#he’s my beloved husband away at war when will he return???

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Soft Feathers, Softer Kisses 🦉

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I'm soooo excited for y'all to see this!!!!

My first time writing for Telemachus and EPIC in general so please go easy on me 🥲

This was born from my need to smooch Tele. He's so cute 🥹

*the art is not mine, I got it from pinterest, if anyone knows the artists lmk pls!*

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You're betrothed to the prince of Ithaca. His father is lost at sea and 108 suitors are pushing his mother to choose a new king. When one of them insults the queen, a fight breaks loose, and you end up fiercely defending your lover with a determined owl at your side.

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The sound of your sandals on the smooth palace floor echoed off the marble walls, the fabric of your chiton that wasn't bunched up in your hands was brushing against your legs while you hurried towards the hall.

The commotion had managed to make its way through the entire building like a breeze of the salty sea air.

Still, the news reached you later than you'd have liked.

Worry and anger twisted in your chest, a feeling like countless arrows piercing your heart. Your lungs were burning, no breath managing to get enough oxygen in your blood.

You had to hurry.

They would eat him alive.

You were well aware of the suitors. The 108 men who'd grown stubborn roots in the palace and refused to leave without getting a chance.

The king had been gone for so long, leaving his throne empty and his family behind. It had been two decades since he sailed off to war.

Not many believed he was even still among the living, instead thinking he was slaving away in his place in the Underworld.

The queen managed to keep the kingdom from ruin for years, ever since her beloved left, and yet they insisted on a new a king, a new man to wear the crown and sit upon the throne.

A new man to take Penelope as his wife.

The moment they showed up at the gates you'd stared at them with disgust, boring into them with your sharp gaze.

None of them were fit to lead, let alone rule an entire kingdom.

The queen stalled and stalled, the hope of her husband's return heavy on her heart.

However, the suitors soon grew impatient. Causing havoc within the walls of the palace, pounding on Penelope's doors, threatening bloodshed if she didn't choose a new king.

And now, your betrothed, the prince of Ithaca, was caught in the middle of it all because he was cursed with a heart too big for his body.

When you turned the corner of the hallway, you were met with a sight that made your heart shatter and wrath boil in your veins.

The suitors had circled Telemachus, leaving him trapped with no way out while Antinous stood over him, broad shoulders throwing shadows on the face of your beloved.

He was beaten and bloodied, heaving while trying to fight back.

Although a small, proud smile cracked on your face when you saw some of the men limping or nursing their bruised eyes.

Even Antinous was left with crimson streaks dripping from his mouth, staining his teeth. Your feet were carrying you further in their direction, a mindless action.

Panic struck you when Antinous raised his hand to deliver another blow.

Without thinking, you called out to him, rage tinting your voice accompanied by the angry grinding of your teeth.

"Antinous!" You yelled, a scowl on your face as you forced your way through the ocean of suitors.

"Get away from him!"

The giant man lowered his hand with a deep chuckle and turned to face you with a smirk that made the previously boiling blood to freeze.

"If it isn't the little princess. Come to save your prince, have you? I swear it's the other way around."

The grin that sat on his face, his bloodstained teeth exposed, made bile rise up your throat.

The men chuckled, making Telemachus' head fall forward in shame.

You payed them no mind, rushing to your lover.

Giving Antinous a look that could kill, you kneeled down next to Telemachus and cupped his face, a worried crease forming between your brows while you gently brushed your thumb over the blooming bruise on his cheek to soothe it.

"Look at you.. you're bleeding!" You gasped, quickly using your chiton to wipe away the blood on his face.

"I'm fine, I promise."

Telemachus gave you an unconvincing smile, followed by a wince. The worried look on your face tugged at his heart.

You looked like you were about to cry, and he hated to think that he was the reason.

"You're not fine. You're bruised and-and what if you broke a bone? How did this even happen? They knew there'd be consequences if they-"

the words just spilled out of you, the concern for your lover was something you could no longer contain.

He cupped your cheek and smiled weakly.

"My love, please. I assure you, I'm alright-"

He was cut off by Antinous, a scoff falling from his split lips. You scowled again and rose from your knees, a panicked expression appearing on your beloved's face.

"No, don't-"

Telemachus grasped at your hand, only for you to gently tug it from his grip as you approached Antinous.

Only when you made your way over to the grinning man did you notice a big owl circling the suitors, flying high towards the tall ceiling.

You spared it a glance, noting the magnificent coloring of its feathers and the bright eyes filled with something you could only describe as a sense of justice.

Not once had you see such determination in an animal, but it managed to put your mind at ease a little.

"You filthy dog! Who do you think you are?! He is your prince, whether you like it or not. And you have no right-" you snarled, raising your hand to point a finger at him.

He quickly caught your wrist in his fierce grip, a deep frown sitting on his face.

Antinous glanced at Telemachus, who was holding his aching side trying to pull himself off the ground, before averting his eyes back to you.

"He doesn't look very princely to me."

The smirk he sported was enough to make the fire in your chest spread even more.

"You-" you sneered only to be interrupted by Antinous again.

"What? Hm? What will you do?"

"Stop." Telemachus heaved, supporting himself on a marble pillar.

You didn't let yourself be intimidated by him and rivaled him with a look just as sharp.

"There's a special place in Tarturus for you, Antinous. If he'd even allow it." You spoke quietly but firmly, feeling satisfaction bloom in your heart at his reaction.

Antinous scowled, tightening his grip around your wrist.

"He," he began, "is dead."

You smirked, a scoff making its way past your lips.

"You better pray to the gods. Lady Tyche is not on your side. You'll be lucky enough if he even grants you a way to the Underworld. I hope you have enough gold on hand. Because the only way you're getting across the Styx is in pieces." You spat at him, venom dripping from your tongue.

Antinous bared his teeth, fury blazing in his eyes as he raised his other hand in the air, presumably to strike you.

"Get."

Telemachus' voice boomed through the hall, a scorned look on his face.

"Your hands. Off of her." He sneered, pushing himself away from the pillar.

"Do you want another beating, boy?" The giant man roared, almost crushing your wrist in his hand.

Down came your feathered friend, swooping in with its sharp claws and a chilling screech, successfully tearing open a new scar across Antinous' eye. He cried out and dropped your wrist, clutching his face instead.

The other men quickly drew their swords, swinging at the bird, only to miss and receive a peck from its beak against any vulnerable spot.

The owl evaded the suitors' weapons with such grace and struck back with such vigor that you were almost mesmerized.

"Αγάπη μου." *(my love)

Telemachus' gentle call for you snapped you out of your haze.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, worried Antinous had caused you any harm. You stared at him, your lips parted.

"I... no. No, I'm alright. We should leave." You said hurried, supporting his weight while you dragged him down an opposite corridor.

You spared the suitors and the mysterious owl a last glance, a smirk tugging at your lips at the sight of 108 men being defeated by a bird.

Antinous caught your gaze, and he snarled at you, still holding his eye.

"Next time.." he called out after you, "you're dead."

The threat sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine, but he was quickly put back in line by the owl, who promptly delivered a peck to the top of his head.

With a small smile playing on your face, you led your beloved back to his rooms to take care of his wounds.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Back in your chambers, you knelt in front of Telemachus, a worried crease between your brows while you gently held a damp linen cloth to his swollen and split knuckles.

The pure white fabric was stained with the crimson blood of your lover, a sting in your heart.

Telemachus sighed and took your chin in his hand, tilting your head to look him in the eyes.

"Λουλούδι μου, your expression pains me. I'd rather see your heartwarming smile." He spoke with a small grin, hissing when his busted lip reopnend and the blood began pouring once more. *(my flower)

Quickly, you pressed the cloth to his mouth, a deep frown on your face.

"And your state pains me. You-... You could've died. These are vicious, feral men, and as much as I don't doubt your ability to stand your ground, 108 against 1.... the odds weren't on your side." You replied, such sadness in your eyes it made Telemachus' heart ache.

"I wouldn't be able to live with myself if..." you sighed deeply, tears threatening to fall from your lashline while your head fell forward.

His gentle hands cupped your face, the rag in your grasp long forgotten.

"But I'm okay. I promise you, my love, it's barely a scratch." A smile cracked on his face and you couldn't help but chuckle, followed by a sniffle.

"You have a larger heart than all those men combined." You whispered, pressing your palm right above his beating heart.

Telemachus cupped your hand and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead. Your eyes fell shut at the sensation as you melted further into his touch.

"Besides," he broke the silence, a smirk on his lips, "I had help."

He glanced towards his balcony and you followed his line of sight, being met with the owl resting contently on the railing, curiosity in its bright eyes.

"Yes," you chuckled, rising to your feet and walking towards the creature, gently dragging Telemachus behind you by his hand, "your mysterious feathered friend. Care to introduce me?"

"Right. Her name's Ath-"

he was cut off when the owl screeched at him and furiously flapped her wings. He startled and chuckled nervously, clearing his throat.

"I-I meant A... Alena. Yes. Her name's Alena."

If an owl had shoulders and they could sag, this is what you'd imagine it'd look like.

You laughed softly, watching as the bird narrowed her sharp eyes at Telemachus. He swallowed thickly and gave her an awkward smile.

"Well, Thank you." You said sincerely, smiling when the owl bowed her head at you.

What a curious creature.

"We should get you some ointments for those cuts and bruises."

You turned back to your beloved.

"I told you, I'm totally fi- ow."

He winced, holding his side that would undoubtedly bloom with purples and blues come evening. You sighed softly and shook your head at him.

"You're too sweet for your own good sometimes."

You caressed his cheekbone and pressed your lips to his in a gentle kiss, minding his injuries. He hummed into the kiss, resting his hands on your waist.

Lost in your embrace, the owl made another sound, something closer to the typical hoot, averting your attention to her.

She ruffled her feathers and with a last glance at the both of you she took off into sky. With a content expression you watched her glisten in the afternoon sun.

Telemachus had a bright smile on his face and waved after her, watching as she flew into the sunset, disappearing behind the horizon.

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Please let me know what you thought! <3

More of my stuff -> 💫

I think you wanna see this @withonly-sweetheart @allysunny 👀

Thank you so so so much to @vampkennedy for assisting me with the translations 🩷

[wildsaltair]

send help I am in the Maximus feels today. if you see him all over your dash that’s why

[lokischocolatefountain]

home in three days, do not wash

Fandom: Gladiator II Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Wife!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: age gap, mild choking, mentions of child death, hurt comfort, breeding kink, lactation, reader has children, taboo for the time oral sex, talk of war. Word count: 3.6k words Summary: Your General returns home ravenous for you and you cannot decline him, even if any exposure of his act would bring him great shame. A/N: Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the awesome graphics. Napoleon said 'be home in three days, do not wash' and what was I supposed to do? Not use it for our big thicc roman general returning home from war to fuck us? I did research and shit and came to know that eating pussy was a big no no back in the day. dj Khaled would love to be an ancient roman ig. also learned that rich ladies didn't breastfeed and used a wet nurse but they knew that breastfeeding could help and some women did it. Outside all that research, it's just depravity, baby. Anyway, validate my depravity with some comments pls.

Laughter echoed through the hallways of your palatial home and you stood at a balcony with the best view from atop the hill. The campaign that had taken your husband away had finally come to an end with victory for Rome. Far from the hustle and bustle of the city, you were always one of the last people to receive the latest news of importance. This time was an exception to the rule. 

Home in three days. Do not wash.

All you wanted when you received the message was to run in the direction of the roads that would bring your beloved home. Three days were too long. You wanted to curtail the long wait, run to him so you would be in one another’s arms in a day and a half. 

But you chose the more realistic path and prepared the home for his arrival. The servants polished every surface, your handmaiden ensured you had all your most preferred clothing— that which he loved to see on your body. The kitchen was busy preparing every meal that the master loved. Your two older children with your general busied themselves recollecting everything they learned from their private tutor to impress their father. 

Your youngest, your first son, was still so young he had never met his father. He was the child your dearest had longed to have for so long. For all the luck the gods had given him in the battlefield, they had given very little in the way of children to carry his legacy. In his heart, he was father to seven daughters and six sons. The gods had only allowed four daughters to live. Two of his sons passed in infancy, one passed in birth, taking his mother with him. One other was taken by disease and another killed in battle. 

He now had only one son and he hadn’t yet the joy of holding him in his arms. Everyday that Marcus was in the battlefield was torture. Babe on your breast and fear in your heart over whether his father would live to see him. Fear sometimes subsided for anger to have its way. That very anger remained in your chest, prepared to unleash on him the moment he stepped into the home. 

When the sun dimmed, night crept in and so did Marcus. You refused to greet him at the door. A warm welcome was reserved for men who told their wives where they were going before they left. You had half a mind to ask for a bath to be prepared. To wash yourself with milk and fragrant oils in front of him so he could see your defiance in action. 

But you remained in the balcony, eyes set on the moon who served as your companion when he left you. For all the fury you had for him, there was also an ache of sympathy. You wouldn’t sour his mood the moment he entered. He must see his son first. Then you would see to that he groveled at your feet for his cruelty. 

Just as you thought, you had a long time to relax on the settee. He always went to his children first. Be it after months away on the battlefield or a mere day in the city. You asked for your son’s crib to be moved to your daughters’ room so he would be able to see them all at once, saving him the battle of choosing between his great loves. You’d sent word to him on the battlefield after you gave birth, sent him the name of his son so he would know to include him in his prayers. 

You heard whispers of his voice conversing with a servant. Your heart quickened its pace, each thud against your ribs matching the thuds of his feet against the floor. Oh how you wanted to turn around. It had been so long since your eyes were blessed with him. His towering height, broad frame, the pink of his lips and the curls you so loved to comb through with your fingers. You trembled, the cold breeze reminding you how devoid you’d been of his warmth. Yet you were resolved to not give yourself up to him so soon. You stayed in place and closed your eyes.

He stopped behind you and your name spilled from his lips like honey. It had been so long since anyone spoke your name so… The servants called you mistress and your children called you mother. Your birth family only wrote your name in their many letters. He was the only one who spoke your name, leaving you without hearing your own name since his departure. But you stayed, did not turn, did not open your eyes. He spoke it again, his voice gentle but louder as he stopped at your side. 

“Open your eyes, dearest.” 

“Where have you come, General?” You asked, your voice cold enough to be the envy of the winter breeze. 

“General?” He asked, a hint of amusement playing at his lips. 

“Are you not a General?” You taunted, finally opening your eyes. He looked weary from battle and travel. You longed to take him to your chambers and strip him of his armor to count his wounds, kiss each one be it new or old. His hair was grayer than when he left, his skin duller, but his eyes were still the soft brown that gave you peace when you first saw him as his young bride. 

“Your General,” he said with a small smile as though his words were supposed to make you forgive him at once and shower him with kisses. It only strengthened your resolve. If he wouldn’t treat you as a wife, you wouldn’t give him the respect of a husband. 

“You have a son,” you said, stretching your legs out in the settee just as he made to take his seat there. His hand wrapped around your ankle and you kicked it off, daring him to make another attempt at moving your legs so he could sit. He smiled softly, conceding as he moved to stand by your head. 

“He is beautiful, mellilla,” he said, caressing your cheek. You slapped his hand away. All of Rome may fall at his feet and welcome him back with praises of his victory. He was deserving of course, not only for his achievements but for his undying loyalty to Rome. If Rome were a woman, she would be his principal wife and you— you would only be a tavern whore he fucked and left in the dead of night. 

“You block the moonlight, General Acacius.” 

“Marcus,” he said, moving to allow you sight of the moon once again. He sat in the little remaining space on the settee and looked down at you. Despite the toll war had taken on him, he was incredibly handsome. Bold nose, pink lips and graying curls that only made him look ever so slightly more distinguished. He bent down and pressed a kiss to your lips. You did not return the kiss, but you did not push him away. There was an limit even to your anger. You placed a hand on his shoulder, the act of denying yourself the joy of your lover weighing heavy in your heart.

“I’m afraid I haven’t such an honor.” You bit down on your lip, annoyed at yourself for the trembling of your voice as you spoke. Your anger for him had a foundation of pain after all. 

His face fell and he sighed. He looked down at his lap and you hoped it was from shame.

“If you have nothing to say, you may leave. If you need it, you may summon the servants for your meal. But I am sure the emperor did not send his best general hungering for food or cunt,” you spat, rising to sit up on the settee. Hand as strong as iron wrapped around your wrist, coupling with his strong torso that trapped you in place to keep you from getting up. You squirmed in his grasp, but he did not budge.

“Listen to me.” 

“Is that an order?” 

He wrapped an arm around you and held your cheek in his hand. You looked up at him, giving him biting fury to his firm yet gentle gaze. “If it is the only way I will have your obedience, then yes. It is an order.” 

“You may speak, but you cannot make me listen and you most certainly cannot make me respond.” 

“I am your husband.” 

“A husband doesn’t leave for a year long war at the dead of night with no explanation to the woman swelling with his child,” you screamed, fist slamming against his chest. It didn’t affect Marcus. Nothing affected the great General Acacius, you thought with derision. You hit him in the chest again, tears brimming in your eyes and clouding your vision.

“Forgive me,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You ceased your attacks as his apology coupled with the pain in his eyes reduced you to tears. You’d kept everything in for so long, put on a brave face for your daughters and hid your heart in your letter to your father. It was only with Marcus that you didn’t need to hide. He always tore your fears down and pulled you into the safety of his arms.

“I wouldn’t have been able to leave had I said goodbye.” 

“I was so afraid,” you confessed, leaning into his chest. Every pretense of strength and composure left your body as you let him hold you to his chest. The gold earrings you wore to please his eyes pressed cold against your skin under his hand. He moved next to your hair and then you neck, the hand that held swords and spilled blood only to return home to love you. 

“Carissima…You were all I could think of after I left. Forgive me,” he begged, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to each finger. 

“Later. I have missed you. Marcus,” you whispered, craning your neck to kiss him. He returned your kiss in an instant, arms cradling you as you devoured each other. He smelled of war— blood, soil, sweat, and leather. It was far more pleasing to your senses than any fragrant oils and flowers. Your Marcus and his distinctly masculine scent was above all but the fragrance of your newborn. 

You whined as he retreated. He laughed and returned to scatter kisses along your jawline like Rome scattered rose petals along the steps of the Colosseum for his feet. He reached under your layers of silk and linen, making you tremble and press yourself closer to his chest. 

“So soft…” 

“I need you, please.” It was all he needed to hear before he walked up to the doors of the balcony and slammed them shut. What he did with you, for you, wasn’t for anyone else’s eyes but your own. 

He unlatched the gold clips that held your palla to your shoulders and set them aside. Your stola and tunic followed, piling up on the marble floor. Cold air caressed your bare breasts, bigger and fuller now as you nursed your son yourself. You traced your hand up his arm, feeling his vambrace before finding his muscular arms. You whimpered from just how big he was in your hands. You squeezed, feeling the hard muscle and rough skin. 

Your General knelt before you and you sat up straight, confused by his action. He couldn’t be… You sought his apologies and regret, but by no means would you ask him to humiliate himself for you. Such a man, superior to you in every way. 

“Dominus!” You shrieked, reminding him who he was even when he came home. 

“Shh…” 

“Are you going to—?”

“Lick you cunt? Yes. Sit back, now,” he said as he guided you to lean back on the settee. You shook your head from side to side, appalled by the circumstances and confused as to how you were supposed to stop him. He spread your legs wide, planting your feet upon the seat. He licked his plush lips and looked up at you, his eyes those of a ravenous beast. 

“You cannot. I only want you to understand the torture you put me through, not debase yourself in front of me. It’s not right.”  

A corner of his lips curled up slightly. He spat on his hand and rubbed it into your cunt. You arched into his palm, your cunt chasing any contact you could have with your beloved. “Tell me, who do you belong to?” 

“You.”

“Speak fully and speak my name.” 

“I belong to you, Marcus.” 

“Correct. Why do you think then, that you can tell me what I can and cannot do with you?” 

He parted your cunt lips and slid a finger inside you. “You belong to me. All of you. This cunt belongs to me. Does it not?” You nodded as he pumped his thick finger in and out of you. It had been so long since you’d been touched that even his finger felt a little much for you to take. You shuddered as you thought of his cock, promising the virility that came with such a size. 

“Speak,” he commanded, every bit the fearsome General who led men into battle. When even warriors couldn’t defy him, how could you? 

“It belongs to you, Marcus.” 

“Mmm,” he rumbled, curling his finger inside you, making you whimper. “If I want to lick this cunt then, do you have any right to stop me?” 

“N-no,” you cried, grabbing his wrist and imploring him to slow down for you couldn’t take such intoxicating pleasure. “If peo— Marcus! If someone knew—”

Then he dove into your core and licked the nub above your cunt, eliciting a squeal from you. He looked up at you from between your legs, tongue still licking you as he smirked. It was sinful, the sight and the act of a man serving a woman. You shook your head, your senses already addled from being so close to him after a long year. It was wrong. Wrong. But oh gods, he made all the wrongs feel right and who were you to deny him? 

Tears rolled down your cheeks, no longer from the agony of separation from your dearest but from the building pressure in your core. 

“Marcus…” you said, unable to say anything else. You reached your hand towards him, needing to be anchored to the Earth as he flew you to the heavens. He enveloped your hand in his and gave a small squeeze. His other hand and his lips were unrelenting, giving him new ways to torment you. 

How did anyone deem it submissive for a man to kneel and lick cunt? Your Marcus still looked as majestic as ever. The picture of victory that Rome worshiped. The Marcus Acacius who slew and killed was home and ruthless in his conquest of you. Even as he licked your core, he was the one with all the power in hand. This was but a new way for him to take you. 

You gasped inaudibly as he inserted another finger in your cunt, stretching you in preparation for his cock. You felt your unraveling come closer. He pulled you deeper into whatever spell he had you under whenever he touched your cunt. You squeezed his hand tighter, saying everything your lips couldn’t. Hold me, keep me safe, never let me go.

The waves crashed against the rocks on the shores of the beach as you came crashing down from the heavens. Marcus kept his wordless promise. You tightened your legs around his head yet he held you in place and kept you safe. 

When you came to, you found your fingers tangled in between his dark curls. You loosened your grip on him but did not let go, needing to feel him even if it was just his hair. 

“I should not have liked that.” 

He laughed and gave your cunt another lick, smirking as he watched you shudder. 

“But you did,” he said, getting up at last. “I knew you tasted divine, but having you directly from your cunt is something else, melilla.” 

“I have not washed in days because of you. I am sure I taste horrendous.” 

“Good girl, following orders well. But you are wrong. You taste and smell like a woman. Not a perfumed woman. This,” he said in a low voice as the tip of his nose traced up your neck. He inhaled your scent and moaned. “This is nothing you can find in a vial. This is your true scent,” he said, stopping at your ear and placing a kiss. 

“I would recognize it anywhere.” He reached under his pteruges and toga and retrieved his cock. Your cunt clenched at the mere sight of him. 

He was far too covered. As much as you loved to see your General in his armor, you loved more to see him bare. You needed to run your fingers over his bare chest and dig your fingernails into his shoulders as he wrung his pleasure out of you.  You found the ties that held his armor in place and began to undo them. 

“Impatient girl,” he chided as he aligned himself with your cunt. 

“Help me out then,” you snapped back as you struggled with the knots. He ignored your request and continued on his path of destroying you, plunging his length inside you much too quickly. You cried from the pain and pleasure of being stretched out by him once again. 

“Marcus!” 

He bent forward and whispered your name against your lips before claiming them. You moaned into the kiss as you rubbed yourself against him for friction. You were loath to pull away from his cock even the slightest as you ached for him too much to part from him. You wrapped your legs around him and pressed your heels down on his back, pulling him deeper inside you. 

He wrapped a hand around your throat, tightening and loosening every now and then. “Day and night, I longed for you,” he whispered, his breath mixing with yours. “Dreamt of the day I would be inside you again.” 

You echoed the sentiment, but he quickly silenced you with a hard thrust that you felt in the deepest part of your core. He wasn’t the gentle Marcus who treated you like you did your fine silks but the General who conquered every land he set foot on. He rammed in and out of you, reclaiming you as his. Your cunt opened up to take its master, molded itself around him like it did each time since your wedding night. He had taken you, his young bride, and shown you a world only he could. He’d taken and taken, made you a woman by showing you what your body could do for you. 

He licked up your neck, growling like he was tasting the finest delicacies from the emperors’ table after being starved for months. “You smell sweet, Carisimma.” 

“You lived in tents with men for a year. I’m sure a pig would smell sweet to you now,” you said, making him laugh even as he wrecked you. He reached down to your breasts and grabbed one in his hand. He pinched your nipple between his fingers and tugged, making you cry out in pain. 

“Marcus!” Drops of milk trickled from your breasts and he swiped it with him thumb before licking it. 

“I only regret that I could not see you grow bigger with my seed.” 

“You ha- you have seen it before.” 

“Yet I am not satisfied. I need more, I need to fill you up with my seed, keep you full with my children in perpetuity.” 

“Marcus! Please…” 

“What do you beg for, girl?” 

“Give me sons, Marcus. Let me give you heirs,” you cried, overcome by the need to become his in that primal way. It was more than just your duty as his wife. It was an innate desire. As frightening as pregnancy was, you wanted it again and again at the hands of your husband. To give him sons carry his name and daughters who would control the great General with their laughter. 

“Give me sons,” he repeated, the hand around your neck squeezing tight. This time, he did not relax, holding your air hostage as he used your cunt for his carnal desires. You gasped for breath. Your cunt squeezed around him, keeping him in so he would give you his seed and refusing to let go even for a moment. 

Every thrust after sent delicious ripples of pain. You knew that you would wake the next morning unable to walk as usual. You would hear your servant girls giggle when they thought you couldn’t hear. He would wreck you day and night, make you scream for all the house to hear. He would take you to high places in the city, an arrogant smile on his lips as he showed you off, rounded again with his child. 

As though he could read your thoughts, he spilled inside you with a cry of your name. You held him close, afraid he would part from your body and rob you of his warmth. 

He showered you with kisses, beginning as a downpour and ending with a drizzle. You melted into his arms, the tension in your muscles leaving now that you had your Marcus home. You were no longer alone, he was here and he would take care of everything. 

“Am I forgiven now?” 

You smiled, burrowing into his chest as draped your discarded silk over you and picked you up in his arms. “I will consider it if you make sure I don’t bleed this cycle.” 

You felt his chest rumble as he laughed. A kiss on the top of your head.

“As you say, melilla.”

Fic notifications blog

[wyvernest]

cold nights by the fire

cregan stark x betrothed f! reader

cw: smut, piv, creampie, fluff, slightly typical-medieval sexist views, loss of virginity

summary: your soon-to-be husband keeps you warm on your first cold night in Winterfell

Ever since the war ended, nights have grown colder in the regretted absence of most dragonfire in Westeros. High and sharp winds have started growing in the North, sweeping far south of The Wall and clawing at the gates of Winterfell.

Tonight was no different. You had asked your handmaiden to build a fire in the hearth for both your comfort, but with little gain. As soon as you stepped away from the red, licking flames, the cold took over like shadow vanquishing light.

“It’s all in vain.” you mutter, defeated.

“I shall bring more furs, m’lady.” your handmaiden insists, getting up from her spot by the fire.

“Don’t.”, you chuckle, “Any more and I’ll suffocate. They’ll have to send all the guards to come looking for me amongst them come morn’.”

Your companion lets a shy laugh escape her trembling lips, although short-lived as a tall, broad shadow appears by the door. 

“My lady.” Your heart flutters wildly at the unmistakable sound of your betrothed’s voice, so gentle and concerned. “Are you well?”

Nodding for your handmaiden to retreat to her own chamber, you now become aware of your condition; kneeled on the rough tapestry, crumbled into a ball of pelts, hands above the flames. Sour shame washes over you, for having dared to believe you were one of the toughest of your family during harsh times, yet now conquered by the cold on your first night in Winterfell. 

“Cregan.” you shuffle to raise to your feet but your freezing legs aren’t eager to heed your intent. “I must admit, my northern blood has betrayed me tonight, for the first time.” 

You are startled amidst your struggles to flee from the furs as he braces you with a firm hand on your back, before his other comes around your waist, easily lifting you off the rugs. He walks back, placing you on the soft bed and sitting beside you, the covers rigid with night’s chill underneath.

“I will not have my lady wife quiver in my own keep.” He rids himself of his cloak swiftly, draping it over your smaller frame. The hastiness of the gesture makes a newfound warmth pool in your veins, reminding you of the same way he is to soon cloak you as his lady, in sight of the Old Gods. 

“Thank you,” You whisper, surprised and stunned, as you cuddle closer into his embrace. His body heat soon seeps into you, your trembling diminishing as his strong arms faintly squeeze more and more. 

‘Exhilarated’ didn’t begin to properly describe how you felt when Lord Cregan started courting you not long after he had returned from the southern war of the Targaryens. Your house is pledged to the Starks, but with the safety of the North now secured, he did not deem it necessary to strengthen alliances with marriage anymore, not when he could follow his heart so freely.

A giddy shiver rouses you from oncoming slumber, as the last slither of cold leaves your body in a sneeze you wished you could suppress. 

“Come closer.” You can feel his hot breath on your face as he moves you over his lap, his right arm running up and down your back in hopes of keeping you warm.

“Is this proper? So soon, before the wedding?” You do not wish to so easily disrespect customs and laws, but it wasn't rare that you found yourself fantasising about finally being his.

“I am merely looking after my beloved. I already vowed to shield you from harm.” You cannot tell if there was a trace of amusement in his tone or if it was just your mind jesting.

“Not before the gods.”

“The gods knew of the pledge before I could speak it. The ceremony will be held, but my loyalties will have been with you for long before.” The hold around your waist tightens, affectionate.

You look up at him, pondering your next words carefully; but before you could muster up a word, your eyes drift to his lips, only for a moment. He doesn't need a clearer impulse to proceed.

His mouth meets yours with a warm exhale that seems to bewitch you, all senses and shock diffusing into the need of being with him. Your face is hot, the skin of your waist is buzzing under his touch even through thick clothing. Your kiss is shy, despite his growing hunger. He nips at your soft lips, his right hand cradling your face, warm and calloused, yet so tender.

His left palm grazes your thigh, a reassuring safety seasoned with soft need. 

You cannot dream of stopping him. Your only concern is him ceasing at an awful time, only to return to his usual, honourable self and leave you desperate until the wedding. But he does not back away, more and more enraptured with you, the scent of you, your skin and your soft sighs. 

He kisses down your jaw, down your throat, wet, hot and open-mouthed. Your body has forgotten all about the sting of cold, leaning back onto the furs. He follows without breaking away, climbing on top of you slowly yet steadily. You moan in surprise as he begins to toy with the back strings of your dress.

“If you wish me gone, I will be gone at once, wife.” He vows.

Returning into view, he looks at you from atop, his brows soothing at the realisation that you are about to welcome him.

“Warm my bed tonight, husband.” You utter, a feather’s puff aways from his lips.

With that, he descends upon you, tasting your words on your lips, his hands cradling your liquified body like softened candle wax. You're burning up and twisting with excitement under the blazing flame of his heat. 

His hands slowly rid you of your garments, leaving you in your white shift, before slipping underneath and grabbing your waist. His touch leaves your skin aching and burning behind, his kisses mark you in a scorch palpable only to you. His touch climbs past your waist, coming to fondle the soft flesh of your breasts. Your heart beat is so strong you swear he might feel it as he softly squeezes your tit.

You shuffle in his hold, seeking to press yourself closer and closer into him, as if to become one. He indulges, himself wanting to wrap you up entirely in his embrace. Your soft breasts come flush against his hard chest, legs curling up around his waist as you receive him between your parted thighs. 

His breathing gradually becomes laboured as he moves against you, pulling the covers over you both. As he continues to caress the curves and dips of your shape, his groin brushes up against your flower and your hips betray you, dragging back up against him. With a low grunt, he frees himself from his breeches with one hand, and you pull at his chemise to fully undress him.

“Are you certain?” You inquire, out of breath.

“Always have been.” He soothes your worries with another heart-stopping kiss, sealing the premature bedding with an undoubting vow.

You feel him guide himself into you, the tip of his manhood prodding at the pink petals of your unplucked rose, claiming you. He pushes in and you gladly accept him, wet and wanting. 

“Gods, you feel amazing.” He groans above you, finally settled completely into you, before pulling back out and starting to roll his hips, steady yet hard enough to have you tensing at the sudden feeling of kindles in your womb. 

He sinks deep into you with every thrust, breathing heavy on your neck, groaning in your ear, whipping at the cold and dark of the bedchamber. You can smell the pinewood and musk on him, closer than you’ve ever been before, and it drowns out your senses, reducing you to the rapid waters of a river, bending and breaking against harsh stones of mountains, willing and united. 

You gasp out his name as the air is filled with your moans and pleas, the wood-carved bed frame ramming into the bleak stone walls of Winterfell with an echoless rhythm. 

He worships your body like you were a godly grace bestowed upon him, listening to your every sound and heeding every sign that he could do more for your pleasure. Eventually his thrusts grow urgent and scattered in between breaths, and before he can muffle your ecstatic whines with another kiss, you come, your delicate flower quivering around him, pushing him into the peak of his own satisfaction. 

You feel him throb inside, filling you with a strange, new sensation. He collapses by your side, tenderly dragging you with him. He strokes up and down your back, his breaths calming with a deep sigh.

“Is my lady still in discomfort?” He jests lightly, proud with himself and immensely content.

You snuggle at his side, head on his chest. “No. But I'm afraid I will be in need of your aid every night, my lord.”

[iluvzaddies]

meine liebe, mein leben

pairing: könig x wife!reader

warnings: pregnancy

summary: after spending months on the battlefield, könig comes home to find you with a swollen tummy.

könig couldn’t wait to get home to you, his beloved wife. his love, his life. he had been dying to see you, hold you, kiss you and make love to you again throughout the entirety of his mission.

he kept a polaroid of you in his pocket, in case he felt down or if he missed you. seeing your face always made his day better. and whilst he kept a polaroid of you, a heart-shaped locket with a tiny photo of him inside adorned your neck. it was old school and cute.

he was glad you were willing to stay by his side, despite knowing he was in the military and that he would always get deployed. he hated leaving you, but you reassured him about it, saying it was his job.

after what felt like a decade; staying in a town turned into a war zone, keeping civilians safe and protecting them from terrorists, he could finally go home.

on his way home, he felt giddy.

he didn’t notify you of the news because he wanted to surprise you. were you cooking or cleaning right now? should he surprise you by wrapping his arms around your waist? he could imagine your reaction. you would scream at first, thinking it was an intruder, but when you realized it was just your dear husband, you would hug him so tight he could barely breathe.

he opened his and your house with a spare key. unlocking the door, he stepped in and was greeted with a great silence. you weren’t vacuuming the living room, you weren’t cooking in the kitchen, you weren’t eating something in the dining room. he felt slightly disappointed the surprise didn’t turn out like what he imagined in his head, but oh well, you were probably sleeping in the bedroom.

so he headed towards the bedroom and there you were, sleeping soundly on the king-sized bed.

he dropped his gear onto the ground, including his helmet and mask, slowly getting on the bed.

“i’m home.” he whispered into your ear, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck.

you only hummed in response.

he chuckled.

“(y/n)… meine liebe… i’ve returned.”

you scrunched your face, eyes opening. you were met with the sight of your husband’s handsome face – which you had the privilege of seeing all the time – hovering above your own.

“könig?”

“ja, i’m here. i’m home.”

your eyes widened and you abruptly sat up.

“könig.” you repeated as if you couldn’t believe your eyes. you reached out to touch his cheek, moving your thumb up and down in a slow motion.

you missed him so much. so very much. every single day, you thought about him, if he was doing alright, when he would return, etcetera.

as tears began to well up in your eyes, könig, the ever so loving husband, began to worry and asked, “what’s the matter, meine liebe?”

“i’m just glad you’re home and safe.” you sniffled. “we wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

könig was confused.

“we?” he pointed out.

you nodded. you took his hand, guiding it to your belly, where your child resided.

“y–you’re pregnant?” his eyes looked like they were about to pop out and his jaw about to hit the floor.

“yes.”

“how…” he trailed off, staring at your evident baby bump.

“how far along am i? four months. that’s how long you’ve been gone.” you caressed your belly.

you were worried for a second, thinking he didn’t want a child, but your worries washed away when he pulled you in for a hug and a kiss.

“my baby is having a baby!” he exclaimed excitedly. “i’m gonna be a father!” he was overjoyed with happiness. never did he ever see himself marrying someone and having a baby with them, but look at him now. he was a husband and a father.

you sighed in relief. “i thought you were upset. i was worried for a sec.”

“worried? why?” he was taken aback by your words. he grabbed both of your hands, pulling them towards his face and placing a gentle peck on them. “this is the best moment of my life. i would never be upset about this. you’re my love, my life. meine liebe, mein leben.”

“you’re my love and life too.”

after saying that, you shared one last kiss before dozing off in each other’s arms.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

The fathers of Rome

Marcus/Geta/Caracalla x wife!reader

warning : fluff, comfort, crying, kissing a bit emotional, birth, family issues, written before the movie came out characters may be different

Summary : Two Emperors and the general of the army all had important duties and responsibilities but by the grace of the gods and with devotion of love the three most influential men find themselves with the news of a pregnant wife. Each of them has a slightly different approach to taking care of his pregnant wife and the birth, because a birth could always go wrong and the gods were rarely merciful.

info : I wanted to write something sweet for the three of them and I know that they could be good fathers (if you romanticize a little bit) now have fun reading and have a nice day.

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marcus Acacius

It was thought that the battlefield was his home and the sword was his wife but few knew that in a vast field of olive trees and wheat fields stood a large villa in which a woman lived with a small household and prayed between her altars to the gods that her beloved husband would return home safely.

A story of a leader of the army of Rome and his wife a former oracle who met him, foretold him his future yet his eyes, his voice and his being would not depart from her own prophecies.

An initial love of safety in times of peace, she appreciated his protective nature in a world that belonged almost entirely to Rome, danger still lurked everywhere. He, in turn, was captured by her grace and care, this devotion to those in need or to himself when she waited on him to heal his wounds and the two felt safe and complete together.

A husband who rushed home on horseback so fast he rode to her from the support posts when the emperors called him back the sleep was won she saw the shadow on the horizon from the balcony and even mounted her horse to meet him, ,,My heart" he embraced her each time still seeing the dirt and emaciation on him after being away for months sometimes years.

His hands closed around her, an embrace, a heartfelt kiss, tears in her eyes when she finally saw him again before they rode back to the villa together, she helped him bathe and wash her before he pulled her into the water himself, not wanting to leave her side and unable to do so for too long, he had missed her, not only her lovely eyes, her voice that he loved to listen to, her hair that he ran through and her hands that he clasped every time he wanted to be close to her but couldn't in public.

But with such intimacy comes love and with love comes desire, desire for each other, desire for each other's bodies and this desire was pursued many nights and on some bright days they were also close until he had to leave again, for the next raid not knowing that only two months after he was gone he received a letter with scrawled writing full of excitement.

A letter that moved him to tears when he read it for the first time, ,,I'm going…to be a father" he mumbled to himself in his tent above and above he realized that love for each other would grow into a life, a little baby that would look like both of them and a big smile stayed on his lips as he hurriedly wrote back to her expressing his joy and his heart, how excited he was himself, how proud he was of her and how much he loved her and praying to the gods that the battle would be won quickly.

The letters changed from weekly to daily as her pregnancy progressed and he received drawings of what she looked like, along with dried flowers she was growing that were made into tea and tinctures to help her body.

The couple were happy with words, kisses seemed to spread across the infinity and she was sent a piece of clothing by Marcus and remembered that he would return to her and their child.

Everything went well until he received the letter that she would go into labor in the next few days, the war took longer than expected, but it was the first and only time he gave his sergeant the lead and started the journey back on his own responsibility, which would take several days, but he had to go to her the fear and worry that something could go wrong that he would lose her or that the child was not healthy.

Fear and worry clutched at his heart as he drove his horse faster and faster as fast as he could back home where he burst through the front door and heard the screams of pain that scared him to death calling her name, he hurried up the stairs to the shared bedroom where he found her crouching by the bed, apparently lying down would lead to complications.

,,Love I'm-I'm here everything will be fine" he murmured hastily pressing kisses on her hand which she immediately grasped painfully and screamed again as she tried to get their child out of her, he could still see the love for him in her tear-stained eyes on her sweat-smeared body they were both covered in blood from the death of the battlefield and the birth of new life as she continued to push and the midwife helped her too.

She screamed out his name her pain and Marcus became more and more afraid of losing her with every pain she had as she continued to hold her giving her courage and hope when his own hands trembled as he heard the ,,I can see the head my lady keep pushing" from the midwife who did everything she could to make the birth as easy as possible.

,,You can do it my heart I'm here push again" he whispered to her as she looked at him in pain he saw the fear and yet the deniability that he was with her before she let out one last scream and he heard a bright scream next to blood splattering on the floor, a bright scream that echoed and seemed never to stop.

,,Congratulations, a healthy baby boy!" the older woman announced, dabbing the newborn baby lightly before wrapping him in linen so he could be held better, while Marcus helped his wife back onto the bed, covering her lightly and giving her a long kiss, ,,I am so very proud my darling," he whispered placing a kiss on her head, before taking his son in his arms, those light, dark hairs on the delicate head belonging to him but the pretty eyes were hers.

His eyes filled with tears of pride and reassurance as he stroked his son and gave her the little bundle she clutched, ,,A piece of love from both of us," she uttered, crying with happiness as she looked into her son's curious face and he chuckled at her as the two parents spent the next few hours together on the bed with pure happiness as the little baby went from laughing with gurgling laughter, to crying and finally falling asleep exhausted in the equally exhausted arms of his parents.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emperor Geta

The younger but stronger emperor of Rome, the warrior and leader who did not subordinate himself and enjoyed the Coloseum. A young man whose golden lure was not the only thing that seemed to be gold, he bought and made whatever he wanted, be it new armor, a sword, an army or even slaves that he could kill or do anything else with.

But in his life, his only blood besides his older brother Caracalla, there was only one marriage predestined by his father that he should marry her.

Pretty, coming from wealth and power but not a woman he had chosen, it was like fate, his father had decided like a god on the life of his son but it had been like that for some time now and as much as the couple was celebrated in public, the false smiles and hand-holding of the inner circle was seen through, they were both torn.

As much as they tried to understand each other and she appreciated his gift of attention to Rome, as much as he thought she was pretty and appreciated her patience as a true virtue, they never seemed to be in the same mood. There never seemed to have been a thread of fate.

,,Can love ever arise from a loveless duty?" she had once asked him when he wanted to retire in the evenings, avoiding her to occupy himself with his important things that his older brother wasn't interested in and always finding an excuse to avoid her.

She saw the guilt disappear from his eyes in the blink of an eye, saw him straighten the rings on his fingers before he replied with a ,,Love comes from the heart… a duty from the words of others" before he left her room and avoided her for another night, a night that followed one after the other until one day they attended his brother's wedding, Caracalla also married a highborn woman and gave the Roman Empire its first heir, as it should be - it was all just a matter of time.

A fact that Geta also knew, even if with a smile his bright eyes wished nothing but death for his sister-in-law, a plague that she and his brother would have to endure,

,,I want to see you in my chamber after the feast and that is not a question" he murmured to his wife who looked at him with an uneasy look, she had seen the looks, knew what was going on in her husband and yet in a horrible fate she felt the duty in her heart she had to bear him an heir.

The festivities dragged on for a long time, but with wine that overwhelmed her senses she distracted herself from what was going to happen, what he was going to do just because his place in the order of precedence would be changed, she followed his words, made a simple excuse and retired to her husband's room.

She had also heard the wine on his lips as that night began with a kiss, senses dazed by wine and yet there was still a kind of tenderness in his touch despite his hatred, she still held him close to her heart, something she clung to as hope.

A hope and love a lust she would not have expected from him overcame the nights of nights she saw for the first time his jealousy coupled with love,.

,,I know you are trying my love" he told her again and again his hand placed on her tree day after day she seemed to realize if she was pregnant until the day one of the midwives and his healer confirmed she was pregnant and a few tests brought the uncertainty to an end.

She still couldn't believe it was true, she felt his arms around her body and words of praise but double-edged words coming at her as Geta looked at her with a look that told her he had never felt more love for her than now, ,,My Empress pregnant with my heir" he murmured and immediately let the news spread everywhere rubbing it straight into the face of his brother and especially his sister-in-law who was not yet pregnant.

The time after that was filled with happiness and yet paranoia, he was only more attached to her, paying attention to everything and having the room for the child decorated with her taste, choosing the furniture and the colors, ,,The room of the future emperor," he announced to her as she leaned on him and saw the room with pictures of heroic deeds and old legends showing victories.

,,A truly impressive room," she admitted and felt her hands relax on her now round belly as time passed, the moons and suns came quickly and her pregnancy increased, the closer she got to the birth the more excited Geta seemed to become, insisting on being present the whole time…an insistence she kept, only a few moons later her contractions came and the palace was filled with screams and weeping.

Geta shouted at the midwives and healers to kill them all or he would kill them personally while he supported his wife with words and did not flinch when her bloodied hand reached for him, ,,You are doing very well I am with you dear, with our son you will make it" he told her again and again kissing her forehead and giving her hopeful kisses until he shouted more death threats until the news came that it was almost done.

The last screams were full of pain and she clung to him even more, the pain increasing with the thought that had plagued her for months and her heart stopped when she heard the voice of the midwife saying ,,My emperor it's a…girl" and the room slowly fell silent, only the shrill cry of the baby could be heard, a baby without the right sex, a girl no heir.

Her heavy breathing and the tears rolling down her cheeks as he pulled away from her with a jerk, she was supported by her midwives who helped her onto the bed and took care of her as best they could while she watched Geta take her daughter in his arms and turn his back on her, not seeing how he looked with this "disappointing" birth.

,,Everyone out now!" he shouted making the little baby cry again and yet everyone complied, ,,Geta I'm-I'm sorry" she started trying to get to him when she heard a sniffle and paused, at first she thought it was the baby but it giggled and a clearing of the throat was heard before he turned to her.

Her worry vanished when she saw his expression it was pride, it was appreciation it was happiness, ,,The future of the empire an empress from the love of her parents…she will become a goddess" he murmured and came to his wife in bed put the baby in her arms and gave the little girl a kiss on the head while he held his wife's hand and gently stroked it.

He was not disappointed he had gotten something so much better, he had gotten love and a wife who was everything to him a family of his own the only imperial family of ancient Rome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emperor Caracalla

The elder son, the first emperor to rule with his younger but much more suitable brother, a pair of brothers who ruled together and brought Rome to the top of the world with its army and its strength, but above all a young man with a woman at his side.

A woman, the Empress of Rome, beautiful, handsome and caring, popular with the people and not underestimated in politics because of her own country of origin and family…but a young woman without children.

A woman without children from an age when she would not be empress she would take other jobs nor have a choice but an empress was not a politician, a warrior or even a farmer an empress was and should always be a mother first so it has always been but not with her.

The wedding was moons ago and even if it was a little difficult at first their hearts were close she loved her playful husband who was always loving to her and had a penchant for entertainment of any kind.

As long as Carcalla wasn't bored, he knew that his brother was concerned with everything else, including politics, for which he had little taste when it wasn't a matter of attack or execution, she could only entertain him by acting, playing or playing in the arena, and as much as they both enjoyed it, she became more unhappy.

,,Your smile is fading, don't you like it? I can hire a new actor or buy new slaves right away," the blonde immediately offered and waved the troupe out so he could talk to his wife who had been laughing all evening, her hand detached from her belly and handed him the parchment he had skimmed over in the morning.

A parchment with the emperor's seal, a message from his brother that Geta had taken a wife of his own on a state visit, ,,The betrothal and wedding, what's with that, starlet?" he asked, tossing the paper carelessly aside before rising and going to the table of fruit and helping himself to the grapes.

He didn't understand the seriousness, the worry or even what it meant for the future, not that they hadn't slept together often, the wedding night had been consummated and they had often shared the bed but it had never led to anything, she rose from her chair and went to him, taking his hand and seeking his gaze.

,,Cara. ..you're still the older one, a duty is on me and I don't know if I can ever give you…an heir" she said the lump in her throat almost cutting off her voice hoping he would understand.

She saw the humor fade from his face and he considered before he gave an almost stunned expression and grabbed both her hands hastily, squeezing them and locking them in a hasty kiss over and over until she broke away to catch her breath, ,,Please I-it may well be me…all this he may be the politician but I am the elder, the first and you do your duty every day you are with me.

,,I leave no room for doubt, do you understand?" he demanded and she found his hopefulness, confidence and euphoria truly inspiring that a small smile crept onto her lips before he took her in his arms the imperial couple found themselves together again that night, taking help from potions, tinctures and many other forbidden practices that they hardly left the bedchamber together for the next few days.

It was clear to everyone what was happening behind the closed doors but after trying and trying this hope was to pay off with her first discomfort and the first change, ,,Congratulations my Emperor you are finally pregnant" the healer announced as he listened to the results of the test and her report, her tears wetting the tunic of her husband who hugged her and twirled around and was all the more pleased.

The news also pleased the people and even when she saw the looks on Geta's face and his wife she knew she had done her duty she would give Rome an heir, she had not disappointed Caracalla, ,,You can never let me down everything will go well the gods are with us" he told her reading she put up stowage in the child's room and her own for the next moons so that she was protected and the child inside her.

The protection seemed to help Geta until a point, and everything seemed to go well until the day of the birth, when blood and tears covered the floor, ,,What's wrong with my wife?" Caracalla who was holding her hand on the bed but the dagger at his side seemed to slaughter anyone who did anything wrong.

He kissed her hands and fingers, tried to cool her forehead with cool cloths and tell her again that she was doing well, ,,It seems that the Empress is pregnant with twins," said one of the midwives who had already brought out the size of the belly and the prolonged birth.

It was news she needed to cry out and Caracalla was filled with joy which he only showed when she continued to scream and push with the help of Caracalla who got into a kneeling position and the moments of pain merged until the first child was pushed out, ,,A boy!" the midwife shouted and took care of the little creature while the younger one continued to hold on to her husband.

The blonde gave her a proud kiss on the head, ,,Do you hear that? Our son love you can do it I am here" he murmured over and over until another cry from her side and a second bright cry told them that it was done that night a boy and his sister were born, Caracalla proudly and happily held the little babies and immediately spoke to them while praising them over and over.

The little family was not only complete but was now a little conversation of their own for each other, they had brought themselves together through love and received two sweet little gifts because they believed that their love was stronger than anything else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@morallyinept

@parvanovel -> I konw pregnancy is one thing but it's fluff so have fun :)

@sweetpascal

[myladysapphire]

The Dragon and the Wolf (III)

You had been betrothed to Cregan stark at the start of the war. He was the noble and honourable stark that he was he supported your mother claim without restraint. So much so your mother saw it fit to betroth the two of you. So when disaster strikes and you and your younger brother are the only two survivors, you a shipped of north in your grief, leaving only Cregan to heal your wounds.

word count: 2,291

CW: MDI, 18+, smut, p in v, depression, mentions of miscarriages, stillbriths, love confessions, family reunion, marital difficulties, angst, not proofread!

Cregan Strak x Veleryon(strong)!reader

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

authors note: the timeline does not follow the book so don't come for me for changing things. sorry if this seemed rush honesltyi dont like it but i think it works well and makes a good chapter to lead into the epilouge.

In the year of 134AC, 3 years after the end of the dance of dragons, and three moons into your marriage with Cregan stark you finally made your way to kings landing after years apart from your beloved brothers.

Viserys and Aegon were no men almost grown, with Viserys a wife and child on the way and Aegon, now married to Daenaera Velaryon, though their marriage remained unconsummated.

The reunion had been a sad one, with many tears shed as you finally saw your brothers after years apart.

“Aegon! Viserys” you cried out as you ran out of the carriage to greet your brothers, your arms wrapping tightly around them, scared to let them go. Tears filled your eyes as you kissed their cheeks.

“I have missed you so dearly” you said to Aegon before looking over at Viserys, your mouth stuttering as you tried to find the right words “Vizzy, I have…oh gods-“ you cried out pulling him in for a hug once more “your all grown up!” you said, “a man grown” shaking your head as you hugged him closer.

He cried on your shoulder as you did, his arms never leaving you even as you introduced him to Cregan.

“This is Cregan…my husband, and the new lord hand.”  

“An honour to see you again” Aegon greeted, moving away from slightly from you to shake Cregan’s hand.

“As it is for me, my king” Cregan replied to Aegon head bowed.

And though Kings Landing had changed much, filled with new faces and on the rare occasions a familiar one, you still hated it.

You had thought seeing your brothers here, your sisters, it would feel like a home again,

But no.

You despised the viper pit.

There was more scheming and ploys than before and you were now at the centre of it.

with Cregan as hand and the death of your grandsire as regent, new faces took the role of councillors you had only just grown to trust.

Many of your mothers’ own advisers, advisers you had made Aegon promise to keep on his council had died in the winter fever the year before.

And perhaps that was why you hated Kingslanding, though a fifth of their population was taken, and 90% of that being the smallfolk, so many you had known, trusted and cared for had died and you never even knew.

The halls seemed more haunted now.

Not just haunted of by the faces of your family, of your uncles and brothers.

Of your mother.

But of them also.

You regretted coming with Cregan, and you hated yourself for it.

You had though and thought to stay here, arguing with him before the wedding for just this, to stay.

You know whished to take Silverwing and ride her to Winterfell and never return.

It was only the love you had for your brothers and Cregan that made you stay.

The memory of when first admitted your love for each other playing over and over again, as if it would somehow make you love this place once more.

“Cregan” you had sighed, now alone in your shred tent after a hard long day of ridding, the bath water doing little too sooth your joints.

He sighed your name in return, turning to face you as he undressed for bed.

“Do you love me?” you asked, trying to keep a casual tone to your voice, though you couldn’t hide the hope in your voice.

He smiled softly, moving towards you, taking your hand in his, “I have loved you since I first met you, and I do not think I ever will”.

You smiled, kissing his lips softly, “I love you, I have for so long, even when I hid behind my grief.”

“Really? I did not think you liked me much, after the war.”

“I did! And I hated it, I wanted to through myself into my grief and yet a part of me felt pained that I loved you and you did not know. I hated ignoring you, there always seemed to be a tether tying me to you.” You said shyly. “I hated that you were the reason I was pulled from my grief, I didn’t want my happiness to depend on you, but now…I am glad it is”.

She was glad to have him, he filled the whole left by her family’s deaths, though it was a different kind of love and wholeness she was glad for it.

But it did nought, not as you became and aunt, you fell back into the slow misery you felt before.

Feeling lost and haunted. Surrounded by ghosts talking to you day after day, ghosts you could not hear but faces haunted your dreams.

You didn’t tell anyone though.

Your family was happy, despite the death of Corlys or Baleas husband.

They all seemed happy here, laughing and enjoying the feasts.

The only person who could see your misery was Aegon, but even then, he didn’t understand.

It was clear he was haunted by your mother, of her death. But his was misery was he could push aside, and when with his family all he had was joy.

And yet you still felt that death followed you even more.

More as you felt the death of your child, spending hours, days on the birthing bed only to be greeted with a still born child.

More so as you felt the blood trickle down your legs time after time as you tried and tried to carry another pregnancy to term.

Your heart continued to break and Cregan could see your misery and so he insisted on you retuning to Winterfell, and you agreed.

Being back in Winterfell made you lose the feelings you had in Kingslanding, made you feel safer.

Made you feel at home.

And you felt lighter here.

Then Cregan was called back to Kings Landing and the emptiness found you again.

But you forced it to the side, hoping if you ignored it long enough it would go away.

And gods were you wrong.

You had plunged yourself into work, trying to help the north recover, from its weakened state following the famine caused during the winter fever.

 A year passed, now 136AC, a year away from your husband, from your brothers.

You became a ghost once more; all healing had vanished and the person you said you would become if Cregan sent you here alone had come.

 “Without you I will…I will only find that hollowness I felt for moons, the sadness will return without you to…to comfort me, to hold me and cherish me. I cannot be alone, I may rely on you a little too much, but I cannot bear to…”

And it had, you were hollow, and you were sad. But instead of letting it spill out of you as it had before, you kept it hidden.

Putting on a strong front, you wanted to be the fierce lady of Winterfell no matter how much you were breaking inside, no matter how much you wished for Cregan to see through your flowered words on paper and to come back to you.

And though he did come back to you, it was not because of you, but of Sylas the Grim.

A wilding chieftain who led a large force of 3,000 south of the wall and was plundering the lands of the gift.

Cregan arrived soon after you sent news of Sylas attacks. You yourself had tried to scare them off, using Silverwing to burn their trail. But they continued their plundering.

And so Cregan led the rallied forces of the north and attacked the wildings, leading yet another victory.

You had watched from the sidelines, sat atop Silverwing awaiting Cregan’s signal. But he never gave it, never looked over to where you waited. Only greeting you as you made your way into the festivity’s hours later. Having taken Silverwing over the wall and burning down all trees beyond the wall, within a 100-mile radius.

He had been surprised but grateful for your actions. But his gratefulness was soon overlooked as the drunken men of the north started to sing.

And you once again sat in your seat and let the hollowness within you start to show.

Later that night, after going to bed hours before Cregan, you and him finally spoke.

“Cregan?” you muttered, lifting your head from the pillow as he tumbled into the room.

“Wife!” he replied, his tone joyful, “I have missed you” he sang, “you’re going to come back with me to kings landing!” he spoke, looking at you expectantly, as if expecting you to dance in joy.

“no” you said, sitting up.

“No?” he said, suddenly sobering up. “Why not? Do you not miss your brother? Or me?”

“Every second of everyday”

“Then come to kings landing”.

“no”

“Why not?” he said, his tone almost aggravated.

“It is haunted” you spoke, your voice in hushed whispers as if the ghosts would somehow appear in your chambers.

“Everywhere haunted, even Winterfell” he said, looking at you, truly looking at you.

He took note of your sunken eyes, your dead eyes.

You looked just as you had those first few years here, and he hated how what you had said would happen had come true.

“no” he muttered, moving towards you “no…my love my sweet wife…what has happened?”

You broke down in tears, telling him what you felt, a years’ worth of emotions spilling out of you and the tears never stopped.

You must have spent the night crying in his arms, begging him to stay and never leave you again.

“please” you begged, “I can’t…I can’t go back there, and I can’t be without you”.

“okay” he said, thinking hard, “I will give up my place as hand”.

“I can’t ask that of you- “

“You can, and I must” he shook his head, cradling you in his arms “I have neglected you for too long and I am so sorry, I love you, I hope you know that” he said, hand caressing your cheek.

“you’ll stay”.

“Yes…always”

Giving up the position of hand of the king had been like a wight had lifted of his shoulders.

But seeing the state of his with had placed a heavier weight on him.

Feeling his heart break and his own betrayal fill him as you cried in his arms he felt he was a disappointment.

He had seen your loss, her grief and in his own he had pushed you away.

And though he had recovered, he should have known that you couldn’t, not by yourself, not when you still had so much grief left from the war still.

you had always been soft and gentle, always so Intune with your emotions that they overwhelmed you, and he had somehow overlooked that fact and sent you away.

And unlike last time he didn’t have the wedding or retuning to kings landing to look forward to. There was nothing really to look forward too, other than the one thing the gods had deprived you off.

A babe.

You had tried and tried, but three miscarriages and one still birth had wrecked you.

In truth had he not had the lords breathing down his neck once more for an heir then he would never have made you try in the first place and yet it was what you craved, despite the duty you wanted a babe.

And now as his cock filled you and hit all the right spots, this moment were their was no grief, no death no duty to fulfil, just you and Cregan.

“Cregan” you moaned, your face falling into the pillows as he pounded into you “please” you begged into the pillow, you felt your peak approaching as he entered you out, hitting your sweet spot again and again.

He held onto your hips, his cock focusing on that spot as his finger moved down to your clit, bringing you to your second peak of the night, as he filled you with his seed.

You collapsed on the bed, as he pulled you into his arms, holding you tight.

You relaxed into a comfortable silence, a silence you both often found yourself in.

‘I love you” he whispered, kissing your forehead.

And for the first time in a year you said it back, “I love you, too”

You fell into your roles as lord and lady of Winterfell easily. Finding you rather enjoyed your duties even more when they were not used as a distraction.

And even though there was some tension between you and Cregan still, you found the love you felt for one another made everything easier, especially when you had spent nights crying in grief and regret at refusing your brothers request to return to Kingslanding even if only for a few days.

You hated saying no, but they seemed to understand. Your duty was to Winterfell now, and they understood.

Egg had understood your need to leave before, himself feeling the same as he told you he considered moving to Dragonstone but fearing hell find more hurt in those halls than that of the red keep.

And now with news of Aegon’s tour around Westeros you were excited to see him once more, too show him your home.

A home you did not regret him having no place in, and as the years passed with a few visits here and there form your brothers you found you rather liked the distance.

Finding that perhaps your grief weas in the guilt of only them and you surviving and not Jace, Luke or Joffrey. The boys who were truly your brothers before they were ever kings or princes.

authors note: next part is the epilouge!

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[cutehoons02]

♡ would enhypen call you as your bf or as you would call it♡

*synopsis: (reaction) what the enhypen members call you or what you call them to make fun of them

༄07T༄

© cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2024.

(English is not my native language)

—REBLOG if you enjoyed

Jay (Amore mio)

Jay loved everything about the world of Italy, from fashion, good food, delicious vastness of fine wines that could be discovered and tasted in the wonderful Italian regions, to historical and artistic beauties that could be found in northern Italy, the center and south, and the merry approach that the fans had. After being in Italy for almost a week he had come across a couple at dawn in a delicious cafe and heard his beloved husband calling his beloved wife "Amore mio", he had written it on his phone and after the 11 hours of the plane ride he had it in his mind and how it sounded with his Korean and American accent, but to him, it sounded divinely and sweetly, he was looking forward to going home, to see you and say those words whispered in your ear because Jay was the representation of the prince charming who wrote himself countless gnomes to give you but "Amore mio" had become his nickname for him because you were seriously his love from the first day he saw you. After taking a shower to chase away the fatigue of those 11 hours of plane was super exciting to tell you that words, you were preparing pasta with sauce and you were turned to taste the delicious sauce that you had prepared for your boyfriend, you allowed him to approach slowly and felt your arms wrap around your back and then the waist and a light kiss at the top of your lobe in your ear. "You’re so beautiful, amore mio" when you heard those words a slight redness crept into your cheeks and your sunflower to find yourself a Jay with the hair slightly glued to the forehead for the heat of the shower and with the reddened cheeks that looked at you with eyes of true lover.

Jake (Teddy bear)

The sunset was now leaving light shades of pink and orange in the sky above Jeju beach, you were embraced by Jake’s strong arms and his chest, the wind was beginning to rise and a light breezy breeze cradled your two bodies sitting in a sheet to admire the sun that was setting and the boats that were returning to the port. You looked at your boy and marveled by the light reflection that he was coming between his face and with one hand you took a tuft of it from his forehead, he was always wonderful but you loved spending days like these where he seemed to be a guy with his joys and worries for his future; You felt his warm hand go under your sweatshirt and form light circles behind your back and you cuddled even more to him. " You know i love you Y/n" You watched with a laugh Jake "I love you too, teddy bear" You saw him look up and say, "Oh my god how many times i told you not to call me teddy bear, you want by chance the war y/n!" Jake pushed you slightly into the towel and some hands went to make you suntan between your hips " Jake we all know that you are a cuckold teddy with all". You raised your arms slightly and took his face with your little hands and began to kiss him first the forehead, the cheeks and then your lips slightly cracked were put in his in a light kiss, you felt his hands no longer make you sunny but they put on your jacket to support and looked at you laughing "Maybe you’re right i love being your favorite cuddly puppy!"

Sunghoon (Angel)

Sunghoon did not believe much in fate, he was a very pragmatic person and if something had to happen it should be him who made it happen, not someone on whom people wanted to meet or create situations. Sunghoon was a cold person at first impact with people, had to study them and every conversation he had at the beginning with someone he did not know had been carefully He did not want to be cynical or difficult with people but also not too friendly because it was not in his nature. A day break from the hectic world of Kpop events had taken place at night in his now former favorite place when he was little but which he had begun to hate during his teenage years, the ice rink in Seoul had always been the same as before but when he went there to train it was him that people looked at and admired but now things were reversed, you his angel down to earth that for 6 months now had carob with your elegance but also with your sarcastic ways of teasing him that you were better than him skating. He knew of your existence from high school when he first saw you at the age of 14 but had never had the rush to talk to you only to admire you from afar. When he left the world of skating for K-pop he did not expect you to recognize him because you were the ice star already a teenager and now you were in the prime of your career as a skater. Hoon slipped into the ice careful not to be heard by you that you had headphones in your ears to memorize the steps and he girded your hips and made you spin in front of him, you had half-waved hair in your tail and cheeks reddened from the cold but for him you were perfect at that moment, "Hello Angel, look who came to see you at almost midnight" looked at Hoon with a twinkle in his eyes and opened his jacket to rest your head in his chest and slightly warm up from his body. " You could have told me that you would come to see me so i would have prepared myself slightly and thought that i had some curfew to respect" A slight redness crept into the cheeks of Hoon and squeezed you harder "Angel you’re always beautiful to me and maybe i snuck out of my dorm room to corrupt Niki!" You lifted your head from his chest and looked at him "Oh my god i’m creating a little bad boy if your fans found out what they would think of the most vampire-human i’ve ever met in my life!" Hoon took your hand and you started skating slowly attached to give you warmth "Well it would be worth it because i would spend hours watching Angel in secret at any time of day or night".

Sunoo (Baby)

Sunoo was everything to you, your boyfriend, your lifeline, your best friend, and your favorite listener. You were lying in your comfortable bed with painful cramps in the belly because of the cycle and at the same time you were bored because there was nothing that took your curiosity on Netflix, you had written to Sunoo half an hour ago if he wanted to come and visit you just to spend an hour together to cuddle you and eat some snacks but he hadn’t answered yet and maybe he was training or recording something even though he was a boring Sunday afternoon and out even if it was only 16 he was already doing oxen. You heard your friends with whom you shared the apartment laugh and after a few seconds, you felt the door of your room open with her blonde hair your boyfriend entered cold from the harsh temperatures of Seoul, and in his hand had a glass of hot chocolate, snacks, and a small heated panty holder to make you put it where you were most uncomfortable and to relieve even that little menstrual pain. " Hi baby, i’m sorry if i didn’t answer you but when you told me if we could meet because you were bored and because you were sick i had the perfect excuse to get out of that chaos of the dorm with which i share with those human monsters!" a light laugh came out of your lips and opened your arms and you clung to him as koala to the lower part of his life "I missed you so much, I don't know if it is the hormones ball but i seriously need cuddles especially if they are yours Sunoo" a slight blush invaded the cheeks of Sunoo, you were quite introverted with everyone but when you were with Sunoo you became a different person and was proud to have only him this power. "Come here baby, i missed you too and in this week of hard work, i rarely had a moment to relax" Sunoo lay down in your bed and you cuddler to his chest and smelled his favorite sweet scent of Lush, "I’m so lucky to have you by my side Sunoo", "Woo but where does all this little sweetness come from? the cycle i know cannot last you a few days longer because you are so sweet to me only in your red days!"

Heeseung (Rameonlover)

One thing you loved about Heeseung was the more introverted and nerdy part he had with you in your relationship, you loved to see him turn into a hot guy when he was on stage, while dancing while singing, While he was flirting with the fans but then with you he was super sweet but sexy at the same time. You watched him use his big hands in the joystick of the play and while he grumbled if he could not defeat some monster, “do you want a picture of me Y/n? You’re losing the drool right here from your beautiful little mouth" You slapped him gently on the arm while he gently touched the bottom of your lip "Stop rameonlover know that I find you extremely attractive while playing at play" You saw him stretch and lift his eyes, you knew he had it in for you because your eyes were immediately set where you could see his perfect muscles "Do you find me attractive only while i play or even when i prepare the ramen, while Ii kiss your neck with my hair unkempt, while you come to spy on me while i dance with the muscles of my arms in plain sight or while i’m standing over you?" You hated him with all your heart because from the first day I saw him Hee made you taste those famous butterflies in your stomach and when he was in your range you always watched him, "Rameonlover lowers your ego a little bit because these things can be done by all the guys in this world and who knows maybe some are more attractive than you!"; Hee when I felt this phrase took you for life and with a little scream from your part put you in his legs and looked at you with his famous pout "Don’t try to make me jealous because you’re my y/n" felt his meaty lips give you small kisses on the neck and pulled his hair "Rameonlover please" Heeseung pinched your side and look at you with questioning "Stop bending me down Rameonlover even in these moments, i’m Heeseung or Hee to you, not that stupid nickname that he gave me Jake!”

Niki (Mochi)

Being the girlfriend of the youngest member of the group was fun because each member teased Niki but at the same time all members controlled you and this made her happy but when they became too protective or insistent in knowing what you were doing or with Who you saw outside of them was not good enough for you. You were sitting in the studio of Hybe watching your boyfriend Niki try to record new music, I saw it from the big mirror that hoped for the studio and you were really happy with all the success that was receiving. You felt the door open and a guy you had never seen sat next to you, sure was another idol but honestly you did not follow other idols or groups beyond Enhypen. "Are you a friend of Niki’s or his sister? Yes, he has two sisters but you don’t look very alike" look a little uncomfortable the boy because you are slightly shy with strangers especially with males "Uh no I’m Niki’s girlfriend" the guy in front of you looked at you with a look of surprise "are you kidding right? Niki never told us that he had a girlfriend, sure of wanting to be with the smallest of the group I think you deserve better" looked badly the guy in front of you "honestly who do you think you are to tell me something like this? I love my boyfriend and I sure don’t need anyone else" your shyness faded when you heard this phrase and Niki, Jungwon, and Hee heard you across the room and Niki felt a sense of admiration towards you and love for defending your relationship. She left the room and stood by your side "I never saw you so angry with a boy, what happened to the shy girl I know!" You felt your cheeks turn slightly red both for the initial embarrassment and also for the nickname he used, he only used it when you were alone to make fun instead of two other companions having heard it. “Did you hear what he called it? Mochi, oh my god we just lost it for this girl" Jungwon laughed and Hee hugged you both "Well I think we don’t have to worry about Y/ n anymore, she can do it herself even with the boys, that idol ran away when she saw you angry."

Jungwon (Kitten)

Loved walking near the Han River in Seoul especially at night while seeing all the lights of the city lit up and the various bridges that splashed water and made colorful water games. Near the river, there were a lot of parks and each park had small shelters for animals, especially for cats, you were a team dog but since you were with Jungwon, you were pretty indecisive about the question "Do you prefer dogs or cats?". You had your hand in Jungwon’s pocket as you passed by the river bank until you heard a slight meow coming from the pig and looked at Jungwon, "Kittie you’ve always been a dog lover don’t tell me I’m making you change your mind with my cat look!" Jungwon was beautiful but one thing you loved most about him was his big, long expressive eyes and he looked like a cat. "You’re not the stupid one who made me passionate about cats but you know I’ve always been a cat lover" Jungwon pulled you across the street and you reached the little house that was in the middle of the park with cats inside all wrapped up to get warm. "Kitten you know we can’t take home more, we already have two, the world won’t go on only with cats or animals you have to make children!" Pushed slightly Jungwon and corsí across the park "I’m sure not going to have children with someone who calls me Kitten or with an obsession for strawberries and chocolate" Jungwon ran to you and took you lightly in his arms "Y/n would be good with our beautiful genes, they would come out with beautiful cat eyes and the beautiful character of my beautiful Kitten!"

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

What is Broken II (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader)

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity.

Author's Note: So, this did end up getting split in two. It just reached a natural stopping point and it made more sense to add a part IV instead of have an unnaturally long part II.

Taglist is done via reblogs

Series Masterlist

What is Broken

The next morning, she watched with red-rimmed eyes as the sun emerged over the horizon. As the brightness forced her to look away, she took a moment to thank whichever god had given her the foresight to send Aemond to sleep elsewhere. It had been another horrid night, and to explain it after all that had been said between them would have been far beyond miserable.

He would return soon, she was sure. With new honeyed words and gentle touches. With his beautiful pleading eye and perfect pouting mouth. With the softness of the elusive loving smile he reserved only for her.

Or did he? He had given Alys so many things she thought only they shared. Why wouldn’t he give the whore that smile as well?

The very thought had her stomach lurching again, but she raised herself to sit against the head of the bed and steeled herself against being sick. She took deep, controlled breaths, turned towards the eastern window to feel the fresh air coming off the bay, and set her mind free to wander.

Not entirely free, however. She did not let her thoughts go anywhere near her husband.

Instead, she thought of only nice things. The flowers that would soon bloom in the gardens with the coming of spring. The fresh fruits that would once more grace her table. Weather fine enough that she could ride through the Kingswood on her beloved steed, Litse, once more.

Eventually, the roiling faded, and she looked down to her stomach. “Kōdrȳsi rhinkpa jemo gaomua hae jālosa yno gaoman?” Is that as unpleasant for you as it is for me?

A soft thump near the top of her stomach felt very much like a noncommittal answer.

She laughed a little. “Iā jeme ñuha boteri raqāt daor?” Or do you enjoy making me suffer?

That question received no answer.

Just when she was about to say something more, she heard the door to her chambers creaking open and soft footsteps approaching. Of course, he would come to her so early; he had always slept so little. She clenched the sheets in her fists, preparing to face Aemond once more.

But it was not Aemond who walked through the door.

Instead of a single violet eye, she was met with a warm, brown, tear-filled pair that matched her own, and a helpless cry escaped her lips before desperate sobs overtook her. “Mama!”

Alicent ran to her side, taking her only remaining daughter in her arms and fighting back her tears. One hand rubbed soothing circles on her back while the other gently cupped her chin and lifted it so she could look into her daughter’s eyes. “Oh, my dearest girl…”

She buried her face in her mother’s rich auburn hair, savoring the comforting smell she’d known since infancy. There was no question that Alicent had been told about Aemond’s misdeeds – though whether he told her himself or she heard another way, she could not decide.

“I hate him,” she whispered weakly.

“No, you don’t,” Alicent countered immediately. She pulled away, took her hands, and softened her voice. “You are not capable of hating Aemond, my dear. Nor is he capable of hating you.”

“Then why did he do this to me?”

Alicent sighed, brow furrowing as she pondered her son’s actions. She did not have a good answer, for Aemond had always been the perfect son, save for the death of Lucerys Velaryon, and now, she supposed, this. It was behavior she had anticipated from Aegon, or had in the past. With her eldest son, she knew he acted out of his anger that he could not be the son his father wanted.

But with Aemond…

Aemond loved his wife. He was discontented with many things in his life – his position as the second son, his injury, and his father’s negligence – but never with her. His gaze had never strayed to any other woman, even before their engagement. Once they were betrothed, it was rare to find his gaze anywhere else but on her. He was so happy with her, always. What could have altered his devotion?

“I do not know,” Alicent finally answered. The words did little to soothe her weeping daughter. “Men… they can be wonderful when they truly love you. But even then, they have their weaknesses. Aemond was gone a very long time. Perhaps he was simply lonely?”

She shook her head and ripped her hands from her mother’s. “If he was lonely, he could have come back to me. He was supposed to return to me several times but never did.”

While Aemond was at Harrenhal, she, Aegon, and their grandsire had sent countless ravens asking for his return. Otto and Aegon asked so they could hear the news from the battlefield and try to adjust their plans accordingly. She asked because she missed and needed him. Badly.

He always sent some excuse. The battle was not yet over. Vhagar was too tired to fly. He did not want to leave his stronghold undefended when enemies lurked nearby. She had trusted each excuse like a fool.

“Did you know she’s carrying his child?” she asked, drawing the blankets further up her chest as if she could protect the life inside her from the horrible fact.

Alicent nodded. “I did. He told me.”

She frowned. At least Aemond had the decency to tell their mother himself. “What else did he tell you?”

“He was very upset, my dear.” She tried to suppress the kernel of joy that sparked at her mother’s words. “Not at you, of course, but at himself.”

“As he should be.”

“Yes, he should. But he loves you so much,” Alicent grimaced, setting a hand on her daughter’s belly. “And he loves your family so much. He is inconsolable at the thought that you may never forgive him.”

That kernel of joy went up in flames, and she looked at her mother with unfettered rage. “Why should I forgive him? He has betrayed me and has done nothing to regain my trust beyond his weak, selfish apologies.”

“Yes, but –”

“He lied to me again last night!” she cried. “He said it was only once. He looked me in the eye and lied! And he thought I would be stupid enough to believe him.”

Alicent sighed heavily as she looked away from her daughter. This wasn’t like Aemond – none of it was. Even after hearing his tearful explanation the night before, she was no closer to understanding it. Nor to finding a way to fix it.

“That was wrong of him,” she said at last. “All of it was – is. My dear, I do not know what to say or how to make it better. Your father, for all his faults, never strayed. I cannot begin to imagine the pain you are in. But – ”

“But what?” Her daughter glared at her with narrowed eyes, and her hand clenched into a fist by her side. “I cannot begin to imagine forgiving him, nor how I will ever look at him again without feeling this… this rage. Mother, I cannot be a wife to someone who hurt me so deeply, no matter his supposed remorse.”

She looked down at her stomach, then back to her mother. Though her eyes were red and wet, and her lip trembled, she wore a look of absolute determination. “I want to go. I don’t know where, but I don’t want to be here. I can’t bear to be with him.”

“Oh, my darling,” the queen pulled her daughter to her chest once more, not speaking again until she had calmed. “In any other circumstance, I would arrange for you to leave for Oldtown within the day. But it is not so simple.”

The princess stiffened in her mother’s arms.

“There are so few of us left, and we have already spent so much time apart. We cannot let ourselves become estranged.” Alicent bowed her forehead to rest against her daughter’s. “We cannot appear weak, especially not you and Aemond.”

She was frozen, but at that, she gathered enough strength to lift her eyes to look at her mother. “What do you mean, ‘especially’ not us?”

“There are no more heirs, darling, not of our line. But you,” her hand rested gently on her daughter’s cheek. “You are changing that. In mere weeks, your children – yours and Aemond’s – will become the new heirs to the throne.”

“They might not,” she argued weakly, her voice soft and breathless. “They may be daughters.”

Alicent smiled sadly, placing a hand gently at the top of the girl’s stomach. “This one has given you enough trouble that I would wager the Red Keep itself that he’s a boy.”

She put her hand over her mother’s as she tried and failed to smile. The Maester came to the same conclusion many weeks ago. Then, she had been thrilled at the possibility of giving Aemond an heir. Now, she wished desperately for daughters.

“Why do our heirs matter?” She asked. “Aegon will remarry and have his own soon enough.”

The question was met by a heavy, cloying silence.

“Mother?”

Alicent schooled her face into the careful neutrality that had served her so well as queen, though the tears shining in her dark eyes betrayed her heartbreak and grief. “I am afraid Aegon will not marry nor sire any more heirs. The Maesters… they predict he will leave us by the year’s end.”

Her heart stopped, then sank. “But that means Aemond…”

“Will be king soon,” Alicent confirmed. She again brushed her daughter’s hair behind her ears. “And you will be his queen.”

The implication hung over her like a black cloud: a queen could never leave her king.

-

Aemond knelt in the Royal Sept at the feet of the Father. He had not slept the night before, not after he told his mother what had happened and watched her cry harder than he had ever seen. He’d gone all the way back to his rooms – those he shared with his wife – before remembering the promise he had made.

He could not go back to her. To her arms. To his home.

So, he ended up in the Sept. He didn’t remember walking there, leaving the Holdfast and crossing the upper bailey. He just knew he’d been kneeling there long before the sun crested the horizon. He’d prayed and wept and begged the gods to either reveal to him a path to redemption or strike him down and spare him further torment.

The gods ignored him. He could not blame them for it.

His lamenting was halted by the sound of the carved stone doors opening, followed by a strangle rattling sound Aemond could not identify. He turned and saw his brother and king for the first time in months.

A servant stood behind Aegon to push the wheeled chair in which the kind sat with a blanket over his lap to conceal his crooked, atrophied legs, but was dismissed with a wave of a red, scarred hand. Aegon’s injuries after Rook’s Rest had been so horrific even Aemond struggled to look at him. The scars he now bore were hardly better. The king looked twisted, broken, and weak. It was a miracle little Jaehaera could look at her father without collapsing in terror.

As Aegon wheeled himself down the Sept aisle, Aemond steeled himself against the horrible expression on his brother’s face: empathy, disappointment, and rage.

In their youth, even Aegon had been protective of their youngest sister, to the point that he restrained himself from making too many lewd comments in her presence. And after years of Aemond calling him depraved, perverted, and whorish, he would, of course, delight in the irony that his little brother was just as weak as him.

“I wouldn’t have believed it,” Aegon drawled. His voice was as damaged as his body, weak and rasping. “But then I saw our mother. I always thought I was the only one that could make her look like that. So sad and weepy and disappointed.”

Aemond reminded himself that Aegon was finally the uncontested king and that throttling the life from him was now more than ever considered treason. “I hardly think you are qualified to pass judgment on me,” he growled.

“No,” Aegon smirked as he brought his chair to a stop at Aemond’s side. “But I think I am well qualified to gloat, don’t you?”

Suppressing his sneer, Aemond turned to face his brother. “Are you? How many unsuitable women have you bedded? How many bastards have you sired?” He scoffed, but his threadbare feeling of righteousness immediately gave under the lead weight of his desperation. “Why does my wife abhor me when I make this one mistake when Helaena never cared when you did the same over and over again?”

“Because Helaena never loved me, Aemond.” For the first time in their lives, Aegon was the calmer and more rational of the brothers. “She cared for me as a sister, but she never loved me as her husband. Not like our haedus loves you.”

“I love her, too.” Aemond’s face fell into utter regret and despair. “So much.”

“Yet you still broke her heart.”

Aemond turned back to the statue of the Father, bowing his head. “I did not mean to. I didn’t mean to hurt her – I would never intend to hurt her.”

“I know,” Aegon angled his chair and slumped slightly. “But you did. Over and over. I saw it. Not just with your adultery, but every time you did not come home when she asked. Whenever you took Vhagar into battle without warning her – and us. And each day you weren’t here when those babes put her through the seven hells with – ”

Aemond’s heart stopped, and his entire world with it.

“‘Babes?’”

Aegon’s eyes grew wide. “I didn’t say that.”

The same blatant liar he’d been for years.

“You did,” Aemond insisted, his rage at himself now turning on his king, his mother, and everyone else who had kept this secret from him – other than his ābrazȳrītsos. He could still never be angry with her. “Why did you say that?”

After a moment of frustrated silence, Aegon finally answered. “Because the Maesters have determined that your wife is carrying twins. Something you would know if you had come home when we asked.”

“I was fighting your war,” Aemond growled, rising to his feet so his brother could no longer look down at him, “to defend your throne. It was not always possible for me to return.”

“You mean it was ‘never’ possible, right?” In that moment, Aegon truly seemed a king – mature and wise for the first time Aemond had ever seen. He almost resembled their father, as he had been on the few occasions they saw him sit the throne. “You never returned. Not for your duties, and not for your wife.”

“I…”

“If you’d come home immediately after you first fucked whoever-she-is, or any other time we summoned you, perhaps things would be better. But you didn’t, and now you must deal with the consequences of your own stupid mistakes. Again.”

Aemond flinched at the harsh words but could not deny their veracity. The death of Lucerys Velaryon had sparked a war that nearly tore House Targaryen and the realm apart. Now this… this could tear his marriage apart.

His family could be broken beyond repair before their child – their children – were ever born.

A scar-mottled hand grabbed his arm, pulling him away from his despair. “I apologize. I did not come here to make you feel worse than I am sure you already do.”

“Why did you come, then?” Aemond stared at the mangled hand that held him still. He could not bear to look in his brother’s eyes.

Aegon sighed. “I am sending you back to Harrenhal.”

“No.” Aemond ripped his arm away.

“Brother, the peace talks…”

“I said no.” He clenched his fists.

Aegon slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair, the sound echoing through the Sept. “I am your king, and I am giving you an order! You do not get to say ‘no.’”

Aemond froze, his rage roiling, desperate to spill over. But Aegon was his king, and other than his ābrazȳrītsos, his duty to the throne and his family was the thing most dear to him. So, he remained still and silent as he listened without protest.

“Cregan Stark and his army are due to arrive at Harrenhal in mere days,” Aegon explained. “I am in no condition to travel so far, and it would insult Stark and the others who were loyal to Rhaenyra to ask them to travel even further. So, as you are still Prince Regent, you will return to the Riverlands and act as my proxy in the negotiations.”

Absorbed by all that had happened since he’d arrived in King’s Landing, Aemond had entirely forgotten that particular duty. He’d known he had to attend before he left, but how could he go now? What would his wife think if he went back to Harrenhal – where Alys remained – so soon?

“You will take our sister with you.”

“I cannot,” the weak, whispered words escaped him without thought, “I cannot do that to her. You cannot do that to her.”

Somehow, the idea of bringing her with him to Harrenhal was worse than returning there himself. What would happen if she saw Alys? Spoke to her? She was already so hurt, and he did not want her to break entirely. He could not stand it. He would not allow it.

“Aegon, please,” he begged, dignity cast aside in favor of protecting his ābrazȳrītsos. “Do not make her go.”

The king straightened in his chair. “I wish I did not have to. She has already endured so much, and I have no desire to cause her more pain. But I have no other option.”

“Why? What could be more important than keeping her safe?”

Aegon’s face was drawn and filled with regret and grief. “Ensuring the realm sees you as a strong king when I am gone.”

The silence that followed was heavier than the Red Keep itself, and Aemond’s heart grew heavier still when he realized what his brother meant.

“You do not have much time left, do you?”

“Likely only a few months, according to the Maesters. But I’ll be gone by year’s end,” Aegon answered, trying and failing to summon a wry smile. “It’s almost not worth it to un-name you Prince Regent, when the crown will soon be yours once more.”

Silence fell once more.

Aemond wanted to argue. Against going to Harrenhal. Against bringing her with him. Against being king. For if he was king…

“She will be bound to me forever,” he said, not realizing he was saying it aloud, “in a way far stronger than just our shared blood or marriage. She will never be able to leave me.”

Aegon gripped the arm of his chair tighter. “Is that what you want?”

“I…” Yes. No. Aemond fumbled for his words, running a hand down his face as his thoughts raced through his mind like a thousand whirling dragons. “I want her to stay with me, but not at the cost of her happiness.”

Aegon considered the answer, the picture of a king passing judgment. At last, he nodded once. “Even if she decides she hates you, she will not leave. Her sense of duty is nearly as strong as yours, and she would never wish to raise the babes without their father.” He gestured to himself, then Aemond. “She knows well what becomes of children with no true father.”

There came a knock on the Sept door before Aemond could say anything more

Aegon sighed. “It is time for you to leave, I’m afraid. The wheelhouse is waiting.”

“What about – ”

Aegon waved a hand. “Mother went to your rooms this morning to explain the situation to her and help her prepare for the journey.”

“Can we not simply fly?” Aemond did not want for her to have to be stuck with him for the entire journey. The gods forbid that they should be made to share a tent or room at a roadside inn. Though doing so would delight him. He’d missed her so much that he would gladly take any moment he could with her, even when she was so angry with him.

Because she would be angry with him, and spending time with him would do nothing but make her miserable. Her happiness was more important than his. Always.

His brother scoffed as he began wheeling down the aisle toward the door. “Not in her condition.”

Of course. Aemond felt a fool for not realizing it himself. He’d flown Vhagar with Alys, but… she was not as far along as his wife, nor as delicate. A carriage it must be.

He should never have flown with Alys. Not for her sake or that of her child, but because flying atop Vhagar was something he did with his ābrazȳrītsos. It was something sacred they shared, and he had willfully desecrated it.

Gods, he had to get Alys out of his head. He could never become the husband his wife deserved when the witch still haunted his every thought.

Aegon stopped at the threshold of the Sept, again reaching out to grab Aemond’s arm. His eyes glinted with violent promise as he locked eyes with his brother. “If you do anything to hurt her again, intentional or not, I will exile you to Essos, and you will never see her again. I will declare you dead and marry her myself to ensure her children inherit the throne.”

“She deserves a better husband than you,” Aemond spat. It would break him never to see her or their children. But he knew he would deserve it.

The king smiled wickedly, still only a shadow of his former self. “She deserves better than the both of us, brother.”

Aemond bit back his retort and inclined his head to his king as he had at the coronation. “I swear on my life, I will never hurt her again.”

-

Aemond was waiting for her in the courtyard when she finally left the castle, well bundled in a thick, fur-lined cloak. The weather had turned, a final storm of the departing winter. Now, the sky reflected her mood – gray and somber.

At least the explosiveness of her anger had calmed, and she was relatively sure she wouldn’t strangle Aemond along the journey. But to go to Harrenhal with him, to be in the very place where he had betrayed her, to face the woman who carried her husband’s bastard …

She could be brave. She had to be brave. This was her duty, and her duty was sacred.

Aemond had taught her that.

She did not acknowledge him as she kissed her mother and brother farewell, nor as she walked to the steps set at the wheelhouse door.

But then he held out his hand to help her in.

Reluctantly, she took it. The brief touch was marginally more tolerable than the possibility of her stumbling and him having to catch her by the arm or, gods forbid, her waist. That would be far too much of a touch, and she was not sure she was ready for it – if she would ever be ready for it.

He stepped in just behind her, the two of them standing there for a moment, wondering where to sit. In the past, they’d always sat next to each other at the rear of the wheelhouse, with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her waist. But now, the thought of doing so again made her nauseous. So, she turned to the seat in the front.

“Wait,” Aemond grabbed her shoulder, then immediately released it when he saw her wince. He cleared his throat, then motioned to the opposite seat with his hand. “Please, sit here. I don’t want you getting sick riding backward.”

She looked from the seat to his wary smile. Surely he didn’t expect her to still sit with him, did he?

“I’ll sit on the other side,” he added after a prolonged moment of silence.

“Thank you,” she whispered with a nod of her head. But when she began walking to the rear seat, Aemond again stopped her.

“Before you sit, let me…” he trailed off, stepping to the front seat and gathering most of the pillows and cushions that lay atop it into his arms. Then, he deposited them on the other side. He spent several minutes arranging them until they were finally to his liking. “There.”

He reached out his hand again to help her sit. This time, she did not take it. She was more than capable of sitting down on her own, and she was well aware that Aemond knew that, too. He was merely trying to touch her again, and that, she would not allow.

Once she sat, Aemond began fussing again. “Please stop,” she sighed when he started crossing the wheelhouse to fetch even more pillows. “You don’t need to do this.”

“I do need to do this,” he insisted. She could have sworn his eye shone before he turned back to the pillows and blankets. “I want you to be comfortable. You deserve it.”

“A few pillows will not make me forgive you.” For a moment, as Aemond’s shoulders tightened, she almost regretted the words. She had spoken in haste and with cruelty. It was not something she was accustomed to. Somehow, his misdeeds were turning her into a mean and petty woman.

She was just about to apologize when Aemond spoke again, his voice more timid than it had been. “I know that, but I want to do it anyway. I want to show you how much I love you. Please.”

He looked at her pleadingly, desperately. It had been many years since he looked at her like that. When she was a girl, and she fell gravely ill, he stayed by her bedside against the instructions of the Maesters, holding her hand and begging her not to die. She had to look away from him to avoid falling into that memory.

“I am perfectly comfortable,” she said. “So you needn’t do anything more.”

With a sigh, Aemond threw the pillows in his arms carelessly on his seat, except for one – a small round cushion with the Targaryen three-headed dragon embroidered upon it. “Just this one more, please.”

She looked at it suspiciously, some instinct in the back of her mind telling her not to allow it. But his voice was so weak, so desperate. And if it could help her be more comfortable on the long journey, what harm would it do? She nodded. “Very well.”

Aemond beamed and crossed the wheelhouse. With the pillow in hand, he knelt in front of her and brought a hand to hover over her belly. Before he made contact, he looked up to her, a hopeful smile still on his lips.

But that smile was no longer reassuring to her. Instead, it brought on a wave of mistrust and fear. “What are you doing?”

Finally, he laid his hand on her. “I…” His cheeks flushed, and he suddenly could not meet her eye. “This is to cradle your belly while we ride so you are not rattled around so much.”

Her hand flew out and latched onto his wrist, her hold so hard the skin around her hand quickly grew red. She did not want to see him, so she narrowed her eyes until her coming tears blurred her vision. It took several tries for her to speak through her rapid breathing. “Did Alys teach you that, too?”

Aemond looked as if she had just driven a dagger through his heart. “She did, but –”

“I told you never to do that!” She ripped the pillow from his hands and threw it across the wheelhouse with all her strength.

He stayed kneeling, one hand braced on her seat. He had not flinched, only closed his eyes. “Wifey, if it makes you comfortable, if it helps you, then what does it matter how I learned it?”

“Because…” She furiously wiped her tears away, steadfastly looking away from him. “I don’t want you to think about her when you’re touching me.”

“I promise I am not thinking of her,” he insisted. “I could never think of her when I have with me.”

“No, only when I’m hundreds of miles away.”

He closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath, his hand never leaving her belly. “How long have you known?” Aemond rasped out. “That we are to have two babes?”

Her eyes widened in surprise at the words. How had he known? Who had told him? She did not look at him, did not want him to see the blush of shame that came over her. If either of them should be ashamed, it was him. What he did was far worse than keeping a secret, even one as important as this.

“It was meant to be a surprise,” she whispered. “But you did not come back when you were meant to – you were supposed to return and give Aegon a report on the war. You didn’t.”

Aemond bowed his head, hiding his cheeks – likely just as flushed as hers. He sniffed, as he often did when upset, and shook his head. “If I had known – ”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” she snapped back. “Your… she was already pregnant by then, wasn’t she?”

For a moment, Aemond looked up at her in pleading before dropping his head again. “Yes,” his voice was thin and utterly defeated, “she was.” He reached to adjust the pillow by her side but decided against it. Then, he returned to the seat across from her, looking at her once before bowing his head and pounding on the roof twice.

Reins snapped, and the wheelhouse lurched forward.

-

The first hours in the wheelhouse passed in silence. Aemond hardly moved, staring at his clasped hands. She thought she felt his eyes on her several times, but whenever she looked at him, he did not look back.

She watched the world pass her by through the windows. She’d never gone north of King’s Landing before, other than a few short flights on Vhagar with Aemond. Then, she was too high to see the little differences, mile by mile. The trees changed and became sparser, as did the shrubs and flowers. The air felt different, as did the ground beneath the wheelhouse, which became softer and less turbulent the farther they went. Even the smell of the air changed. The slight brine she was so used to faded, turning into something green and damp. It was not an unpleasant change.

What was unpleasant was trying to fall asleep within the mountain of pillows and cushions Aemond had made for her. Once, she would have loved the plushness and softness of it. But with the babes in her belly, she had come to prefer more firmness.

She would have moved the pillows herself had she been able to. But between the sheer mass of cushions and her current size, maneuvering enough to do so was impossible. Grand Maester Orwyle had said even two months away from the birth, she was already larger than most mothers just before it. Of course, most mothers only had one babe to carry, not two. So, she was left with only wiggling around as much as she could to try and find a better position.

She didn’t.

With a huff, she looked at Aemond, hoping to silently glare at him and curse him for the stuffed throne he’d made for her. But this time, when she looked at him, he was looking back.

He wore an expression of concern, like he’d been watching her struggle for some time. His eye was wide, and his lips pinched together. She knew that look, and found herself now hating it. It meant he wanted to help, to understand what was wrong.

“I cannot get comfortable,” she explained, not that he deserved an explanation.

A spark of hope entered Aemond’s eye. “Do you…” he licked his lips. “I can hold you, if you’d like.”

“No!” She felt a slight pang of guilt at the hurt painted on his face at her rejection. He did not deserve her guilt, she reminded herself. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Aemond grimaced as if he could sense the lie. He probably could, for how well he knew her. “Are you sure? I can… I can just hold you. It won’t mean anything, I promise.”

Yes, yes, yes, her body seemed to scream. She had always found comfort in his arms, always slept best with him pressed against her. And him holding her would mean he would have to discard many of the ridiculous pillows. If she accepted, she could likely be asleep in moments.

But her heart… her heart would break to be held by him. She wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about if he had held Alys in this same way. If the whore had slept with her head resting on Aemond’s shoulders. If she had kissed his neck as she fell asleep, just as she had loved to do.

She would never be able to stop thinking about Alys. Every time Aemond looked at her, touched her, spoke to her. Alys would be a ghost that would haunt her forever.

A memory of the first time Aemond had taken her to the Dragonpit came to her.

He’d told her she couldn’t come with him, but relented the moment she started crying and dragged her into the carriage with him, Aegon, and Rhaenyra’s eldest sons. Jacaerys was the only one who argued against her accompanying them. He stopped complaining after Aemond shot him a threatening glare and declared that she was braver and more capable than he would ever be. But when they arrived at the Dragonpit, and Sunfyre was led up from the dens, she’d cowered behind Aemond. The sweet little creature - perhaps the size of one of the king’s hounds - she had once watched flit around Aegon wherever he went had somehow quickly turned into a beast larger than anything she’d ever seen, baring sharp teeth the size of her dinner knives. Aegon kneeled in front of her and nudged her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t worry, haedus. He won’t hurt you, I promise.” She still screamed when Aegon stepped within reach of those fangs. And again, when Aemond pulled her from behind his back so she could not hide from the dragon. “Do not be afraid, haedus. Sunfyre is only a dragon, as are you. The blood of the dragon runs true in your veins,” he said as she buried her face in her chest. Something about the words seemed to make Jace angry, but she didn’t know why. “I can’t help it, lēkia,” she whined. “He’s scaring me.” Aemond huffed slightly, petting her head tenderly. “You are afraid because you know very little about dragons. What we do not know can be terrifying.” He turned her to face Sunfyre, who was now perfectly docile while being saddled by Aegon. She squirmed to escape his grasp. “If you watch and listen to the Dragonkeepers, you will learn. The more you learn, the less afraid you will be.”

“Why did you do it?” she asked suddenly.

“My love?” Aemond looked at her as if she’d sprouted horns. But when she held his stare, he whispered gently, “You don’t want to know. Not really.”

“I do,” she declared.Though his answer may shatter her heart completely, she had to know. His childhood voice echoed in her head. ‘The more you learn, the less afraid you will be.’

She swore she could see him remember the same memory she had. His eye darted around the wheelhouse anxiously. “It is not a good reason.”

“Unless she held you at sword point each time, there is not a reason I would call ‘good.’” She hoped it was something like that, that he hadn’t been given the choice to refuse her. It would make everything better, almost fine. But if it had been something like that, he would have already told her.

Aemond was silent for a long while. Long enough for the sun to reach its peak and begin its descent.

“I’d seen only one battle before I arrived at Harrenhal – Rook’s Rest,” he began. “In that battle, one dragon and rider were killed, and Aegon and Sunfyre were permanently wounded.”

“I know,” she whispered. She’d been there when Aemond had brought Aegon, broken, bloody, and burnt, back to the castle. She’d seen what happened to him. Aemond held her hair back as she was sick in the corridor outside the Grand Maester’s rooms.

Aemond nodded. “I was so afraid, ābrazȳrītsos, of what I would see when I truly went to war. And it was just as terrible as I’d feared. Even worse than what happened to Aegon, sometimes.” He waited to continue until she had unscrunched her eyes as she fought away another wave of nausea. “Every time I was scared, raqiarzītsos... And alone. She offered an escape. A chance to not think about the war, for at least a little while.”

“And to not think about me.”

He blanched, moving to stand, but thought better of it and sat back in his seat. “My love, I never wanted to stop thinking about you. I promise. I thought about you every moment of every day. You are what gave me the strength to ride to battle again and again – knowing that once it was all over, I’d be able to return to you.”

She glared at him. “So, you thought about me while you were fucking her?”

“Gods, no!” This time, he did rise, crossing the wheelhouse to fall at her feet. “I… I didn’t think about anything when I was with her. Not about you, or the war, or even her. It was the only way I could empty my mind of all the things that tormented me.”

“… I tormented you?” The idea that she could have done anything to make him want to forget her brought tears to her eyes.

“No. Never.” He tried to reach for her to cup her cheek, but she shrank away from him. “Don’t ever think that you could. What tormented me was that I was so far from you – that I could not be there for you. And the babes.”

He could have been, she knew. He should have been. “You had many opportunities to return. Why didn’t you?” Her voice caught in the back of her throat as a sob tried to escape. “Were you too ashamed of what you’d done?”

“I was and am ashamed,” he declared, and she believed him, “but that is not why I remained at Harrenhal. I knew that if I saw you again, I would never return to the battlefield. It was hard enough to leave you the first time. I could not endure it again.”

There was silence.

She leaned back towards him and allowed him to finally lay his hand across her cheek – an unconscious attempt to soften the blow of her next question. “Is it true that you spared her only because you lusted for her? That you took her to your bed in your first week at that awful place?”

Aemond sobbed, one horrible, wretched sob. His hand dropped, and he lowered his head into her lap, clutching at her dress like a child. The urge to comfort him tingled in her veins, to pet his hair and murmur soft words to him, to gently remove his eyepatch and assure him that all was well.

She did not move an inch.

At last, Aemond lifted his head. The bottom of his eyepatch was just askew enough to allow the tears from his ruined eye to escape. “I spared her because she claimed to be a witch – a seer. The claim was backed by several residents of the keep who had no reason to lie. She offered to lend me her aid in the war, to share her visions with me so I could be prepared when I led my men to battle. I agreed. I wanted to avoid the kind of slaughter I saw at Rook’s Rest. To prevent anyone from going through what happened to our brother. Then…

“I did lie with her in the first week,” he turned away as though he couldn’t say the words while facing her. “On the sixth day. We were to advance on Darry the next morning, to… it doesn’t matter why, just that it was the first time I would lead men to victory of their deaths. I asked Alys to share her vision of what would occur, and she did. She saw how fearful I was and told me that to win the battle, I must go into it without fear. I tried to calm myself, but I couldn’t.”

He swallowed thickly, still avoiding her gaze, and dropped his hand. “Then she offered her… further aid. I will not wound you by detailing what we did. But I will assure you that I did resist.” He licked his lips. “At least at first.”

A small comfort, she supposed.

“When I was with her, all my worries faded to nothing. I thought it was perhaps a spell she put on me, but it was not. My body just needed to find that satisfaction and release. I was hoping it was a spell. For that would mean I did not truly betray you.”

He faced her again. She did not know whether it comforted or saddened her to look into his wet, despairing eye. “But I did. And I continued to do so every time my fear threatened to overwhelm me. Which was, regrettably, often.

“I was weak,” he said with a mirthless laugh, “I was so weak. I should have been braver – better. I should have been the husband you deserve. I will spend every day of my life regretting it and trying to right what I have done wrong. I swear it.” He nodded as if to affirm the oath, yet it brought her no assurance. “I am so sorry, my love.”

He said nothing else.

She still had so many questions, wanted to know so much more. Her fears had barely been quelled. But it was something. And at the very least, the emotions Aemond’s story subjected her to had exhausted her. Enough that she knew she could close her eyes and be asleep within a heartbeat.

“Thank you. For telling me,” she whispered as she moved back in her seat, away from him. “I would like to rest now.”

Aemond bowed his head and retreated to his seat without asking again if he could hold her.

Her traitorous heart almost wished he had.

-

It was raining when she woke. The weather had apparently followed them north. She leaned closer to the window, wanting the wet air to cool her, but stopped when she noticed the wheelhouse wasn’t moving.

“Ser Marston and one of the porters are arranging rooms,” Aemond said softly. She did not reply, nor look at him. A glance out the window informed her that they were in some village she didn’t know, outside a relatively large building whose worn sign, cut in the shape of a stone wall, read simply ‘Inn.’

That question answered, she still didn’t look at Aemond. She knew he’d likely been watching her since they’d arrived… wherever they were. Perhaps longer. Judging by the dusk settling over the horizon, she’d been sleeping quite a while. And yet she hadn’t woken. She wondered if she should start sleeping during the day instead of at night.

“Mother said…” Aemond halted, likely waiting for her to look at him. She didn’t. “We will be sharing a room.”

She whipped her head around to face him, ignoring the slight dizziness that came with the motion. “No.”

Aemond sighed. “Raqiarzītsos, if the innkeeper notices we are apart, he may talk about it. Rumors will start.”

“Can’t we just pay him to remain silent? That’s what Mother did to prevent rumors from spreading about Aegon.”

“And yet rumors spread nevertheless,” his voice was soft and firm, like a parent explaining something to their child. The thought sickened her.

She wanted to say that those rumors spread because their mother could not pay off every woman Aegon had his way with – there had been too many to even know who they all were. But it had been their mother herself who told her that this would happen, that she would have to somehow stomach being in the same room as Aemond at night. That the consequences of not doing so would be worse than those that would come from him being there.

“You will not sleep in the bed,” she ordered, finally facing her husband, “you will sleep on whatever chair or couch is in the room or the floor if there is none.”

Aemond sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. “Very well.”

Curious, she’d expected more of a fight. For him to insist that a servant could see the half-empty bed and raise questions. For him to try and ply her into letting him into the bed with promises of holding her and keeping her warm. For him to try something. But he didn’t.

“Good.”

-

It was not a very nice room.

The paint was chipping off the walls, and the floorboards creaked. The bed linens were faded, the fur blankets patchy. The small table on one side leaned to one side, and an unshaped piece of wood held the couch by the fire level.

At least there was a couch, Aemond supposed. And as it was near the fire, he would not have to sleep in the cold to avoid depriving his wife of blankets.

She crossed the room to the bed, sitting on its edge and looking out the window again. After he’d agreed that he would not try and convince her to let him join her in the bed, she’d spent the rest of their time waiting in the carriage looking out one window, then crossing to the other side of the wheelhouse just before they were called to their room.

Even now, he could see her eyes flitting from one building to another, following the villagers as they milled about and fixating on the livestock that wandered the streets – cows, donkeys, sheep, even a small group of piglets.

He thought it was a distraction at first. But when she continued to watch the inconsequential town for far longer than he ever would, even in a new town, he realized it was something more. When she quirked her head slightly to the right and the ghost of a smile flitted over her lips, he knew what it was.

This was the first village she’d ever been in.

She was born in King’s Landing, and other than their trip to Driftmark for Lady Laena’s funeral… she’d never left the city.

Something in Aemond’s heart cracked. He should have done something, taken her on adventures. He should have brought her on Vhagar and flown her wherever her heart desired.

But he hadn’t. He’d left her in King’s Landing, in the Red Keep. In a cage.

But now… her first trip away from the capital was one she didn’t want to be on. It wasn’t a happy occasion. And their destination was likely the place of her worst nightmares.

He should never have let Aegon order him to bring her to Harrenhal.

Aemond opened his mouth to apologize to her again but said nothing. She had already been forced to be stuck in a wheelhouse with him for most of the day. The kindest thing he could do would be to let her alone for as long as he could.

So, he went towards the door, turning back over his shoulder to look at her for a moment. She was still watching the village. It made him smile a bit. “I’m going to get supper. I’ll be back in a short while.”

She did not say anything back. She only lifted a hand to rest on the window.

-

She’d hardly noticed that Aemond had left. When he told her where he was going, she had just seen a small group of children playing in the muddy road. One of the little girls had spotted her watching from the window and shouted something to her friends. Soon, all the children were staring at her. She lifted a hand to the window to wave at them.

Then, she heard the door closing, and when she turned to look, Aemond was gone.

When she looked back to the children, they had already run off. Her hand drifted to her abdomen. “Nyke urnēbagon jemī tymāt umban daor.” I cannot wait to watch you play.

Before Aemond left for Harrenhal, he had taken her back to the nursery where they’d been raised. The furniture had been covered, as neither Jaehaera nor Rhaenyra’s son Aegon were inclined toward play. Not after what they went through. So, both had moved to their own rooms when they returned to the keep.

But the nursery would not be empty for long.

Aemond had pulled away the sheet covering the toy chest and knelt before it, examining each toy as though it were a priceless jewel. He told stories about them, recalling how they had played with them, and made guesses about which ones their child would prefer and what their choices would foretell about them.

He rediscovered the two wooden dragons they had once painted and named for themselves – Kēlītsos and Balerion. There were too many tales of those little dragons to retell them all, so he told only the one where they imagined the dragons had come alive and had flown them to the ruins of Old Valyria. Aemond would slay whatever beasts had wounded Balerion and killed their great-aunt, Aerea. Then, they would reclaim their ancestral homeland.

He’d kissed her belly then, calling the babe inside the “heir of Old Valyria.”

Now, they were the heir – heirs – to something else entirely.

To a broken family.

To a throne soaked in the blood of their kin.

To the sins of their father.

For a moment, she wished they could simply be like those children, playing without a care.

But they never would be.

They would still be children. They would still play and laugh. They would be mischievous and sneak sweets from the kitchens or stay awake long past the time they were sent to bed. They would still cry for their parents when they scraped a knee or had a nightmare.

But they would also be heirs. They would be taught by the finest scholars in the world how to bear the weight of their responsibilities. They would be trained by mighty warriors on how to defend themselves from the enemies they would have since birth. They would always know that their life was never wholly theirs.

Now, they would also always know that their father had betrayed their mother. She knew that no matter how hard she tried to prevent it, somehow, they would learn of Aemond’s mistress – the mother of their bastard half-sibling.

Part of her hated that child, the small thing that was not even fully formed and yet was the manifestation of all her pain.

Part of her, perhaps a larger part, pitied it.

After all, it was a bastard. The world had never been kind to bastards. After the role bastards had played in the war, she could not imagine it would grow any kinder.

What would the life of the bastard be like? Would it play the same games as her children? Would it have the same favorite toys, or foods, or colors?

While its trueborn siblings were learning to rule the realm and ride dragons, what would it do? Perhaps it would be a servant, like its mother, or become a laborer of some kind.

Would it know who its father was? Would it know the blood of the dragon ran through its veins? Would it ache for a bond with a dragon, as Aemond had? Would it spend its life feeling incomplete, yet never know why?

As she caught sight of the tears shining on her cheeks in her reflection off the window, she decided she did not hate the child. It was not at fault for the sins of its mother, or its father.

She said a brief prayer for it – for its health and happiness. Then one for her own children.

When Aemond came back through the door, carrying a tray laden with steaming food, she wiped her tears away and looked only once more out the window.

The children had gone home.

“Are you hungry, ābrazȳrītsos?” Aemond asked.

No, she wasn’t. But she knew she must eat regardless, for the sake of the babes. So, she crossed the room and sat at the small table.

She did not speak as Aemond served her the meal – fresh, steaming bread, warm stew, and a pot of tea. He did not try and get her to speak. He simply ate his food, watching her carefully.

He faded into the background as her thoughts continued to wander to that poor little child growing in Alys’ womb.

Would it have silver hair? Purple eyes? Or would it inherit its mother’s coloring, whatever it was?

She did not know what Alys looked like. She knew so little about the woman who had shared in Aemond’s sin.

Was she beautiful? Was she intelligent? Was she kind?

It was hard to imagine that she would be kind. That any woman who would lie with a married man would be kind. After all, she was called a witch. Was there such a thing as a kind witch?

Was there even such a thing as a witch?

Aemond said that he spared Alys because she could foretell the future. That the reason he’d first brought her into his bed was because she told him he needed to be calm for the battle ahead if he wished to prevail.

Prevail he did.

Were the visions real, then? Had Aemond only returned from that first battle, the second, the last, because of what Alys had told him?

If Alys were to thank for Aemond surviving the war, should she not be grateful for it? But how could she be grateful for something that had so thoroughly broken her heart?

How was she supposed to feel? How was she supposed to know what to feel? What to do?

“I want to meet her,” she said suddenly. Even her whisper sounded like an echoing shout after so long a silence.

Aemond stared at her. Fear and regret and anger in his gaze. His mouth hung open, and his skin had gone deathly pale.

“Alys,” she clarified. “I want to meet her.”

“My love, please. You don’t.” His voice quavered like a rose in a thunderstorm. “I don’t want you to, it won’t – ”

“I have questions for her. I will ask them.” Tears fell down Aemond’s cheeks, but he did not argue. It almost made her smile. “You may be there if you wish. But I will meet her.”

Aemond nodded. “If that is what you truly want.”

She felt no fear or hesitation. “It is.”

-

After she finished her meal, her exhaustion finally settled upon her. It had only been a day since Aemond returned to the Red Keep. Only a day since both the war and her world ended.

She just wanted to sleep. In that moment, it was all she wanted.

She had Aemond turn away as she undressed and donned her nightgown. He obeyed, staring into the fire and never once looking back until she was beneath the rough-spun blankets on the bed and gave him permission.

He only removed his leather doublet and his boots before settling onto the couch by the fire, its high back blocking them from each other’s view.

The fire crackled.

“Good night, ābrazȳrītsos,” Aemond said. “Sleep well. I love you.”

She did not reply.

She so badly wanted to sleep. But it seemed both her body and the babes in her belly wanted otherwise. No matter how she lay, she could not find comfort. No matter what she thought of, her mind would not calm.

At least she took comfort in that her restlessness was likely preventing Aemond from finding sleep as well.

When she heard his voice again, she stiffened, preparing herself to argue with him again. But Aemond did not speak.

He sang.

“Bantis ropatas Night has fallen

Yn zūgagon daor But do not fear

Sȳndror ilos daor There is no darkness

Kesrio syt drakarys vamiot ilzai. For dragonfire is near.”

It was a lullaby. One he had discovered in an Old Valyrian children’s book he found in the back of the Red Keep’s library. He had sung it to her when she was still in her crib so he could practice their ancestral language.

He stopped singing for some time when his voice settled, adjusting to the new, lower pitch. But when he began again, it was even more beautiful than before. Quiet and soft, but still beautiful.

“Yn ozelēnagon daor And shiver not

Vasīr vēzos hembistas Though the sun has gone

Drakarys kesīr ilzai Dragonfire is here

Aōhi dijaves rāelagon. To keep you warm.”

When was the last time he sang to her? Obviously not in the past six months, but when?

“Aōhi bartos mazilībās Lay down your head

Se aōhī laehossa lēdes And close your eyes

Drakarys avy mīsilza Dragonfire will protect you

Yn sepār kesan. And so too will I.”

Ah, her eyes welled with tears when she finally remembered. It had been the first night after they learned they were to have a babe, and Aemond had bedded her more passionately than he had since their wedding night and more gently than he had ever been.

He sang when they were spent, and she curled into him to sleep. Aemond brushed his fingers in light patterns over her belly and sang. But was that for her or the babe?

The last time he had sung for her and only her… she could not recall. It had been some ordinary day when she did not know she should hold onto that memory and keep it close. She did not know it was a memory she would need when Aemond went to war.

“Dōnī ēdrurī emilās, ñuha raqno Dream sweetly, my love

Bantio rȳ ēdrūs Sleep all through the night

Nyke aōma unna I will be with you

Vapār ōños arlī amāzīlza. Until again there is light.”

She wanted to be angry at him, accuse him of only singing now so he could worm his way back into her heart. But she knew that accusation would be false. After the way he fussed over her today, she knew he was truly worried for her health – and the health of the babes.

Besides, his voice and the familiarity of the song were now truly lulling her to sleep.

She was grateful for it.

“Skorī ñāqes kesīr ilos When morning is here

Se īlvon geron vamiot ilza And our journey is nigh

Īlon henkirī īlvī zaldrīzī kipili We will both mount our dragons

Sepār, sōvīlā.” Then, we will fly.”

Her last thought before her eyes slid closed was that she hoped he had not sung the lullaby – their lullaby – to Alys or her child.

-

Aemond woke to the sound of something crashing. He was immediately awake, throwing off his blanket and bolting to his feet. But he saw no one.

What he did see was an empty bed.

In an instant, his panic had risen to a peak it had reached only once before – the day he’d found out that his half-sister and her husband had taken King’s Landing, and in the aftermath, Aegon was missing and his ābrazȳrītsos was now in the hands of his enemies.

A horrible retching soon alerted him to his wife’s presence on the floor of the room, halfway between the bed and the washbasin against the far wall. But it did not quell his panic.

She was panting between harsh bouts of sickness, her arms trembling as they struggled to hold her up. Aemond moved immediately, kneeling beside her and sweeping her hair away from her face. His words of comfort and concern died instantly when he felt her lean against him.

She was so thin.

Her nightgown was soaked through with sweat, allowing him a clear and horrible view of every knob on her spine and curve of her ribs. The further she pressed into him, the more he could feel the sharp planes of her shoulder blades and the sickening lightness of her form. She was like some of the near-corpses he’d seen in the war – hardly more than skin stretched taut over mere bones.

He had not seen it before. She’d been bundled in robes and gowns and furs. And when she changed into her nightgown earlier this evening, she had not allowed him to look at her until she was buried beneath the blankets.

She knew.

She knew how frail she was. He knew and had not wanted him to know…

Had not wanted him to worry. Not while he was at war.

“Ābrazȳrītsos…”

She sobbed once before she was sick again. He said nothing else until he was relatively certain whatever illness had possessed her passed, and tried not to be too grateful that she didn’t push him away.

“Little darling, please,” he pulled her closer so he could rest against his chest. She did not resist. “What happened?”

She shook her head, reaching to wipe her mouth with the sleeve of her nightgown. Aemond stopped her, set her hand back on her lap, and used his own sleeve instead. She sighed as if the gesture somehow upset her, then slumped slightly. “Nothing happened. Nothing new, at least. This happens nearly every night.”

Every night. No wonder she was so thin.

“Still?” Aemond finally managed to ask in a rasping voice. She had been so sick in those early days – it was what had prompted them to take her to the Maesters, where they discovered she was with child. But it had gotten better in the days before he left for Harrenhal. She had said it was getting better.

She nodded, her eyes shut tight as she turned away from him. Was it from exhaustion or shame? “It…” she swallowed, and Aemond realized how dry her throat must be. He would fetch her something to drink as soon as she could stand. “It never stopped.”

“Oh ābrazȳrītsos…” his voice broke as the realization of how badly she had been suffering sank in. And all the while, he’d been sharing his bed with another woman.

If the Father truly cared for justice, he would have struck Aemond dead the moment he touched that witch.

Aemond held her close, panting with the effort it took to hold back his tears of shame. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She was silent for a long while. Then, “I’m tired, Aemond.”

“I know.”

A long pause. It took him longer than it should have to realize she was looking at him and longer still to recognize the plea in her eyes. She wanted his help. Or perhaps more accurately, needed his help.

So help her he did, eagerly. He sat her at one of the chairs by the table while he removed her soiled nightgown and dressed her in another. He brought the washbasin to her so he could help her wash her face, then brought her a pitcher of fresh water so she could rinse her mouth. He braided her hair once more and carried her back to bed,

Once he’d pulled the blankets back over her, he reached out to her. When she didn’t flinch away, he softly stroked her cheek. “Is there anything else I can get you, my love?”

She opened her eyes just slightly. “I’m cold.”

He turned on his heel to fetch his blanket from the couch. There was still warmth radiating from the hearth. He could move to the rug.

But when he’d settled that blanket on her as well, she opened her eyes wider and gazed up at him. “Aemond…”

If there was ever proof that the gods could be merciful, that was it.

Still, he had to be certain he wasn’t mistaken. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. Thank all the gods in the world, she nodded.

His veins buzzing with ecstatic joy, he walked to the other side of the bed and climbed in beside her. As he wrapped his arms around her, it almost didn’t matter that he could feel her frailness, that he knew she had only asked this because she truly was cold, or that his touch was tainted by his sins.

Aemond was sharing a bed with his wife. He was holding her. Her, and their children.

When her breathing finally settled, and she drifted off to sleep, Aemond closed his eyes, tucked his face into her hair, and prayed he dreamt of a world where he had slain Alys the moment he first saw her.

[suguru-getos]

geto suguru is the type to reminisce over each lifetime he had with you, if reincarnation is a thing. he would be the one out of the rule, he would remember. he knows his heart is sworn and doesn’t care why. he knows it is you it is entangled with, and whilst pursuing, you don’t even realize it, but he finds himself in amusement with every little muscle twitch in your face and something in his chest and the pit of his stomach flutters.

a weight is lifted off his chest when you start returning the twinkle in your eyes when you gaze at him.

“has something changed, little one? are you no longer afraid?”

and perhaps you both are afraid, but he is indifferent to anything as long as he has you.

oh my god yes????!!!! suguru’s aching love transcending all the reincarnations & everytime he just finds you‼️‼️‼️ i got a bit carried away it’s sort of self shippy :3

reincarnation 1: prince suguru x her.

the first moment suguru’s eyes met her, it was as if time itself had paused. the hungover look in her eyes told him she had been unhappy. she… didn’t want this. yet the gown she carried with such poise only made him want her more. arranged marriages are mostly for power. it stablizes the roots of kingdoms and especially when his own was surging deep in the very mantle of the land. she didn’t look at him like he was something. except he did…

amazed, enthralled… even perturbed at his own heart skipping a few beats when she courtseyed at him & accepted his proposal to dance.

“you’re so afraid of me, little one.” he hums one of these days, now that the engagement is at an emphasis. the walk in the garden when the sun hits your skin & makes it glow… how could his eyes even forget? “i’m not afraid of you, my king.” she hesitates. but the sentence brimmed with her hidden charms…

she did, feel afraid of him. suguru was a man of innate passion, zeal & incredible power. the power to keep her hostage for a week when she was poisoned. how he saw things were different than how she viewed them. enemies cunning enough to take his beloved, his very soul away from him? it couldn’t happen. it WOULDNT happen. not until suguru geto is alive.

the marriage, the love blossoming into power. the kingdoms flourishing, the war— that had to happen lest the princess’ safety would be compromised. the endless bloodshed. what could he do really? her own kin wanted her heart to stop breathing — her own sister. envy & jealousy spreading like a rotting fruit. he had to destroy it! he had to destroy them! all she remembers is the fresh scent of blood on grass like dew, the butchering of skin from suguru’s sword. 🗡️

how could she love him like that? how could she not see the killer and see that it wasn’t the— killer but her own husband… the love prevailled. suguru’s heart prevailled. only— it ended in a one-sided gruesome sickness. she eventually looked back at the man though, the man who carries the unprecedented weight of the crown & the responsibility of being the monarch.

they did live happily ever after, or so he’d think in the moments he had with her. when the curses growing like weed within people festered his queen. and when she left him early, sickened by disease.

the day was the darkest day in the kingdom, the clouds were muddy, lightning & thunderstorm dominating the entire realm. rain & tears as he held her, coaxing her in his arms and sniffling. promising he’d find her again. promising he’d find her every time. in every single life time…

reincarnation 2: melancholic artist suguru x her.

your soul, travels. it traverses through time & space. it changes bodies, it changes eras. but the soul still remains the same. what of it if it’s broken and tainted? what of it when there’s an artist in the 1800s just unable to cope with how much his heart feels heavy, not knowing the why…

‘suguru; there is something wrong with you’ he keeps telling himself, ever since he touched teens. he knew something was amiss. something needed to be searched for! something needed to be found! he lost a treasure he can’t name. just the aching, hollowing feeling of loss. he’s mourning someone he doesn’t know…

until, she blessed him in his dreams. he remembers is distinctively, dreaming of a landscape that is not from this time. dreaming about the gold cladded arm jewel as he holds her hand and kisses her knuckles. dreaming about her beautiful face…

that changed him. there was an insanity marked within him, awoken within him he couldn’t curb. he couldn’t handle… couldn’t name, just let it consume him. masterpieces after masterpieces. millions in an economy that was still developing. all her. there were some personal sketches of her in his diary that he wouldn’t share with the world. for of course, geto suguru was a private man. his life found a purpose… but still, the feeling didn’t go away. he made statues of her, fingers smudged in clay as he caressed her curves. she wasn’t real�� she wasn’t— WHERE IS SHE!

suguru’s entire life, was drowned in a spiral of getting something that could never be his. she hadn’t been born- or reincarnated in this world. a lifetime of longingness and suffering. decades later when people studied geto Suguru, they name him as this— lovestruck god of gloom. he portrayed his emotions through her paintings, some of them showing her sad, tears pouring through her eyes, some of them showing her gleeful, some of them showing her pondering…

artists all over the world studied his art now, an extreme emphasis on those siren eyes that his brush & his heart worshipped.

painter suguru died with a handbrush in his hand, his final masterpiece was a hand, which was presumed his; making the woman wear a ring. a dream that he dedicated his entire life to. a dream that his soul would search again. it has to be…

reincarnation 3: special grade sorcerer geto sama x her

the world has changed, and maybe a tired soul needs strength this time. why else would he be born as one of the strongest man on earth? he needed a break. he needed to live… maybe the pain of not having her a lifetime before altered his memory & mind into not remembering.

life was okay, he was a wanted criminal who hated monkeys. he was a force to reckon with. he was the worst sorcerer known to humanity. maybe, it was fate itself that shivered watching the man that became… that it gifted him with her. maybe it was the only way they could save the world. it all started with a simple collision at the mall. her sephora bag falling down and makeup essentials all over the place. “oh fuck—“ she kneels down instantly, she doesn’t have the time to argue with a stranger over spilled milk.

“sorry—“ suguru mumbled, also kneeling and helping her pick her stuff up. their hands brushed. and it felt like electrification of his entire body. his chest hurt. his heart raced enough to stop beating in exhaustion for a split second. if satoru’s infinite void has a close second, it was this. endless information over two lifetimes down minutely to the very second he’s lived — surge through him and flood his senses.

shit, it’s too much. it feels like he could throw up. there’s tears in his eyes, endless tears & an avid sense of wrecking shock. fate is twisted, fate likes to play games. why else did it make her embody the very thing he hated? she was a monkey — a powerless monkey who could end suguru geto with just a smile.

and so he asks her one day, after achieving her, noncaring about just how choking & abyss-like his feelings strangled her, “has something changed, little one? are you no longer afraid?”

“no.” she answers again, watching the sunset with him. “no i’m not afraid of you.”

“good.”

suguru knows one thing. he knows he would die a thousand deaths than lose her again. he also, knows he would live a thousand lives just yearning for her again. he made sure she knew it, after all, he purchased all the art his previous incarnation made worth billions. no one is allowed to see her. not anymore.

[instaspacenoodles]

✧₊⊹𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮

✧ Jiyan x gn!Reader 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — After the defeat of the Threnodian, Jiyan finally comes home to his waiting partner who has a surprise waiting for him. 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 — Husband!Jiyan, Fluff, Slow Dancing, Light kissing

Your fingers twist the dial of the old-fashioned radio on the kitchen counter. The machine clicked and buzzed to life, a soft melody starting to float through the air. It was an older song, one that your parents probably listened to when they were younger. You turn around to approach Jiyan with your barely concealed excitement, holding out your hands and making grabby motions towards the general standing in the doorway.

It was rare that he was back in the city, back home with you where it’s safe. It was hard to ignore the lingering knowledge that this peace was only temporary. A dream that will end when the next uprising of Tacet Discords appears and Jiyan is called back to the front lines to fight once more. You learned to swallow down that inevitability, silently supporting his duties and appreciating the time that you have with him. As long as he responds to your letters and comes back uninjured, your worried heart can rest.

It’s better to live in the moment than worry about the ‘what ifs’, after all.

”Come dance with me.”

The man shakes in head in disbelief, a small smile cracking his usual serious expression. It was a smile reserved for your eyes only, ”You do this every time I come home, love.”

“You never say no though~” You teased lightly, making the grabby motion again and getting a deep chuckle as a response.

”I don’t. Why would I ever say no in indulging the whims of my beloved?”

He removed his broadsword from his hip and leaned it against the wall. He easily crossed the distance in just a few steps, bringing your body close to his. He slid his left palm against yours and slowly intertwining his fingers while his other moved to rest firmly on your lower back.

”May I have this dance?”

”Yes, my darling.”

Jiyan wasted no time in taking the lead, grip tightening just a bit as he lightly swayed the both of you around. He glances down, golden eyes softening at the sight of your beaming smile. The general happily relished in your excitement about his return. It was cute how you always have some sort of surprise waiting for him - along with a spontaneous dance request as soon as he steps through the door. Yet, he always plays along no matter how… interesting your antics might get.

”What do you have planned for me tonight?” He hums, twirling you around.

”Well it was going to be a surprise, but I guess I can tell you,” You spun close to him once more and his hand returned to your back, “You. Me. That basket near the door and a night of under the stars~ What do you say, general?”

“I accept your proposal. It has been quite a long time since we last looked at the stars together.“ 

“And, if my memory serves me right, there’s a rare metor shower tonight. Boom extra romantic points!”

“Then I can’t wait, my love.” Jiyan swoops down, tilting his head in order to press his lips against yours. The kiss was short and sweet with his lips lingering a second longer before pulling away. It would definitely the first kiss of many tonight.

As the music continues to play, you two were reminded that you weren’t the most graceful dancers. The living room was a bit too small to twirl around in, your leg kept bumping into the coffee table, and Jiyan’s hair kept getting stuck on things. Yet, the both of you didn’t care as you laughed quietly at the small mistakes.

These small moments - away from the curious eyes of people, away from the horrors of war - were cherished in your heart. As long as you have the love of your life, life is good.

[achaoticeternal]

the winner takes it all.

AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM!READER

summary: the war had caused you to flee the Red Keep in favor of returning to your mother, Rhaenyra. however, it seems your husband has finally caught up to you.  word count: 5.2k warnings: !!SPOILERS FOR DANCE OF THE DRAGON!! niece!reader, men having the audacity, sexism, canon typical violence, cheating a/n: i spent so long reading and revising this and i really enjoyed it :)

listen to this song to follow

I don't wanna talk/ About things we've gone through/ Though it's hurting me/ Now it's history/ I've played all my cards/ And that's what you've done too/ Nothing more to say/ No more ace to play

The shrieks from Meleys had now vanished, leaving a deafening silence in their place. After Rhaenyra, your mother, forced you to leave Dragonestone with Rhaenys, Rook’s Rest was supposed to be your safe haven. Your beloved mother claimed it to be the one place where the Greens could not reach you besides the Vale.

Yet here you sat in your bedroom, against the advisement of your attendants and guards. They all begged you to either mount your dragon for Winterfell, or hide in the crypts till Aegon and Aemond finished scouring the castle in search of anything they desired. But you were tired of running, of listening to what others thought best for you, rather than trusting your own intuition. Though you were also conflicted at what would be best… should you run or wait for him to find you…?

“It seems the scouts were not lying,” The voice of the blonde-haired prince echoed across the room, signaling that he had discovered your whereabouts, “My wife at Rook’s Rest…”

Tearing your eyes from the window, you turned to look at the man, your husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen. He stood tall before you; adorned in all-black armor with a green cape billowing behind him. His signature eye patch still covered his lost eye. Though Aemond had hardly aged since you last saw him, it was clear to see that the Dance of the Dragons was taking much of his strength and energy.

“Aemond…” you whispered, taking in the sight in front of you.

“My wife,” Aemond nodded curtly. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the guards that were with him, “It has been too many moons since you abandoned me.”

With his words, you stood, looking crossly at him, “I did not abandon you.”

“You left me -- vanished out of thin air.”

“Aegon stole my mother’s throne! What was I supposed to do?”

“Stay with your husband! The man you married and vowed to be obedient too!”

“Obedient?” You repeated with a cold chuckle.

You then silenced yourself, thinking for a moment. It was no good to harp on whether you should or shouldn’t have left King’s Landing. For you already had, and it was impossible to undo the events of Aegon’s coronation and the days following. How Alicent locked you away for hours, Aemond being absent for reasons unknown to you, the way the Conqueror’s crown sat upon Aegon’s head, and how Rhaenys released Meleys into the coronation.

Or how, by your Queen Mother’s orders, Daemon flew to the Red Keep on Caraxes and freed both yourself and your dragon from the Greens to bring you home…

“It will do us no good to quarrel over what happened that day, I made the choice that I thought was best at the moment. If you must blame me for that, so be it…”

The winner takes it all/ The loser's standing small/ Beside the victory/ That's her destiny

Aemond cast his gaze down at your words, mulling over them. Every night since your disappearance, he dreamt of what it would be like when you reunited. When he had first heard word that you had returned to the ancestral home of the Targaryens of Westeros, he had been upset, even spiteful. Though he still longed, day after day, to see you again… to hold you again…

“You’re right,” He spoke with a curt nod, “It does not matter, because you’ll be returning to Harrenhal with me.”

Aemond began to stalk toward you with a determined look upon his cold features. You gave no indication of how you felt, instead just shaking your head, “I will go with you, but allow me to sit for a moment more.”

“You wish to delay me?” His brow furrowed.

“There is always time to spare,” You responded, nonchalantly. A silence fell over both of you. You looked at him -- how his hair was braided back, blood of fallen men splattered in it though his face was clear from it. But his soft violet eye reminded you of your childhood, when Aemond was far softer… far kinder… “Do you ever think back and wonder how this could have been avoided? How silly it is that the House of the Dragon is fighting itself?”

Casting your gaze down, a small smile came across your face as you thought of better days. Sure, there was still tension then, but there was no war at least.

“It does us no good to dwell on the past,” Aemond dismissed your question.

“No, but it does us good to remember.”

I was in your arms/ Thinking I belonged there/ I figured it made sense/ Building me a fence

Your childhood was filled with the most fantastic days in the Red Keep. Though you were naturally close with your brothers, you had also befriended your aunt and uncle, Helaena and Aemond.

Helaena and you would spend hours braiding each other’s hair while discussing whatever piqued the princess’ interest. Aemond would often join, making jokes and teasing the two princesses.

However, once Aemond had lost his eye at the hand of your little brother, he grew more silent and observant. When he had first lost the eye, you were certain that he disdained you due to the association of your siblings. It took a great while, but you learned in time and in letters that your uncle did not blame you for his lost eye. You were not even there to defend him, only being awoken by your mother when all convened in the halls of Driftmark.

As you grew into your adolescence, the Queen requested that you serve as her ward -- so while your brothers enjoyed their teenage youth at Dragonstone, you spent your days in the Red Keep. Rhaenyra had also sent you so that you could also assist in the care of your grandsire, the King.

At first, it was strange, being so far from your family but being reunited with your cousins. Mostly you observed how much Aegon tormented every living creature within the Red Keep and would often catch him fleeing to the Street of Silk when you would walk back to your personal chambers after spending late nights in the library.

After the third time of watching Aegon slip out of the castle, you decided it would be in the best interest of your family name that his promiscuity is reported. You could have gone straight to the Queen, and cry to her about how Aegon ran away nightly while poor Helaena had to carry his children. But instead, you found yourself in front of Aemond’s door. At the time, you thought that in telling him, maybe he could tell Alicent and it be more believable.

“Uncle!” You knocked at his door, loud enough to stir him, but not alert the rest of the Red Keep.

Moments later, Aemond opened his door, sleep still in his eye but you could tell that he did throw on his robe and his eye patch. He looked slightly cross and yet his gaze softened when his eye fell upon you, “My lady…?” “I’m sorry to awaken you at this hour… but I think something is… wrong?”

“Wrong?” He replied simply, crossing his arms.

“Yes…” You spoke softly, starting to feel awkward in your day gown, “It's’... it’s Aegon…”

In an instant, Aemond had tugged you fully into his chambers, shutting and locking the great door behind you. You glanced at him in confusion, backing away from the prince. The thought of being caught alone with your uncle, no matter how innocent the conversation, finally occurred to you and how it could affect your honor.  

“What has Aegon done?” Aemond turned to you, stalking rather close, “Did he touch you?”

“What?” The breath trapped itself in your throat.  His hands went to your shoulders, keeping you still before his eye.

“Did he touch you, my sweet niece?” His words were accusatory and yet soft as he spoke to you.

“I— no… he did not touch me.”

A sigh of relief came over him as he finally let you go from his grip. The relief confused you, but you did not press him on the matter.

“Aemond, he’s gone. For the past three nights when I am returning to my chambers from the library, I see Aegon sneak out of his room and flee toward the city… I believe he has been going to see…” The last word did not escape your lips, but Aemond fully understood what you meant.

“He’s going to seek the affection of whores…”

“So you know?” You asked innocently.

“My brother has his vices…” Aemond spoke incredulously, “And it is no secret that he is going to seek comfort on the Street of Silk… But, dear niece, why are you spending late nights in the library unattended?”

The way Aemond had turned it around on you was surprising for you, “I spend most of my time during the day with either the Queen or the Princess, so I thought that spending some time in the evening would be fine.”

Aemond nodded and thought for a moment before responding, “I will join you from now on. Even though the Keep is the safest place in King’s Landing, it is still unwise to be alone. So I shall be your chaperon…”

All you could do was nod in agreement, there was no reason to fight against your uncle. He was just trying to keep you safe.

Soon, your time in the library with Aemond became more regular. It was like clockwork. After supper, Aemond would escort you to the library and then back to your room. Some nights, he would read you the histories, other nights you would read him poetry, and on the occasion, he would take it upon himself to further advance your High Valyrian.

“Dārys” Aemond spoke first, the words always falling from his lips so eloquently.

“Dārys,” You would repeat, trying to replicate each syllable perfectly, “King.”

“Dāria”

“Dāria — Queen.”

Aemond smiled, proud of your improved pronunciations, “Gevie mēre.”

“Gevie mēre,” you repeated after him once more. Except you were not as familiar with this term…

“Gevie mēre…?” You repeated once more, picking your brain for what the words could mean.

Looking to Aemond, you hoped he would answer for you, the words simply lost on you. Instead, he chuckled and began to walk toward the couch. He ushered you to sit next to him, picking up one of the books he placed on the desk, “Come, ñuha riña, allow me to read to you before you must return to your chambers for the evening.”

At his words, you joined him, sitting comfortably by his side. From when he had originally decided to start joining you, it became a far more open space for the two of you, bonding you closer to each other. That’s why you tucked yourself into his side and he rested his arm around your shoulder while he began reading. The nightly company of your uncle was now one of the simplest pleasures in your life that you deeply cherished.

It was an honor to be the cupbearer for the Queen and her father, the Hand. Yet being in the small council room had its own frightening things as well with Jason Lannister often jesting that he would bribe the Queen to end your wardship and allow you to marry him. His disregard for your own mother disgusted you, as well as the fact that the Lannister man was already betrothed to the daughters of one of his bannermen. Instead of reacting to his advances, Alicent or Otto would dismiss his words with a glare or small correction for you.

However one day, Otto ordered for Aegon and Aemond to join the Small Council since they would one day sit in the room quite regularly. While Aegon would doze off and consistently ask you to fill his cup, Aemond would be fully attentive, paying you little attention. You didn’t mind, since you understood how seriously he took his duty.

But when Jason Lannister once again began his verbal torment against you, it shifted something in Aemond.

“My lady,” the Lannister Lord purred, “You are growing into quite a fine, young woman.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” you nodded but offered nothing else to him.

With a smirk, he continued his flirtation, “Your mother or grandsire will soon have to marry you off. I can imagine there are many men that would enjoy taking you as their little wife.”

“My mother nor grandsire are considering any proposals currently, or while I serve as the Queen’s ward,” You spoke quickly, eager to get away from the man.

Before you could leave his side, Jason grabbed your wrist, “That is a shame. It would be a pleasure to have you myself, and watch your belly grow with Lannister children…”

Aemond’s voice soon interrupted the crude words, “Lord Lannister, unhand my niece.”

Aemond's voice was firm and his jaw remained clenched. There was a fire in his eyes that you did not recognize. However, the fingers around your wrist were soon gone and you escaped to stand between the Queen’s and Aemond’s chairs. You offered thankful glances to the prince, but he did not show you the same warmth.

That same night, instead of taking you to the library after dinner, Aemond sent you off to your chambers. Helaena attempted to reassure you, but you could not help but think about what you could have possibly done to upset him.

Soon enough, a knock was upon your door, your maid announcing that Aemond had come to fetch you.

Together, the pair of you walked silently and side-by-side toward the library. Once you arrived, Aemond went to sit by the fireplace while you would peruse the shelves for you favorite books of poems. The room remained quiet besides the shuffles of books and pages as you searched for your beloved texts. You finally found it on a shelf with some of the common histories of Westeros.

As you reached for it, the small book was just beyond your reach. Not even your outstretched fingers could close the distance to the binding. The footstep you would typically use was missing, so your struggle continued. It continued until a hand outstretched itself to retrieve it off the shelf before you. You turned around to face Aemond, who looked down at you while offering the book to you.

“Thank you.”

Aemond nodded but did not retreat. He looked into your eyes a moment more before he finally spoke, “Lord Lannister has requested your hand.”

“My mother would never allow it,” You replied simply, reaffirming your clear disgust with the Lord. Aemond chuckled at this, unsurprised.

“That is true…” Aemond nodded, “True since she has betrothed you to someone else…”

The book slipped from your fingers at his words. Shaking your head, you took a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself, “Betrothed? To whom?”

Aemond bent down to pick up the book. Instead of standing back up, he dropped to one knee and looked up at you, offering the book to you once more, “To me…”

Building me a home/ Thinking I'd be strong there/ But I was a fool/ Playing by the rules

The day you married Aemond was a beautiful one. A singular moment where the full House was together and a fight did not ensue. Originally, you knew that Rhaenyra and Alicent had agreed to the betrothal so that old wounds could finally heal. Though the marriage would not see such hopes through, it was still a blessing enough to marry your sweet Aemond.

Days earlier, Lucerys had been reaffirmed of his position as heir of Driftmark which resulted in the death of your great-uncle Vaemond. Though the events had caused high tension in the court and at dinner that night, all members of the House of the Dragon attempted to be on their best behavior. Both you and Aemond had requested an intimate ceremony with just the family, and that the nobles of the realm could participate in the feasting instead.

Between dances with your husband, your brothers, and even your grandsire, there was a great joy that filled your heart. Your mother, Rhaenyra, had smiled for the first time since arriving from Dragonstone, and even Daemon and Otto did their absolute best to get along… which mainly meant not speaking to one another.

Yet as to be expected, Aegon had consumed too much wine, rendering him a drunken fool. No matter Alicent’s best attempts to refuse the wine bearers from filling his cup, Aegon had managed to come by enough wine to make him confident enough to instigate a quarrel.

Jacerys was twirling you while you laughed at a joke he had made. The strong bond between the pair of you was similar to Helaena’s and Aemond’s — a closeness that Aegon despised on all accounts. But while Aegon could not torture his brother this evening, he could torture his wife…

Aegon cut through dancing couples with stumbling feet as he approached the eldest Velaryon siblings. His hand rested itself on your shoulder to announce his presence.

“May I have this dance with the lovely bride?” He had phrased it like a question, though it was more of a demand.

Before Jace could respond, Aegon had tugged you away and attempted to join in the dance of the couples among the pair of you.

“My dear niece is now my brother’s little lady wife,” Aegon chuckled, tripping you with each misstep he took in the dance, “It is improper to dance with other men on your wedding night.”

“I have only danced with family,” You attempted to defend yourself, wishing to leave his hold.

At your words, Aegon released a great chuckle that echoed in the hall, “You say that as if our family does not regularly bed each other.”

An evil smile came to Aegon's face as the thought provoked him further, “In fact, I wouldn’t put it beside Jacerys for taking your maidenhood…Did he spoil you?”

Instantly, you let go of any hold you had on your eldest uncle, disgusted by such words.

“Your accusations are not only unjust, but they are disgraceful. I have not seen my brother for years,” Your jaw clenched.

“It does not matter to me in the slightest, for if you are still pure, Aemond will take it from you tonight,” Aegon’s eye raked over your body, “If he does not satisfy you, rest assure I can…” Before another word could be uttered, Aemond was at your side, tugging your frame into his safe arms. His glare was spiteful, a sneer growing on his lips, “Brother…”

“Brother,” Aegon nodded with a smirk, before scampering off.

Aemond turned you to face him, his hands instantly moving to cup your face. His eye shifted across your face as his hands soothed the sides of your head, “Are you alright, ñuha ābrazȳrys?”

“Mirre iksis sȳrī hae iksan lēda ao” ‘All is well while I’m with you’

The gods may throw a dice/ Their minds as cold as ice/ And someone way down here/ Loses someone dear

After your wedding festivities ended, your mother and brothers returned back to Dragonstone. The Stranger had paid a visit to the Red Keep, reaping your grandsire and King. Immediately, Rhaenys had beckoned you to her chambers so that you may see his body together. However, countless guards stood outside the door, trapping you inside. An archer was also posted outside the window so that no word could escape the Red Keep.

The Queen would arrive shortly and have you escorted back to your husband’s apartments. Thus secluding you from the outside world, except for Aemond. But soon, he too would leave on dragon's back to do the bidding of Alicent and the Hand.

The bedroom door opening with a creak easily woke you. You never slept well when your husband was not sharing the bed after your wedding night. He had been gone, off at Storm’s End for the last three days, negotiating with the Lord Baratheon so that he would support Aegon’s claim to the throne.

The past week had been a tempest between the death of your grandsire, the coronation of Aegon II and thus usurping the crown from your mother, and the escape of Rhaenys from the Red Keep. Sleep would not come easily to you.

You sat up in the bed, quietly observing him preparing to join you in the bed. He stripped himself of his outerwear and changed into his night shift. As the clothes hit the floor, you noticed the great thud in which they made, signaling how soaked they were. But why would your husband rush back to the Red Keep in a storm?

Finally, he joined you in the bed, tucking himself close to you. But his back was facing you, rather than his sharp face. You did not push him, but instead began to detangle his wet hair with your fingers, being as gentle as you could, “Welcome home, ñuha valzȳrys…”

Aemond gave no response.

“I missed you dearly…”

Still, silence.

“Is everything well, ñuha jorrāelagon?”

Aemond sat up fiercely and turned to you. His eye patch had been discarded and his face was mixed with a sense of great sadness and anger.

Instead of answering your question, Aemond began to cry — softly, quietly at first, before escalating to sobs that shook him. All you could do was wrap your arms around him, and whisper kind words to him.

“Shhh…” You stroked his hair softly. It was all you could do to comfort him without knowing what made him so upset.

Once his cries began to subside, Aemond lifted his head, but could not look you in the eye, “Aegon used to talk about running away from his duty… I didn’t understand why, but I think I do now…”

“Aemond, what has happened? What has upset you so deeply?” You attempted to cup his face, but he tore himself away from you.

He continued to look anywhere else but at you. The silence began to creep in and eat away at both of you. Unease washed over you.

Aemond cleared his throat before speaking once more, “Lucerys is dead…”

“What?”

“I killed him…”

The winner takes it all/ The loser has to fall/ It's simple and it's plain / Why should I complain?

“How is Aegon?”

“It is King Aegon, you should address him properly…” Aemond glared down at you.

A small, sad smile crept onto your face at his correction, “I remember you saying that Aegon would never be a proper King.”

Aemond scoffed and rolled his eyes, but did not negate your claim. Even now, parts of your Aemond were still there — the war hadn’t taken that away yet.

“Will Aegon recover?” You asked though you knew the answer. The King would never be the same again. His cries of agony could be heard throughout the halls until he had been sedated with milk of the poppy.

“I will be serving as Prince Regent until my brother is well enough.”

You nodded, looking down at your fidgeting fingers. Taking a deep breath, you rubbed your palms over the skirt of your dress before looking back to him. Aemond was looking right back at you as if he were closely observing you. It wasn’t the first time he had done such, often intimately observing you for as long as you could remember. But it always made a warmth wash over your face.

“You are coming home with me,” Aemond spoke once more as he moved to stand closer to you, “This is not a request, but a command.”

“A command of my captor?”

“A command of your husband, the man you vowed loyalty to,” Aemond’s voice was stern, but his eyes were longing, full of affection.

But tell me, does she kiss/ Like I used to kiss you?/ Does it feel the same/ When she calls your name?

“Loyalty?” You repeated, shaking your head.

Aemond took the closed distance between you to bring a hand to cup your jaw. His thumb brushed over the soft flesh of your cheek as he admired your features.

“I’ve heard about the witch woman,” You spoke with a sigh.

“Then you understand how desperate my search for you has been…”

“Aemond…” You looked at him more intently. Would he make you truly say it? “I know about Alys…”

There was a pause in the air. Aemond understood the infliction in your tone, the hurt hidden behind your calm demeanor. He went to speak, to apologize maybe, but no words came out. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed whatever he was originally going to say.  

“Do you expect me to apologize?”

“Not really,” You chuckled to yourself, “King Aegon I took two wives, so why shouldn’t you? I believe Daemon had the same logic during his whoring days. And your brother too”

“Do not compare me to them,” His words were harsh as he gripped your chin between his fingers, “You made me desperate to find you. I sought the means I deemed fit.”

“The means of sleeping with a bastard and a witch?”

“You had left me!” his voice was firm as he strained himself from committing any action to harm you, “Left me desperate, left me thinking you had been killed!”

Jaw clenched and the skirt of your dress fisted between your fingers, you snapped back at him, “So you turned to an old wives tale of sex magic?”

Aemond retracted his hand, “I killed for you. I burned down villages for you. I have violently searched for you. Are you so envious of some woman that you would be blind to how much I have suffered to have you back? To be by your side once more?”

“You are a fool,” You spat, “A fool and an adulterer. Why would you allow some minx to convince of such things? Why would my own mother have me killed? Did you ever truly consider that before you—”

“They killed Jaeherys! Our nephew, sweet Helaena’s baby boy, the boy that you played with at dinner despite my mother’s harsh looks—”

“I know! You think I didn’t weep for him!” You finally stood, allowing the emotions to now freely flow through you.

“What right do you have to weep and mourn him when Daemon had made the order? Were you with him when he commanded such?”

Aemond’s words cut into your heart deeper than expected. That he thought you just as heartless as the other tyrants in your family shattered something within you.

Somewhere deep inside/ You must know I miss you/ But what can I say?/ Rules must be obeyed…

“You don’t believe that…”

Aemond stood silent… His brooding demeanor began to shift

A shaky breath escaped your lips as tears began to billow over. What caused the tears? His words… his presence…

At your tears, Aemond raised a hand to cup your cheek. His thumb delicately began to wipe away the fallen tears. Even in his anger, Aemond hated to see you cry, especially if the tears were caused by him.

When you didn’t reject such actions, Aemond softly pulled you into his arms. Both his hand now rested under your jaw, causing your gaze to remain fixated on his face, looking deep into his violet eye. Your own hands rested on the dark metal of his breastplate, tracing over the embedded dragon sigil.

“I didn’t want to leave you…” you finally confided in him, “But I could no longer tolerate the looks of the Queen and the Lord Hand, the whispers of the nobles, or the guards constantly at my side… I was a hostage in the place I had grown into a woman.”

Aemond sighed, “Alicent was concerned that you would be a spy for your mother…”

“I had not seen my mother for six years until our wedding day and once she returned to Dragonstone, I did not see her until Daemon fetched me. I could never even read a letter from my mother unless the Queen was at my side, and she would even read them before I had the chance to break the seal myself — so how could I? How could I have ever been a threat?”

“These were necessary precautions. Are you still such a child that you can not understand this?”

“Were you so blinded by loyalty that you slaughtered my brother who was hardly yet a man grown?” You questioned while pushing out of his hold, “Are you so clouded by the judgment of your mother that you forced your wife to run away?”

I don't wanna talk/ If it makes you feel sad/ And I understand/ You've come to shake my hand

“So now you admit to not only fleeing but running away…”

“Aemond, you have to understand that I wasn’t running from you—”

Aemond chuckled in disbelief at the notion, “Did you see the opportunity to escape your one-eyed husband and take it? Run away from the Kinslayer?”

Your jaw clenched at the harsh words that even he knew were untrue, “I was a hostage under a usurper! Despite all my tears and promises that I was a faithful wife, you still allowed me to be tormented and disgraced!”

“I was protecting you!” Aemond grabbed your wrist with quick ferocity. You had only seen such aggression from him in training yards or battlefields.

With eyes wide, you looked from his violet eye to the pale hand squeezing around your wrist. His eye trailed to follow your own gaze. When the realization washed over him, Aemond was just as quick to let go, even stepping away from you. Clearly, he was disgusted by his thoughtless action.

I apologize/ If it makes you feel bad/ Seeing me so tense/ No self-confidence

Gingerly, you brushed your fingers over your wrist. Though it was sore, you were sure that it would not bruise. In all your time with Aemond, he had never once acted so violently toward you. Your heart felt paralyzed by all that had transpired just today.

“My love,” Aemond finally broke the silence, “Please…”

In an instant, your mind thought back to many, many moons ago. Days of your adolescence that were now long past resurfaced with a small glimpse from Aemond. How he looked at youon your name day when you became a young woman of five and ten… The elegant dress you wore as he asked for a dance and the way it flowed when he would twirl you. Or the look in his eye as both of you sliced open each other’s lip to mix blood in custom with the Targaryen traditions of old Valyria. Or how he looked to you now…

His gaze caught your eyes as he stood far less confident than mere moments ago. His demeanor had rapidly changed — the Aemond of the battlefield softly replaced by your Aemond.

“Forgive me, I— this day…” Aemond sighed in defeat, tears threatening to spill, “Please come home with me…”

Following his words, Aemond stretched out his hand to you - the illusion of choice. It looked like he was giving you the option to remain at Rook’s Rest, but you knew that choice did not truly exist. Either way, you would be leaving with Aemond, willingly or not.

You released the breath you had been holding as you approached him. Gently, you rested your palm atop his own…

“You must know that Rhaenyra shall send Daemon to fetch me once more…” You swallowed, concerned for your family, relieved to be with your husband once more.

“Hmm…” He lift a brow as he began to escort you out of the tower, “I’m counting on it… but no one shall take you from me ever again…”

But you see/ The winner takes it all…

[graciereadshannigram]

hey fam, welcome to the May 2024 roundup of the best hannigram fics i've read this past month! i read several million words worth of fics, and these were the cream of the crop. i also managed to rewatch the show for the fifth time!! (unemployment has its perks lmao)

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes. as such, it is incredibly subjective.

you can find past rec lists below:

February March April

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

anyway, in no particular order, let's go!

~

Overcoming by purefoysgirl

Word Count: 547.5k Summary: A Victorian A/B/O romance in which Hannibal Lecter is the future Duke of Westvale who has been away at war for the past ten years. His Grandfather has made good on a contract made shortly after Hannibal's birth to procure him a wife. It was supposed to be easy. Naturally, with the Omega, Will, given in the place of his twin sister, it is anything but, because if there is one thing Hannibal Lecter despises, it's Omegas.

This fic had me holding back tears when it ended (after sobbing a couple different times). This was... incredible. What a fucking UNDERTAKING this author committed to, and despite this being a doorstopper of a fic, the plot did not miss a single beat. Just... wow. For the love of god, please read this.

Falls the Shadow by littlesystems

Word Count: 72.4k Summary: "You're a psychiatrist," Will says. "Between your personal and professional lives you must have met thousands of people, you must know dozens of different flavors of pathology. Do you know anyone who would take me as I am? Who would be able to love me," he gestures in a sweeping motion, from his messy hair to his stained knee, "just as I am?" "I do." Bedelia's words shock Will into stillness. “Really?” AKA an AU where Bedelia is Will’s psychiatrist instead of Hannibal, Will makes a series of increasingly questionable life choices, and no one should ever take Bedelia’s advice. Ever.

GIMME MORE STARSSSSSSSS. Bedelia as Will's psychiatrist was brilliant, holy shit. And Will understanding Hannibal and completely accepting him? This is something I see so rarely done in fics. Will always makes him be a lot less manipulative, or at least goes through heavy angst over it. But in this? Will was immediately endeared because that's just who Hannibal is.

Bram Stoker's HANNIBAL by DBMars

Word Count: 586.7k Summary: Love Never Dies. "I have crossed oceans of time to find you." Hannibal + Bram Stoker's Dracula + the classic novel = a new version of the seductive vampire legend. Count Hannibal Lecter loses the thing most precious to him -- the love of his life. God is beyond measure in wanton malice, and matchless in his irony. And so Hannibal renounces God, and becomes an immortal monster that feeds on the blood of the living. 400 years after losing his beloved, Count Lecter meets a man who looks exactly like the husband he lost -- reborn and returned. But who could learn to love a monster?

@dbmars you are a fucking genius. I am honestly still processing and figuring out how to communicate just how amazing this fic was. Do yourself a favor and go read it NOW.

the book of jonah by zipegs

Word Count: 18.1k Summary: A sudden breath of hot wind presses through the trees. For a moment, it feels fresh, alive, and then the dust—the pollen—comes along with it, a parasite hitched on the back of the breeze. Will is ravenous. --- After the fall, Will and Hannibal sojourn in a remote, decrepit cabin in South America while they await Chiyoh’s return. But something here is afflicting them, and it’s only getting worse.

Okay, bear with me. THIS WAS FUCKING AMAZING. I haven't felt this way after consuming a piece of media since I watched Guillermo del Toro's The Autopsy episode. Psychological horror mixed with body horror mixed with smut??? I guess that does it for me. I literally can't stop thinking about this fic. It's been two weeks and I am STILL thinking about it.

Wrong by HotMolasses (@snazzymolasses here on tumblr)

Word Count: 4.2k Summary: Will roughly rubbed his arm across his mouth again, trying to rub it off. Rub off the scent of Alana, after they’d kissed. After she’d kissed him. Or he’d kissed her? It was mutual. Until it wasn’t. Until Will breathed in her scent, so familiar, so Alpha, so…wrong. He’d pulled back forcibly, unable to hide the expression of revulsion on his face. “I…I need to go.” he said, sweeping his coat off the back of a chair on his way towards the door. “Lock up when you leave.” The weather was crap, and it probably wasn’t smart to drive in the snow while he was in pre-heat, but Will didn’t know what else to do. He needed to figure this out, he needed to talk to the only person who understood him. He needed to talk to Hannibal.

So ummmmmmm what do I need to do to turn this into like a whole AU?? As always, this was a total home run. Every single bit of it was perfect.

as soft, as wide as air by BlackKnightSatellite

Word Count: 193.9k Summary: After surviving the fall, Will finds he has far fewer hesitations about joining Hannibal than he would have guessed. Character death, but not Will or Hannibal.

Well shit. I read this immediately after a full rewatch of the show (in four days no less) and THIS is my new season 4 canon. It's brilliant and actually reads like a proper season would. And I love how it gives all the characters a concluded story line. Aside from Will and Hannibal. I also loved how much this explored Will's instability and how his mental state would be affected after he finally slung off all the guilt and allowed himself to fully enjoy killing. All around very good.

The Dispersal Method by @victorineb

Word Count: 16.9k Summary: It’s a normal fall day in the forest for Will Graham. Dead body in front of him, cannibal psychiatrist behind him, the usual. Then Will brushes against the wrong flower, and suddenly neither he nor Hannibal can keep their hands off each other. Now, Will must navigate his way out of the crime scene and Jack’s scrutiny while also trying not to jump Hannibal’s bones at every opportunity. Well, one out of three ain’t bad. Set nebulously in s2, post-Will's release from the BSHCI. Will’s a conflicted honeypot, Hannibal’s a (not-so) secretly-besotted asshole, and nobody has brought enough lube.

THIS IS THE BEST SEX POLLEN I'VE EVER READ. Seriously. The BEST out of pretty much any fandom (at least so far).

Between the Shadow and the Soul by raiast

Word Count: 48.7k Summary: When Will decides to stop taking his suppressants neither he nor Hannibal can deny the attraction between them. After nearly a decade of running from his biology, Will is faced with his primitive Omega urges full force. As if navigating his hormones wasn't enough, there is a killer at large with a very specific motive that seems to only be targeting preteen boys.

This might be my new favorite ABO fic? And one of the better case fics out there.

Sleepover by EarthsickWithoutYou

Word Count: 70k Summary: Set in Season 1, after "Fromage." Will is still confused about his kiss with Alana and seeks romantic advice on how to date and be more "smooth" from Hannibal. Little does he know that Hannibal is madly, passionately obsessed with him, and desperately jealous. Needless to say, Dr. Lecter is all too happy to teach Will everything he knows about love and dating.

This was pretty fluffy, tender, and fun, and it was exactly what I needed after finishing a heavier fic

Alana Finds Out by @victorineb

Word Count: 32.1k Summary: A series of one-shots in which Alana Bloom discovers, in the midst of various tropes, that her boyfriend Hannibal Lecter's feelings for Will Graham run far deeper than friendship. Basically a chance for Alana to shout at the pair of emotionally-repressed idiots whilst still indulging in much Hannigram loveliness.

Oh I loved all of this. This scratched that itch in my brain that loves when Alana realizes that Hannibal has wanted Will all along. And some of these one-shots are genuinely hysterical. Love.

Doctor's Orders by JSinister32

Word Count: 29.2k Summary: “He’s dead on his feet, Jack. I do not understand how you allowed him to come when he’s so obviously ill. There have been too many hours in service of your needs, so many that it seems to have affected any sleep that he may have gotten over the past few weeks. From what you and I have discussed, he has a difficult time shutting his mind down under the best of circumstances and this case today has clearly gotten to him.” The doctor stepped closer to the profiler, peering into his eyes as Will tried to focus. “Will? Can you hear me?” Will Graham has never been particularly good at taking care of himself. When he comes down with a severe cold while working on a string of murders, the new psychiatrist on retainer, Doctor Hannibal Lecter, offers to care for him. Will he be able to keep his feelings in check while Hannibal is in his home? Hannibal Lecter can't get the profiler working for the Violent Crimes unit out of his mind. When given the opportunity to care for him when he's ill, will his feelings for the other man come to light?

TENDER. I want like 70k more words of this. Especially Hannibal putting Jack in his place. Especially Hannibal washing Will's hair. Mmm. There's just something so good about Will letting Hannibal take care of him.

The First Condition of Immortality is Death by OneHandedBooks

Word Count: 92.5k Summary: Hannibal’s heart stopped for the first time after he’d dragged himself and Will out of the frigid ocean onto the rocky shore at the bottom of the bluff.

Oh this was GOOD. Very tender, good characterizations, and loved how Will's hallucinations were portrayed. This was just all a really good exploration of how their relationship could have progressed. This author also is incredibly good at showing the scenes in a way that I could watch them unfold in my head. This felt like a crystal clear movie.

What Do The Dead Know? by OneHandedBooks

Word Count: 7.6k Summary: He looks up at her, haloed by the sun. She could be anyone. No one. St. Abigail, patron of lilies and last chances. AU: What if Will joined Hannibal willingly after the Uffizi Gallery and they shared a few tense weeks in the world before Mason's men finally ran them down? In which Will writes, hallucinates, and succumbs to the dark side and Hannibal is a manipulative, brainwashing, bastard.

cw: Abigail/Will. But does it really count if it's a dream sequence? Regardless, this was something else, off the charts, big fan. The author NAILED the hallucinatory vibe that made this entire fic work so so well. Also, just Will working through his grief for Abigail this way made it that much more intense.

chimera of the chapel by bleakmidwinter

Word Count: 211.5k Summary: When Will Graham wakes up from a coma three months after the fall, Jack reveals that Hannibal Lecter didn't survive. Outside the realm of Hannibal's influence, Will decides to discover the full truth behind the world's sudden and seeming falsehood. Everybody seems to hold their own opinion on Hannibal's fate, but Will knows better than anyone that trust and honesty are as elusive as death.

The "presumed dead" trope might just be my new obsession. I adored this fic so much, the plot was incredible, the development of their relationship was spot on, and there were just some very tender moments.

wear my silence like a mask by bleakmidwinter

Word Count: 32.k Summary: After running into Hannibal at a Bass Pro Shop, Will is invited to a Masquerade Ball at his estate. Jack encourages him to attend for an opportunity to catch the Ripper. Extenuating circumstances tempt Will down an even graver path; Romance with the Ripper.

Three words: masked anonymous sex. That's all.

The Voices and the Shadows by darlinghogwarts, MaddyHughes

Word Count: 114.6k Summary: “The Chesapeake Ripper? The serial killer? That's a grisly thing to find at the bottom of a drink. Most people say oblivion ...or possibly sex.” Hannibal sips his wine again. “Why are you thinking about a murderer on your birthday, Will? Is it part of your degree?” “He is a part of my degree by my own choice. My supervisor didn’t approve, but…” He sighs. “I insisted.” AU where Will—a Masters student studying the Chesapeake Ripper—gets drunk on his birthday and meets an intriguing man at the bar.

Man, I wish I had had Hannibal as my thesis supervisor in grad school, hot damn. (Mine was pretty much too busy to help with anything, ended up doing it all myself – would not recommend.) This was was damn near perfect. I needed some good old fashioned angst. With a good and fluffy ending. This was a good AU!

Chasing Thoroughbreds by HigherMagic

Word Count: 42.8k Summary: After the fall, Chiyoh rescues Will and Hannibal and takes them to the Lecter home in Lithuania. When Hannibal wakes up, his memories of everything - Will, being the Ripper, everything since Mischa's death - are gone. Will's only problem with that is that killing Hannibal won't be nearly as satisfying if he doesn't understand why. Wrestling with his own feelings, or what's left in the tattered mess of them after the fight with Dolarhyde, Will stays, hoping that Hannibal will recover and give him the opportunity he's waiting for. But there are others who remember what Hannibal did, all those years ago, and they have their own bone to pick.

Ugh pretty sure I love almost everything HigherMagic writes and this did not disappoint. This was fantastic. I was absolutely captivated by Will's development through this and Hannibal was just as good.

Volto Larva by TreacleA

Word Count: 39k Summary: Will is having trouble unwinding after work. Hannibal helpfully suggests somewhere that may assist with that, with absolutely no ulterior motive whatsoever.

So ummmm I'm still blushing (in the best way) over parts of this fic because FUCK this is scorching. Anyway. That's all I've got to say LOL.

[shotgunbunny]

.·:*¨༺𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐲༻¨*:·.

Ex! Soldier! Ari x Prostitute! Reader

WC:4.6k+ GIF by steve-kemp

"Who saved you?"

"The soldier boy. He had fallen in love with his whore. He followed me everywhere. He rushed in the minute they left."

{Warnings: angst and fluff, like a heavy angst moment in this but then there's so much fluff, ignorance of safe word, olderman and younger woman, Ari being 6'7 and huge, Ari being a sweetheart, daddy kink, size kink, prostitute!reader, spit kink, Ari is literally the best part of this, REALLY NASTY SCENE WITH BJ AND VOMIT BUT NOT FULL DETAIL!!!!! ARI IS THE GOOD GUY IN THIS!!! RANDOM GUY THAT'S HARDCORE BDSM N READERS LIKE NAH!!!ARI IS READERS SAVIOUR.}

The war was finally over and the boys were sent home to their beloveds and families. It was hard when they didn't come home, or didn't find their beloveds waiting. But the worst was Ari Levinson.

He had worked tirelessly in the war, shooting, stabbing. He was drenched in blood and would have no way of ever wiping it clean from his skin. He only had a few scars, he deemed himself lucky for that. He deemed himself lucky for surviving. Yet when he returned there was no one waiting for him. No beloved and no family.

His mother had passed away while he was fighting, his sister had moved away into a house with her husband so she could start a family, and his father died years ago. So when he came home, there was no one there to ease his pain. He simply wandered hoping that maybe a childhood friend longed for him and would run into his arms.

When he looked down at his arms all he found was his suitcase and a letter saying he was relieved of duty. And because he didn't have his lover, he was empty. He fought so hard and lost so many, and he didn't even get some love for his hard work. He was just stood looking at the dullness of life that surrounded him.

He remembered how excited he was to step off the train and be brought to the arms of an endeared one who would smother him in kisses. And he remembers when he stepped off and how the flood of women and families all gathered around the other soldiers, crying and hugging them. And most importantly, he remembers watching everyone leave the train station, so that it was just him clutching his stuff and waiting for someone that would never arrive.

After a few hours he gave up. He went to his mothers house which she left him, and went to bed with an aching heart. He had never felt such loneliness like this, and all it did was make his stomach turn and his mind race.

Everyday after he stepped off the train and returned home, he would wake up in his old room and go downstairs and eat his breakfast alone, before dusting the house and staring longingly at the family photos. And then he would sit and read the news paper until hours had passed and he decided it was time to drink his pain away. Then when he was stone cold drunk he would get up and head to bed. And repeat that routine until he got a letter from his dearest friend Sammy, inviting him out for a drink at the bar which he hastily accepted.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

"Hey! There's my pal!" Sammy shouted proudly from his seat at the bar before he quickly got out and hugged Ari, making sure to pat his back and remind him that he was there for him. With a grin, he led Ari to the seat next to his at the bar. They both orded their drinks and began talking.

The aching that was in Ari's heart silenced for a second and allowed for him to focus on his friend and their companionship. Every word uttered between the pair, eased Ari's desperation second by second. Until the topic moved onto women and that dreaded ache came back full swing.

"Me and Rachel are getting married soon pal. I want you to be my best man. What do ya say?" Sammy said with a grin on his face, he saw Ari's quick grimace and watched as the taller man nodded his head slowly. Sammy knitted his brows together and stared before he began speaking again.

"Woah buddy, what's wrong with ya'? Ain't you got a girl?" Ari gulped and looked down at his callous hand before opening his mouth and letting a quite rumble of 'no' out. Sammy's eyes widened. He had no idea, he always thought Ari had a girl. Sammy then looked around making sure no one was listening into the conversation.

"Listen man, between us, I know a place where you can kill your loneliness for the cheap." Ari raised his head and looked at his friend with furrowed brows. "What do ya' mean?" Sammy sighed and began speaking in a hushed tone.

"Rachel told me that some of the guys that came home without a woman went to a private house where the women's lovin is cheap. You just go in and pay and then if ya ever need a woman again, ya pay them and they'll take care of ya." Sammy smiled and patted his friends back.

A beat of silence passed, and Ari downed the rest of his drink. He remained seated allowing for the information to sink in and then with a sigh he turned and spoke in a hushed voice. "Do ya know the address?" Sammy chuckled and wrote it down on a small piece of card before sliding it to Ari.

Ari took it hastily and harshly patted his friend on the back, forgetting his own strength. He muttered a thank you, and started heading to the address, hellbent on eradicating his desperation for human touch.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

He knocked on the door and a woman dressed in a beautiful robe opened it and looked him up and down before speaking, her voice soft yet deep. Authority dropped off every inch of her and he respected that. "What are ya after sir?"

Ari gulped and then spoke softly, hating the fact that he had to speak his deprivation for human touch aloud. "I'm looking for a woman to spend the night with? A friend told me I could kill my loneliness here ma'am. I'm just after some soft loving." After speaking he tilted his head down, a blush coated on his cheeks while the woman cooed at him.

He raised his head and watched her moved to the side to let him in. He walked in as gentle as possible as she closed the door behind him. "I got the perfect gal for you." He smiled, finally able to have woman even if it was temporary. She gave him the price and he paid in full. She smiled at him "Down the hall to your left, there should be a white door that has a dove on it. That's where you're going angel." He smiled and bowed his head.

His heart raced as he took the direction and stood outside the door with a small black dove painted on it. He saw that the other doors all had different things painted on them. The door next to yours had a dog painted on it and the other one had a heel painted on it.

Ari let out a breathe and gently knocked on the door. "Come in." He heard a soft voice say from inside. He opened the door and closed it. He turned and looked at where the voice came from. There you were. Dressed all pretty in a white slip nightgown. Ari was in heaven just looking at you. You were so utterly beautiful that it stopped the aching in his heart and made it swell.

You smiled at him and put your hand on your hip. You stared at the man. He was very nervous you could tell from the way he was tapping his foot and playing with his hands. He was a big fella, a guy you'd have dreamed about. He stood at about 6'7 and completely dwarfed you. He was muscular, you could tell as the shirt he was wearing was holding onto his bicep so tightly you wouldn't be surprised if it left an indent on his skin.

He had beautiful blue eyes, yet they were looking at the floor. His hair was long but nothing messy, it was just the right amount and it matched with his full beard perfectly. You then noted the blush on his cheeks and giggled drawing his attention back to you. You made eye contact with the beautiful man and your heart raced.

"What's wrong suga' this your first time?" He spluttered and shook his head. "No ma'am. It's just my first time paying for company, and it has been a while. They don't allow us to bring women to war." He said the last part trying to lighten the mood, try and tell a joke to hear your pretty laugh again but all he got was you slowly walking towards him and placing you soft hands in his calloused ones.

"You're a soldier?" You whispered it so gently that Ari felt safe. "Yes ma'am." You stared at this shy man. "You ain't cheatin' are ya?" Ari blushed again. "N-No ma'am. I was just looking for company. There was no one waiting for me so I'm just trying to fill that loneliness and heartache." You raised your soft hand to his cheek and gently stroked it.

"I'm sorry darling. You know, if I knew you before the war I'd have waited for ya." Ari closed his eyes before any tears could slip out. He let out a cough and opened his eyes again looking down at your heavenly face. "You can call me Ari. I think I'll be here alot." You smiled at him.

"Well if that's right, I'll make sure Miss. Haferton does half off Ari. A soldier like you shouldn't be paying half price for the pleasure you deserve. You can call me whatever you want." He smiled and took your hand from his cheek into his own admiring how small it was compared to his. His eyes glimmered as he stared down at you. "I'll call you my little dove." You beamed at him.

"Cmon Ari, it's time to loosen up." Before he could even question what you meant you got on your tip toes and pulled him down kissing him. He was shocked before gently kissing you back and leading you towards your soft red bed.

After the night was done, you were both sweating. You curled up on Ari's chest and spoke to him about your life, and he spoke about his. Letting you know every detail about him. In that moment when it was just you two cuddled up and wrapped in the bed sheets, you both felt peace for the first time since before the war.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

A month had passed and you were swept off your feet. Ari would sleep with you every other day and you were always so happy that he did, but his possessiveness could be such a nuisance. He knew you were a working girl but sometimes he got so locked up in a fantasy where you were his wife that he forgot that you had sex for money.

Which is why you had decided to change the schedule and only have Ari sleep with you twice a week. You needed to make sure that all your clients had a reason to come back whenever they could, and it was incredibly difficult when Ari took up half of those days. So as much as it hurt you to bring sorrow to the soldier, you decided it must be done.

With a sigh you sat on your bed, clad only in a red lacey night dress when you heard the familiar soft knock of the gentle giant. A smile graced your lips at his politeness. "Come in Ari." You watched the door open and close. You raised an eyebrow and he stood next to the door and dropped his hand from the handle. There was a furrow in his brow and he looked at you.

"I was speaking with the lady at the door and she said that my schedules changed and I now only get two nights." You sighed and stood up. "She's right Ari. I had to change the schedule. I need more clients so I can make more money." "I can give you more money. Please I adore our time so much, don't limit me." "I have to Ari. Business is business whether you like it or not. This is what it's like. Either deal with it or find a new gal."

He stared down at you, anger flashing through his eyes. "Alright I'll deal with it, but we're not being soft. I'm gonna be rough with ya." You rolled your eyes and headed towards the bed when suddenly Ari picked you up and threw you on the bed.

He quickly crawled on top of you and helped you pull your dress off leaving you naked for his eyes to feast on. "Fuck, look at this perfect body. So small compared to mine, don't know how I came even fit my cock in ya. But you don't care do ya? You just want daddy's cock in ya, you want daddy to fuck you stupid til you come all over his big cock."

He stared down at your body and licked his lips. He kissed your neck, allowing his tongue to graze your skin but never suckle it. He knew the rules, no marks and no cumming inside. He kissed all the way to the valley of your breast before he quickly took your left nipple into his hot mouth and began to suck on it and let his tongue circle the bud.

All the while his large hand was travelling up between your thighs right towards your pussy, he smirked when he felt how wet you were before he plunged a finger in and began thrusting. You whined at the feeling of his fat finger that was soon joined by another finger. He switched to your right tit and began suckling that one, making sure that both your nipples were covered in his spit before he blew cold air on them so that they perked up even more. He groaned at the sight of you covered in his spit.

He added a third finger and watched as your pussy opened up more for him. He made sure you were used to his finger holding you open before he unzipped his pants. His cock jumped out angry and big. You stared down and watched as he grazed your folds with his tip. He then got to your entrance before pushing all the way in, knocking the breathe out of you. He smirked looking down at your blissed out face.

"Fuckin' look on your face dove. Only I can give you that look, like there's no thoughts in your head except daddy's cock. Good girl, fuckin' made it fit didn't ya. Makin daddy so proud takin his cock like a big girl. But you're not a big girl are ya? No you're just a dumb little whore who will gladly have her tiny pussy stretched for daddy's cock."

He grabbed your face and turned it to the side before spitting on your cheek and then doing it to the other side. You whined and he began moving, making sure his thrusts were slow but firm so his cock dragged across your gspot perfectly. He then began to thrust faster before grabbed your face, "Open your pretty little mouth dove, open it for daddy." You did as he complied drunk off his cock and he spat in your mouth.

Your eyes rolled back and you felt him drag his hand down to your clit and began doing small and fast circles. You began to thrash under him and the pleasure he giving you. A loud moan left your lips before you came all over his cock, your thighs shaking and your toes curling. You held onto him and as he began to fuck you through your orgasm. He squeezed your hips tight making sure there would be a bruise meaning he would leave a mark. He groaned at that thought and pulled out, cumming all over your stomach. You cuddled into him and smiled kissing his cheek and he smiled down at you.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

Eventually Ari came to terms with the fact he couldn't take up all your time, but he settled for the time he could. In or out of work. He soon became like your shadow and nearly all the girls fawned over him. Over how soft he was for you and how he practically worshipped the ground you walked on.

All you could see was problems though, he was so lonely that he would accept any company and turn it into adoration. Including a whores. You had to swallow your pride everytime Ari asked you to be his and tell him that it won't work. You were a prostitute and you slept with him for money and every time you said that he would softly ask with you nestled up to him.

"Would you sleep with me if you weren't being paid?"

In a heartbeat you always longed to say but you remained silent every time. You didn't want him to know you had fallen in love with him. This shy soldier had become your world and you didn't know what to do other than try and get more clients in, hoping and praying that the more men that fucked you the further Ari would be from your mind but everytime you were wrong.

Thankfully today was you day off, so you decided to go to the towns market and look around. You smiled at all the folks you passed recognising some of them and ignoring the judgemental stares of others. You began walking around the market and looked at the fresh fruit and vegetables. Just as you were buying some to stock up the house, a large hand shot past yours and paid for you.

While the man packed your fruit and vegetables you turned and saw Ari. Stood with a smile of his sun kissed face and his eyes shining. You giggled at the giant who was disguising himself as a teddybear. "Good morning soldier." His smile widened and he leaned down to place a kiss on your cheek. "Good mornin' little dove." When the man went to give you your shopping, Ari took the bag in one hand and offered his arm to you.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "C'mon dove, let's do some shopping for the house." You glanced around shocked that Ari would be so open about his relationship with you. "Are you sure Ari?" He chuckled, "I am not ashamed of you dove, I am just ashamed that I can't snatch you away from where you work. But other than that, I am completely carefree especially with you beside me." You blushed at his affectionate words and giggled. You then linked your arms with his and began shopping.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

That was just the first of many helpful adventures. Everytime you went out shopping Ari would tag along and help you. With either getting something from the top shelf in a store or carrying your shopping after the market. Truly he was becoming domesticated for you.

He was trying to enchant you to join him and his house by making you go shopping with him and helping him choose ingredients, and it was working. You were so close to choosing him over any form of work.

But then today happened, you were already in a bad mood since you didn't get any sleep due to the new neighbors revving their motorbikes to show who's more dominant. And then your first client of the day decided to cum all over your brand new silk bed sheets (gifted by Ari.) And now you had to wash it and all the other girls laundry.

You were ready to tear your hair out when you saw the house was out of washing powder. With a groan you headed out the house and went to the closest store. And surprise who was waiting in your shadow, Ari.

You were so tired and frustrated with today that you couldn't handle him following you around like a lost puppy. So you turned on your heel to look at the tall man. He smiled down at you and looked at you as if you were the sun. You almost felt bad for you snarky tone when you spoke to him.

"What do you want from me Mr. Levinson?" You put your hand on your hip glaring up at him. Yet it doesn't deter him as he continues his loving smile down at you. "I thought it was obvious. I want you to have my last name and be full of my babies." Your sighed frustrated and glare up at him. "You need to stop with this delusion Ari! I'm a whore! A harlot! Which, incase you were simple, mean I'm not wife material! Just leave me alone."

You grab your washing powder and throw the money of the counter before leaving. Ari stared shocked at your words. His heart hurt a bit, but if there was something that the war taught him, it was when things are bad to persevere through it and the sun will come out. So Ari took a breath in and swept his hair from his eyes with his hand and soon followed you back to the house.

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The second you got in you were swamped with a new client. A particularly harsh one, you'd only had him once. And afterwards, Ari came in and rubbed some soothing oils onto the slap marks he had left on your ass. This man was hard, and everything he did was to inflict pain for his pleasure.

You took a breath and went to put the powder away, when you saw Harriet walk into the room. She jumped when she saw you and then began speaking with her feminine French accent. "You scared me little mouse. Don't worry about the washing, I'll do it." You smiled at her and kissed her cheek, she giggled. "Thank you so much my angel, I don't know what I'd do without you." She smiled and waved you away.

You headed to your room and when you opened it, there he sat. The man as tough as nails and as hard as ice. You saw that he held a flog with sharp, pointed stubs on it. Your heart raced as you also saw the rope next to him. You looked back up at him distressed and he let out a cold chuckle. "Do not worry little kitty, none of this is for you. This is for Doreen. You're just warming me up."

You gulped, you'd heard about his 'warm ups.' How it was meant to be a simple blowjob but he made it something so much worse. You didn't want to find out but you knew he payed excellent money. So with racing heart you got on your knees and he unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out.

As you were deep throating him, he grabbed your hair and pulled it towards his hips. Your scalp burned at how hard he was pulling and tears filled your eyes immediately as you couldn't breath. Your nose was against his skin and his cock was down your throat. He smirked and groaned as you gagged and threw up on his cock but he didn't pull away forcing you to swallow it. Soon he came in your mouth and pushed you away.

You were crying, your voice horse as you repeated the safe word as loud as possible. He cleaned up and took his toys to the other room. He opened the door and bumped into a body. He looked up and saw Ari. Ari stared down at you, he noted the distress in your eyes and the tears streaming down your face. Then he heard you whispering your safe word.

Ari took one look at the man before he pinched him hard in the face. He immediately broke his nose but it wasn't enough. Ari headbutted him and watched him fall to the floor before kicking the shit out of him. Ari stood with a menacing look plastered on his face as he watched the man cough up blood.

He brought his gaze to your and it immediately softened but his voice didn't. His voice was deep and firm. "Get your things. You're coming to live with me. No room for arguments. You are coming with me woman." You nodded and Ari stepped over the unconscious body and began helping you pack.

All the while security had come and seen the mess and Ari began speaking to them about hearing you repeating your safe word and your muffled cries. Soon Miss. Haferton came around the corner and Ari began explaining how you were quitting. Your stomach filled with butterflies over Ari's dominance. You couldn't help but like him being all demanding, and when you realised that you knew it was time to give up the job and finally choose your soldier.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

Ari smiled as he stepped off the train. He had been visiting his sister to see her new born, just like she did when he had his newborns. It had been 5 years since Ari had met you and he kept true to his words.

He wanted you to have his last name and be filled with his children and so far you'd been married for 4 years and had 2 children with number 3 on the way. God he was so excited for baby number 3, he hoped it was girl as so far he had 2 boys and as wonderful as they were, they were absolute mama's boys. And who could blame them, with a mother like you he could see why they were. But now he wanted a daddy girl, someone he could spoil and fight all the guys for.

Ari chuckled as he stepped off the train, he looked down at his hands and saw a suitcase and a bag full of stuffed toys he got for his children on his visit. When he looked up his heart raced. There at the train station stood a heavily pregnant you with your two toddlers in their prams.

Ari rushed over immediately, and kissed you. After all he did miss you immensely, but it was the fact that you remember him talking about how isolated he felt when he first stepped off that train and no one was there for him. And now he had a family waiting for him. He looked down and nuzzled your noses before he quickly took the heaviest pram and babbled at his children.

He chuckled at their "dada's." As you both began pushing your children back home, he turned to you. "How are you feeling Mama? You okay?" You giggled at him. "Everythings okay Ari. The baby will come out when it's ready." He let out a huff, "I know it's just I'm eager to meet our beautiful little girl." "How do you know it's a girl?" "Trust me dove it's a girl, if not I'll buy you that pearl necklace you want so bad." You smiled, "And if it is a girl? What will I owe you?"

Ari turned and stared at you, admiring how you glowed in the sunlight. He paused and you did too. He leaned down and whispered gently in your ear, "You owe me another baby, That was the plan afterall Mrs. Levinson." He then kissed your cheek as you blushed and laughed at him.

You were so glad that your soldier came and saved you, he truly was your saviour and the love of your life and you couldn't be more thankful for him and your beautiful family. And he was thankful that he finally had you, he finally had someone who would wait at the train station for him.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Bestie, can we pleaaaaaase get some cockwarming with Aegon? I feel like he would be all over that, what with all the slapping and kicking around that he gets from his family. I saw a gif set that had all the instances where people are manhandling him and I haven’t been able to get out of my head on how touch starved he would be for praise and love and proximity. I COULD FIX HIM!!

nonnie I’m going to need that gif set tattooed on my brain. he’s a feral man!!! hope you enjoy xx

Touch Starved.

PAIRING: King!Aegon ii Targaryen x Wife!fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,879.

WARNINGS: slight dom!Aegon, touch-starved Aegon + fem!Reader, breeding kink, female oral receiving, p in v sexual intercourse, swearing, creampie (?), cockwarming amplified!!!

A/N - I got a little carried away with this one, but I hope you enjoy xox images do not belong to me, so credit to the origins.

Being King was an honour, yet in Aegon's eyes, rather a life-long sentence. Having battled and fought his way to success, dethroning and vanquishing his elder sister and her entire bloodline, Aegon came up ontop.

When it came down to his family, the man was willing to look the Stranger dead in the eye for them, and that did not exclude you.

You scarcely saw your husband during the Dance of the Dragons [as the maesters and historians dubbed the feud]. Aegon was adamant on keeping you far from harm’s way, even if that meant to have you locked up in some desolate castle in the Vale, guards posted at your door day and night, and an escape route planned if need be. If he lost you, it would be the end for him.

“My point of living would cease to exist without you my beloved.”

Nonetheless, Aegon peservered, for the sake if his family, for the sake of you. In return for winning, he not only secured his position in the realm, or the safety and security if his family... He had long been deprived and desperate for your touch, as simple as it may sound, it was a long, hard battle to resist the urge to climb on Sunfyre's back, flying over to you, only to expose your precise whereabouts. He refused to risk it, and suffered the consequence of being starved of you.

Now the wait was over, for good riddance...

****

A fulfilling, intimate family feast was held in honour of their successes and also in memory of their losses. Everyone dined, drank, laughed and cried. As grateful as everyone was to be reunited once more, Aegon had one thing on his mind only, and he grew impatient as the minutes went by, and you stirred the same.

Excusing yourself, you gave your husband with yet another beloved peck on the cheek, one of many endless, fleeting kisses that you showered him upon your return, before lovingly whispering in his ear "Please do hurry, my King...It has been far too long, I need you."

Your hand lightly grazing over his back as you strolled behind, sharing one last glimpse at Aegon, whose hungry eyes lingered over at your faint smile drawn across your face, before disappearing behind the oak doors.

As you sped to your familiar, shared chamber, changing into your sheer, silk white nightly gown, Aegon entered right on cue. Like he always had before the war, getting used to your bedtime routine. The innocent, nostalgic moments that you had observantly noticed, warmed your heart since your return.

"There you are, my beloved-" Reaching out for his rough hand stretched outwards towards you, lifting you up effortlessly, as he pulled you in closer towards him. This close up, you realised the toll the war had taken on Aegon, the fine details of his scarred flesh of his left face, the feel of its ruggard texture on his wounded hand, saddened you immensely. Yet the tearful, tenderness of his lilac eyes, and half-hearted smile

"Oh, how I've missed you my dear. The angel of my dreams-"

Without a moment more to spare, Aegon plunged his plump lips against yours in a passionate kiss. Pushing himself deeper into yours, his grasp over your sides felt firm, yet reassuring, not wanting him to ever let you go again. Releasing from the kiss, his lips remained lightly grazing over yours, as he softly spoke.

"I dreamt of you every lonesome night, saw your beautiful face before I woke dreading the next day. Oh Gods, Y/N, I couldn't bear it any longer."

"Neither could I, my love."

Once more, the kiss resumed distracting you from Aegon's busy hands, that began to slowly undress you. As you felt your gown and under garments suddenly drop from your body, the cool chill of the night's air and Aegon's light grip, massaging at your breasts, sent goosebumps over your body. His thumb flicking at your sensitive, perked nipples, feeling a smirk spike across his face.

"Gods, how I've fucking missed this body-"

Taking a few steps back as Aegon carefully led you to the bed's edge, gently laying you down, as you repositioned yourself further up. Making enough room for Aegon to follow on top, he remained standing as he removed his shirt and undid his pants. You closely noticed the healed burn scars traveling down his left side to his ribs, and several healed stab wounds barred across his chest.

"Apologies, my dearest wife, I am not as handsome as you once remembered."

The melancholy in his low, soft-spoken voice, made it seem as though Aegon was somewhat guilty of his appearance, of his survival.

"No... You are even more exquisite, Aegon. A King who fought for his people, his family...For me."

Aegon now leaning over you, begins to suckle and peck at the soft skin of your inner thigh, making his gradual way up. Leaving a wet, moist trail as he makes his way upto your entrance, he comes to a sudden halt, as his Valyrian eyes linger over your throbbing cunt, to your face momentarily. A cocky look glimmering across his face, as he subtly raises a brow, taking a deep inhale of your scent, as his nose lingered over your cunt.

"Fuck, I can just smell you. That scent. Been missing that sweet, sweet taste in my mouth-," He deeply growls, as he his lips latch onto your folds, his tongue piercing through between, as it begins to sensually lap and encircle your insides.

Seven Hells, it felt like an eternity since you'd lived this pleasure.

Your moans began to stir as small whimpers, your back arching as your hips buck forward ever so slightly. Your palm gently pushing down on Aegon's head agains your bare cunt, as your fingers entangled and pulled at his short, platinum strands.

"Hhmm, Aeg-"

His strong, muscular arms snake around your thighs, as his hands firmly grip at your flesh, spreading them apart even more, as he pulls himself up more. In an effort, his tongue shoves in deeper into your wet folds, guzzling and licking at your dripping ooze, not allowing a single drop to fall.

"That's it, A-Aeg. Feels s-so good."

A few more rousing laps around and around your folds, your moans growing louder and more careless, Aegon frees himself, as he takes a grand, deep breath in, licking his glistening lips.

"Fuck- Only the Gods know how starved I have been for you, craving for this very moment-"

Straightening himself up on his sturdy knees, his broad, wounded chest heaving: watching Aegon towering over you in an almost threatening way, as though his warfare mentality remained unmoving since the Dance ended.

"Stay still, angel. Think you can still take me?"

One arm stretched out by your head, keeping him steadily supported, and the other reaching for his cock, cautiously pulling it out from his unbuttoned pants. It seemed that during the agonising time that had passed since, by the sheer sight of it, was enough to send you beyond the Narrow Seas. You had grown ignorant in memory of its size, its girth and its capability.

"My body will take for you, my King. I need you Aeg, I want you."

"Such a good girl. My good girl. Take me so well, and I'll reward you with a babe in your belly."

Only having prepared you a few moments ago, as Aegon crept and shoved his thick, veiny cock into your wet cunt, moaning cry bled from your mouth, as your eyes viscerally swelled with tears of joy.

"That's it Princess, just give it a few seconds-Shhh-" Now gently laid atop of you resting on his forearms, one hand gently caressed at your hair, brushing it away from your face, as the other stroked away your tear.

His warm breath, dense and heavy, as his formidable chest pushed up and heaved against your tender breasts. One hand remained tugging at your loose hair, as the other wreathed down below, firmly gripping at your waist.

Aegon's pace, once steady at first, began to hasten, growing sloppier. Breathlessly cursing incoherent words, the tight sensation of your touch-starved walls clenching over him, aching for him to bury himself deeper. The fat, blush tip pummelling at your cervix, you were certain it would bruise against the tense friction and stiff pressure.

"F-Fuck Y/N, so tight for me baby, still so tight. Need to fuck every bit of you tonight and all the nights to come, for all the lost time."

"Y-Yes, Aeg. Stay with me-"

"The realm needs a new heir, m-my love. I will fuck a babe into you tonight, make you s-so full of me, till you drip of me."

His grueling grunts and stuttering words were pure ecstasy, feeling his grip on you tighten, as his lips found their way to the sweet spot in the crook of your neck, suppling at your soft skin.

"I want to see you dripping of me till this precious belly swells with my babe. I've been keeping you waiting and alone, for far too long. Now a part of me will be inside."

"Y-Yes Aeg, yes, my King."

"F-Fuck, I'm going to cum-"

The sudden spill of his hot seed messily tainting and coating your insides, shooting against your clit was a feeling that sent you into an oblivion. Naturally, your eyes rolled back, nails clawed deep into Aegon's fleshy back as you pulled yourself up into his mass. In return, you felt the invigorating release of the built up tension from between your thighs, as your cum began to ooze, painting Aegon's cock and inner thighs, as he remained inside.

"Seven Hells, that was amazing-"

Although your memory vague, you could reminisce the fine details, when Aegon would often remove himself, to clean up the carnage made, as he warmly tended to you. Yet he remained deeply buried inside, adjusting himself and effortlessly man-handling you by his side, sprawled on the mattress, as he embraced you cosily.

"I need to feel you around me. I need you to feel me inside. Do not think to remove yourself, wife, or else... We shall sleep like this from now either till your belly swells or I die."

You did not refuse your royal husband the privilege, for the unfathomable time apart left you eager for his proximity, blessed in each other's grace and touch. Remaining true to his word, Aegon remained inside of you, whispering lustrous praises of how obedient, and extraordinary you were for taking him so well, as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Keeping you closely and tightly embraced in his strong arms, from time to time, as you rose consciousness in the late, dark hours of the night, you could feel the tension between your inner thighs, as your walls remained sorely stretched out, oozing with a familiar wetness feeling Aegon's pulsating cock inside.

Gods, the servants would have immense fun with the clean-up in the morrow. Eager to awaken to Aegon reaching yet another fulfilling climax, his body was sufficient enough to prove just how unimaginably he had truly missed your every inch. His tender, honest words, however, were just the sweet cherry on top.

general taglist - @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @ilikeitbetterangsty @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @urabloodsucker @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylas-the-grim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea

Aegon taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (28)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: violence, wounds descriptions, war victims ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

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

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

He felt that if he did not pour his rage onto parchment, he would simply fly to King's Landing and burn Aegon along with the entire Red Keep. He sat at a table filled with maps and plans, a quill in his hand that his wife had prepared for him.

He stared blankly at the piece of paper in front of him and wondered what to write, how to put it into words, lest he be beheaded as soon as he returned to King's Landing. He dipped his quill in ink and began to write.

Brother, my wife, in accordance with my request, joined me in Harrenhal. She has told me of the affection you appear to have for her. I look forward to your explanation upon my return. Send no one for her. Her place is with me. Aemond -

He rolled the letter and called out to the servant who stepped into his chamber a moment later. He handed him the tied message and told him that it was to be given to the King himself.

The boy bowed to him and left quickly. They were left alone again.

He glanced at his wife − he saw that she was looking at him, but as soon as she met his gaze she turned her eyes away.

He knew that his brother's words had made her feel insecure.

That she had said that she wanted to join Alys in treating the wounded because she didn't believe him.

He felt a squeeze at the thought that she didn't trust him, but on the other hand if he had been in her place, various thoughts would have come to him as well − only now, having her by his side, having finally experienced fulfilment with her, he felt at peace.

He sighed quietly as he stood up and walked towards her with a slow, unhurried step, the wooden floor creaking under his feet. He took her soft, plump cheeks in his hands, her face expressing surprise and gentleness, her gaze warm, her lips slightly parted. He ran his thumb over her skin and saw her close her eyelids. He pressed his lips together, looking down at her.

"I have not betrayed you." He said quietly, as if he were telling her some important secret or mystery.

He wanted her to hear it from him.

He was faithful to her.

He was faithful to her, because he wanted to be.

No one forced him.

He could have been a cruel killer and a ruthless prince, but he was a faithful, devoted husband, giving affection to his faithful, devoted wife, and he found some kind of comfort in that thought.

In the thought that they cared about this marriage.

Their relationship was not only political.

He stroked her cheek thoughtfully, consumed by the affection he felt towards her and the delightful knowledge that no one would take her away from him.

"− my sweet wife −" He whispered and she sighed softly, cuddling her face into his hand, making the warmth spread through his body.

He froze when he heard her next words.

"− my beloved husband −"

He felt his heart begin to pound fast, his lips parted in shock − he couldn't believe it, it seemed impossible to him that she had said this.

He swallowed silently as he looked at her − he could see that she herself was surprised by her own words and lowered her gaze, ashamed. He ran his thumb over her soft skin that he had been caressing all night, and felt arousal again.

My beloved.

If he could, if he had more time, he would have pulled her breeches off her and fuck her again, drawing those wonderful words out of her again and again, thrusting deep between her thighs, but he was already late, and he was furious that he had to leave, just now when she said it.

"− say it again −" He whispered, and she looked up at him, startled, her cheeks flushed, a heat in her eyes − he barely stopped himself from throwing himself at her.

"− I would never betray my beloved husband −" She said in a quiet, soft, trembling voice, and he let out a quiet breath, feeling everything inside him clench.

May the gods curse his brother and his war because of which he could not now take his own wife.

He bent over her and greedily pressed his lips against hers, relishing the warmth and moisture of her skin. He sighed heavily, kissed her forehead and moved away from her with the rest of his willpower, heading for the door.

As he walked down the corridor he felt frustrated and thirsty − he stepped into the council room where everyone was already waiting for him. As the commanders and Ser Criston bowed to him, he saw that something had happened.

"Our guards noticed an army coming at us from the South. Colrys Velaryon's ships have flipped some of Prince Daemon's warriors to the coast. They are going to support the rebels." He said, putting some new figures on the map. Aemond looked at it, pressing his lips together.

They were outnumbered, and even if he asked his brother for support, he still would be surrounded.

"Send a message to my brother. We must hold Harrenhal if he does not want to lose this war." He said, leaning over the table, feeling his heart pounding hard. "When will they arrive here?"

"In the evening, Your Grace." Said one of the commanders. He walked over to the map and pointed a finger at one of the spots. "We can't let them merge. It would be best, Your Grace, if you flew on your dragon to the coast and burned them with fire when our army attacks the rebels in the forest again. They do not know that Prince Daemon is coming, we cannot give them hope."

"Your wife has come to Harrenhal, has she not, Your Grace?" Asked another man, one of Strong's vassals who had allied himself with them. Aemond was not fond of him for he was spiteful and arrogant, but he could not help it. "So let Borros Baratheon protect his daughter and son-in-law. Send a message to Storm's End."

Aemond turned his head away at his words − he did not want Lord Baratheon to think that he had summoned his wife to Harrnehal only to put her in danger and call on him. He thought, however, that they had no choice.

With his army they could win.

He nodded at last.

"So be it. Send messengers and prepare for battle."

He spent long hours with his commanders over the map, planning carefully the defences, their strengths and weaknesses. He decided that he would fly on Vhagar to look around, to see the approaching army from above, to discern the situation − he ordered his armour to be brought.

The young boys helped him put on his chainmail − over it was put a several-piece armour that looked like dragon scales, with his family emblem beautifully carved in the steel on the front, a green cloak on his back, hanging on his shoulder.

His armour was as heavy as his heart, filled with the thought that the battle that lay ahead could be one of his toughest to date.

He walked outside the fortress with Ser Criston, speaking loudly about their arrangements, absorbed in his own thoughts when he saw his wife sitting with Alys Rivers from afar − the woman was touching her cheek, stroking it with her fingers as if she were her companion.

He felt a wave of rage at this sight and called out to his wife as if he were a father who just wanted to reprimand his child.

She and Alys Rivers looked at him, surprised; Alys stood up and bowed, and his wife ran to him, frightened.

He saw up close that she was filthy from dried blood, her cheeks and forehead dirty from earth and ash.

Despite his anger, something captivated him about the sight.

"What is the meaning of this? Shall I order her hand cut off for this boldness and lock you in my chamber?" He asked coldly. She only pressed her lips together, ashamed, looking at him pleadingly.

"− no, my husband −" She mumbled meekly. He felt his heart squeeze.

He wondered if this was the last time he would see her.

Her warm eyes and soft face, the face of his wife, who gave him affection so deep and pure that he felt only desire.

My beloved.

He grabbed her by the nape of her neck, pulling her close, not caring that his soliders and commanders saw him.

Nothing mattered but her bright, worried gaze, her warm breath on his face.

He pressed his nose to her cheek and she put her hands on his cold armour, closing her eyes, both of them breathing unevenly. He shuddered when he felt her fingers run over his face.

"Did something happen? When are you coming back?" She asked, her voice trembling; she knew perfectly well that something was wrong.

He swallowed loudly at her question, sinking his face into her soft, warm cheek, wanting to disappear at least for a moment, taking comfort from her closeness and her scent.

"There is an army coming towards us from the South, moved by the ships of Colrys Velaryon. We must face it. I have sent messengers to my brother and your father. Until then, I will protect us from the sky." He whispered and felt her tremble all over, her hand tightening on his wrist which held her in a firm grip.

She looked at him with tears in her eyes − he knew that she wanted to tell him not to go, just as she probably wanted to many times in the case of her father and brother, but she said nothing.

She just stroked his cheek as if she wanted to reassure him, to comfort him.

"− take me with you −" She whispered in a trembling voice, and he squeezed his eye shut, feeling a tightness in his throat. He pressed his lips to her cheek, thought he wanted to bite into her, to devour her, to have her with him.

"I can't." He said, pulling away from her, moving further towards Vhagar, no longer looking at her.

Vhagar raised her large head towards him, concerned − he knew that the dragoness could feel his emotions, his anxiety and fear. He climbed up the ropes onto her back − in full armour it was even more difficult − and panted loudly as he finally sat down in the great saddle.

"Soves, Vhagar!" He shouted low.

He felt the ground tremble beneath him, the dragoness struggling to rise under the weight of her body, her paws one by one moving ahead, crushing the trees along the way as if they were toothpicks.

She spread her great wings, catching the wind, and with powerful, violent flaps that created a gale all around, she took to the skies.

He directed her over the bay and began to circle − he pressed his lips together seeing clearly from above that his guards were not wrong. Immediately he saw a multitude of ships, however, he looked around the sky fearing something else − dragons.

Would they risk losing any of them in a confrontation with Vhagar?

At the sight of him, the great army began to flee into the forest. He decided that he could not wait for them to disperse, that he must attack at once, burn them as many as possible, until they came close to Harrenhal itself.

"Dracarys, Vhagar!" He shouted with a pounding heart, saw the dragoness spread her maw, and a mighty wave of fire poured from her throat. He could hear the loud screams of panic and people burning alive from such a height.

He was burning their supplies, their ships, their horses.

He was burning everything he saw in his path.

He was a great, destructive force, hell on earth, a punishment from the gods themselves.

He felt at once all-powerful and crushed by this feeling.

He felt a squeeze in his throat and looked to the side, shocked to hear a loud roar. He saw her from a distance − she could not be mistaken for any other dragon.

Caraxes.

Daemon.

Of them all, he was the one.

The greatest of the dragon riders.

He thought he would push against him and Vhagar, force them to focus on him, beginning the battle of dragons in the skies. He did something else, however − he felt his heart freeze in his chest when he saw which way his dragon was flying.

Harrenhal.

He headed straight for the fortress.

He turned Vhagar back with his command, shouting helplessly, trying to rush her, but she was too big and too slow, her big body could not withstand such a strain − Caraxes, light and slim, was impossible for her to catch up with. He felt his heart pounding hard, tears in his eye at the realisation of what he wanted to do.

This was a trap.

They were fooled like little children.

Daemon wanted to take him out of the stronghold.

He had planned it.

He wanted to burn Harrenhal.

He didn't know that his wife was there.

Because of him.

Because of his family.

Because of their greed.

His wife would die in the fire.

And then he saw it − fire bursting from Caraxes' throat again and again illuminating the night sky, the fortress in the flames, the screams and cries of his people.

Once he reached his uncle, he ordered with rage and frenzy to gush Vhagar fire in his direction, but his uncle's dragoness was too agile, folding and spreading out as she wished.

His uncle mocked him.

He laughed madly, loudly, sweat and tears running down his cheeks.

His wife was dead.

Her wonderful, soft body was now on fire.

If Lord Baratheon came, he would kill him.

Good.

He wanted to die.

He began to pray to gods old and new, gods of his ancestors, gods of the sea, gods of the mountains and forests.

He prayed that if his wife survived.

That he would give up his greed, his dreams of a throne and a crown, his insatiable hunger for power.

He would change, be a better brother, a better son.

A better husband.

He burned everything in his path.

He burned his uncle's army, he burned the forests and settlements around him, paying no attention to the fact that innocent people lived there too.

In his mind, he burned his brother and the Red Keep, he burned the throne and the crown.

He burned everything, burning himself at the same time, until there was nothing left.

His uncle knew that if Caraxes got within range of Vhagar's maw it would be the end − when his dragoness grew tired, he turned back, ordering the retreat of the troops.

He did what he wanted and what he had planned.

Nothing was left of their army and the stronghold.

He landed on Vhagar near the burning Harrenhal, looking like a great torch against the sky; walking towards it, all he could hear was screaming and crying − he had the impression that someone was tearing his head to pieces. He was all sticky from sweat, smoke and ash, walking ahead as if in a trance.

Was she inside or outside?

Was she in a lot of pain?

Was it a quick death or was she still writhing long afterwards, feeling her body burn?

He sobbed at this thought like a little boy, walking forward, feeling like he was about to fall over.

Fire and Blood.

How could he be such a fool.

Criston ran towards him, shouting something in his direction, but he felt that he was deaf − he only looked at him when he heard her name.

"− your wife, my Prince − she is in a bad condition − Alys Rivers has helped her her, but she has serious injuries −" He said, panting heavily, himself burned in several places. "Prince Daemon has made fools of us. He will wait out our conflagration in the Eyrie and return again when he gains the strength to finish us off."

He thought nothing of it, however, and grabbed Cole's arm as if he were mad, his eye wide open.

"Where is she?"

Criston took him to a place far away from the fortress, where the wounded who had managed to survive lay − most of them had such extensive burns that their muscles were falling off their bones. He could smell the sickening odour of burnt human flesh and looked around, searching for her − Criston pointed his finger at a girl lying nearby and then he recognised her.

Her gentle, sweet face looked as if she was simply sleeping, her entire left arm, a chunk of her chest, abdomen and leg were wrapped in bandages − Alys Rivers was applying some sort of ointment to a small burn that was also on her other arm.

"− is she alive? −" He exhaled, falling to his knees beside his wife's body, only now feeling how tired he was, how terrified he was, his whole body trembling.

He couldn't get anything else out of himself.

She was breathing.

The gods had heard his prayers.

She had survived.

"− yes −" She said calmly and took her wrist in her hand, wanting to check her pulse. He pushed her away so that she fell onto the grass.

"− don't fucking touch her −" He hissed, leaning over his wife's face, taking her cheeks in his hands. "− why is she asleep? −"

"− her attire melted to her skin − I had to clean the tissue, so I gave her poppy milk −" Alys said, lifting herself slowly back into a sitting position, massaging her shoulder. "− I applied the ointment, but she'll still have extensive scars − the gods are watching over her − the flame flashed across the ground right next to her −"

He pressed his face against his wife's neck, taking in her scent, panting heavily, sobbing with despair and joy at the same time.

For the first time in his life, the gods had heard his prayers.

She had survived.

_____

I leave you with my illustration and hope that you don't kill me - next chapter will be updated 10 August because of my absence and it will be Aegon POV! In meanwhile I will add Harrenhal Moodboard with next Lady Baratheon POV preview.

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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