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nebulaafterdark · 2 days ago

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Dragonseeds (Pt. 2)

Summary: If any man can claim a dragon, what good is the blood of Old Valyria?

Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon(Cole)!Reader

18+ ONLY MDNI Targcest, smut

Part 1

On the day Y/N Velaryon was born, King Viserys hosted a grand feast in her honor. On her twenty fifth name day, Rhaenyra sends similar gifts to King’s Landing, to feed the smallfolk. News which is ill received by her mother by law, Alicent.

“The King and Queen are missing, rest assured we are doing all we can to locate them, your Grace. Still someone must rule in their stead.” Ser Criston suggests, “a regent to guide us through their safe return.”

“A wise thought.” Alicent nods, “might I suggest myself?”

The members of the small council can hardly answer the dismissal of Rhaenyra’s claim by raising up a woman of their own.

The councilmen are inclined to believe they must first search of evidence of foul play. Though Ser Otto is not convinced. Pulling his daughter aside to scold her.

“These are the very same children who made themselves easy on the morning of her brother’s petition as heir of Driftmark. They are insolent and foolish but they do hold one thing dear and that is the other, and their children. They cannot see beyond their own desires.”

“You wished for Aegon to be king.” Alicent murmurs, “I’ve made him king.”

“I take full responsibility for my part in this, daughter.” Otto sighs, “knowing what I do now, it should have been Aemond upon the throne. He is closer in age to Rhaenyra’s daughter, he would not have been so pliable beneath her unyielding hands.”

“You could not have known for certain.”

“Everyone knew.” Otto admits. “To have Y/N is to have Aegon. He bends the knee to her and her whims because he…” loves her.

“Aemond might’ve fallen prey to her charms all the same. Y/N is not cold, calculated or cunning. She is only a girl, desperate to win her mother’s affection by any means necessary.” Alicent knows the role well.

“I want my mother.” Y/N pleaded with her midwives during her first labors.

Alicent developed a quiet fondness for her daughter by law in those days, more than she cares to admit.

————————————————————————

Princess Y/N and Prince Aegon are made comfortable upon their arrival, accepted with open arms by their Queen and left to their own devices.

Y/N and Aegon know little entertainment besides court…and the familiar comfort of the other. Without meetings to attend and their children still abed, they have no choice but to indulge.

Aegon finds his face between her thighs, drawn in like a moth to flame. Gods, how he loves her. Spelling it out over her pearl time and time again.

“Fuck,” Y/N cries, rolling her hips up to meet him.

Aegon’s hands encircle them, wide and full to bear his children. She finds her peak against his tongue, thighs clenched taut around his head.

They scarcely notice the door of their apartments creaking open until Rhaenyra is in their bed chamber. “Oh!” The woman shields her eyes.

“Mother,” Y/N gasps. Pulling the coverlet up to her chin.

“Forgive me. I thought you might be alone.” Aegon had been given his own chambers.

Aegon moves up toward the pillows, popping his head out from beneath the covers. “Did you need something?”

Rhaenyra huffs, “I need my daughter and heir, yes. We’ve much to discuss.”

“Of course, mother.” Y/N nods, “give me a moment to make myself decent and I will meet you in your rooms?”

Rhaenyra nods, before rushing out to the safety of the nearest corridor.

“That ought to keep her from barging in unannounced.” Aegon muses, brushing sweat damp hair from his wife’s face.

“You find it funny that my mother now knows of our…intimacies?” Y/N snaps.

Aegon chuckles, “I’m afraid she has known, darling girl.” He passes a hand over the swell of her belly. “Everyone knows, I fear.”

Y/N groans, burying her face in her hands.

“Do not despair, my dearest love.” Aegon murmurs, “you have laid your line of succession strong enough that no man may question it.”

Y/N nods, as his forehead rests against her temple.

“At all of five and twenty, you have provided the crown with nearly six heirs.” Aegon reminds her, “you have performed your duty. There is no shame in it.”

“When I was a girl, I thought we’d fly away on dragon back.” Y/N whispers, tracing the lines of his face with her finger.

Aegon smiles, “and where would we go?”

“Away on a ship somewhere, to live off the sea. We’d spend the rest of our days singing sea shanties, eating only cake…and fish, of course.”

Aegon chuckles, “of course.”

“We’d be free of all this.”

“We will never be free of this.” He understands better now, what it meant each time she took his body in her own to create life. The way they unknowingly sealed their fate with each kiss.

“Do you wish to be, husband?”

“I wish for your happiness and that of our children. The rest matters little and less.”

“You matter to me a great deal.”

————————————————————————-

“In your absence, Jacaerys and I have set down a difficult path…where it seems we now differ in opinion.” Rhaenyra informs her daughter. “As my successor, I must now raise the matter with you.”

“Of course.” Y/N nods.

“To stand against Vhagar, even with Sunfyre and Stormborn now amongst our ranks, we will need more dragon riders.”

“Our children are very young, their dragons still wet from the egg. It may be a decade or more before they take to wing.”

“You agree then, something else must be done about our numbers?” Rhaenyra asks.

Jace shakes his head, clenching his hands into fists.

“What do you propose?” Y/N wonders.

“There are many in our line who’ve…ventured outside their marriage bed. Those children have lived largely in the shadows, but they share the blood of the dragon.” Rhaenyra continues, choosing her words carefully.

“Surely there are those from our line who married into other noble houses-”

“We have lost Ser Stephen to such a venture. I fear the blood may be too thin.” Rhaenyra laments, toying with her rings.

“You disagree, Jacaerys?”

“When one of those baseborn, silver haired, dragon riders decide they want to rule the seven kingdoms, where does that leave you?” Jace turns to his sister. “They will leave you clinging to Aegon again, in hopes of becoming Queen. Even then they may question your claim.”

“I appreciate your concerns, you are ever vigilant.” Y/N takes his hand in hers, “I appreciate it more than you will ever know.”

“Of course.”

“I ask you now, brother, what other choice we have?”

“Together with Sunfyre, Vermax, Stormborn and Syrax do you not believe we stand a chance against Vhagar?”

“A chance, yes.” Y/N agrees, “but to put the people I hold most dear in danger for a chance? I can do no such thing in good conscience.”

“You are putting your claim in danger, perhaps your very life. Are you so blind you cannot see it?” Jace snaps.

“Better my claim be lost than any of you.” Y/N says, pointedly. “I want to be Queen. I have wanted it from the time I was a child and it was impressed upon me to want. Clinging to it like some prized possession. I married for it, birthed children for it. I was left behind in King’s Landing when I was no more than a child, to hold my place in our grandsire’s court while the rest of my family abandoned me for Dragonstone. I have given all that I am or ever hoped to be to hold this claim. Still I will choose any of you over a crown.”

“You should never have had to do that.” Jacaerys reminds her.

Rhaenyra runs a hand over her own face. “I did not mean for you to feel abandoned.”

“I know that, mother, and I do not fault you for it.” Y/N assures her, “you do what you must to protect-”

“Cole promised he would care for you, I should never have trusted him. I should have taken you with me, as I wanted. You wrote to me often enough that I forced myself to believe you were happy.”

“Cole did care for me, as best he could.” Y/N assures her, “I only meant…”

“You meant what you said.” Rhaenyra understands, “and rightfully so. I have made many mistakes in this life, most regrettably, with you. They have cost you more than even I understood, until now. Leaving you was the hardest thing I have had to do in all my years. I am sorry for it.”

“Mother, I do not fault you for decisions you made to protect me. You did the best you could.”

“I did not do enough, it seems.” Rhaenyra pats her cheek. “All the more reason I must do what I can for you now.”

“If you believe this is the way, then I will help you see it through.” Y/N decides, “tell me what I must do.”

“Nothing yet, the Lady Mysaria has already sent word to King’s Landing.”

————————————————————————-

When they are excused by the Queen, Jace makes haste towards his quarters.

“Jace,” Y/N calls. “Jacaerys!” She says a bit louder the second time to be sure he’s heard her.

“I wish for a moment alone.”

Y/N closes the distance between them. “I do not pretend to know what has happened here in my absence. But what I will tell you is that when Aegon and I first wed, he would not lie with me. After seeing Helaena birth her twins, he could hardly stomach it. He waited and waited.” Y/N confesses, “I too was frightened of the birthing bed.”

“You were a child.” Jace reminds her, “you’d every right to be.”

“When I turned ten and six Otto Hightower began discussing his fear that I might be barren, with Alicent. This was kept hush, but the whispers trickle down, they always do.” Y/N swallows. “In noble families requiring an heir, it is not uncommon to receive…assistance. They wanted to bring in one of the serving girls for Aegon, if I could not conceive. But before that though, I’d be expected to lie with another in our line.”

Jacaerys can only gawk at her. “And did you?”

“No,” Y/N assures him. “But had I not conceived, it would have been expected of me.”

“With whom?”

“Aemond is my husband’s closest blood.” Y/N averts her eyes, “they knew he could sire children.”

“Did mother know?” Jace demands.

“Everyone knew, Jacaerys.” Y/N huffs, “she was prepared to fight for me, as she always has. But I do not care to admit the number of times I’ve envied you…simply for being born a son. We cannot fault our mother for doing what she must, she is choosing between the lesser of two rotten choices.”

“I could not have done the things you have, I wish more than anything that you did not have to do them. But you are just, in your morals and your mercy. So if you believe this is the way, I stand proudly at your side.” Jace assures her. It never mattered to either of them that different men’s blood courses through their veins. Being the eldest, they are the only ones to ever know. Even sweet Lucerys had no inkling.

“Thank you, brother.”

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#house of the dragon #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd smut #aegon targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen smut #aegon smut #aegon ii #aegon imagine

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eggtargaryenii · 3 days ago

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EAST OF THE SUN | PART III

"Bastards are supposed to be born of lies and temptation, not love," Jacaerys said, "at least according to the Faith. If we are indeed the bastards of Ser Harwin and my mother, then we are proof that lies and temptation are all that existed between them.” You thought of all the septas and their prayers and Alicent Hightower screaming at you to behave. Bastards are not so different from the daughters of whores, you mused. They see us all as products of sin.

11.1k words, aemond x fem!reader x jacaerys. childhood friends to lovers (except it's cousins), political drama. chapter warnings for targaryen incest and themes of xenophobia/racism and misogyny. dividers from @/cafekitsune.

SERIES SUMMARY & MASTERLIST.

IX. THE EMPRESS

“You raised the girl to be too clever, Alicent. I fear she cannot be controlled.”

Otto Hightower did not often show weakness, but his voice was heavy with exhaustion—or perhaps frustration—as he spoke to Alicent. He was poring over the papers you'd put together for your petition earlier in the day: a detailed summary of all of the records of your father's spending in Essos during his diplomatic visits, presented as evidence that none of your inheritance in the Iron Bank was actually Crown wealth. Apparently you'd gone and stolen the ledgers in the middle of the night—with the help of that Strong bastard, the one who was besotted with you—and done the maths yourself. All current and past Masters of Coin still alive—Lord Beesbury, Prince Daemon and Tyland Lannister—examined your work and could only attest to its accuracy.

It was unprecedented, but not too surprising to Alicent. Of all your lessons as a noble lady—in the Seven, in dancing, in needlework, and so on—you really only ever paid attention to arithmetic and household stewardship. So I may someday be a competent wife and oversee my husband’s affairs, you once explained to Alicent, after my Queen chooses a match for me, of course. When Alicent then advised you that most men enjoyed graceful women who could sing and dance, you had replied to her that you did not want to marry a man—you wanted to marry a lord.

Just as you and your father want me for me, do you not? you had asked. I do not wish to disappoint either of you in that regard. It would be no good for any of us if I married a man who tossed me aside because he met a woman more graceful than I could ever be. But if I kept his household running flawlessly and his accounts full of gold? Well, he might eventually take another lover, but he would never want to take another wife.

You had been so young when you’d said that—younger than she’d been when she wed King Viserys, but no less aware. Alicent understood your play then, and she never chided you for neglecting your needlework ever again.

“The girl has a talent for figures,” Alicent admitted. “She has a keen eye for household management.”

“Figures?” Otto laughed in a way that sounded derisive. “It’s not the maths that impressed me. You can hire any steward to do maths. No, it was her foresight in stealing those ledgers. And the way she talked in the throne room—gods, can she talk!” He laughed, though it was entirely mirthless. “Though I suppose Rhaenyra may have prepared her. The blacks have never been interested in her before, but now it seems that they want her as an ally.”

It did look that way during the petition, with Daemon backing you every time the Hand seemed to corner you. As usual, the man could hardly string together a coherent argument, but he did not need to. What really mattered to all the smallfolk and nobles watching your petition was that every time Otto alluded to your disgrace of a mother and your mongrel pedigree, Daemon never let them forget that you were also a trueborn Targaryen.

You would steal from your kin by marriage? he asked. You would deny her birthright? You would spit in her father’s legacy, after all he has done for the Realm? You would disrespect my niece?

Niece. Alicent found it laughable. Daemon had never spared you a glance as you grew up in the Red Keep, nor did Rhaenyra.

“Of course they want her as an ally,” Alicent said, her words sharp with frustration. “Rhaenyra ignored the girl when she had nothing, but now that she’s come into enough wealth to hire an entire army of sellswords and more, the princess is suddenly her greatest benefactor.”

Alicent was wroth to think of it. She had wanted no part in raising you, had resented you for it when her husband charged her with the duty. She could hardly manage her own children, let alone some foreign waif who was loath to speak the Common Tongue and threw tantrums whenever she was forced to pray at the Sept. Worse yet, your mother had been a bed slave from Lys—a country of harlots, criminals, and sin—and Alicent knew, just knew by looking at you, that you were likely to end up equally sullied. It was in your blood.

But you had no mother.

You were at court, a young and lost girl, and you were entirely motherless. She still remembered how you wept after your mother kissed you goodbye, the way that you would sneak off to Blackwater Bay just to wait for your father to return. Alicent’s heart ached for you then, for she too knew how horrible court could be for a young and motherless girl.

Rhaenyra was your kin by blood. She should have looked out for you. She had been more than capable, but she was too busy with her sham marriage and bastard children and that paramour of hers. What could Alicent do but care for you instead? You had no mother.

The Seven would have never forgiven Alicent if she simply left you to the wolves of the court. She could not leave you to her father’s court. You would not have survived. You would have been married off at ten-and-two to some lord thirty years your senior, tortured in your marriage bed until you were swollen with child while still a child yourself. Alicent could not let it happen.

Even if Alicent would never love you—and she knew she never would—she knew she must still care for you.

And today she watched as you spat in the face of her protection. How you paralyzed her when you turned to Daemon and chided him: I am familiar with the prudence and wisdom of Her Grace, as well as her kindness, you'd said. I know she would never intentionally try to take someone’s rightful inheritance. It is merely an ambiguity of the law that has led us here. She only thinks of the Realm.

Said in front of King Viserys, with his daughter-heir in the room? Alicent had no choice but to support your position, lest she look like a scheming traitor.

And the worst thing about it was that, despite her father’s ponderings, Alicent knew that Rhaenyra had not coached you to say that. For she had raised you, and she knew your talent for speech and for people—and she knew those words came from you alone, and you had learned how to say them from watching Alicent.

Rhaenyra could have never taught you how to appeal to people like that. Rhaenyra had no need, for she could always do whatever she pleased. She could flout the rules and disrespect the entire court, and King Viserys would only protect her. But you—just like Alicent—could not. For you had no mother, and you had no father, and you were the daughter of a foreign whore. All you had was Alicent, and for your sake she tried to make you disavow your sinful mother, for your sake she tried to make you find the light of the Seven, for your sake she tried to beat out of you your wilful nature. For your sake she tried to save your soul from both the Seven Hells and from the judgemental eyes of the Red Keep, the lords and ladies who saw nothing but a sinful whore when they looked at you. But you always resisted, as if you wanted to be a pariah, as if you wanted to suffer despite her best efforts—but Alicent could not hate you.

How could she hate a powerless girl without a mother?

“I do not think it was Rhaenyra who taught her how to speak in court,” Alicent voiced, thinking of all the hours you spent watching petitions, watching her. “Rhaenyra does not know how to handle herself with such grace nor subtlety.”

“Ah. So it was your influence.” Her father laughed, sounding genuinely amused. “If only you had raised Aegon to have even half the talent—then perhaps the King would have changed his mind about his succession.”

Alicent’s fingers tightened, and then she found herself picking at her nails.

“It is no fault of mine that Aegon was born with his disposition,” she said. “I tried my best.”

“You did,” Otto agreed. “You did not fail in all regards. Aemond, at the very least, has talent. Were he your firstborn son and that girl born a Targaryen princess—my, imagine the power they could have on the Iron Throne together. Our family would be untouchable. A pity.”

Alicent’s jaw tightened. She could not hate you, but she also could not stand to think of you sullying any of her sons. Your influence on them had already done irreparable damage. Your habit of tempting men had already driven Aegon into terrorising innocent women with his lust, and whatever silk-sweet words you whispered into Aemond’s ears had turned her lovely boy into someone cold and distant.

No—Alicent could not imagine you wedded to either of them.

“A pity, but there is no use in mourning it,” she dismissed. “Aemond will be matched to a respectable lady of the realm, and we will use the girl to buy the loyalty of a useful lord—as was always your plan.”

“Yes. My plan.” Otto looked at your papers thoughtfully. “I think we will need to make haste with her marriage. The blacks intend to ally with her, and I believe she is too ambitious to decline their offer. We cannot let her inheritance fall into Rhaenyra’s hands—we shall need to find her a match and send her someplace else immediately.”

Alicent swallowed. She had hoped to push for your match to a Northern house. She knew you would be happiest in the North—with people who worshipped the Old Gods, and a husband who was far enough removed from the politics of court to care much about your heritage. Starks were known for their honour, and the Warden in the North had carried himself with great dignity during his time at court. She knew that Cregan Stark would not have mistreated you. Lord Manderly’s son seemed promising as well, and the young Lord Bolton would have been keen for a dragon. But the political benefits of those matches were modest at best, uncertain at worst—Alicent knew her father would not have chosen any of those betrothals for you.

You had no mother. Only she could defend you.

“And where,” she asked carefully, “would we find a match on such short notice?”

She hoped for Lord Stokeworth or the Tully boy. The former was kind and the latter was dutiful, and she had already convinced her father of both proposals. But when the Hand smiled, his eyes glinting sharp, she knew it was neither of them.

“It is, in some ways, fortunate that she is so clever,” he replied. “The Tyrells have been here for the past few days on their own business, and they watched her petition. They were quite impressed with her and have made an offer to take her as a ward—and to eventually marry her to one of their sons.”

Her eyes widened. The Tyrells were one of the great houses, and ordinarily would only be interested in a betrothal with a Targaryen prince or princess. “Was it the talent they wanted,” she asked, “or the gold?”

“The gold for the marriage—and her dragon, of course. But the talent is why they want her as a ward.”

Alicent considered the offer. They likely wanted to groom you for something, and as long as it was not dancing or needlework, it would keep you happily busy. You may eventually find yourself content with such an arrangement. But she could not help but feel that something was amiss. The Tyrells kept strongly to the Faith, and they cared greatly for status. They would not be so eager to take someone like you into their family.

“And which son would they want to squander upon her?” Alicent asked.

“The bastard they just legitimised. To wed a Targaryen lady with a dragon would be quite the achievement for such a man—hardly a squander.”

“You wish to marry her to Arthur Flowers?” she asked, appalled.

“Of course. We are buying the son of a great house with her. The son of our liege lord!”

“Arthur Flowers is a bastard and a raper!”

“Arthur Tyrell is now a legitimate son of the family controlling the Reach!” Otto sighed. “Do not detest me for this, Alicent. We will need to secure all the help we can get when the succession of the Iron Throne is contested.” Otto gave her a severe look. “And remember,” he added, “this has always been your plan too. You have always wanted to use the girl for the sake of your own children—or would you rather that Rhaenyra use her instead?”

Alicent could not say anything. She could not stop this match, she realised. No one would speak in your defence, for you had no mother—you only had her. And Alicent, at the end of the day, was not your mother.

She was a Hightower.

X. TEMPERANCE

The edge of the Kingswood today was peaceful. The sky was a clear blue; the birdsong was a soft warble in your ears. Vhagar—who was old and liked to rest when she was not at war—was calm beneath you, her saddle rising and falling with the rhythm of her breath. Aemond, never one to chatter, was equally quiet. Even though Vhagar had been at rest for a while, your arms were still wrapped tight around his waist, and your cheek was pressed against his back.

You had not held or been held since your parents departed from King’s Landing. Given your reputation, it was impossible for you to touch anyone without setting off whispers, and none of the septas who cared for you had any desire to touch you—your blood was too dirty for it. But sharing a dragon with another person offered a kind of analogue to an embrace; allowed you to feel close to someone without raising brows. You would never admit such a thing aloud, but you liked to ride with people partly because of that.

Aemond was, of course, the only person in King’s Landing who would ever ride with you on any dragon. Ordinarily you would limit contact with him—he did not strike you as a person who particularly liked being touched, and you did not want to scare him off—but you needed to feel close to someone today. You had just spent three days without sleep to prepare for your petition, and during the manic rush of having won it, was approached by Alicent Hightower with dampening news of your betrothal. She'd finished her announcement by requesting that you plan your father’s funeral; it was plainly an attempt to ruin any happiness by reminding you to grieve.

Too proud to show weakness, you’d agreed and committed to yet another three days without sleep.

But you were plainly exhausted. You did not want to think about the funeral. You did not want to think about your betrothal. You did not want to think of anything at all. You simply wanted to relax, wanted to feel safe and warm next to someone, so now you were sitting with Aemond in the most desolate place you could find, the both of you on Vhagar’s saddle.

“I'm afraid I'll fall off if I let go,” you explained to Aemond, when he asked why you were still holding him.

“But we are not in the air.”

“Vhagar likes to buck and fight—she could kick me off at any moment.”

“Vhagar is very calm right now. And she likes you. She feels at ease around you.”

“I suppose that's true.” You closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth of him. “I'm fond of riding her too.”

Despite his questions, Aemond did not protest to your touch. He merely hummed, after which a long silence passed. Larks kept calling out, their songs a beautiful trill in your ears. The day was windy; the trees whispered loudly in the sky. To anyone a distance away, the noise of the forest would surely mask your voices—as long as you kept them low.

“I'm betrothed to someone now,” you said quietly. It was not quite upset, but your voice sounded oddly fragile.

“Hm.” Aemond did not sound bothered; instead, he seemed pensive. “To whom?”

“The Tyrells. The bastard they just legitimised.” You opened your eyes, staring at the rustling trees. The scenery of the Reach would be similar, you found yourself thinking, for it was close by—too close for your liking.

“The Tyrells,” Aemond repeated thoughtfully. “The Hightowers are their bannermen. Otto Hightower wishes to trade you for the guaranteed support of his liege, and at the same time he will ensure that your inheritance will not fall into Rhaenyra's hands. It seems my grandsire has done exactly what you predicted.”

“As I said,” you replied bitterly, “his daughter raised me. I know how your family thinks.”

“As do I.” You felt him shift; he may have been looking back at you. “Do you know anything about Ser Arthur?”

“Nothing other than that he’s fought in the Dornish Marches. He displayed great feats during battle—I heard many tales in the Throne Room during their petition. Ser Criston looked strangely at him the whole time, though.” Your brow furrowed. “I wonder why.”

“They may have served together, or else he may have some kind of reputation within the Marches,” Aemond mused. “I will ask Ser Criston later.”

“Do tell me what he says. I would like to know the character of my future husband.” Your arms tightened around Aemond. The day was not particularly cold, but you found yourself clinging to him. “I need all the knowledge I can of the Tyrells before I leave. Surely Highgarden cannot be worse than the Red Keep, but I want no surprises.”

“You have already resigned yourself to being taken away.” You felt Aemond touch your hand; you nearly jumped before realising he was only adjusting his chains. “I told you that I would handle the matter of your betrothal.”

“What can you do?” you asked miserably. “The Queen has already agreed, and who knows what kind of marriage your grandsire will force me into if I offend the Tyrells by outright rejecting them. I would not put it past the Hand to tie me up and send me away in the middle of the night, at this point.” You pressed your forehead into Aemond’s back, sighing. “Will you take me to Braavos so I may escape the mummery of the Red Keep? If we leave on Vhagar now, we may be there by the morrow.”

Vhagar beneath you rumbled, as if in complaint. “Ah,” you said, “your old lady seems unwilling to carry us. I suppose I'm done for.”

Aemond laid a hand on your wrist, perhaps searching for another chain. You did not push it away. “You need not offend the Tyrells,” he said. “When the time comes, simply play along as needed. You will not be held accountable for whatever may come.”

“Will you be held accountable? The guilt would eat me alive, if you were.”

He hummed. “If I were, it would not affect my standing greatly. You know I would not make such a misstep.”

“I suppose.” You allowed yourself to feel, for just one moment, reassured. Aemond was one of those few players in court who felt both reliable and safe, or at least not openly malicious. Perhaps to others, but not you. It was not unlikely that he could solve this all.

The breeze changed. You realised that your excuses to cling onto him had dwindled. “I suppose we should dismount now,” you said mournfully. “Come—let’s enjoy the woods, as we said we would.”

“I don't feel much like looking at trees today,” Aemond said. “Would you like to fly along the bay instead? The whole length of the shore.”

You lifted your head to give him an incredulous look. “That will take at least an hour in flight.”

“Then I suppose you will need to hold me for an hour. I do hope that won’t be a bother.”

It took you a beat to realise what he'd just offered, but once you did, you squeezed him tightly.

“As long as there is no complaint from Vhagar,” you said. “I know the lady likes her rest.”

Vhagar clicked beneath you, more agreeable now to your request. “She will do what I want,” Aemond reassured you. “Dragons are influenced by the desires of their riders.”

“So you want to nap and lounge all day like an elderly woman?”

You could hear the amusement in his voice when he replied, “Not terribly, though it is an option for us today if you wish.”

How lovely that would be, you thought. If you could lie with Aemond in the grass, shielded from the sun by Vhagar, and spend the afternoon slumbering. To ignore the funeral you needed to plan, the grief you had been procrastinating, the bridegroom you needed to meet.

Unfortunately, Aemond was not such a lout that he would waste the day like that, and you had your own responsibilities. You could not run for long from the death of your parents, from the ramifications of this inheritance mess. It was better to face it all promptly, matching the cold efficiency that the Hightowers operated with. That was how you had survived all these years, after all: matching the Hightowers.

But at the very least, you could allow yourself one more hour of delay.

“Napping would be nice,” you admitted, “but I'd rather spend the time in flight.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

Vhagar’s wings began to beat, ancient but mighty. The trees swayed and rattled from the gust of her flight. The chains around your waist shook with the force of the great beast, but they held steadfast—binding you to Aemond, their hold inescapable.

X. DEATH, UPRIGHT

“Dracarys.”

A brilliant fire roared to life, consuming a boat drifting peacefully by the shore. Emerald flames erupted from the wood, devouring shimmering Qartheen jewels and priceless Myrish silks—all the belongings of your father.

Your father’s dragon had died in his youth. In her absence, it was Wildfyre who was chosen to set the pyre aflame in this sham of a funeral. The fire was the colour of alchemical wildfire, though given your dragon’s middling age of ninety-and-three, they of course burned much hotter. Despite being grown and having lived through both war and death, though, Wildfyre still behaved like a child: screeching and roaring and squawking miserably as the pyre burned, as if crying in your stead.

Your own face was bone-dry. You only stared dully at the pile of burning valuables, which were meant to be a substitute for your father’s body.

Technically, all of the objects in the pyre belonged to the Crown, but in a fit of spite you had publicly petitioned to the Hand to have them burned in the funeral. In a throne room where various nobles and smallfolk spectated—most of whom were already sympathetic to you, after you had to argue for your own inheritance just two days before—Otto Hightower had no choice but to grant your request, lest he look like a monster. You were glad to see all the treasures burning to ash in front of him, all that wealth forever out of his reach.

The Hand and the Queen had not appreciated this insult; neither of them offered their condolences during the ceremony, and likely only came out of obligation. Your closest kin offered no real words of consolation either. Aegon was so grossly uncomfortable during the affair that he could not make eye contact with you; Helaena only gave you a mournful and disconcerting stare, as if she were grieving you instead of your father.

Aemond, though very dear to you, was equally clumsy with handling you in your grief. He stood by your side and asked if you were well, to which you only gave him a long, dead-eyed stare. You had just spent three days without sleep to prepare for your petition during which his grandsire wrung you out; then you spent another two days without sleep to prepare for a funeral at which you thought no one would grieve.

Of course you were not well.

None of Alicent Hightower’s children had ever experienced loss; that much was clear. It was different with your other cousins, however; Luke, Jace, Baela, and Rhaena neatly offered their sincere condolences. I'm so sorry, they all said, before taking your hands and squeezing. I am always here if you need company. Say the word and I will come by.

You absolutely would not take them up on the offer, but you did appreciate it.

Surprisingly, though, you were not entirely alone in your mourning. King Viserys had asked to delay the funeral until he was well enough to attend, and he now stood in the front, watching solemnly. Beside him was Prince Daemon, who for once seemed subdued and reflective. You were not sure what to make of Rhaenyra’s face, which seemed appropriately mournful, but potentially inauthentic. She had actually known your father as a child, though they were not close, and she never involved herself with you when you were a child except for when Jace wanted to play with you.

You supposed it was Prince Daemon and King Viserys who had the greatest right to grief, perhaps even more than you. You had known your father for ten years; they had known him for nearly thirty. Daemon sought you out shortly after the service, speaking in Pentoshi Valyrian.

“Your father was the only person who brought us news of our aunt in Volantis,” he said. “He always saw that she fared well—did he ever tell you that?”

“No,” you replied honestly, and with great surprise. “He never mentioned her.”

“It was how he knew your mother,” Daemon said. “The Lysene pillowhouse that Saera once worked in—your mother was a courtesan there. She introduced them to one another.”

You were stunned by the news. Saera Targaryen had been exiled and King Jaehaerys had forbidden the rest of the family from ever speaking with her again. To think that your father had not only sought her out anyway, but had found your mother through her, was shocking.

“I did not think my father would break his uncle’s decree,” you said.

“Defiance was in your father’s spirit. I do believe you inherited it.”

“Thank you,” you said. You were deeply confused—this was probably the fifth time in your life you'd ever spoken to the Rogue Prince, for he scared you when you were a child, and he himself did not care much for toddlers. You did not think he could be so kind. “Perhaps defiance is in our blood. My father always spoke highly of your exploits, and he respected Princess Saera as well.”

The corner of Daemon’s mouth lifted in something that could not really be called a smile, but was probably meant to be a sign of approval. “Those born of fire and blood have a tendency to be untameable. Your father and I were not just kin—we were kindred. If you wish for the company of like-minded people”—Daemon glanced at the Hightowers and their children—“rather than those who disapprove of us… do seek me out.”

King Viserys, with his missing eye hidden by a patch, offered fewer words, but more heartfelt: “I have always tried to care for you in my cousin’s stead,” he said. “Nothing about that will change in his death.”

You bowed. “Thank you, my King.”

He laid a hand, shaking and emaciated but warm, on your shoulder.

“I regret that I am no longer well enough to spend time with you in your hour of grief, but I know that my children and grandchildren will keep your loneliness at bay.”

He did not mention Queen Alicent, nor did you. “I will be grateful for their company in my mourning,” was all you said.

Truthfully, though, anyone’s company would likely make you scream. You did not feel like coddling anyone as they struggled over what they should say to you after you lost a man that none of them had known. All you wanted to do was sneak back to either your rock by the sea or the dung pit to cry in absolute solitude, but now that Aegon and Aemond knew both of your misery spots, that was not an option.

Your expression was grim as you left the funeral site, and you prayed that no one would disturb you in your self-pity—but to your displeasure, Jace had been thoughtful enough to wait for you.

“I was worried about you,” he said, so gently that you wanted to throw up.

“You need not be,” you replied stiffly. “I did all my grieving for my father while I was working through those ledgers.”

Jacaerys had helped you sort through the books when you were crying too hard to read clearly, so you knew he was being genuine when he replied, “I know. But…”

“But?”

“It's just,” he started, and you could hear the hesitation in his voice, “is there to be a service for your mother?”

You stared dumbly. He sounded earnest when he explained, “I would like to attend, if there is one planned.”

“No,” you replied, and your voice sounded oddly strangled, and your throat hurt terribly. “No, there is not one planned. No one asked me to make arrangements for one, so I did not.”

“Would you rather that there wasn't one?”

“I had not thought about it—I did not think there was anyone who would like to come,” you admitted, which made you feel both horrible and sorry for yourself, and suddenly you were turning around to wipe away at your eyes. Oh, how you longed to be in the dung pit right now.

“Why would you even want to come?” you asked, sniffling. “You did not know her.”

“I would want to come for you,” Jacaerys said simply, and the sob that came out of you was so ugly that you felt embarrassed. Not once did you cry like this while reading through all the Iron Bank ledgers, but for some reason, the thought of your mother hurt your heart so much that you did not know how else to release the pain but with the most guttural sobs possible.

You felt a hand on your shoulder. You noticed then that you had crouched down to cry into your knees, and Jace had lowered himself to sit with you.

“When Ser Harwin died,” he said quietly, “Luke and I were not allowed to attend his funeral.”

“Oh,” you said, lip wobbling. You did not know where he was going with this.

“We still wanted to say goodbye, though, so instead we went to the Kingswood and buried the training swords he gave us when we were little. We did it alone.”

“O-oh.” More tears welled up as you realised what he was about to ask.

“I know you have not been allowed a proper funeral for your mother—but is there anything you would want to do, to say goodbye?”

You could not manage a yes, so you instead let out a whimpering sob.

“Meet me at the hour of the wolf tonight, at the bottom floor of the Kitchen Keep,” you said once you were coherent again, and Jacaerys nodded.

XI. DEATH, REVERSED

After Prince Velarion cast your mother out of the Red Keep, the septas, in their unending grace, offered you a kind of cruel consolation: Your mother was always going to be cast out anyway, they told you. She was merely a whore, seducing your father with temptation rather than marrying him out of love. He was always going to free himself from her spell and find the Seven again. This was inevitable.

They also told you, You were not a child born of love. You were born of sin and temptation. Your mother was bound to leave you as well, for her feelings for you were disingenuous; how can a whore love an accident of her sins? But now—her influence is gone, and you can find the love of the Seven instead.

And when Alicent Hightower said, Stop crying, sweetling, the septas are speaking the truth—this is all for the better, you realised that you would always hate her and her Faith.

Maybe you could have found the Seven if it were not for her words, but she ruined her gods for you with that one sentence. You burned your copy of the Seven-Pointed Star; you kicked and screamed as the septas dragged you to the High Septon’s service; you called Alicent a monster when she struck you for your misbehaviour. So horrific was her treatment of you that even Aegon—who had often been on the receiving end of her strikes himself—felt sorry for you.

Not that he actually helped you, of course. Only Aemond spent any time with you though it all, sitting next to you in the dragon pit as you cried.

You did not believe any of it, of course. You were not a child born of sin, for your mother and father loved each other. Your father did so much for your mother—told her he loved her in her mother tongue, grew persimmon trees in the courtyard to keep her homesickness at bay, lit nightfires for her so she could pray to R’hllor. Your father loved her so much that he took her to Lys and decided to stay, even if it meant leaving you.

There was no way he didn't love her. There was no way they didn't love you.

There was no way, and this was what you told yourself every time you heard those whispers: She merely seduced him. She merely used him. He did not truly love her. How could a prince truly love a whore?

And her daughter—that girl is a child of sin. How could they have loved her?

You had become so skilled at ignoring it all, and nearly delighted in being irreverent of it. But despite all of your efforts to laugh at the gossipmongers and the septas, several years of whispers now echoed in your ear as you made your way to the Kitchen Keep. They nicked at your heart, and you wished your mother and father were here to dispel them. But your father was a pile of bones somewhere on Bloodstone, and your mother was lost to the sea.

Your heart was so heavy with these thoughts that you did not say anything to Jace and Luke when they met you at the Keep. You merely dumped two piles of firewood and kindling in their arms and beckoned them to follow you. You led them up a long flight of stairs, carrying a bundle of beautiful silks, until you had all reached the top of some decrepit tower.

The winds were calm tonight, a cool breeze rather than a violent gust. It made it easier to light up the old fire pit—you struggled only a little before you remembered how.

“My mother and father used to come here at night,” you finally explained, your voice tired. “It is a practice at Red Temples in Essos to burn nightfires like this. They are meant to allow R’hllor to protect us from the dark. But there are no such temples in King’s Landing, so my father would do this instead to comfort my mother.”

Jacaerys and Lucerys both listened quietly as they sat next to you, faces lit up by the crackling heat. Luke was not very close with you—you had always felt too awkward befriending him, after the incident with Aemond’s eye—but he had wanted to come to help you honour your mother, so sorry he was for your grief.

He seemed genuinely interested when he asked, “Does it bring you comfort too?”

“It reminds me of my mother,” you said, and the two brothers nodded in understanding.

“And those silks you're carrying?” Jace asked.

“Things of my mother’s that we found in my father’s room.” You looked at them balefully as you took a piece out of the bundle, revealing a golden scarf with Lysene embroidery. “I think—I think I should burn them. I don't have anything else of hers.”

The two of them nodded. You fed the silk to the nightfire, watched as it ate through the gold thread. Your heart clenched as it burned to ash; you had so many times imagined that your mother was wearing this scarf as she walked by the harbours of Lys, holding your father’s hand.

“I always thought,” you said quietly, “that my father took my mother to Lys and loved her too much to come back.”

The both of them stayed silent. Waited.

“But”—your brow twinged—“I do not know what to think anymore. People always said my mother was a whore, you know? That my father married her out of pure lust and would eventually leave her. I always thought they were wrong, because he stayed in Lys and gave up his position here, all because he loved her too much to leave her. But now I don't know what to think.”

You did not know if he truly loved her. If the sword and the silks and even you were really evidence of his love, and not simply evidence that he was doting on his pretty concubine. If the ceremony in the Great Sept of Baelor was truly proof of their devotion, or if it was the impulsive decision of an infatuated man. For your father was supposed to be in Lys, loving your mother too much to return, spending the rest of his days with her in the Essosi sun—but instead he was a pile of bones, and she was lost forever.

You felt a familiar wetness on your face, a burn in your eyes that had nothing to do with smoke.

“But if he had stayed,” Luke asked quietly, hesitantly, “doesn't that mean he would have abandoned you?”

“That would have been fine,” you replied truthfully. “And I thought—I thought they'd visit someday, and I would get to see them again then. At the very least they'd love me enough for that.”

At the very least, you would for one last time be held by people who loved you.

You bit your trembling lip. Now that you'd said it all out loud, you were uncertain if you made sense. “Is it strange that I'm questioning it all now? That for nearly twenty years I believed steadfastly in their love, but now that they are gone, I do not know what to think?”

Neither of them said anything. Luke was looking down; Jace was staring into the flames.

“I wish I could ask them,” you whispered, and this seemed to strike Jace.

“I do not think it strange to question it.” Jacaerys did not look at you, but you knew he was not lying. “I have thought about it many times—about the relationship between my mother and Ser Harwin. I always thought they loved each other and that they loved us, when I was little—but now I'm not so sure. And I cannot ask him, no matter how much I wish for it.”

You gave him a long look, and you were strangely hopeful—as if the knowledge that Ser Harwin loved the three of them would somehow mean that your father loved you and your mother too.

“I do not think,” Jacaerys finally confessed, “that my mother loved Ser Harwin.”

Your heart was wrenched with pain.

“Oh,” you said quietly. “Why?”

“She did not cry after he died.” Jace sounded odd, his voice terse but brittle. “She did not cry and she told us that we shouldn't cry either. Like he meant nothing to us. I think now that he was a distraction for her, or a plaything. If the court whispers are true, then it is not the first time she would have done such a thing.”

“That can't be true,” you protested, perhaps too desperately. Rhaenyra had to have loved him. She risked her station just to bear his children—just like how your father lost his to have you.

But Jace seemed disconsolate. “Why not?” He gave you a wry look. “Bastards are supposed to be born of lies and temptation, not love—at least according to the Faith. If we are indeed the bastards of Ser Harwin and my mother, then we are proof that lies and temptation are all that existed between them.”

You thought of all the septas and their prayers and Alicent Hightower screaming at you to behave. Bastards are not so different from the daughters of whores, you mused. They see us all as products of sin.

“Fuck the Faith,” you hissed, and Jace seemed startled, as if not expecting the edge to your voice, but you did not falter. “I do not believe a person as kind as you could have been born of anything other than love.”

Jace’s eyes widened a little, but then his face settled into a kind of smile. Small, but gentle nevertheless.

“Then I do not think that you could have been born of anything else either.”

The corner of your mouth lifted. You turned back to the fire, eyes still hot, but a little less watery. Your fingers gripped the red-and-gold silk remaining in your hands—your mother’s wedding veil—and you meant to feed it to the nightfire, but you did not. You did not want to let it go.

You did not want to let her go.

“I’ve always thought that,” you confessed, “my mother loved me enough to someday come back to King’s Landing. She promised me, you know. She said she would.”

Jace gave you a soft look. “I'm sure she meant it.”

You wiped your eyes again. “Why do you think so?”

“Just a feeling.” He went quiet for a little, hesitating. But eventually he shared, “Ser Harwin said he would come back someday. He died, of course, but”—Jace looked down—“I believe he was telling the truth. He loved us, I think.”

You nodded, and the squeeze around your heart finally eased. It was entirely illogical, but you somehow knew this was true: Ser Harwin loved his children; that meant that your parents must have loved you too. It only made sense. Your father had wanted to come back for you after one hundred days. Your mother wanted to return after your grandsire died. She loved you so much that she would cross the seas for you again.

She must have crossed the seas again.

Your fingers gripped the veil even harder. Your eyes felt heavy, five days without proper sleep wearing them down. You fought to keep them open.

“You're tired,” Jace said. “You should go back to your room and rest.”

“No,” you said, but your eyelids were fluttering shut anyway, and you felt yourself start to sway. “No—the fire is supposed to burn all night. Until the dawn breaks and the light of R’hllor returns to us.”

“Will that bring you comfort, if it burns until daybreak?” he asked. You began to lie down—curling up on the stone floor.

You answered with your eyes closed: “It will remind me of my mother.”

You entered a strange dream after that, or perhaps a memory. You were sitting around the nightfire with your parents, a child once more. You were shivering and crying, for the wind was cold, and the night was dark and full of terrors. But your father had you lie down, your head in his lap, and he covered you with his cloak as your mother ran her fingers through your hair, and they held you. They loved you. You knew they loved you, and they loved each other too. Your father went to Lys and loved your mother so much that he never came back. Your mother loved you so much that she crossed the Narrow Sea once more just to see you.

And you would, for one last time, be held by someone who loved you.

(When you woke up in your bed the next morning, you were covered by a cloak that smelled of nightfire and dreams.)

END PART III

notes: FUN FACT when i was a teenager i was extremely obsessed over sansan and the cloak = marriage metaphor had a formative influence on me and that has definitely come thru in this fic lol. anyway - thank you for reading!!! i would greatly appreciate it if you reblogged & drop a line if you enjoyed this chapter! <3

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader

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sandwitchstories · 2 days ago

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Do you want to build a snow man?

Welcome back to more adventures in Mouse's Mini-verse! I just can't get enough of these two together!

For more adventures with Mouse, check out my Dad!Sukuna Series on my AO3 - Here! )

If you prefer to read this story on AO3 click here !

Author's Note: For anyone new to my Dad!Sukuna Series, Mouse is Sukuna's, currently, 2 year old daughter with reader.

Summary: Sukuna harbors a tiny pink haired fugitive and then becomes his daughter's accomplice.

WC: 900+

CW: reader is referred to as 'Mama' but not described, toddler dad Sukuna, girl dad!sukuna, true form Sukuna (4 arms), it's pretty much just plain Dilf Sukuna fluff and crack, SFW in every way, just family fluff, father and daughter fluff, I love them together, Uraume makes an appearance, with a meat cleaver

Sukuna sat on the tatami mat in the main room, letting the early morning sun warm him through the open shoji doors while he worked on paperwork, his writing elegant and formal. Sukuna took great pride in everything he did right down to his handwriting. Sloppy chicken scratch was unbecoming.

The sound of little feet slapping on the floor hit his ears long before Mouse’s little frame slid in through the shoji doors leading into the main room from the hall. She booked it over to him and ran behind him. He looked over his head in confusion as she lifted the edge of his haori and put herself directly under it.

Mouse popped her head out quickly and looked up at him. She pressed a finger to her lips and shushed at him. “A secret, Papa. A secret!”

And with that she completely disappeared under his haori. He shook his head but said nothing. Between your genetics and Mouse being only 2 years old… He did not even try to make sense of what was going on.

That was, until he heard louder footsteps rushing towards them. He set down his brush and looked up, wondering what on Earth the issue could be. He had been enjoying a quiet morning for a change… He raised an eyebrow as an unusually disheveled looking Uraume appeared at the door with a hand behind their back.

Uraume took a knee in respect before asking, “Forgive me for interrupting. Have you seen Mouse anywhere, Master Sukuna?”

“Is there a reason you are trying to locate the brat?” He cocked his head.

“None. None at all… I was just looking for her to give her some… cooking lessons,” Uraume said with a smile. “I’ll take my leave.”

Sukuna watched as the winter haired warrior stood and turned to make their way back into the hallway, but not before Sukuna noted they were hiding a damn meat cleaver behind their back. Once the door was closed Sukuna spoke.

“Come out, Mouse. I think the coast is cl-”

The door opened again and this time it was you, flustered and almost sputtering. “Have you seen our precious little daughter anywhere?”

“What is going on? Uraume was just in here looking for her too.”

“Well, you better hope I find her before Uraume makes her into toddler tenderloin!”

Well, that explained the meat cleaver. “And this is all because…”

“Mouse got into the flour and made the biggest mess you have ever seen.”

“That’s what the big issue is?”

“Uraume slipped on it when they were in pursuit of Mouse…”

Sukuna blinked all 4 of his eyes slowly, digesting this information. But then… then he began to imagine the scene in his head… and he threw his head back laughing.

“You’ve finally lost your mind, haven’t you?” you asked with hands on your hips.

“Mouse, come out,” Sukuna chuckled.

You hurried to shut the shoji door behind you, hissing out, “I had a feeling you were harboring a fugitive!”

Mouse moved to his side and lifted his haori to rest on top of her head. “Hi Mama…”

“Hi Mouse,” you said, moving to stand in front of the two of them looking down at her. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“No, please and thank you,” she said, going back under Sukuna’s haori.

Sukuna’s lips twitched in amusement at her answer. “Mouse. Why did you make a mess in the kitchen?”

Her head popped out to look up at her father. She regarded him for a moment as if trying to decide what route she was going to go. She opted to give him a big toothy grin and wrap herself around his arm. “Hi Papa.”

“We’re past that now,” he said, grabbing a hold of her and putting her in his lap. “Answer the question.”

“I not trying to make a mess,” she said, looking up at you both with big doe eyes.

“What were you trying to do?” he asked.

“I want to do snow angels,” she answered.

“Huh?” you guys asked in unison.

She looked at the two of you like you were slow. She proceeded to climb out of his lap, lay down on the floor between you and say, “Snow angels.” Followed immediately by a demonstration.

“Mouse… flour isn’t snow… it’s not even cold…” you stared at her in disbelief.

“It white and it soft,” she replied, as if explaining herself, still laying on the floor.

“Brat…” Sukuna looked down at her, pondering her lack of common sense. Then again, she was only two. “You know Uraume can make ice. They can also make snow.”

Sukuna immediately questioned his words as he watched Mouse’s eyes get even bigger before she leapt off the ground like an expert martial artist and bolted out of the room yelling for Uraume. You looked at him like you wanted to ring his neck before you took off after the toddler who was unknowingly now on a suicide mission to make snow angels in the middle of August.

Sukuna glanced down at the paperwork he had been working on. It no longer held his interest. He stood and fixed his robes as he headed towards the kitchen where he could hear a commotion. You were absolutely going to tell him he was part of this problem… Sukuna grinned at that thought. Well, if he was going to be on your shit list either way… why be part of the problem when he could be the whole damn problem?

He called out to the three of you as he came down the hall. “Mouse! Forget snow angels! Let's make a snowman!”

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aemondapologistfrfr · 2 days ago

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Anything for You - Pt 5 Final

daemon x daughter!reader

Previous Parts

Summary: Over the years you fill the halls of Dragonstone with children and live content and happy. Something both you and Daemon never would’ve thought possible.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, pregnant!reader, lactation kink, breeding kink, public, oral(f), p in v, time skips, birth

Authors Note: literally just soft, devoted, loving, and caring daddy daemon to finish this series off

Word Count: 6k

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6 moons after Part 4

I’m silently humming in the maesters chambers as he looks over me. Aelon is softly cooing in Daemon's lap and I turn my head to watch them with a smile. The maester pulls my dress back down and looks at me deep in thought. I turn my attention back to him and tilt my head.

“Is there anything different about this pregnancy, princess? Do you feel any different?” I chew on my lip mulling over his words.

“Maybe even more content than the first? We’ve had no issues with lying guards and boats.” I chuckle but my father doesn’t seem to find the jest amusing. “I feel like my bump is bigger than it was when I started my labors with Aelon.” I bring my hand to my stomach and rub my hands over it lovingly.

“I had the same thought.” the maester hums. “I’ve done this many times with many women.” he nods at me and Daemon. “Princess, I believe you’re carrying twins.” a smile spreads across my face at his confirmation. I’ve had the same thought for moons now but I didn’t want to express it aloud.

“Are you positive?” Daemon’s voice is filled with hope.

“As positive as I can be, my Prince.” the maester nods with a smile.

“We are getting more efficient.” Daemon stands with Aelon and comes to my side to brush my hair back. “Twins.” he hums, bringing his hand down to my swollen stomach.

My father helps me up from the bed and Aelon wiggles into my arms. We make our way out of the maesters chambers and my handmaidens pad over to my side and whisk Aelon away for his nap. Daemon slips his fingers into mine and walks me out to the gardens. The soft breeze kisses my skin and I lean into Daemon's side.

“I know you want for them to both be boys, but I hope for one of them to be a girl. Just one. Then I’ll get back to making your army.” I smile up at him and he chuckles.

“We shall see what the Gods grant us.” he presses his lips to my brow and leads me over to a table. He takes a seat across from me and he stares at me with a soft smile. “You look like the Mother made flesh. You’re glowing and so calm and at ease.” he reaches across the table for one of my hands as a blush creeps up my neck.

“It’s thanks to you. You care for me so thoroughly there’s nothing I want or need for.” I hum.

“I’d do anything you ask of me, sweet girl. Nothing would be too much.” he leans back in his chair and looks me over.

“Well since I’m carrying two babes..” I trail off nibbling my lip.

“Yes?” he nods his head, smirking.

“I think I deserve two new necklaces.” I purse my lips and he chuckles.

“Just two necklaces?” he raises his brows. “I was expecting more.” he hums.

“Well I could also use some new gowns. Maybe some new hair pieces.” I look up thinking of more. “Oh, and maybe some new earrings and-“

“Sweet girl.” my eyes snap back to his at his tone.

“Yes, daddy?” I bat my eyelashes and he groans.

“Do not start with that.” he tries to hide his smile.

“With what?” I tilt my head.

“Your little innocent facade.” he gestures to me.

“I don’t know what you mean?” I pout.

“Mm,” he looks me over with a smirk.

“So will you not get me what I asked for?” I push my lower lip out and he chuckles. “If not, it seems as if I married the wrong man.” he is on his feet the moment the words leave my mouth.

“I’m going to have to travel to get you these things you desire.” he tilts my chin up. “It will take me time and it’s not my wish to leave you. Especially in the state you’re in.” his hand rests against my bump.

“So I don’t get any gifts?” I blink up at him with a soft pout and he exhales, shaking his head.

“How about I let you take anything you please from the family vaults?” he tries to compromise.

“I don’t want swords and weapons.” I frown.

“There are gowns and jewels down there too.” I hold up my hand and he chuckles, grabbing it and helping me stand up.

He leads us back into the castle and down a set of stairs I haven't explored yet. He grabs a torch from the wall as he leads down yet another set of stairs going slowly monitoring my every step. Once we reach the bottom he grabs my hand and leads me down the dark hall. The deeper we walk into the vaults the closer I lean into my father. The air starts to cool and I crane my neck as we stand in front of large obsidian doors. He pushes the doors open and leads me inside, shining the torch around.

I gasp walking over to a table and lift the necklace up. I point at the jewels I like and my father nods and adds it into a bag he brought. I continue to pick up pieces of jewelry and hand them to Daemon who accepts piece after piece. When we finally make it to the gowns a frown forms on my face. I trace my fingers over the fabric. I’m sure these were once beautiful gowns worn by Queens but they’re just..

“These are terribly outdated.” my father barks out a laugh. “The fabric is scratchy. They’re not pretty enough for me. I like silk and flowing fabrics. Not this stiff, old..” I scrunch my nose.

“Then I shall have seamstresses and fabrics brought to us.” he kisses my brow. “I’ll send word across the realm for jewelers to bring their best for my sweet girl.” I smile up at him.

“Thank you, daddy.” I reach up to pull his lips down to mine.

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2 moons later

I pout from our bed as my father holds my hand while the maester finishes up the exam. I look down at my massive bump that I know longer have the energy to carry around. Daemon carries me around our chambers and sees to most of my needs waving off my handmaidens. The maester pulls my gown back down and looks up at us with a reassuring smile.

“It is almost time, Princess. Maybe a fortnight now. How are you feeling?” he looks over my scrunched face.

“I want these babes out of me.” I sniffle. “I want to go to the garden. I want to be able to walk on my own.” a tear slips down my face and my father is quick to wipe it away.

“I know this time is much different than the first but you’re still doing great.” the maester nods. “Even in this state you’re still my best patient.” he smiles and escorts himself out of our chambers.

“I can take you down to the gardens, sweet girl.” Daemon hums, brushing my hair back.

“It’s not the same.” I whine. “I don’t feel pretty and graceful like I did the first time.” my lip wobbles as I start to cry again. “These candles smell awful. The snacks they brought me were dry. My breasts are so full I’m sure they’re going to burst any day now.” I gasp as a sob tears through me. “I just- I just,” I start to cry harder and he slips into bed with me.

“Tell daddy what you need.” he holds me closer, wiping away my tears.

“I need you.” my voice small as I pull him closer.

“I’m right here.” he reassures. “I’m going to go blow out the candles. Then I’m going to tell the guard to tell them to start preparing our dinner. Then I will be back in bed with you.” I nod watching him go about his tasks.

I watch him walk around our chambers as the tears continue to pour down my face. I pull the blankets up to me and cling to them. He blows out the last of the candles and throws them out into the hall with hushed words to the guards. He shuts the door behind him and walks back over to me. He slowly pulls the blankets from me and I frown up at him.

“I’m sorry I haven’t worshiped you enough, sweet girl.” He starts to lift off my dress and I let my eyes flutter shut at the relief of being free of the fabric no matter how soft.

He lifts one of my legs and presses his lips against my ankle and makes his way up my leg before starting over on my other. He showers my bump with attention and soft words as I look down at him with glassy eyes. He grabs my hand and kisses each fingertip and my palm before offering the same treatment to my wrists and the rest of my arm. He repeats this process again on my other arm and looks down at me with such devotion it causes my heart to ache.

“Can daddy help you with these?” his hands softly engulf my breasts pulling a whimper from me.

“Please daddy, please,” I beg nodding my head.

He dips his head down and slowly laps at one of my nipples. My fingers bury themselves in his hair, softly stroking and tugging as he starts to suck more intensely. I feel the familiar feeling of relief as my milk is slowly being released. His hands wrap on either side of my waist as he continues to lick and nibble. He presses his lips across my chest to my other nipple and I sigh holding him closer as my relief washes through me.

“Thank you,” I sniffle and he opens his eyes and looks up at me as he continues to lick against me.

He stays attached to my chest silently alternating between my breasts. I sink back into the pillows as presses his lips slowly up to my neck. He kisses and sucks across my throat before kissing up my jaw. His lips fall against mine and I sigh into him as he allows me to kiss him for as long as I please.

“I can see why Aelon drinks so much.” he mumbles against my lips. A smile forms on my face as I let out a small giggle. “There’s your smile.” he nuzzles into my neck, holding me tightly.

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twins birth

I groan, rubbing my eyes awake before blinking around our dark chambers. My hand grabs my bump as a wave of pressure washes through me. I slowly shake my father awake and he’s sitting up in bed looking over me.

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” he brushes my hair back.

“The babes are coming. Go get the maesters.” he jumps up and tells the guard to wake the maesters and midwives.

Daemon rushes around our chambers quickly lighting candles and throwing more wood into our hearth. There’s a quick succession of knocks and the maester and the midwives pour into our chambers with more candles. My father grabs towels for the bed and goes over to the wardrobe to grab the two blankets I picked out for our babes. I watch as he rustles around the bottom of our wardrobe and pulls out a box.

“What’s that?” I scrunch my brows looking at him.

“I had an after birth dress made for you. The finest silk, in your favorite color.” I look up to him with glossy eyes.

“I love you.” I look up to him and he cups my cheeks and presses a kiss to my lips.

“I love you.” he hums and stands back.

The maester comes to the bed and begins his checks. The midwives come to my side and help soothe me. My father curls into the bed next to me and I grab his hand. The pressure and the waves of pain become closer together and a low groan comes from my mouth.

“It’s time.” I nod and in moments I’m swarmed with hands and bodies.

My first push steals the breath from me but the following pushes send adrenaline through me. My father smooths my hair as I softly curse before there’s a slight release of pressure. I hear the soft cry and I go to reach for my babe but the pressure starts once more. Some tears trickle down my cheeks and my father wipes them away and whispers words of praise as I start pushing once more. My body now used to the pain and the pressure starts pushing once more. It takes less effort than my first babe and with a cry from me my second babe comes out and lets out a loud cry.

The midwives flock around me and wipe my face and fan me off while my father is ushered down to cut the cords. He wraps the babes in the blankets and brings them over to me. Tears pour down my face as I look at our fresh babes. I look up to him and see that he’s also shedding a couple tears.

“You did so good, sweet girl.” he rests one of the babes in my arms and lays down next to me with the other. “I’m sorry that you didn’t get your girl.” his voice soft.

“Two more little boys.” I chuckle slowly trailing my finger across their brows.

The midwives whirl around our chambers cleaning up and we hand the babes off to them to be cleaned and checked over more thoroughly. My father helps me up and my grip on his arm has my knuckles going white. I nod at him to keep going and he helps me change into the new dress.

“Princess, I wish you would rest.” the maester clicks his tongue.

“I will.” I glare at him as I slowly walk back to the bed with fresh towels.

Daemon helps me lay back and presses his lips against my brows again. He gets into the bed next to me once more and the midwives bring our babes back over to us. I adjust the top of my dress and bring the babes to my chest. My father helps hold one of the babes as they latch onto me. The midwives and master filter out of the room switching places with my awaiting handmaidens.

“Is there anything we can bring you, Princess?” they ask, looking at my babes with love.

I ask for a couple drinks and snacks and they’re back in moments before leaving me and Daemon to bond with our new babes. There’s a quick knock and my father tells them to enter with annoyance. My handmaiden brings in Aelon and he wiggles out of her arms and reaches for us. Daemon nestles the babe in my arms and gets up and brings Aelon over to us.

“My family.” Daemon smiles crawling back into bed with Aelon.

“What shall we name these two?” I hum looking to the babe on my right who has unlatched and fallen asleep.

“I’d like to name this one Maelor.” he hums, brushing the babes hair that is still suckling at me. “You choose his.” he nods at me.

“You shall be my sweet little, Aemon.” I coo, pressing my lips to the sleeping babe in my arms.

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2 years later - Aelon’s second name day

I smooth my gown and admire myself in the mirror. I watch as my handmaiden places my necklaces and cuffs while another offers me different earrings. I smile when I hear my father walking through the doors. He comes to stand behind me and looks over my form. He wraps his hands around my waist and my handmaidens quietly excuse themselves from our chambers. His hands start to travel up to my breasts and I bat them away turning to him with pursed lips.

“Later. Aelons name day celebrations are to begin soon.” I grab his arm and start to tug him out of our chambers.

A smile blooms across my features as I take in the decorations in the great hall. Streamers and flowers are spread across almost every surface and the hearths are lit causing a warmth to spread throughout the hall. I hear Aelon giggling and I turn seeing him running to me followed by two more carrying my other boys.

“Oh look at all of my little boys.” I coo peppering them with kisses. “How have they been?” I look over the ladies and they smile saying they’ve been perfect little princes.

Daemon starts to lead me to the dais and the ladies follow behind and take seats at a small table behind us and fuss over the twins. Aelon sits in my lap and grabs for Daemon who offers him his fingers to play with. The doors groan open and the King and his family walk through and make their way to us.

“Let us see this growing Prince.” the King smiles and I bring Aelon down to him. “As handsome as I remember.” his eyes twinkle before he makes his way up to the steps.

The hall slowly begins to fill with the visitors from across the realm excited to get a glimpse at the inside of Dragonstone. Soft music begins to echo throughout the hall and servants rush in with food and drinks. Aelon charges wildly between the tables giggling as he passes visiting Lords and Lady’s. I watch with a soft smile as my handmaidens chase after him until he jumps up on the dais underneath the table and looks up at me and Daemon.

“Come here you little beast.” Daemon scoops him up and he tries to wiggle out of his arms.

“No more or you won’t be allowed to have cake.” I whisper to Aelon who pouts and sits in Daemon's lap.

“Imagine once the twins can run around with him.” Daemon chucks and I take a generous sip of wine.

“Then you’ll be running after them.” he smiles at me and pats my thigh.

The rest of the celebrations carry on and everyone comes up to our table to see Aelon. Aelon ends up sneaking off the dais and when I find him he’s at the table near the servants eating cake by the plate. I rise from my chair sighing before making my way over to him. I scoop him up and bring him back to the table with his frosting covered face and I turn to Daemon who is trying to hide his laughter.

The celebration goes long into the night and I was half tempted to feign an illness to retire to our chambers early. My handmaidens have long ago taken the children to bed and all that’s left in the hall is the King and Queen.

“You two have really turned this cold rock into a home.” the King says with wine slurred words.

“Husband.” the Queen hisses.

“No, he’s right enough.” I offer her a soft smile which she sheepishly returns.

“I had figured you would have more children in these halls by now.” the King raises his brows to Daemon.

“We’re working on it.” I chuckle while sipping my wine as Daemon places his hand on my thigh.

We continue to talk and the Queen hushes the King after almost everything that comes out of his mouth. Daemon continues to chuckle and his hand on my thigh squeezes softly. His touch a promise of what’s to come once were sealed behind the doors to our chambers. The King finishes his glass of wine and exhales deeply. The Queen excuses them from the hall leaving us alone.

“Get up on this table.” Daemons words low.

“The servants will be-“

“Waiting outside until we leave to start cleaning.” he raises a brow. “Be a good girl and sit on this table and serve yourself to daddy.” my cheeks flush as I start to push my chair back.

He pulls me in front of him and I look down at him. I lean down and press my lips against his. His kiss is slow and sensual. He slowly pulls back, lifting me up and placing me on the table. He takes his time pulling my skirts up as I look at him with an intense need. I gasp as he quickly pulls my small clothes aside and dips down.

Daemon licks at me with fervor and I catch myself from falling back on the table. My teeth dig into my lip as he swirls around my bud. A small squeak drops from my mouth as he pushes two fingers in. I claw into the wood when his fingers curl and my legs shake. Moans slip past my lips and I give up trying to be quiet and let the obscene sounds pour out. The louder I get the faster his tongue and fingers move.

“Daddy,” I whine, feeling my high approaching. “Please, daddy,” I gasp as my hips start to jerk. My pleasure pours out of me and he groans into me before coming out from beneath my skirts. He looks at my heaving chest with a smirk and stands and helps me off the table.

“Let’s go back to our chambers.” he hums, pulling me out of the hall.

“There’s somewhere else I want to go.” I lick my lips looking up at him. His eyes light up as he nods at me to lead the way. I lead him through the halls and he lets out a soft chuckle as I pull him into the hall that has our house seat and he looks down at me with a smirk. I tug him over to the seat and push on his chest for him to sit. He sits back and spreads his legs looking up at me with an amused smile.

“This is a surprise, sweet girl.” he hums, holding his hands out for mine. I feel more wetness pool between my thighs at the sight of him relaxed and leaning back. His tongue darts across his lower lip as his eyes roam all over me.

“I thought you'd have taken me here by now.” I take small steps to put myself between his legs and he watches my every move.

“How long have you thought about this?” his hands grab at my waist, softly squeezing. He pulls me closer and looks up to me with hungry eyes.

“A while now.” my voice barely a whisper. “I want you buried inside me on our house seat. Make my moans echo throughout the hall. Fill me.” the last words a plea.

A low groan comes from his lips as he removes his hands from my waist and starts to unlace his trousers and I start lifting my skirts. His length bobs up against him and he pulls me onto his lap. My knees find a home on the cold stone on either side of him. He lines himself up and sheaths himself inside me quickly. I start bouncing quickly and his hips start to snap up into me. His fingers dig into my waist and I let my head rest against his shoulder as we chase our highs together.

“You’re so fucking indecent. Begging me to breed this sweet cunt. Ask me nicely and I will.” he grunts as I whimper above him.

“Daddy,” I gasp as he takes control of all of the movements. “Fill me, breed me, please, please,” I gasp and his palm lands against my cheek under my skirts. His fingers dig into my tender flesh and I moan loudly.

“That’s it, good girl.” he chuckles watching as my head falls back. “Squeezing my cock so tightly.” he grunts and my pleasure slams through me with a loud cry of his name. He continues to rut up into me and I whine as I feel him start to fill me. He keeps pushing up causing us both to tremble with extra pleasure.

“Thank you, daddy,” I whimper before capturing his lips once more. He pulls me off of him and we situate our clothes before making our way back to our chambers where we stay tangled together for the rest of the night.

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5 years later - Aelon 7 - Maelor & Aemon 6 - Rhaela 5

I’m smiling at my daughter in the mirror of my vanity as I brush her beautiful silver hair. Everyday I thank the Gods for giving me my precious little girl, Rhaela. She pulls open my drawers and holds up a necklace and looks at me with her round eyes. I grab it from her hands and place it around her neck before I go back to brushing her hair.

“What about this one? Can I wear this one too?” I chuckle, grabbing another necklace from her.

“Of course.” I him clasping it around her neck. I tie the top of her hair back and leave the rest flowing before I offer her my hand.

“Are we going to the gardens?” she grabs my hand and pulls me to the doors.

“We are.” I pull the doors open for us. “We have to check on the flowers you're growing.” she lets go of my hand and starts to sprint down the hall.

“Not too far.” I call after her with a smile. She waits for me at the end of the hall and we begin to descend the steps. Once we step outside the warm air kisses us as a greeting. She tugs me forward again and into her little garden.

“Look,” she coos plucking a flower.

“We should leave them to keep growing.” I hum looking at the flower in her hand.

“I’m sorry.” her smile drops.

“It's okay,” I nod. “We can bring this to go show your brothers.” her smile starts to form again and she nods quickly. She places the flower in her pocket and I stay kneeled on the stone with her as we look at her growing plants. I rise and lead her into the main gardens and lean down to her. “We can pick the flowers in here.” I whisper. “Aelon used to pick them all the time as a babe.” she looks at me with wide eyes.

“Really? Which ones were his favorites?” she looks around. I lead her over to the lily’s and she smiles, bending the stem so she can smell it. “Can I bring him one?” she asks with a sheepish smile.

“I think he’d love that.” I nod and she plucks it from the stem and shoves it in her pocket.

“Can we give it to him now?” I look down at her with a smile as she jumps with excitement.

“You don’t want to go to our bench today?” she shakes her head pulling me out of the gardens. I follow her and she pulls me over to the training area and she peeks around the corner watching them. “Go on. I’m right behind you.” I encourage and she starts to walk across the sands.

“It’s my turn to use fathers sword.” Maelor yells at Aelon.

“You can’t even hold its weight.” Aelon yells back.

“I can too.” Maelor charges at Aelon.

I look at Daemon who says a few hushed words and they’re huffing and apologizing to each other. I look around the beach to find Aemon and see him along the shore collecting small rocks and shells. He is such a tender boy, has no taste for training and weaponry. Daemon invites him nonetheless and on days when he declines I love it when he joins me and Rhaela in the gardens.

“Aelon,” Rhaela shouts running through the sands to him. “Mother said these were your favorite.” she pants, digging through her pocket. I watch as she takes out the crumpled flower and Aelon looks down at it with scrunched brows.

“What do you want me to do with this?” Aelon looks at the lily in her hands and she frowns.

“Aelon,” I scold and he sighs dramatically.

“Thank you, Rhaela.” he picks the flower out of her hand and shoves it in his pocket.

“Mother, look.” Aemon comes running up to me.

“What do you have for me today, hm?” I smile squatting down.

“Just some rocks.” his voice small as he blinks up at me.

“Oh no, these are special rocks.” I coo, taking a couple from his hands. “See this one?” I point to one of them. “This one has been here since the days of Aegon the Conqueror.” his eyes light up.

“Really?” he picks it out of my palm. “It’s that old?” he holds the rock up in the sun and examines it.

“It is.” I hum. “And this one.” I point to the next one. “Has been here long before the moon and stars.” he looks up at me with wonder.

“No.” he looks up at me with pursed lips.

“Yes.” I nod with a smile.

“Father.” Aemon calls Daemon over to us as I softly chuckle.

“What is it?” he lifts Aemon up into his arms.

“Mother says this has been here since before the moon and stars.” he points to the rock I’m holding and I look to Daemon.

“She’s right.” he nods, plucking the stone from my fingers. I watch with a smile as he goes on talking about the stone and Aemon listens to his every word. He offers the stone to Aemon once more and plops him back on the sand. We lean against each other watching our children flock together on the shores of our home.

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2 years later

I hold back my chuckles as our kids run around our chambers. They’ve been fighting about who gets to hold the babe next. I gave birth over half a year ago but their love for him has only grown. The second he opened up his violet eyes I felt my heart grow even more.

“It’s my turn to hold Vaegon.” Aelon pouts standing above Rhaela.

“You’ll upset him you beast.” Rhaela waves him off.

“You’re a beast.” Aelon hisses at her and she sticks her tongue out at him.

“It’s my turn anyways.” Maelor purses his lips.

“No, it's my turn.” Aemon says with a frown.

“Okay okay,” Daemon sighs standing. “The four of you out.” he takes Vaegon into his arms and passes him to the awaiting handmaiden. He shoos our children out with the other handmaidens and turns back to me with a smile. “I forget how quickly our army can take over our chambers.” he chuckles, walking over to me in my chaise.

“That they do.” my face warms with a smile. “I love them so much. I love you so much.” I reach for his hand and he twines our fingers. I tug him down onto the chaise with me and he chuckles against my lips. “Should we have a couple more?” he pulls back and looks at me with a raised brow. “I’m getting old, I’m quickly approaching thirty years, husband.” he barks out a laugh.

“Old.” he shakes his head. “You don’t look a day over twenty.” I roll my eyes playfully at his words.

“We’ve been wed for over ten years now, you needn’t sweet talk me.” he leans down.

“Oh but I like the way you blush and squirm when I do, sweet girl.” he lowers his body to mine. “I’ll never tire of it.” he places his lips on mine softly. “You truly want another babe already?” he searches my eyes.

“I would like to so Vaegon can grow with someone his age.” I nod.

He lifts himself off of me and offers me his hand and begins to lead me over to the bed. His lips press against mine and start to trail up my jaw. The laces to my gown are softly pulled and my dress slips down my body. My slip is lifted over my head at the same leisurely pace and his hands lay me back gently. His soft touches make my skin feel like it’s on fire and I whine when he stands back.

He smirks at me as he starts to pull his clothes off. I reach out for him to return to me and he’s crawling into our bed on top of me. I lean up and bring my lips to his and we let our tongues continue the slow dance our fingers started. His fingers tease down my center pulling a whine from me and he begins to kiss down my neck. His fingers find my bud and swirl against it and my fingers dig into his back.

“I love that you always want to stay swollen with my child. Such a good girl. Always such a good girl for me.” his voice husky as one of his fingers dip down to my pooling wetness and dips it in. He lets out a low chuckle, “Your greedy little cunt is already squeezing my finger.”

“Please,” I gasp softly as he slowly starts to pump his finger while keeping his thumb circling my bud. He pushes another finger into me and the sounds of my wetness grow louder along with my whimpers. He licks across my chest as I feel my stomach start to coil. “Yes, daddy,” I cry out feeling my high slam through me.

He pulls his fingers out and I look down watching him spread my wetness over his length before filling me completely. He slowly pulls out with a smile on his face as I squirm beneath him. When he pushes back in it’s not faster and the feeling of the stretch has my toes curling. He continues with this slow pace as soft whines pour from my lips.

“I’ll never tire of the feel of you, sweet girl.” he presses his forehead against mine. I wrap my arms and legs around him and he starts a slow rhythm. We rock our hips together letting out soft curses and each other's name. My pleasure washes over me with a cry of his name. “I love you, sweet girl.” he rasps as he fills me with his.

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10 years later

I watch with tear filled eyes as my eldest son and my only daughter share their vows. Daemon holds me against his side as he smiles down at me cupping my face. Memories of our wedding flood my mind and I reach up to press my lips against his. We turn our attention back to our children as they look at us with wide smiles.

Over the years I’ve been blessed with seven children. Raising every one of them has been a privilege and Daemon has been devoted to every single one of them. We’ve raised them to be honorable and brave and I’ve been so proud of the accomplishments they’ve achieved.

I never would’ve dreamed that my desire for this all those years ago would actually come to fruition. I never imagined I could ever be so content and at ease. The halls of my home are filled with warmth and love. There’s nothing more I could ever want for.

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masterlist 🔌

um wtf this was supposed to be a one shot and now it’s ending after 6 chaps 🧎🏼‍♀️ thank you so much to everyone who saw the vision and went on this journey with me 🥰 manifesting a daddy daemon for all of us 💞

anything for you tag: @mamawiggers1980

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld @nz2004 @ninihrtss

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #hotd daemon #prince daemon targaryen #daemon smut #daemon x reader smut #hotd fanfic #x reader #x reader fic #hotd smut #x reader smut #daemon x you

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jaune-submissive-and-breedable · 3 days ago

Text

'Jaune father sold him to Weiss's family as a servant/bodyguard. And of course, Weiss's asshole of a father would have him experimented on, making him taller and place him to be a guard the mansion like a dog. But Weiss and her family/friends take full Avenged of their sweet power guard dog.

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"Oh, Of course, we'll be happy to see you dear" Willow chirped. The screen before her had the visage of her eldest children, standing at attention with a crispy military uniform. "And I'm sure HE will be happy too~"

After closing the call, Willow leaned back in her chair and sighed happily. It's been a long while since she's had all her children together, maybe longer, with Weiss and Bleiss going to separate combat schools. She rose to inform her daughters that their elder sister would be visiting soon, pausing to ask her personal maid a very important question.

"2P, where is Jaune right now? I'm sure he'd be overjoyed to hear Winter's coming for a visit"

"I believe he's playing with the twin mistresses, ma'am" the dark skin maid replied.

Willow sighed and raised a hand to her temple. "I swear...those girls..."

She left her office and headed towards the twin heiress' room. they always wanted to play with the blonde boy, even from a young age, despite Jaune being a faunus. Honestly, she couldn't blame them, he was a really good boy. And the way his ears and tail wagged when he was happy is just the cutest.

Years ago, before Weiss was born, her husband, Jasque had acquired Jaune from his family for a pretty penny. The transaction was visibly illegal, but the law meant nothing to wealthy men like him. After doing so, he had atlas physicians and scientists experiment on the poor boy for months before introducing him to the family. He was tall, almost to her hips, had scars all over his body and his eyes were dull and lifeless from the experiment. What shocked her and enraged her most was how young he was. For this reason, he was placed as Winter's bodyguard and servant since they were the same age. They were inseparable since then, always doing things together no matter who was present. Be it eating playing, bathing, or even sleeping Jaune was there for her, he even got a little life back in his eyes After Weiss, Bleiss, and Whitley were born, he became their bodyguard and servant as well. All including Willow, the servants, Klein, and some of their guests loved Jaune's company for one reason or another. He also lived up to his bodyguard status in the family quite well. He truly was a good boy.

As Willow neared her daughters' room, she could her the muffled sounds of flesh colliding, moans of pleasure, and the distinct shouts of swears, no doubt from that vulgar child of hers.

*I swear that girl is gonna be the death of me* she thought as she turned the nob.

When she opened the door, Willow was immediately hit with the distinct smell of sex emanating from the twins' room. Looking inside, she saw Jaune lying on Weiss's bed. His clothes were thrown all over the room leaving him naked as the two girls in question had their way with him. Around his feet, and presumably, his hands were black glyphs that held him in place.

Weiss sat atop his face with a groin smashed into his mouth. Her long white hair was loose and tangled around her sweat-caked body. She wore only her pure white panties and a pair of white thigh-high socks. Her mouth was wide open from Jaune's long flat, dog-like tongue licking and probing her pussy.

Bleiss, on the other hand, sat on his groin, moaning and shouting as his cock speared her tiny pussy. Unlike her sister, she was completely nude save for the lacy pair of panties that hung loosely around her ankles. Her pitch-black hair was held in a neat ponytail allowing any onlooker to see her cup breast bouncing wildly up and down.

"FUCK, HIS COCK IS SOO~ GOOD!" She shouts ceasing her bouncing to wildly grind against Jaune's cock.

Across from her, Weiss moaned as his voice vibrated in her pussy "Bleiss you sow...*Moan*....Get off his it's my turn now!"

The haired girl flipped her twin off with a smirk, "Oh please, you snooze you lose bitch~"

Weiss's face scrunched at her twin's reply, her face red with anger "Why you listen here you....you"

"Ahem"

Looking to who said that, they girls' eyes widen when they saw their mother standing in the doorway, arms crossed with a disappointed expression.

"Oh.....fuck"

"Mother!..."

"Care to explain what you two are doing.." she paused looking at Bleis. a splatter of cloudy fluid covered his ass and leaked from her womanhood. Looking down Willow also saw a bright blue cockring laying on the floor "Bleiss....turn around"

Bleiss had a nervous expression on her face and protested "Oh...but umm.......I'm...uhhh"

Now, Bleiss"

She wanted to protest more but begrudgingly turned around. Willow shook her head upon seeing her daughter's bloated stomach, no doubt allowing Jaune to cum inside her.

"Really dear...." she sighed

"I warned her not to but she wouldn't listen, Mother" Weiss chimed, despite having a bloated stomach as well, albeit small.

Bleiss turned around to face her twin, fury covering her face "YOU FUCKING ASS KISSING!!!!..."

Willow was about to stop their arguing but 2P beat her the punch. The android grabbed the duo by their arms and roughly pulled them to their feet. Their stomachs emptying themselves of cum now that they're unplugged, the cloudy white fluid forming into lakes on the floor. From the bed, Jaune sat up coughing, his throat full of his own cum from Weiss sitting on his face.

"Jaune" Willow called out calmly. The blonde looked in her direction for his orders "Go clean yourself up and wait for me in a quarters please, I'll be along to talk with you shortly"

He nodded and made his way towards the door, passed Willow, and into the hallway, leaving his clothes behind. She bit her lip as he passed. Over the years, He's grown into a handsome man. He was well built, still very tall almost 7 feet, and had a decent amount of muscle on his frame. His hair had grown long enough to reach his shoulders. He also had some stumble growing that made him look a bit more mature. She could understand why her daughters risked pregnancy with that stud. Not letting herself be led astray, she turned back to her daughters, disappointed and overall just tired of their shenanigans.

"You too are to be attending two of the best huntsman academies in the kingdoms and yet you risk getting pregnant before you even graduate? You know Jaune's sperm is highly potent" She sighed and turned to leave, giving 2P one small task. "2P, please make sure these too are cleaned and dressed. Also, inform Klein that they are not to have any desserts for a week"

"What!"

"Bullshit"

"Make that two weeks"

Hours later, in Willow's bedroom

A muted groan escaped Jaune's mouth as he squirmed on the soft mattress. On his lap sat a half-naked Willow, her blouse torn open, skirt hiked up to her waist, and pantyhose ripped with her panties moved to the side. Her stomach was bloated with cum with small streams leaking from her stuffed pussy. Her left hand was raised in the air holding a syringe of pink fluid while her right used Jaune's chest for balance.

"Your taking to the aphrodisiac nicely" she cooed as she gently rolled her hips on his cock. "I can feel your balls churning with cum~"

"Mistress...I....need to.....BREED" he growled dangerously, his eyes had a feral look in them

She gently kissed his lips and looked into his dull blue eyes, bringing him back to his senses for a moment. whispering huskily"Then breed me~"

Willow gasped as he thrusted his impossibly large cock inside her. He was already skewering her womb from just that one thrust. She hardly had time to process anything before he trusted again then again before fully pistoning his hips inside her. She watched his face twist and contort into a feral expression, his pupils' mere slits in an ocean of blue. She watched him open his and lean to her right, groaning as she felt him nibble on her shoulder. All the while her trusted into here cunt like a dog in heat.

"Oh...Jaune your...AHH!!!"

Willow gasped as Jaune bit hard into her skin, though not enough to draw blood. It was sudden, but a welcome surprise from the faunus. But when she felt him increase the force in his mouth, she began to feel a bit afraid, but even more aroused.

"Jaune...Not so rough" she chuckled, only to be met with animalistic grunts from the faunus. Her smile faltered as felt him biting hard, his teeth threatening to break skin. "that's enough, Jaune"

He didn't reply instead applying more force.

"Jaune....That's Enough"

Still no response.

"Jaune..." she called with more authority "I said that's enough...."

Willow lost all thought in that moment. He had broken through her skin resulting in streams of blood to flow from her shoulder. All according to plan

PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP

"AHH...BREED ME YOU FUCKING ANIMAL!!!" she cried. Ignore the pain from having her snatch destroyed by his massive cock.

The faunus man obeyed his mistress's request, never stopping his thrusts for a moment. His mind clouded with only one thought, Breed. His cock stretched her vaginal walls as he pushed in and out, occasionally scrapping out leftover bits of cum from earlier. His balls churned with more of the life-giving seed, eager to release it inside of Willow's battered womb.

the matriarch moaned loudly as she felt herself getting dominated by the faunus. It wasn't the first time he ravaged her form, in fact, it was a near-weekly occurrence. Ever since the "tragic" death of her husband, she along with her daughters had been using Jaune for sexual relief. And he was leagues better than Jacques ever was. After their first rendevous, the night of Jacques's death, she secretly had a special aphrodisiac that would make him into a horny beast hell-bent of breeding. Sure it left her sore for weeks, but it was well worth it to feel his seed swimming inside her.

"PUMP ME FULL OF YOUR SEED" She screamed, "MAKE ME HAVE ANOTHER PUPPY"

He was more than happy to oblige, his cock twitched and pulsed as he felt his climax rapidly approach. With a mighty grunt he shoved himself deep into her pussy and release a torrent of cum inside her womb, never stopping his thrusts as his seed flooded her womb. Willow's eyes rolled back in her head, moaning loudly as she came alongside her lover, their juices mixing inside her cunt. Even though it was a safe day, there was no way she wouldn't be impregnated afterward, though it wasn't the first time. She moaned contently, knowing he was nowhere close to being done. Sure Winter wouldn't mind if she stole her lover's seed.

Atlas Military base, Winter's quarter.

Winter screamed into her hand as she came. She laid on her bed with her other hand inside her pants, rapidly pumping her fingers inside her drooling snatch. She could hardly wait to visit Schnee Manor and reunite with Jaune. Ever since he entered her life, living had been much better than what it used to be. Especially since the death of her bastard father. That was the day she finally gave herself to I'm. Pinning him to her bed she rode him like a horse forcing every drop of sperm from him til she looked pregnant.

*Jaune....*she thought as she rode out the last seconds of her orgasm.

She wanted him to com with her, but he declined, saying he was nothing more than a guard for the Schnee family, and she needed him no longer. It broke her heart to hear him say those words, but she knew he wanted her to walk her own path. Though she made sure to return home to see him whenever she could. She knew her mother and sisters would use him too, but she knew he longed to her.

*I will make you mine* she thought as she pulled the covers over her *You'll see*

with that last promise, she fell asleep. Dreaming of when her knight slew the foul beast that imprisoned her.

He truly was a good boy.

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Sent by @dumbawesomev69

Hope you like it.

Also it is implied that jaune killed Jacques

#rwby #rwby smut #jaune arc #weiss schnee #winter schnee #willow schnee #bleiss schnee #faunus Jaune

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