chasing the Inferno

- Summary:  It was during Rhaenyra’s and Laenor’s wedding feast, that the king noticed something he was blind to for far too long.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Harwin Strong

This whole work is inspired by this brilliant anonymous ask:

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, has striking resemblance to her late grandmother Alyssa and is younger sister of Rhaenyra. These events happen after The Flames We Hide. To read all the chapters in chronological order, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 3 532

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The evening air carries the scents of roasted meats, spiced wine, and fresh flowers into the grand hall, mingling with the vibrant sounds of revelry. The hall is a living tapestry of silks, banners, and candlelight, casting everything in hues of crimson and gold. A sea of finely dressed lords and ladies flows beneath the arched ceiling, the thrumming heart of the grand wedding feast of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon.

You arrive with the grace and splendor expected of a Targaryen princess, a vision that commands the attention of every eye that lands on you. The dress you wear is a rich deep plum, the color of ripened plums at dusk, lined with golden thread that shimmers in the light. The sleeves are long and bell-shaped, flowing with each movement, while the bodice is tightly laced with intricate embroidery of dragons in flight. Around your neck, a delicate chain bears a pendant of a dragon curled around a glittering ruby—a gift from your father. Your silver hair is braided in intricate patterns, falling down your back with hints of shimmering ribbons intertwined through each strand. 

You sit beside Rhaenyra at the high table, your twin sister glowing with happiness under her finely woven veil. She leans toward you with a playful smirk. “I see you’ve decided to steal the attention for yourself tonight, Y/N. Not even the newlywed princess is safe from your charms.”

You laugh softly, returning her smirk. “It’s not stealing, dearest sister, merely borrowing for the evening.” Your eyes flick toward the bustling crowd, scanning the faces, seeking a particular one even as you engage in idle conversation.

You find him across the hall—Ser Harwin Strong, the Breakbones, the man who has captured your heart in ways you would never openly admit. His broad shoulders and easy smile cut a striking figure amidst the revelers. He leans against a pillar, eyes fixed on you with a heat that makes your pulse quicken. Even from here, you can feel the intensity of his gaze, the unspoken challenge in those dark eyes. A smirk pulls at your lips. Tonight is not just about celebrating your sister’s marriage—it is a dance, a game of fire and shadow that you and Harwin have played many times before.

As the feast progresses, the lords and ladies rise from their seats, drawn to the center of the hall where the dancing begins. You stand, gracefully gliding down the steps, the train of your gown trailing like liquid night behind you. Many lords vie for your attention, each more eager than the last to have the honor of a dance with the daughter of the King.

You indulge them—one by one, offering your hand with a practiced smile that promises nothing but amusement. Lord Beesbury twirls you first, his steps light but unremarkable. Lord Tyrell is next, his flattery sweet yet forgettable. Each time the music swells, you shift, gliding seamlessly into the arms of another suitor, all while casting sly glances over your shoulder to see if Harwin is watching.

And he is. His eyes never leave you, following every step, every spin, the set of his jaw tightening each time you turn away just as he moves closer. You can feel his impatience building like a storm, the tension of the game heightening with every dance.

Finally, after what feels like endless teasing, you find yourself caught in a whirl of movement, spinning until you are only steps away from him. Harwin’s expression is a mix of hunger and frustration as he makes his move to claim you at last.

But just as his hand reaches for yours, you slip away, turning instead into the arms of a young knight from the Westerlands, offering him a dazzling smile that is only for show. “My, Ser Harwin, are you growing weary of this dance already?” you tease, your voice lilting as you catch his gaze. You can see the fire in his eyes, a silent vow that he will not let you slip away so easily next time.

When the dance ends, the Westerlander knight bows low, eyes filled with admiration as he releases you. And as you turn, Harwin is there—closer than before, a step ahead of any other. This time, you do not pull away when his hand grasps yours, his grip firm and warm, sending a shiver down your spine. His voice is low, rough with suppressed desire, as he murmurs into your ear. “Do you truly believe you can keep running from me, Y/N?”

You tilt your head, lips curving into a smirk as you meet his gaze fully, violet and brown heat clashing. “Run, Ser Harwin? I am only leading the chase.”

Without giving him the satisfaction of a response, you spin away from him, the hem of your dress sweeping across the floor as you are swallowed back into the crowd. You glance back over your shoulder just long enough to catch the frustration in his expression before disappearing into the throng of lords and ladies once more. Harwin will catch you like he always does—of that you have no doubt. The thrill is in making him work for it.

But for now, the game continues, and you savor every moment of it.

The night is young, and so are you—dragon-blooded and bold, playing with fire and reveling in the heat that comes with it.

The music swells, a lively tune that fills the hall with mirth and energy, but it does little to settle the unease that creeps into King Viserys’ chest. Seated at the high table, he holds a goblet of wine, though he has barely touched it. His gaze drifts from one side of the room to the other, watching the mingling guests, the lords and ladies spinning in intricate dances. Yet his eyes keep returning to the center of the hall, where Rhaenyra and Daemon move together with a fluid grace that borders on impropriety.

His brow furrows as he watches them—his daughter and his brother. The distance between them is too narrow, the smiles exchanged too familiar. Even now, after all these years, Viserys cannot fully discern what lies behind those shared glances. His hand tightens on the armrest of his seat, his knuckles whitening with the effort to maintain composure. The court is watching; he cannot afford to let his concerns show. Not here. Not tonight.

But then, from the corner of his eye, something else catches his attention—a flash of deep plum silk, a braid of silver hair glinting in the candlelight. His eyes shift, narrowing as he tracks the movement, and there you are, his younger daughter, Y/N, weaving through the crowd with that same effortless grace, the very image of your late mother Alyssa in her youth.

Viserys watches as you glide from one partner to the next, a playful smile ever present on your lips. Each lord who steps forward is charmed, entranced even, but there is one figure whose presence never strays far from your orbit—Ser Harwin Strong. The son of his current Hand, a man known for his strength and loyalty, but also for the intensity of his gaze, a gaze that now rests solely on you. 

Viserys leans forward slightly, frowning as he observes the exchange unfolding before him. Harwin moves closer, clearly intent on catching you, and you—ever the playful one—tease him with fleeting glances, spinning just out of his reach each time he draws near. The way your eyes gleam with mischief, the way you turn your back only to glance over your shoulder at him, invites more than just a dance. It’s a game, and one that is all too familiar to Viserys, who remembers his own youth, and the thrill of such pursuits.

But then Harwin catches you. His large hand wraps around your waist, pulling you closer, closer than what is proper for a dance in front of the entire court. Your laughter rings out like silver bells, light and teasing as you push back against him, yet the way Harwin’s hand lingers—fingers splayed possessively against the silk of your gown—does not escape your father’s notice. The look on Harwin’s face is far too unguarded, a mixture of admiration and longing that sends a jolt of concern racing through Viserys.

Viserys’ chest tightens as he watches you lean in, saying something that makes Harwin’s smile sharpen, though the words are lost to the music and laughter that fills the hall. Then, just as quickly as he caught you, you slip away again, your skirts swirling as you twirl out of his grasp, leaving Harwin standing in the middle of the floor with a look of mingled frustration and desire. The scene plays out before Viserys like a vivid memory, like something he should have noticed sooner, something he should have acted upon long before tonight.

His eyes narrow as he follows the thread of events with growing unease. You laugh and dance your way out of the hall, light-footed and swift, and though Harwin remains behind for a few moments, his gaze tracks you with the keen eye of a falcon. Then, as discreetly as he can manage, Harwin moves toward the exit, following you.

Viserys’ grip on his goblet tightens until he fears it might shatter in his hand. He remains rooted to his seat, unwilling to cause a scene, yet the implications churn in his mind like a dark tide. The daughter who bears his blood, a Targaryen of pure lineage, slipping away with the son of his Hand? It is unthinkable—and yet, Viserys cannot ignore the undeniable connection between the two of you. The way you moved in tandem, how easily you played off one another as if you were two parts of a whole. It stirs something in Viserys, a deep-seated dread that this could lead to something more—something he has not prepared for.

His gaze shifts, and he meets the eyes of Lord Lyonel Strong. The Hand is seated farther down the table, looking distinctly uncomfortable, as though he too is aware of the precarious position his son is placing him in. When their eyes lock, Viserys does not miss the brief flash of unease in Lyonel’s expression, followed quickly by a nod of acknowledgment, as if to say he understands what Viserys is thinking. And, undoubtedly, he does.

The memory rushes back, clear as day—months ago, when Lyonel Strong came to him with a proposition a second time. “Your Grace,” Lyonel had said, his voice steady and filled with the gravity of a man who understood the weight of his words, “there are many fine matches to be made for your daughter, Y/N, from prominent houses across the realm. But I would humbly suggest that what my son Harwin offers may be worth more than mere lineage. His devotion to the princess is unwavering, and his love is without question. He would be a husband who honors her above all else, a union built on something deeper than mere alliances.”

At the time, Viserys had dismissed the notion—politely, but firmly. His daughter was a Targaryen, and surely she deserved a match that would strengthen their house politically, not merely satisfy matters of the heart. Yet now, watching the scene unfold before him, Viserys finds himself second-guessing his decision. Could there be merit in such a match after all? Could Lyonel’s words hold more truth than Viserys had been willing to see? But then again, to allow such a thing would be to acknowledge a love affair that has clearly grown far beyond simple courtly affection.

Viserys’ thoughts whirl, torn between the duty of a king and the love of a father. He knows that if he raises the matter now, it could cast a shadow over the entire evening, drawing unwelcome attention to something that should remain hidden, if only for the sake of peace. And yet, can he afford to remain silent, knowing the path that such unchecked desire could lead his daughter down? His gaze flicks back to the entrance where you vanished, and a part of him itches to rise from his seat, to go after you and demand answers.

But he stays rooted in place, forced into inaction by the eyes of the court and the weight of his crown. Instead, his gaze returns to Lyonel, and he sees the older man swallow nervously before looking away, clearly wishing to be anywhere else. The tension between them is palpable, unspoken yet undeniable.

Viserys takes a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. The decision he makes next could have lasting consequences, for both you and the realm. As the music swells and the laughter of the court continues around him, the king’s mind churns, trapped in a web of duty, love, and fear.

For now, he decides to wait—he will watch, and if Harwin oversteps again, then the matter will be brought to light. But the seed of doubt has already taken root in Viserys’ heart, and it will not be easily dismissed.

The night is long, but Viserys’ thoughts are longer still.

You slip through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, your heart thrumming in your chest as you make your way deeper into its shadowed recesses. The sound of music and laughter fades behind you as you reach a secluded passage, hidden away from the eyes of the court. This path is familiar, a secret shared only between the two of you. You’ve met here before, during stolen moments when the weight of duty and the eyes of others became too much to bear. The flickering torchlight casts long shadows along the stone walls, giving the space an almost dreamlike quality. Yet there is nothing dreamlike about the tension that crackles in the air as you wait, anticipation coiling like a serpent beneath your skin.

Footsteps echo faintly down the passage, the heavy tread unmistakable. A smirk tugs at your lips as you press your back against the cool stone, the thrill of the chase still buzzing in your veins. He always catches you in the end; it’s a part of the game, a part of the dance you both know so well. You hear him approach, his steps purposeful, a hunter closing in on his prey. You hold your breath, relishing the thrill of being caught, knowing what comes next.

And then he’s there—Ser Harwin Strong, towering and fierce, the firelight casting sharp angles across his rugged features. He looks at you with that smoldering gaze, dark and intense, his chest heaving as he closes the distance between you. “You run from me as if you ever wanted to get away,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

You don’t reply with words, only a wicked smile that dares him to come closer. And he does, with a predatory grace, until his body is pressed against yours, trapping you between the stone wall and his broad chest. “Caught you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, one hand sliding up to cradle your jaw while the other grips your waist possessively.

Before you can retort, his lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s all fire and hunger, the pent-up tension of the night spilling over as he devours you with a need that’s impossible to hide. You kiss him back with equal fervor, fingers tangling in his dark curls as you pull him closer, desperate to close the distance that’s been kept between you all night. Every touch, every bite and nip, is laced with the emotions you can’t express openly—a love too dangerous to voice in the light of day, but undeniable in moments like this.

Harwin’s hands roam over your body with a familiarity that sends heat pooling in your core. He tugs at the laces of your gown, his fingers rough but practiced, until the fabric loosens and falls away, exposing the soft skin of your neck and shoulders. You gasp against his lips as he nips at your throat, the scrape of his teeth drawing a moan from your lips. His own garments follow suit—his tunic and belt discarded hastily, the sound of cloth hitting stone echoing faintly in the small space.

The air between you crackles with a desperate need, the kind that’s built up over countless stolen moments, secret touches, and longing glances. There’s no pretense here, no titles or duties—only the raw, unfiltered connection between you. Harwin’s hands slide down your waist, gripping your hips firmly as he lifts you, pressing you harder against the wall. You wrap your legs around him instinctively, gasping as you feel him against you, hard and ready. The anticipation coils tightly in your belly, every nerve alive with want.

His eyes meet yours for a fleeting moment, and in them, you see everything he can’t say aloud—devotion, desire, and the promise that he would burn the world for you if you asked. But words are unnecessary now. You reach down, guiding him until he’s pressed right where you need him most. There’s a brief, charged pause—a moment where everything hangs on the edge—and then he pushes into you in one smooth, powerful motion.

The world tilts, pleasure and need blurring everything else as he sets a rhythm, hard and fast, the way he knows you both like it. It’s familiar and yet never loses its edge—each thrust, each gasp, sending sparks of electricity through you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, biting down on the rough skin to muffle your cries, while his own growls of pleasure vibrate against your ear. His hands grip you tightly, fingers digging into your flesh as he moves, driving into you with a force that leaves you breathless.

But it’s not just the physical pleasure that binds you in this moment. It’s the intimacy, the shared understanding that this is where you both belong—together, hidden away from the prying eyes of the world. Here, you are not a princess, and he is not merely the son of the Hand. Here, you are simply two people who have found something rare and precious, something that defies the rules of the world you live in.

He kisses you again, slower this time, a searing heat beneath the tenderness as he deepens the connection between you. Your bodies move in sync, finding that perfect rhythm that drives you both higher, closer to the edge. You can feel it building, a tightening coil of pleasure that threatens to snap at any moment. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, a desperate plea, and he responds with your name in kind, low and reverent.

The world narrows to just the two of you—the heat of his body, the rough press of stone at your back, the intoxicating scent of sweat and desire. And then, with one final thrust, the tension breaks, pleasure crashing over you like a wave, drowning you in bliss. Harwin follows a heartbeat later, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he buries himself deep, his body trembling with the force of his release.

For a long moment, neither of you move, the air thick with the aftermath of your passion. You stay entwined, foreheads pressed together as you catch your breath, your heartbeats slowing in tandem. His hands are still on you, holding you as if he’s afraid you might slip away even now. And for a moment, the world is quiet, all worries and responsibilities forgotten in the haze of sated desire.

But reality is never far away. Slowly, you both come back to yourselves, and he reluctantly pulls back, letting you slide down until your feet touch the ground once more. There’s a flicker of regret in his eyes, a wish that this moment could last longer, but he says nothing as he helps you adjust your gown, his touch gentle now.

You smooth down your skirts, fixing your hair with a practiced ease, though the flush of your skin and the brightness in your eyes would give you away to anyone who looked closely enough. Harwin lingers, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a soft, almost reverent caress. “You always make me chase you,” he murmurs, his voice laced with fondness.“

And you always catch me,” you reply, the smile on your lips tinged with affection. “Perhaps I simply enjoy the chase.”

He chuckles, but there’s a seriousness in his gaze as he cups your face in his hands, holding you still for a moment longer. “One day, I won’t let you run again,” he says quietly, the promise heavy in the air.

You don’t answer, not with words. Instead, you lean up to kiss him one last time, slow and lingering, tasting the bittersweet mix of what you have and what you cannot yet fully claim. When you pull away, you give him a final smile before slipping out of the shadows and back into the world where duty and decorum await.

Harwin remains behind, watching you go with a look that holds both longing and resolve. He knows this is far from over.

[maidragoste]

The Portrait

Princess Rhaenyra's naming day was approaching, so King Viserys and Queen Aemma asked her beloved daughter what she wanted as a gift this year. The king expected the princess to ask for something like a new horse or new fabrics so that her maids could make her new dresses, but Rhaenyra surprised him by asking him to hire a painter because she wanted to have a portrait with you, her dearest friend. The king soon granted the princess's wish and a few weeks later you and Rhaenyra found themselves in her chambers dressed in white with a painter.

The painter had to make many drafts because you and Rhaenyra first tried to make serious poses like the both had seen in the portraits of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters, but the two of you always ended up laughing when your eyes met each other. In the end, you ended up posing sitting looking at the princess while she was standing behind you resting her hand on your shoulder while you caressed her hand. The poor painter had to improvise a little since neither the princess nor you could stop talking but anyway, he ended up painting them both with a smile and Rhaenyra with a blush on her cheeks.

Years later, when the celebration of your wedding with Harwin ends, the first thing Rhaenyra does, when she returns to her chambers, is look for that portrait and while her eyes fill with tears she can't help but think that she liked that white dress you wore better with her than the one you wore at your wedding. If she were just a man, then nothing would stop her from taking you as her wife and reigning over the Seven Kingdoms together. She would give you everything, her heart, her soul, her power and she would make you the happiest woman in the kingdom. But she can never have you because she is a woman and you chose Harwin.

[blakeswritingimagines]

How They Worship You

Aegon: He prioritizes quality time together, whether it's through shared meals, adventures, or quiet moments together. He prioritizes physical intimacy and expresses affection in ways that make you feel cared for and desired. He prioritizes your well-being, from emotional support to practical assistance. He plans special surprises and gestures to show you how much he cares. He prioritizes your opinions and feelings and works to build a healthy and equal partnership based on mutual respect.

Aemond: He expresses his support and loyalty to his partner through small and big gestures, such as making you your favorite meal, planning outings and adventures together, or simply holding your hand and reassuring you of his love and devotion. He works hard to build a stable and secure relationship by being a reliable presence in your life, and by consistently showing up for you in all aspects of life, whether it's career, personal life, or the bedroom. He always strives to make you feel safe, heard, and loved, and to be the best version of himself for you.

Jacaerys: He worships his partner by prioritizing your happiness, needs, and desires. He makes sure you feel loved and appreciated by demonstrating kindness, respect, and affection. He is present and engaged when you speak, and he makes an effort to listen with his whole being. He supports your goals and dreams, and he is open to exploring new experiences with you. He prioritizes communication, honesty, and understanding, and works to build trust and deepen connection. He takes time to express his love and admiration and cherish every moment spent together.

Lucerys: He worships his partner by doing small acts of kindness, such as offering a warm cup of tea, giving a massage, or writing you a heartfelt letter. He makes an effort to be thoughtful and proactive, remembering important dates and occasions, and surprises you with unexpected gestures. He takes time to learn your love languages and adapt his behavior to make you feel loved in the ways that resonate most deeply with you.

Rhaenyra: She strives to be a safe and reliable partner, someone you can trust and depend on. She shows up for you through action, not just words, and follows through on her commitments. She is open and honest, and communicates clearly, respectfully, and openly with you. She is willing to compromise and find mutual solutions to problems, and she approaches conflicts with an open mind and a willingness to listen and learn. She works to strengthen your connection and build a partnership based on mutual respect and equality.

Daemon: He worships his partner by making time to spend together, whether it's going on dates, having intimate moments, or simply enjoying each other's company. He prioritizes your comfort, security, and stability, and works to create a safe and supportive environment. He is willing to compromise and make sacrifices for the sake of the relationship, and he tries to be forgiving and understanding when mistakes or conflicts arise. He prioritizes physical touch and makes sure to express his desire through physical connection.

Alicent: She honors your boundaries and respects your space, understanding that you need time to yourself and independence like anyone else. She expresses her love and appreciation through both words and actions, such as planning dates and leaving notes to let you know you are on her mind. She prioritizes your well-being, offering support and assistance whenever she can. She is committed to personal growth, both for herself and for the betterment of your relationship. She is always open and communicating, not only to listen but also to be vulnerable and express her feelings.

Helena: Her devotion to her partner goes beyond anything simple. She ensures that you feel safe with her, both physically and emotionally, and she works to create a secure and stable foundation for your relationship. She is dependable and consistent, following through on her words and actions. She shows respect for your autonomy and individuality, allowing you the space and freedom to be yourself. She takes an interest in your hobbies, passions, and pursuits, and she celebrates your successes. She makes an effort to maintain intimacy and connection, both physically and emotionally, and she prioritizes spending quality time together.

Harwin: He surprises you with small gestures of affection like buying your favorite snacks or leaving love notes. He plans fun date nights and makes sure you feel pampered and prioritized. He also makes an effort to spend quality time with you, engaging in activities you enjoy and actively listening to your thoughts and feelings.

Cregan: He expresses his love through small acts of kindness and thoughtfulness, such as getting your favorite dish, giving you a comforting hug, or surprising you with a small gift. Additionally, he makes an effort to prioritize your emotional and physical well-being. He helps with housework and other tasks and makes sure you have adequate rest and time to relax. He is supportive and understanding during challenges and setbacks and offers comfort and assurance when you need it. Overall, he makes it his priority to make you feel loved, valued, and respected at all times.

Criston: He expresses his love through acts of service, like making you your favorite meal or doing small gestures to make your life easier. He surprises you with unexpected gifts or experiences that reflect your interests and bring joy. He makes an effort to learn about your love language and communicate in a way that resonates with you. He prioritizes quality time together, whether it's a romantic date night or simply cuddling on the couch. He shows vulnerability and a willingness to grow and learn with you, and he makes it a priority to be a safe and supportive space for you.