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norikuna · 10 days ago

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NERDS DO IT BETTER ☓. ── ( 呪術廻戦 )

⌗ turns out they're the best you've ever had, and you think you're gonna' have to come back for more!

ᯓ starring ─. jjk ensemble cast : nerd! gojo, nerd! geto, nerd! sukuna, nerd! nanami, nerd! toji, nerd! choso

𝓶𝓾𝓵𝓽𝓲. ㅤ﹑ ( 呪術廻戦 x afab!reader ) ─── ❛ cw ⌓. mdni. college au. risky, public séx. handjóbs. óverstím. hate séx. fíngeríng. fiíming (consénsual). édging. vírgin!kuna. óral (m). missiónary. soft séx. brééding kínk. créampíe. backshóts. óral (f). wc ⌓. 3.5k.

﹙ 五条 �� : gojo satoru ﹚ ─ advanced mathematics, physics

"oh, fuck!" gojo's absolutely quivering, throwing back a head of tousled, snowy hair, "that's, ouh, that's way better than i ever coulda' even dreamed of." pale-pink lips snapping sharp around another moan as he shudders, "can ya' do it again?"

you're clicking your tongue, doing your very best to bite back a flushed smile yourself. knowing that you've got the smartest, honour roll student pliant beneath you, his thighs splayed out and bare — the skin spottled with patches of rosy pink, dusted with fine white hairs. he's still got that campus sweatshirt on, rumpled over the askew collar of the dress shirt underneath. where you're eager to run your hands, to slide your fingers up past the low trail of hair on gojo's groin.

it doesn't hurt that gojo's, like, ridiculously gorgeous. thick-rimmed glasses foggy over vibrant blue eyes, framed by ridiculously long lashes. and you can see him gnawing at the inside of his cheek as your hand keeps at a steady pace. pumping him over and over, until thick ropes of seed are coating your hand. it must be the nth climax of his by now, but it seems neither of you are that eager to call it a day.

you smile at how gojo squeezes his eyes shut, glasses skipping askew so you can fondly kiss his forehead. titling his glasses right back into place, all while he bites back a low, rumbled groan, "a-another?" it's a plea, almost hopeful for you to milk his poor, throbbing cock until there's not much else it can give.

"mhm, i don't know, satoru. it's kinda' risky, don'tcha think?" you're trying to keep your voice down, knowing that anyone could round the corner here. they could move past the stack of chairs littered behind the physics subsection of books and old papers to find gojo spread out so sluttily over this chair, his pants drifting past his ankles while you lean over behind the desk to jerk him off. workshop questions and calculations long discarded as the most intelligent man on campus chases some form of pent-up relief from you, his angel that's solely heaven sent.

gojo's the type of guy that's always moving, whether he's skimming and flipping through pages of glossy textbooks or speeding over the butterfly keys of his steel-grey mac, and right now?

he's still in motion, tapping trimmed nails in staccato beats against the plastic table. drumming his fingers over and over as he does his best to not let you see the crystalline tears of delicious overstimulation pooling at the corners of his eyes. shuddering as you pull back, letting his big cock snap back, smearing a thin line of translucent cum against his blue sweatshirt.

cursing because he knows he's gonna' have to peel that top off before his next class, before anyone can figure out exactly what that stain is, "fuck, we still got 15 minutes before that lecture, yeah? one more, please, baby, jus' one more."

﹙ 夏油傑 : geto suguru ﹚ ─ philosophy, sociology

"what did i say? eyes on the lenses, pretty girl." geto's determined and mean when he's like this, but then again, when is he not a cunt?

that bitchy nerd's always sniping at you, doing dumb shit like taking your seat in class and sucking up to the teacher — batting pretty, dark lashes at the tutor while throwing a nasty look your way when you get the answer right.

but as of this moment, there aren't any right answers in your head. not when geto's got you propped up in his broad lap. right in front of a blinking video camera, perched on a shaky tripod as he swirls his digits as deep as he can into your pretty, swollen pussy.

"s-sugu', feels so good," you moan, sinking your teeth into the plush flesh of your lower lip as geto's face softens for a split second before hardening once more. handsome features crinkling as he shakes his head of choppy, raven hair, "didn't ask if it felt good, geez. i asked for the answer to the question, or are we jus' having trouble following instructions as well?"

"hate ya' so, so much, still, i don' even remember the fuckin' question," you're sniffling, knowing that he's so deliciously knuckle deep within you right now. your clear, glossy arousal coating his fingers as he pumps the digits in and out of your heat with a satisfying squelch!

geto smiles, as though he wanted you to say that while he was rolling a fat thumb over your clitoral hood. berry lips pulling at the corners as he tuts, using the hand that was previously holding apart your thighs to slide a pristine paper over his bed, clicking his tongue before he intones, "tch', let me quiz you, again, 'cause we got that test tomorrow. though, 'm not sure it's much good. now, how would you explain structural functionalism?"

your mind's absolutely turning to incredible, pleasurable mush as you struggle to form coherent sentences. instead, staring at the blinking red light blearing out through the dark haze of geto's form room, and swallowing as he begins pulling at the sensitive ache of your clit, "it's, like, the premise of everything havin' a purpose. like, hahh, society being a well-oiled machine n' people are jus' cogs and — fuck! suguru, can't even focus like this."

your back is writhing against geto's toned chest, and you can feel the dark strands of hair that have escaped his hairtie tickling at your cheek, "i know, beautiful," he coos, almost as though he quite likes you, rather than the loathing that he claims, "now tell me, who's ideas does structural functionalism align with? answer quick, and i'll make ya' cum this time, promise!"

brain whirring on overtime to snap out a rushed breath, "emile durkheim!" your lips pouting as you heave in a candied breath of air, "that's right, isn't it? now you promised, so please! make me cum, sugu', fuck."

you can hear geto chuckle, "you didn't make me pinky promise, though?" and he's revelling in how you huff, and curse him out, "besides, i like watching you squirm all pretty for the camera. helps me remember my notes so much more. y'know that 'm gonna' go back and revise this later."

﹙ 両面宿儺 : ryomen sukuna ﹚ ─ anthropology, history

"you're a virgin?" your mouth parting into a sweet gasp as charlotte tilbury leaves sticky strands of product stringing between your pretty lips. because, there's just no way...

sukuna's rolling his crimson eyes, and shoving his tattooed hands into the ragged pockets of his thick hoodie, "why don't we focus on the project again? y'know that the entire thing is due next week, and this is our last meet-up before we gotta' present?"

the burly, quiet man's clearly flushed — with his tanned cheeks painted awash in some watercolour, blushy hue. muttering something about insolent cheerleaders and how he's refusing to get a bad grade because of you. but you're never one to lose. you just cross your arms over your chest, and a little more firmly on purpose, just to watch sukuna gulp as his gaze drops right down to that shadow of cleavage, "hey, you're the one who asked if i was sleeping with the quarterback."

sukuna's just too easy, because for all his churlish, jerkish attitude, he's not immune at all to your easiest charms. like a pretty red lollipop, or a spritz of your favourite body mist, or when you hike the hem of your skirt up just a little bit higher to doodle faint hearts on your flesh. and now he's grunting, drawing his eyes away from your torso to gulp, training his eyes solely on the project rubric, "yeah. was jus' a question. i don't give a fuck."

"mhm, sure." snapping strawberry gum between your teeth, "because i'm not with him." you grin as sukuna stiffens, almost snapping the poor, thin frame of a cheap lead pencil between his thick fingers.

"no?" he sounds almost, almost sheepish. battered headphones clattering around his marked neck as he jerks, and you almost coo. for it's honestly quiet sweet at how interested he sounds. ironic, considering ryomen sukuna is one of the most surly men on campus. always with his nose buried in some medieval book, always some exemplary paper of his pinned to the student noticeboard about the heian era.

"no," you repeat, scooting just a little bit closer to his broad frame, "because 'm interested in someone else, ya' see. like you, 'kuna."

the pencil snaps, the wood finally giving out to the quick motion of sukuna's fingers clamping down on it. pieces scattering and littering the table as broken lead clutters, the remnants of a man who's just had his world rocked but doesn't want to admit it, "hah, funny," he's muttering, "yer' really interested in me?" all you had murmured was a tempting, alluring little phrase that would remain with sukuna forever, something like, "want me to prove it?"

and that's exactly how you ended up like this. eyes blown wide, little hearts dancing around your pupils as you took in the sheer size and girth of what sukuna was hiding in his faded jeans. lips parting to close over the weeping tip of his thick shaft, and grinning at how there's already sheer, salty drops leaking out.

"fuck, w-wait," sukuna's groaning, with his spiky head of two-toned hair thrown back against your desk chair, "it's sensitive." clacking his sharp teeth around a wanton moan when you tongue at the veins bulging on the sides of his cock, "already feels like 'm gonna –"

"cum?" you offer helpfully, flattening your tongue against him so he throbs, hot and heavy, into your mouth. releasing yourself from his cock with a loud pop! and you're sure glad that your sorority roommates aren't home, for you're not sure how to explain that you're dripping wet yourself, just from sucking off the most infamous, ill-reputed nerd on campus.

"yeah, yeah," sukuna rasps, a heady and low tone that escapes from his chest, "and that would be e-embarrassing, fuck, that's — that's a good spot." sighing as you trail teasing fingers over folded skin, right at the underside of the base of his cock.

"not that embarrassing, 'kuna," you shake your head, loosening the slick strand of saliva that was stringing away from your lips. replacing your mouth with an entirely different type of gloss, and one that you're growing increasingly fond of, "and besides, we got a lotta' time before my roommates come back. plenty of other things we can do, hah."

﹙ 七海建人 : nanami kento ﹚ ─ economics

"but i jus' think numbers are kind of beautiful, wouldn't you say? like they have their own satisfying figure and precision?"

you smack nanami's chest, leaving a small, cherry hue over your boyfriend's pectorals, "your girlfriend is literally under you, and you're talking about numbers being beautiful."

he gives you an apologetic smile, thick waves of golden hair dampened with the sweat of exertion that was to be expected when he was delivering the sweetest, most loving strokes to your very core. thick, bulging tip kissing your cervix as nanami huffs, "sorry, darling. nothing's more beautiful than my girl, and, heh, yer' figure is the one i love the most."

"that's better," you gasp, feeling him rummage through your swollen pussy. girthy shaft bulging past throbbing, dripping folds as he delivers hit after surefire hit against your g-spot. but then, suddenly, you're frowning, "don't you have class, like, right now, babe?"

nanami squeezes his eyes shut, amber lashes kissing peach-flushed skin. "yeah, had some tutorial," he groans, drawing his cock out of you almost entirely before he's snapping his hips back into you with such force that there's a resounding smack reverberating through his bedroom, "but heh, they don't really need me there. i already know all my shit."

"and you won't get in, i don't know, trouble?"

your boyfriend shakes his head, pushing aside the stack of stock market magazines littered near your head, so he can slam his hand down on the soft quilt. all so nanami can steady himself as he has only one purpose in mind, to make you cum. to make you see such stars of pleasure that you squirt all over his cock. and he can already picture your fucked-out form, hazy and littered with the marks of his loving. and drenched down below.

well, anatomically, it mustn't be possible but at the mere vision, nanami can feel himself harden even more. like his cock is responding to the hypnotising grip that you've got him in. hefty balls tightening further and he's rasping in your ear, "can i —, fuck, can i cum in ya', darling?" desperate and falling apart at the mere idea, at the way your eyes flutter shut in bliss, "only if yer' also wanting me to, i swear. but please –"

"yeah. in me, kento. baby, all yours."

that's all it really takes for thick, stringy wads of hot release to spurt out from nanami's weeping tip. cock releasing strands of gooey seed into your cunt in a way that makes your boyfriend press his forehead against yours, littering a thousand kisses against your fucked-out, smiling lips, "thank you, thank you, thank you, darling. i love you so much. can't even put it into words, but i love you —"

﹙ 伏黒甚爾 : toji fushiguro ﹚ ─ physical education, kinesiology

"what the fuck did you jus' call me, ma?" toji's got a blunt nail trailing down your spine, running over the curve of your ass, "a nerd?"

you're writhing, "yeah, yeah. i mean, that's what everyone says," and it takes every cell in your body to fight back the inevitable release that toji's bestowing upon you. for you're determined to delay this just a little longer, to feel toji's thick cock slam into you from behind over and over in a way that you never really expected from the grumpy sports major.

and it seems the idea amuses him, for you don't even need to turn around to imagine how his sharp, jade-green eyes must be narrowing at the knowledge of what everyone calls toji fushiguro behind his back. how toji's sharp, shark-like grin must be widening, sharpening knives to sink into your shoulder, "why? 'cause i don't do that stupid, attention-seeking sports shit like everyone else in my degree? 'cause i don't wanna' waste my time on the field or in the locker rooms?"

"t-toji, it's 'cause you always got your damn nose in a book. and i didn't even know you could —," you shriek, feeling his burly forearm come up in front of you, past your bouncing breasts to support your weight as he presses further into you, "i honestly didn't even know you could fuckin' read."

"suchhh a nasty attitude, ma," toji chuckles, and your ass pleasurably stings at the resounding smacks echoing through the (thankfully) empty gymnasium. your lace panties pulled to the sides as you're balanced over the bleachers right in the very corner where the lonesome toji fushiguro prefers to sit, where no one else can bother him.

but damn, if he's not getting off on the idea of taking you so prettily like this. don't get him wrong, toji loves this position. loves how nasty and filthy your pretty arch is when he's swabbing his cock against your pussy. but fuck, he also wishes you were flipped around for him. just so he could press a thumb to your lower lip, and watch your eyes go all silly and crossed for him. while he tacked the thick curl of dark hair around his groin to your sticky, throbbing clit. battered your pretty cunt with his inches until that feisty lil' attitude melted away into sugar and cream.

you moan, such a wanton sound, when toji's thick fingers are climbing up your throat. past your jaw to settle at your mouth. pushing past your lip so you can drool so beautifully for him as he does his level best to at least regretfully silence the sexy sounds falling out of your lips.

"careful, ma," toji shudders, feeling the tight heat of your cunt snatch his soul away, "wanna' keep the volume down so those rocks-for-brains football players don't hear what's going on here. unless, you want them to see how the nerd's practically plowing your brains out, hah."

the resulting clench of your cunt tells toji all that he needs to know, and he has to bite back the furious blush crawling over him, underneath his faded varsity jacket, "oh? that's how it is? well, okay then. hold on."

﹙ 脹相 : choso kamo ﹚ ─ lab medicine, psychology

you know better than to sass choso when he's like this, the night before the final semester exam. see, because the man's got your thighs splayed so prettily out for him. glistening, and dripping all over his bedspread. and to the side, he's got that damn anatomy textbook flipped open.

choso's frustrated, sighing and flicking the pads of his fingers against his tongue to thumb at the sticking pages. rolling his eyes when he isn't able to find the passage that he wants, as if that's your fault. but you don't miss the hungry gleam in the raven-haired man's eyes, the spiky knots atop his head coming loose as he delves right back into his favourite meal. his favourite study snack being your glossy cunt, for he could munch on the slick strands forever.

"bear with me, my love," choso's cooing, trailing a slender, pale finger up your sticky folds until he comes to rest at your clit. tapping the throbbing bud once, "jus' gotta' memorise this, and you're helping me so much."

he's pressing a chaste, quaint kiss to your pulsing clit. that dark mark stretched across his face twitching as he murmurs, "ah, think, choso! right, the clitoral glans has, hmm, 8000 nerve endings. and it leads up to..." choso's drawing slow, teasing circles on your clit and it makes you whine, bucking your hips, "patience, my love. i'll reward you extra special for helpin' me out like this. now, it leads up to the clitoral shaft — and did i tell ya' what the crura is?"

you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut as you rut against choso's handsome nose for some delicious friction, and he clearly seems eager to indulge you, though he's still lost in academic thought, "right. i guess, baby, you could say the crura are kinda' like the legs for the clitoris. and they extend allll along the pelvic bones."

choso's marvelling the glossy, sheer slick coating his fingers. licking a flat stripe right against your swollen, eager cunt, "and the glans, well, my extended answer needs to mention how they, uh, damn, baby. you're soaked." he's shaking his head again, "i keep getting distracted. the glans — they're the ones with the alpha-delta, and c-fibres, and that's what makes you feel so good. transmitting sensations y'see, i get extra marks for mentioning that."

you hazard a glance to the shining pages of the new textbook that choso's kept on his shelf all semester, "and the, uh, the pudendal reflex? you got a sticky note on that one, babe?"

choso smiles, slowly flicking your clitoral hood in up and down motions, each movement sending simmering pleasure through your groin, "a spinal reflex, m'love. helps with the involuntary muscle contractions, like when i do this —," flatting the pad of his thumb against your clit to run tighter circles against the aching nub, watching as your hips jolt up further against his face. coating the lower half of his features in translucent arousal.

"now, my favourite part," choso says, grinning as he turns his attentions elsewhere, to your dripping entrance pooling such a mess over his sheets. and your boyfriend's tugging at his grey sweatpants, "the grafenberg spot. i don't think my fingers will be enough to stimulate it properly."

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pitinthelanepages · 2 years ago

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Scouts Honour

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: having to deal with drunk boyfriend oscar as the not so girly girlfriend who was in the middle of trying on a dress

genre: fluff

The sun began its descent, casting a warm golden glow that illuminated the room in a gentle radiance. You stood in front of the full-length mirror in your modest yet cosy apartment, a hint of uncertainty tugging at you as you held a delicate dress in your hands.

Your wardrobe predominantly consisted of hoodies, loose-fitting trousers, and comfortable sneakers. But today was different. Today, you had dared to venture into uncharted territory; an elegant dress you had impulsively bought. Its fabric, a silky cascade of midnight blue, shimmered with a touch of moonlit enchantment. You couldn't resist imagining yourself stepping into a world of elegance and grace.

With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, you gingerly slipped into the dress, its smooth texture gliding against your skin like a whisper. You studied your reflection, the dress clinging to your figure, hugging curves you often concealed. The woman in the mirror looked foreign, yet undeniably radiant, your tousled hair adding a touch of untamed beauty to the overall ensemble.

Just as you were beginning to embrace this unfamiliar sight, your phone rang, jolting you from your reverie. You glanced at the screen, recognizing the caller ID: a group of friends who frequented the same club as your boyfriend, Oscar Piastri. Curiosity mingled with concern as you answered the call, their voices pouring through the receiver.

"Hey. It's us," one of the friends chimed, their words accompanied by a mix of laughter and urgency. "Oscar's had a bit too much to drink, and we need you to come pick him up. Can you make it?"

Your heart skipped a beat as a whirlwind of emotions surged within you; worry for Oscar's well-being, a sense of responsibility, and the need to be there for him. Without hesitation, you replied, your voice steady despite the slight tremor beneath the surface.

"Of course, I'll be there. Give me a few minutes, and I'll head over."

As you hung up the phone, your mind raced. You had no time to change out of the dress, to revert to your usual attire that would blend seamlessly with your usual identity. But there was no turning back now. You took a deep breath, summoning the courage to embrace this unexpected turn of events.

With newfound determination, you slipped on a pair of simple yet elegant heels, their presence a stark contrast to your typical footwear choices. You grabbed your keys, pausing for a brief moment to study your reflection once more. Your pulse quickened as you admired the reflection of the woman standing before you; someone both familiar and unknown, bridging the gap between your usual spirit and the allure of femininity.

As you arrived at the club, the rhythmic pulse of music reverberated through the air, sending tremors of anticipation cascading down your spine. You made your way through the crowd, navigating the sea of bodies, each step echoing the beat of your heart. And then, there he was.

Your eyes met, and an undeniable spark danced between you. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw Oscar's surprise and shyness in his gaze. He looked at you with a newfound appreciation, as if seeing you in a whole new light. You couldn't help but feel a blush creep onto your cheeks.

Approaching Oscar and his friends, your voice rang out, laced with a playful yet confident tone. "Hey there, troublemaker. Ready to go home?"

Oscar's friends exchanged amused glances, nudging him gently as they handed him over to you. His shyness grew apparent as he tried to hide behind them, a hint of bashfulness colouring his features. You couldn't help, but find him utterly endearing.

Gently, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his arm, a gentle reassurance amidst the crowd. "It's me, Oscar. Your girlfriend. I'm here to take care of you."

In that moment, Oscar's eyes lit up, and a warmth enveloped him. He pulled you into a tight embrace, refusing to let go. His grip conveyed a mixture of vulnerability and adoration, a silent gratitude for your presence.

As you wrapped your arm around Oscar's waist, you could feel the weight of his head resting against your shoulder, his warm breath tickling your neck.

Oscar's voice slurred as he mumbled, "You're so pretty. I've never seen you in a dress before."

You chuckled softly, your voice tinged with affection. "Well, surprises are good, aren't they? Thought I'd switch things up tonight."

Oscar's fingers traced gentle circles on your back, his touch igniting a cascade of sensations within you. "You look amazing, babe. Can't take my eyes off you."

Your cheeks flushed as you replied, "You're just saying that because you've had a few drinks."

"Nah, it's true," Oscar insisted, his voice filled with earnestness. "You're like a beautiful dream come true."

With each giggle that escaped your lips, a delicate melody of joy filled the air. The sound was contagious, eliciting smiles from bystanders and lightening the heavy atmosphere. You couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the sight of Oscar, his shy yet adoring gaze fixed upon you.

You whispered playfully, "What's gotten into you, Oscar? I've never seen you so shy."

He chuckled softly, the sound tinged with embarrassment. "Guess you just caught me off guard, seeing you all dolled up like this. Didn't know my tomboyish girlfriend could look so stunning."

You emerged from the club's entrance into the cool night air. The touch of Oscar's fingers against your back, as if seeking solace in your presence, resonated deeply within you.

Oscar's voice carried a hint of vulnerability. "Thank you for being here for me. I feel safe with you."

Your grip tightened, your voice filled with warmth. "Always, Oscar. That's what partners do. We take care of each other."

As you finally reached the car, you gently guided Oscar into the passenger seat, his clinginess not relenting. You settled in behind the wheel, your fingers brushing against his cheek in a tender gesture before starting the engine. The touch of your fingers interlaced on the gear shift filled the car with warmth.

Oscar's voice was soft, almost childlike. "Don't let go of me. I don't want this night to end."

You smiled, your voice filled with reassurance. "I won't, Oscar. I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

And as you drove towards Oscar's apartment, the quiet hum of the engine providing a soothing backdrop, you couldn't help but steal glances at him. His head leaned against the window, his eyes drifting in and out of focus. It was evident that the alcohol had taken its toll on him, and your heart swelled with a mix of tenderness and concern.

Once you arrived at his apartment building, you helped Oscar out of the car, his unsteady steps mirroring the vulnerability he exhibited. You both slowly made your way to his apartment, you supporting him every step of the way, your touch a gentle reassurance amidst the haze of intoxication.

Finally inside, you guided Oscar towards his bedroom, your movements unhurried and filled with a sense of care. You eased him down onto the edge of the bed, his legs dangling off the side. His gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes reflecting a deep admiration that made your heart flutter.

Bashfully, you averted your eyes, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Oscar, you should really get some rest. I'll help you get ready for bed."

Oscar's grip tightened around your wrist, his gaze still intense. "Don't leave. Stay with me."

Your cheeks flushed, and you could feel your pulse quicken at his words. You swallowed nervously, voice barely above a whisper. "I... I can't stay the whole night. But I'll make sure you're comfortable before I go."

Oscar reluctantly released his hold on your wrist as you crouched down to untie his shoes. You carefully slipped them off, placing them neatly beside the bed. Then, you stood up, your eyes meeting Oscar's once more.

"You should take off your shirt too, Oscar," you suggested softly. "You'll sleep more comfortably without it."

Oscar's gaze never wavered as he nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Okay, but only if you stay with me."

You rolled your eyes playfully, a mixture of shyness and affection colouring your expression. "Fine, but no staring this time."

With a mischievous grin, Oscar lied down on the bed, watching intently as you pulled the duvet over him, ensuring he was snug and warm. You lingered for a moment, your hand brushing gently against his cheek, your touch tender and reassuring.

Just as you were about to turn off the bedside lamp, Oscar's hand shot out, clasping around your wrist. His gaze held a silent plea, an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. Your voice caught in your throat, your eyes widening slightly.

"Oscar, I really have to go now," you stammered, your shyness evident in your tone. "I can't sleep in this dress."

A mischievous twinkle flickered in Oscar's eyes as he chuckled softly. "Well, you can borrow one of my shirts. It'll be oversized for you anyway, and you'll be more comfortable."

You hesitated for a moment, contemplating his offer. The thought of wearing one of Oscar's shirts felt strangely intimate, like borrowing a piece of his world. But as your gaze met his, the genuine affection in his eyes, you made up your mind.

"Alright," you finally replied, your voice filled with a mix of shyness and trust. "But you have to close your eyes. No peeking."

Oscar grinned mischievously, closing his eyes obediently. You turned towards his wardrobe, searching for a shirt that would fit your frame. You found a white shirt, soft and well-worn, with the faint scent of Oscar's cologne lingering on the fabric.

As you slipped off your dress and replaced it with his shirt, you couldn't help but feel a surge of vulnerability. The shirt engulfed you, the sleeves extending past your fingertips, the hem falling to your mid-thigh. It was an intimate gesture, an exchange of comfort and trust between them.

With a quick glance at Oscar, your cheeks reddened as you mumbled, "I'm changing here, but you better keep your eyes closed."

Oscar's lips curled into a playful grin as he responded, "Scouts honour. Not peeking."

Once you were dressed, you turned off the bedside lamp, casting the room into a soft, dim glow. With a playful roll of your eyes, you returned to the bed, slipping beneath the covers. You settled beside Oscar, your bodies inches apart.

As you closed your eyes, ready to drift into sleep, a gentle whisper escaped your lips. "Goodnight, Oscar."

His hand found yours, intertwining your fingers as he replied softly, "Goodnight, babe. Thank you for taking care of me."

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nixiefics · 8 months ago

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Fire and Runes - Chapter Three

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x OC (Reilla)

Tropes: Arranged Marriage

Warnings: Targaryen typical incest, smut, canon typical violence and death, swearing, drinking

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was a marvel of opulence and grandeur, transformed into a feast hall worthy of the newly crowned King and Queen Consort. Torches flickered on the stone walls, casting a warm golden glow that danced across the tapestries depicting scenes of Targaryen triumphs. Long tables stretched the length of the hall, laden with an extravagant array of dishes that spoke to the richness of the realm.

At the high table, Aegon and Reilla sat in places of honour, their chairs adorned with intricate carvings of dragons and their house sigils. Reilla's white gown shimmered in the firelight, the wedding cloak draped over her shoulders adding a touch of bronze to her otherwise pristine ensemble. Aegon, in his dark green tunic that nearly appeared black, exuded a regal presence, his eyes bright with the excitement of the day.

The feast had begun with a flourish, the first course arriving to a chorus of applause from the assembled lords and ladies. Platters of roasted boar, glazed with honey and cloves, sat alongside capons stuffed with chestnuts and figs. Freshly baked trout, swimming in rich almond sauce, and a whole roasted stag garnished with rosemary and lemons showcased the culinary expertise of the Red Keep’s kitchens. Bowls of exotic fruits from the Reach, wheels of cheese from the Riverlands, and baskets of warm, crusty bread completed the spread.

Servants moved gracefully among the tables, filling goblets with Arbor gold and Dorne’s finest wines. The air was thick with the mingling aromas of roasted meats and sweet pastries, creating an atmosphere of indulgence and celebration.

Lords and ladies approached the high table to offer their congratulations. Lord Baratheon, his face alight with pride, toasted the health and prosperity of the newlyweds. "To King Aegon and Queen Reilla," he proclaimed, his voice ringing through the hall. "May your reign be long and prosperous, and may your union bring peace to the realm."

Reilla smiled graciously, raising her goblet in response. "Thank you, Lord Baratheon," she replied, her voice carrying across the hall. "We are honoured by your presence and your kind words."

Lady Reyne, her expression warm and familial, approached next. "My dear Queen Reilla," she said, embracing her gently. "You are such a credit to House Targaryen – beauty, grace and fire enough to survive this lot at court."

"Thank you, Lady Reyne," Reilla replied, her voice filled with genuine affection. "Your support means a great deal."

As the night progressed, Aemond made his way to Reilla’s side. His keen eyes took in the bustling hall, always observant and calculating. "Congratulations, my Queen," he said, his tone respectful. "A splendid feast and an even finer match."

"Thank you, Aemond," Reilla replied, meeting his gaze with equal respect. "I trust the feast is to your liking?"

"Indeed," Aemond nodded. He leaned in slightly, his voice lowered. "But feasts aside, there are matters of the realm to consider. I have heard whispers of unrest in the Riverlands."

Reilla's expression grew serious. "I have heard the same. What do you suggest?"

"Sending envoys to reassure the lesser lords would be wise," Aemond advised lowly, eyes flicking to his brother. "Remind them of the benefits of unity under the crown. And an envoy with Lord Larys to secure Harrenhal – Daemon would be setting his eyes on it as a seat of power…"

Reilla nodded, brows furrowing thoughtfully. "I will speak with Aegon about it. Thank you for your counsel, Aemond."

Their conversation was interrupted by the musicians striking up a lively tune. Aegon turned to Reilla with a warm smile, extending his hand. "Shall we dance, my queen?"

"It would be my honour, my king," Reilla replied, her heart fluttering with excitement as she placed her hand in his.

The guests parted, creating a space in the centre of the hall for the royal couple. As the music swelled, Aegon and Reilla began to dance, their movements graceful and perfectly in sync. The hall seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them, united in their shared joy and love.

Reilla felt a thrill of excitement as they twirled and swayed, her gown flowing around her like a silken cloud. Aegon’s touch was warm and reassuring, and his smile filled her with a sense of belonging and contentment. The guests watched with admiration and delight, raising their goblets in tribute to the couple’s happiness.

As the dance came to an end, Aegon leaned in to whisper in Reilla’s ear, his breath warm against her skin. "You are truly radiant tonight, my queen. I am the luckiest man in the realm to have you by my side."

Reilla’s heart swelled with affection and pride. "And I am the luckiest woman, to be loved by a king as noble and kind as you."

They returned to their seats, the hall resuming its festive atmosphere. The night continued with more music, laughter, and camaraderie. Lords and ladies approached the high table, offering their congratulations and well-wishes. Ser Criston Cole, with his stoic demeanour, gave a respectful nod. "Your Grace, Your Majesty," he said. "May your reign be strong and just."

"Thank you, Ser Criston," Aegon replied, his tone sincere. "Your loyalty and service are invaluable to us."

Lady Redwyne, known for her sharp wit and keen political mind, approached next. "A splendid match, Your Grace," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I hope you are ready for the challenges of marriage."

"Thank you, Lady Redwyne," Reilla replied with a smile. "I do believe we are."

Aegon leaned towards Reilla, his eyes filled with admiration. "You handle these interactions with such grace."

Reilla smiled warmly. "It helps to have a strong and supportive king by my side."

As the evening wore on, the feast continued in full swing. Plates were refilled, goblets never emptied, and the laughter of the nobility echoed through the hall. Aegon and Reilla found moments to themselves amidst the revelry, their connection growing stronger with each passing hour.

Aegon caught sight of Aemond speaking with a group of lords, his demeanour calm and authoritative. Reilla followed his gaze. "He is a formidable politician," she remarked.

"Indeed," Aegon agreed. "His counsel is invaluable. And I am glad you get along well."

Reilla nodded. "We understand the importance of unity in these times."

Later in the evening, as the musicians began a slower, more intimate tune, Aegon took Reilla’s hand once more. "Shall we dance again?"

Reilla’s eyes sparkled with delight. "I would love to."

They moved to the centre of the hall, the fellow dancers watching with admiration as they danced together. The music swirled around them, creating a bubble of intimacy amidst the grand celebration. Aegon’s hands were firm and sure, guiding Reilla through the steps, his eyes never leaving hers.

"This feels like a dream," Reilla whispered, her voice filled with wonder.

"It is real," Aegon replied softly. "And it is just the beginning."

As the dance came to an end, the guests erupted into applause, their cheers filling the hall. Aegon and Reilla returned to their seats, their hearts full and their bond stronger than ever.

The atmosphere in the Great Hall of the Red Keep was electric, buzzing with the excitement of the wedding feast. The lords and ladies of the realm had gathered to celebrate the union of Aegon and Reilla, filling the room with laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets. The air was rich with the aromas of the feast: roasted boar, spiced lamb, honeyed ham, and a cornucopia of fruits and sweetmeats that adorned the long tables.

As the night wore on, a particularly boisterous lord, well into his cups, called out, “To the bedding ceremony!” His declaration was met with a mix of cheers and laughter from the crowd, though a few raised eyebrows and disapproving glances were also cast.

Helaena, sensing the growing tension, stepped forward with a loud and deliberate clap of her hands. “Enough of that,” she said, her voice cutting through the din. “I wish to dance with my brother Aemond.”

Her interruption was perfectly timed, and the attention of the guests quickly shifted. The hall echoed with murmurs of approval as Helaena’s boldness provided the perfect distraction.

Taking advantage of the moment, Reilla leaned close to Aegon, her breath warm against his ear. “Now’s our chance,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Aegon grinned, catching onto her plan. “Then let’s make our escape,” he replied, his voice filled with playful excitement.

Hand in hand, they slipped from the dais and darted through the crowd, Reilla leading the way. The corridors of the Red Keep stretched out before them, dimly lit by torches flickering in their sconces. Aegon, unable to resist the moment, slowed his pace, letting Reilla pull ahead just enough for him to start chasing her playfully.

“Where do you think you’re going, my queen?” he called out, laughter in his voice. “You can’t escape me!”

Reilla glanced over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “Catch me if you dare!” she teased, her heart pounding with exhilaration.

They raced through the winding halls, their laughter echoing off the stone walls. Aegon’s longer strides closed the gap quickly, but he allowed Reilla to stay just out of reach, savouring the playful chase. She turned a corner, her gown flowing behind her like a whisper of moonlight, and Aegon followed, his own excitement growing with each step.

Finally, Reilla ducked into a narrow passageway, her breath coming in quick gasps as she reached the door to Aegon’s chambers. She fumbled with the latch for a moment, her hands trembling with anticipation, before managing to push it open.

Aegon was right behind her, his eyes alight with the thrill of the chase. As they stumbled into the room, he caught her around the waist, spinning her in a playful circle before setting her gently on her feet.

“Caught you,” he murmured, his voice husky with laughter and desire.

Reilla’s laughter mingled with his, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. “It seems you have,” she replied, breathless and exhilarated.

They paused for a moment, catching their breath and savouring the shared joy of their escape. Then Aegon’s expression grew more serious, though his eyes still sparkled with delight. “You know, I’m going to get criticism from the lords for not completing the bedding ceremony,” he said, though there was no real worry in his voice.

Reilla smiled, a soft, knowing smile. “I have just the thing to cheer you up,” she said, her voice filled with promise. “Wait for me on the bed.”

Aegon’s curiosity was piqued, and he nodded, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. As he waited, he watched Reilla disappear behind the changing screen. The anticipation was almost unbearable, his thoughts filled with wonder and excitement at what she had planned.

Reilla shed her wedding gown as quickly as she was able and slipped into the nightgown Helaena had commissioned for her. It was a masterpiece of Myrish lace, delicate and ethereal. The fabric was sheer, adorned with intricate patterns that accentuated her curves and left just enough to the imagination. The lace hugged her figure, the fine material flowing gracefully as she moved.

When she stepped out from behind the screen, the sight of her took Aegon’s breath away. He had seen many beautiful things in his life, but nothing compared to the vision before him now. His heart pounded as he took in every detail: the way the lace clung to her, the delicate patterns that danced across her skin, and the way her hair cascaded around her shoulders.

Aegon’s reaction was immediate and visceral. His breath caught, and his pulse quickened, a deep, almost primal desire flooding through him. He had never felt such a powerful combination of awe, wonder, and sexual hunger. His body reacted instinctively, heat pooling low in his belly as he drank in the sight of her.

Reilla, for her part, felt a surge of confidence under his intense gaze. She moved closer, each step measured and deliberate, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. When she reached him, she paused, her eyes meeting his, a silent question in their depths.

Aegon answered without words, reaching out to pull her gently into his arms. He could feel the heat of her body through the delicate fabric of the nightgown, and it drove him wild. His hands roamed over the lace, savouring the feel of it and the warmth of her skin beneath.

Their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and ravenous. The connection was electric, sending shivers up Reilla’s spine and making her toes curl with delight. Aegon’s kiss was hungry and passionate, a declaration of his desire. He kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth with a fervour that left her breathless.

Reilla responded with equal passion, her fingers threading through his hair as she pressed closer to him. The heat between them was palpable, a fierce and consuming fire that left them both yearning for more. Each touch, each caress, stoked the flames higher, filling the room with a heady mix of desire and love.

When they finally pulled apart, their breathing was heavy, their bodies tingling with the intensity of their kiss. Aegon looked at Reilla with a mixture of awe and adoration. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as much as I want you right now. Issa gevie ābrazȳrys.” Aegon whispered as he slowly reached out and ran his fingers over Reilla’s lace covered breasts. His hands slid the traps of the gown down her shoulders, marvelling at the soft, milky skin. (My beautiful wife.)

“Issa sȳz jurnegēre valzȳrys.” Reilla smiled up at him, tucking some hair away from his face. (My handsome husband.)

Aegon's breath hitched as Reilla's soft whisper reached his ears, her words igniting a fierce longing within him. The delicate lace of her nightgown felt tantalizingly fragile beneath his fingers as he pulled her closer, their bodies moulding together with an urgency that belied their previous playfulness.

Reilla's hands were hesitant at first, but as they found their way to Aegon's bare chest, her touch became more confident. Her fingers traced the contours of his muscles, marvelling at the smoothness of his skin and the strength she felt beneath her fingertips. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, a testament to the desire they both shared.

Aegon’s hands roamed over the intricate patterns of the Myrish lace, revelling in the sensation of Reilla’s body beneath the delicate fabric. His touch was firm yet tender, exploring the curves of her hips, the dip of her waist, and the softness of her breasts. The nightgown left little to the imagination, and Aegon’s imagination was running wild.

He kissed her deeply; their mouths moving together in a dance of hunger and need. His tongue traced the seam of her lips before delving inside, tasting her sweetness. Reilla moaned softly into his mouth, her hands sliding up to his shoulders and then down his back, feeling the play of muscles under his skin. His back was a marvel to her, each ridge and line fascinating under her questing fingers.

Their kiss grew more fervent, more desperate, as they lost themselves in the heat of the moment. Aegon’s hands found the hem of her nightgown, lifting it slightly to brush his fingertips against the bare skin of her thigh. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through Reilla, her breath catching as she pressed closer to him.

Reilla’s fingers traced the line of Aegon’s spine, her touch light and teasing. She felt him shiver under her touch, a reaction that sent a thrill of power through her. She let her hands wander lower, exploring the hard planes of his abdomen and the slight indents that hinted at his strength.

Aegon pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with desire as he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I want to remember every inch of you.”

Reilla’s heart pounded at his words, her cheeks flushing with a mix of shyness and boldness. “My body is yours, Aegon.” she whispered, her hands slipping around to the front of his breeches, tracing the edge with a feather-light touch.

Aegon groaned softly, his hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. He kissed her again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if trying to memorize the taste and feel of her lips. Reilla responded in kind, her kisses growing more confident, more demanding.

Their hands continued to explore, each touch building the tension between them higher and higher. Aegon’s fingers slipped beneath the lace of her nightgown, tracing the curve of her spine, while Reilla’s hands roamed over his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breathing.

Their kisses became more heated, more desperate, as they clung to each other. Aegon’s hands found the soft swell of her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples through the thin fabric, eliciting a gasp from Reilla. She arched into his touch, her own hands gripping his shoulders as she kissed him with a fervour that matched his own.

The room seemed to grow warmer, the air thick with the scent of desire and the sound of their mingled breaths. Aegon’s hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, exploring, while Reilla’s fingers traced the lines of his body, committing each detail to memory.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing hard, their bodies trembling with the intensity of their passion. Aegon looked at Reilla with a mixture of awe and desire, his hands cupping her face tenderly. “I need you, Reilla,” he whispered, his voice filled with raw emotion. “I need all of you.”

Reilla smiled, her own eyes reflecting the same need. “Then take me, Aegon,” she whispered back, her voice a soft promise. “Mark me yours.”

“I want to make you feel good,” your husband finally uttered in a whisper. Of course, she had heard the servants speaking of pleasure. That sometimes, if the man did ‘it’ just right, the woman would find bliss but she had never dared ask the question.

“How?” Reilla glanced at the space just above his breeches, where a small trail of blonde hair disappeared.

Aegon’s thumb caressed her cheek ever so softly, pressing on the supple plumpness under the pad of his finger. He had leaned away, not too far, just enough to gauge Reilla’s reaction. Her throat felt dry, and she longed for a cup of wine or water.

“Will you let me?” he asked.

Reilla nodded her head, untrusting of her own words. As his deft hands lifted the nightgown to her hips, Reilla fisted the sheets tight in her hands. She watched him as he watched her, or her womanhood, rather. Aegon’s tongue ran over his bottom lip, his eyes twinkling under the subtle warmth of the dimness in his chambers.

Reilla felt open… exposed. The urge to cross her legs threatened to overwhelm her, but Aegon’s hands caressing the meat of her thighs prevented her from doing so. He descended then, planting a trail of kisses down the inside of her thigh. Gooseflesh erupted over her skin, and Reilla gasped when he came close to her mound, making her grip his shoulder to stop him.

“Aegon…” she breathed out, eyes wild with panic.

“Let me do this for you, wife.” he whispered, taking her wrist to direct his kisses there. “Emagon pāsagon.” (Have faith.)

Reilla retracted her hand from his firm shoulder hesitantly, leaning her weight on her elbow to watch him. His breath was hot against her slit, which caused an involuntarily clench. He started with light kisses but soon progressed to little licks against her slit. His eyes flickered to gauge her reaction, where she had started to bite her lip to keep quiet. Two fingers parted her folds, baring her to his hungry gaze.

“Oh,” Reilla exhaled, tilting her head back, as his tongue delved deeper, penetrating her. With a surge of confidence, Aegon husband began to devour his little wife in earnest, licking and sucking. Sweet sounds, one he had never heard before in earnest, had started to spill from her lips.

A long finger soon replaced his tongue, entering her gummy walls as though it were his cock. He thrust it in and out of her the same way, and when he bent to feel up a rough patch within her walls, Reilla’s toes clenched as her spine bowed off the bed.

“Good?” Aegon asked sincerely. Reilla merely whined, the semblance of a nod greeting him.

His lips found her pearl, and then another finger joined the other. The king soon found a rhythm, one that had her writhing and moaning without shame.

Reilla could feel the pressure in her stomach build in a steady peak. It sparked her muscles to twitch in Aegon’s hold, growing convulsive as she was pushed closer to her precipice. Aegon watched as she finally came with a whine, her head thrown back into the feather mattress, grinning to himself at his accomplishment.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Reilla asked, breathless. Black spots danced around her vision of him, swarming around the otherworldly sight of his flushed, glimmering lips and the loose silver strands that framed his face. It quirked into a small smirk as he regarded her, his arms caging her in between his hold. “No, wait don’t tell me.”

“It is of no consequence now.” Aemond responded. Reilla dared not ask what he meant, unwilling to learn who he had sucked and licked the way he did in order to be so proficient in the act, how he had learned to poke all the right places to earn such lewd sounds from her. Reilla merely hummed, tracing the line of his jaw in a trance.

His deft fingers had grabbed a hold of the straps of her nightgown, pulling them down to bare her fully to him. She let him, willingly so, encouraged by the look in his eyes that promised more. His gaze was fixed her breasts immediately before his warm, calloused hands took them into his hold. They fit perfectly in his palms, much their combined delight. Reilla bit her lip as he squeezed them, massaging the supple flesh and rubbing on your sensitive bud. Aegon could do this for hours, and if it weren’t for the throbbing in between his thighs, he would have.

He cleared his throat and stood, beginning to unlace and remove his breeches until he stood before her, cock stood stiff and weeping for attention. He was utterly handsome like this, bare and unguarded. She beckoned him closer, soft fingertips trailing his knuckles. “You are beautiful.”

He huffed in amusement, planting a kiss on her cheek before mumbling into her skin words she could not hear.

His stiff length was hot and heavy as it sat against her hip, a reminder of the fire that still coursed through their veins. Aegon pulled away, the look in his eyes taking a warmer, softer tinge. The smile on Reilla’s lips melted away to something sincere, hopeful. With a nod, she watched him take hold of his shaft, lining it upon her entrance. His breach was smooth but still, Reilla tensed.

“Don’t tense, love.” He murmured, kissing along her jaw before taking her lips in a passionate kiss to distract her from the pinching pain. Reilla breathed slowly, busying her mind with her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He was pushing slowly, eyes shut tightly against the feel of her tight warmth around him.

“Fuck,” he growled when his hips settled flush against hers. He breathed out against her neck, raising more goosebumps. “Fuck, darling, please tell me when you’re ready.”

Reilla swallowed thickly and glanced down between them, where his cock disappeared. The pinching sensation had lessened and a blooming heat was spreading through her. He gripped at his shoulders and nodded at him, offering her mouth for a kiss.

Aegon’s hips took on a steady pace, rocking into her gently and slowly. It was nothing lewd or animalistic, but rather sensual, intimate. His face was buried into the crook of her neck, his grunts and moans traveling straight into her clavicle. Reilla was no better, her whines of building pleasure echoing into the quiet of the room.

Aegon took hold of her fisted hands and pried them open and intwined their fingers.

“Aegon,” Reilla breathed out. His nose pressed into the side of her face, breathing into the sweet scent of her dampening flesh.

“Say it again…” His voice was growing raspier by the second, but his tone was ever so soft. His lips closed around one of her nipples, sucking on the stiff bud in a way that made Reilla’s core clench around him.

“Aegon, oh, Aegon! My king,” she whined, holding onto the planes of his back as his pace hastened. His pubic bone rubbed on her pearl, sending shoots of fiery pleasure up and down her spine. She gripped him tightly, almost painfully, but he relished in it. He wanted to feel her everywhere, kiss on every ounce of flesh he could, she was his after all.

“My wife, my dearest queen. Will you come for me again? Spill around my cock, hm?”

Reilla nodded fervently at words, wanting nothing else to do exactly as he asked. His forehead was scrunched in concentration, lips barely an inch away from her. Their breath mingled and Reilla chased him when his tongue darted to lick a swipe across her bottom lip playfully.

She screamed his name as her release washed over her, moans swallowed by his hungry mouth. His length drove into her still, chasing his own release with the aid of her spasming walls.

Aegon pulled away to look at where they were connected, committing the sight of his cock, painted with a white ring around its base, disappearing into her sweet cunny. His pace grew rhythmless as his hips began to sputter. With a hand on his wife’s breast, the other on her jaw, Aegon came with an open-mouthed groan, spilling his hot seed deep into her womb.

When he collapsed by her side, she pulled him close to her chest, letting him lay on her breast with his softening length still nestled in her walls.

They lay there together in silence, comfortably breathless and boneless. His hand rubbed patterns on her waist, as hers ran over his back.

Slumber found them a while later, the heat emanating from Aegon’s bare body pressed against her in a comforting blanket.

Aegon and Reilla sat in the sunlit dining room of their shared quarters, enjoying a leisurely breakfast. The morning light filtered through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the table laden with fresh fruits, bread, and various pastries. The room was adorned with rich tapestries depicting scenes of Targaryen history, and the scent of freshly baked bread and brewed tea filled the air.

Aegon looked at Reilla with a smile that hadn't left his face since their wedding night, his eyes full of contentment. "You seem to be glowing even more this morning," he teased, reaching across the table to take her hand.

Reilla laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with happiness. "And you, my king, look as if you haven't a care in the world."

Aegon chuckled. "That's because having you by my side makes all the difference. But truth be told, there are still matters that weigh on my mind."

"Are you nervous about Aemond leaving for Harrenhal?" Reilla asked, her tone gentle as she took a sip of her tea.

Aegon sighed, setting down his fork. "I am. Harrenhal is a fortress, but it's also a place of dark history and Larys Strong accompanying him puts me ill at ease, but the thought of Rhaenyra's loyalists trying to take it makes me angry."

Reilla nodded, understanding his concern. "Aemond is capable and determined. He'll do everything to secure it. Besides, Larys Strong is cunning and resourceful; he would never harm that hands that feed him."

He grinned at her words, knowing how much the man annoyed Reilla. She was too smart to say anything else, knowing that having Lord Strong at their side was a boon – he could easily decide that their cause was no longer his and disappear to Dragonstone to treat with Rhaenyra. “Soon he will be but a memory, darling.”

“Not a fond one.” Reilla muttered, chomping down on a strawberry as if it were Larys’ head.

Aegon leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "Mother mentioned looking at a betrothal for Aemond. She's been hinting at it for weeks, but there's been no announcement, not even a word in the Small Council meetings. It's unlike her to delay such matters."

"Do you have any idea who she might be considering?" Reilla asked, curious.

Aegon shrugged. "She hasn't mentioned any names. It's strange. She's usually so decisive."

Reilla pondered this for a moment. "I could ask her about it when I see her later. Perhaps there is something she's waiting for or some strategic reason for the delay."

Aegon nodded appreciatively. "I would be grateful if you did. Aemond deserves to know his future, especially before embarking on such a significant mission."

Reilla reached across the table and took his hand. "I'll speak with her. In the meantime, we need to trust Aemond's abilities and Larys' cunning."

Aegon squeezed her hand gently, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and love. "Thank you, Reilla. Your support means everything to me."

Reilla smiled warmly at him. "Always, my king. Together we will accomplish great things."

After finishing their breakfast, Reilla excused herself to prepare for the day. She walked to her chambers, where sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the elegant room. On the bed lay the new dress Aegon had gifted her, its rich green fabric shimmering in the light.

The dress was a masterpiece of Westerosi craftsmanship, designed to flatter her figure and exude regal grace. Made of fine silk, it was dyed a deep shade of emerald green that highlighted her striking Targaryen features. The bodice was intricately embroidered with golden thread, depicting dragons in flight.

The neckline was modest yet elegant, trimmed with delicate Myrish lace, and the long, fitted sleeves tapered to her wrists with tiny pearl buttons. The skirt flowed gracefully to the floor, creating a subtle, mesmerizing shimmer with every movement.

The dress also featured a belt of braided gold, cinching her waist and accentuating her figure. Reilla admired the way it moved as she turned, feeling a sense of pride and excitement. Aegon's thoughtful gift was not just beautiful; it symbolized his affection and support.

As she donned the dress, she completed her ensemble with delicate golden earrings and a simple necklace, her hair cascading in loose waves down her back. With one last glance in the mirror, she made her way to her next task, feeling every bit the Queen Consort she had become.

As she made her way to her good mother's chambers first, she thought about the strange delay in Aemond's betrothal announcement. It was unlike Alicent to keep such plans to herself for so long.

Entering Alicent's chambers, Reilla found the Queen seated by the window, reading a letter. The room was decorated with an elegant simplicity, reflecting Alicent's taste. Alicent looked up and smiled warmly at her daughter-in-law. "Reilla, it's lovely to see you. How are you this morning?"

"I'm well, thank you," Reilla replied, returning the smile. "I actually wanted to speak with you about Aemond. Aegon mentioned that you were considering a betrothal for him, but there hasn't been any news. He is curious, and so am I."

Alicent's expression grew thoughtful. "Yes, I have been considering a few matches for Aemond. However, the situation is delicate. We need to ensure that the alliance is beneficial to our house and strengthens our position against Rhaenyra. There are many factors to weigh."

Reilla nodded, understanding the complexity of the situation. "I see. Aegon is concerned about Aemond leaving for Harrenhal without knowing his future. It would give them both peace of mind to know your plans, I think."

Alicent sighed softly. "I understand. I will discuss this matter with the Small Council soon. Aemond's mission is critical, and he should know where he stands before he leaves."

"Thank you," Reilla said, feeling relieved. "I'm sure Aemond will appreciate it."

Alicent reached out and touched Reilla's hand. "You've been a wonderful addition to our family, Reilla. Your concern for all my children is commendable."

Reilla smiled, feeling a warm sense of belonging. "I have found true family with you all here and I will always support that."

After their conversation, Reilla made her way to Helaena's chambers. She found her good sister preparing for their visit to the city, watching a gaggle of servants ready the baskets of fresh food they would be taking with them. The room was filled with the scent of fresh flowers, and Helaena's presence brought a sense of calm and joy.

The princess was dressed in a gown of soft lavender, the colour complementing her fair skin and platinum hair. The dress was adorned with silver thread work that glittered in the sunlight, depicting intricate patterns of flowers and vines.

As Reilla approached, Helaena's face lit up with a warm smile. "You look beautiful, Reilla," she said, her voice gentle and sincere. "Aegon has excellent taste."

"Thank you, Helaena," Reilla replied, returning the smile. "You look stunning as always. The lavender suits you perfectly."

Helaena nodded appreciatively, then her gaze grew distant, as if she were seeing something far beyond the room. "A wolf dressed in pale blue," she murmured, her tone softening considerably. "There will be a wolf dressed in pale blue."

Reilla frowned slightly, puzzled by Helaena's words. "What do you mean, Helaena?"

Helaena blinked and seemed to come back to the present, her expression softening. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "Sometimes, I see things. They don't always make sense right away."

Reilla placed a comforting hand on Helaena's arm. "Your visions are a gift, Helaena. We should always heed them. Perhaps the meaning will become clear in time."

Helaena nodded, her gaze steady and reassuring. "Yes, perhaps it will. For now, let's focus on our task for the day."

The two women shared a determined look, then set off together towards the city, ready to deliver food to the orphanage. The words of the prophecy lingered in Reilla's mind, a reminder of the uncertain future that lay ahead.

As they made their way through the bustling streets of King's Landing, Reilla felt a sense of purpose and fulfilment. The people they encountered greeted them with smiles and gratitude, their spirits lifted by the generosity of their Queen and princess. The streets were alive with the sounds of merchants calling out their wares, children playing, and the general hum of city life.

Reilla and Helaena distributed food to the children at the orphanage, their hearts warming at the sight of the little faces lighting up with joy. They spent time talking with the caretakers, listening to their needs and concerns.

"These children have so little," Helaena said softly, her eyes reflecting her empathy. "It breaks my heart to see them suffer."

Reilla placed a comforting hand on her sister-in-law's shoulder. "We are making a difference, Helaena. One step at a time. And we will continue to do so."

Helaena nodded, her resolve strengthening. "Yes, we will."

As they made their way back to the Red Keep, Reilla reflected on the day's events. She felt a deep sense of satisfaction, knowing that she and Helaena were making a positive impact on the lives of those in need. Reilla knew that she and Aegon had many challenges ahead, but with the support of their family and their commitment to their people, they were ready to face whatever the future held.

Back at the Red Keep, Reilla found Aegon in their solar, poring over maps and muttering to himself about strategy. He looked up and smiled as she entered, his face lighting up at the sight of her.

"How was your day?" Aegon asked, his eyes full of curiosity.

"It was fulfilling," Reilla replied, taking a seat beside him. "We distributed food to the orphanage and listened to their needs. It's heartening to see how much a small act of kindness can mean to those children."

Aegon nodded, his expression thoughtful. "You have a good heart, Reilla. Our people are lucky to have you."

"And I am lucky to have you," Reilla said, leaning into him gently.

Their lips met in a tender, lingering kiss, filled with the warmth of their mutual affection. Aegon's hand cradled the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair, as he pulled her closer. The kiss was soft and slow, a comforting embrace of lips that conveyed the depth of their feelings for one another. Aegon's other hand slid around her waist, holding her gently but firmly, as if he never wanted to let her go.

Reilla felt a shiver of delight run down her spine as the kiss deepened. She melted into his embrace, her hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. The kiss was sweet and unhurried, each moment filled with the promise of their shared future. When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their eyes locking in a gaze that spoke of love, trust, and unspoken vows.

"You really do have a way of making everything better," Aegon murmured, his forehead resting against hers.

Reilla smiled, her heart swelling with pride. "I spoke with your mother earlier," she said softly, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "About Aemond and the betrothal she mentioned."

Aegon’s eyebrows raised in interest. "And what did she say?"

"She didn't give a definitive answer, but she seemed to be weighing her options carefully. I think she’s waiting for the right moment or perhaps the right match."

Aegon chuckled softly. "Matching Aemond’s intensity is no small feat. Did she hint at anyone specific?"

Reilla shook her head. "No, but she seemed thoughtful about it. I get the sense she wants to make a choice that will benefit both Aemond and the realm."

Aegon nodded, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "That sounds like Mother. She’s always thinking three steps ahead."

Their lips met once more, this time with a bit more urgency, a silent promise of their shared strength and unwavering support for one another. The warmth of their connection enveloped them, making the weight of the crown and the trials ahead seem just a little bit lighter.

The Small Council chamber was a grand and imposing room, its high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings and tapestries depicting the history of House Targaryen. The room was lit by the warm glow of numerous torches, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. A large, polished table dominated the center of the chamber, surrounded by high-backed chairs reserved for the council members. King Aegon II Targaryen sat at the head of the table, his presence commanding respect and attention.

The attendees took their seats, their expressions reflecting the seriousness of the matters at hand.

Aegon cleared his throat, signalling the start of the meeting. "We have important matters to discuss today, the foremost being the departure of Larys and Aemond to Harrenhal to secure it against Rhaenyra’s loyalists."

Larys Strong leaned forward, his face a mask of calm calculation. "The task at Harrenhal is of utmost importance. Securing it will provide us with a strong foothold in the Riverlands and prevent any incursions from Rhaenyra’s supporters."

Prince Aemond nodded in agreement; his one remaining eye gleaming with determination. "We will ensure that Harrenhal is firmly under our control. Vhagar’s presence alone will serve as a significant deterrent."

Ser Otto Hightower, his expression thoughtful, added, "We cannot afford to show any weakness."

Aemond's gaze shifted to his mother, who seemed to be waiting for the right moment to speak. Alicent took a deep breath and addressed the council. "I have two viable options for Aemond’s betrothal, which will strengthen our alliances significantly."

All eyes turned to Alicent as she continued, "The first option is a daughter of House Baratheon. A marriage to one of Borros Baratheon’s daughters would secure his loyalty to our cause. Aemond, you may choose among the Baratheon girls as you see fit."

Aemond’s gaze flickered with interest, but he remained silent as Alicent presented the second option. "The second option is Rosyn Tully, the daughter of Lord Grover Tully. This marriage would not only solidify our hold on the Riverlands but also ensure that Harrenhal’s security is maintained. Additionally, if Aemond refuses Rosyn, Helaena could be married to one of Lord Grover’s younger sons, securing the alliance from another angle."

Ser Tyland Lannister, always calculating, leaned back in his chair, considering the implications. "Both alliances are beneficial. The Baratheons would provide strong military support, while the Tully’s would secure our position in the Riverlands."

Lord Jasper Wylde nodded in agreement. "We must weigh the benefits carefully. Aemond’s decision will significantly impact our strategy moving forward."

Aemond, who had been listening intently, finally spoke. "Both options have their merits. I will consider them carefully and will send my answer within a week."

Alicent smiled warmly at her son. "I know you will make the right choice, Aemond. These alliances are crucial to our success."

Aegon looked at his brother with pride. "Aemond, your judgment is valued here. Choose wisely, for the future of our realm depends on it."

The discussion then shifted to the logistics and strategies for securing Harrenhal. Ser Criston Cole outlined the security measures and troop deployments. "We must ensure that Harrenhal is fortified and that our men are well-prepared for any potential siege."

Larys Strong added, “Rumours indicate that Rhaenyra’s forces are spread thin, but we cannot underestimate her. With Vhagar at Harrenhal, we will have a significant advantage."

As maps were unrolled and plans scrutinized, the room buzzed with activity. Grand Maester Orwyle provided insights on the supply lines and the importance of maintaining them.

After a thorough discussion, Aegon turned to his council. "Is there any other business to address?"

Tyland cleared his throat. "There are reports from the western borders that require attention, but they are not as pressing as the matter of Harrenhal. We can address them in the next meeting."

Aegon nodded. "Very well. If there is nothing else, this meeting is adjourned."

As the council members began to rise and gather their documents, Alicent approached Aemond. "I trust you will make the best decision for our family and the realm."

Aemond met his mother’s gaze with determination. "I will, Mother. You can count on it."

The Small Council chamber slowly emptied, leaving behind an air of resolved determination as the Targaryens and their allies prepared for the challenges ahead. The future of the realm hung in the balance, and every decision made in that room would shape the course of history.

The Dragonpit loomed large and foreboding, its vastness filled with the echoes of ancient roars and the lingering smell of dragons. The air inside was thick with the heat of dragonfire and the musky scent of the great beasts. Stone corridors, worn smooth by centuries of use, twisted and turned, leading deeper into the heart of the pit.

Helaena Targaryen led Reilla through the massive stone corridors, their footsteps echoing softly against the cool stone floors. The faint light from torches cast flickering shadows on the walls, giving the place an almost ethereal quality. The anticipation built within Reilla with each step, her heart racing in both fear and excitement.

As they approached Dreamfyre’s chamber, the dragon’s massive, serpentine form came into view. Dreamfyre was a magnificent sight, her scales shimmering with hues of blue and silver, catching the light and reflecting it in a dazzling array. She lifted her head, her eyes glinting with curiosity as the two women entered her space. Her wings, though folded, hinted at the immense power they held when unfurled.

Helaena stepped forward, speaking soothingly to her dragon. “Dreamfyre, my love,” she murmured, her voice soft and melodic, like a lullaby. “This is Reilla, my dear sister by marriage.”

Reilla stood back, awestruck by the dragon’s sheer size and grace. Dreamfyre’s eyes, large and expressive, focused on her, and for a moment, Reilla felt a connection, a sense of understanding pass between them. She took a tentative step closer, her eyes never leaving Dreamfyre’s.

“Come, she will not harm you,” Helaena encouraged, her smile gentle and reassuring.

With a deep breath, Reilla stepped closer, her heart pounding in her chest. The dragon remained calm, her gaze steady and accepting. Reilla felt a sense of calm wash over her, the initial trepidation giving way to a strange comfort in the presence of the dragon.

Helaena watched them with a serene smile. “She likes you,” she said softly. “Dragons are more perceptive than most people realize.”

They spent some time with Dreamfyre, Helaena tending to her dragon and speaking in low, soothing tones. Reilla watched, fascinated by the bond between them, noticing the subtle, almost tender interactions. Dreamfyre would nuzzle Helaena gently, responding to her touch with a soft rumble of contentment.

As they finished, Reilla noticed another presence nearby. Aegon entered the chamber, his golden hair catching the light of the torches, and beside him was his dragon, Sunfyre. Sunfyre’s scales gleamed with an otherworldly brilliance, a striking blend of gold and red. His regal form moved with a fluid grace, his eyes sharp and intelligent.

“Aegon,” Helaena greeted her brother, “I thought it would be good for Reilla to meet Sunfyre as well.”

Aegon nodded, his gaze shifting to his wife. “Sunfyre, meet Reilla,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle.

Sunfyre’s eyes locked onto Reilla, and for a moment, the dragon seemed to assess her. Reilla felt a mixture of awe and trepidation, but she held her ground. The golden dragon lowered his head slightly, a sign of acceptance.

Aegon walked over to Reilla, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “He likes you,” he said, his tone softer now. “Sunfyre can be quite discerning.”

Reilla felt a rush of emotions, a sense of being embraced by these magnificent creatures. “Thank you, Sunfyre,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aegon placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You have nothing to fear from him. He knows you are family now.”

Reilla looked up at Aegon, a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty in her eyes. “I’m still getting used to all of this.”

Aegon chuckled softly. “It takes time, but you’ll find your place here. We’re all adjusting in our own ways.”

Helaena watched them with a serene smile. “Reilla has a good heart, Aegon. She’ll fit in perfectly.”

Eventually, Helaena turned the conversation to a more personal matter. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Reilla,” Helaena began, her tone curious and thoughtful. “What happened to the dragon egg that was sent to you as a babe?”

Reilla sighed, her expression wistful. “It never hatched. I kept it close, hoping it would one day, but it remained cold and still. And with my upbringing at Runestone, claiming a dragon was impossible. I never had the chance.”

Helaena nodded thoughtfully, her fingers absently stroking Dreamfyre’s scales. “Perhaps you could try bonding with one of the castle dragons without riders. There are several that remain unclaimed.”

Reilla’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’m not sure about that, Helaena. I’m not much of a warrior, though I have had some sword training.”

Helaena smiled gently, shaking her head. “Bonding with a dragon should never be about fighting, Reilla. It’s about the connection, the essence it brings to one’s life. A dragon is more than a weapon; it’s a part of you, a companion.”

Reilla pondered this, her eyes drifting to the tunnels leading to the nests of the unclaimed dragons. “Which dragon would you suggest?” she asked hesitantly.

“Silverwing,” Helaena replied without hesitation. “She’s relatively docile and loved her previous rider, Good Queen Alysanne, very much. She might accept you if you approach her with an open heart.”

Reilla’s gaze turned toward the direction of Silverwing’s lair, uncertainty and curiosity warring within her. “I will ponder it,” she said softly, her eyes lingering on the darkened tunnels. The idea of bonding with such a majestic creature was daunting, yet exhilarating.

Aegon, who had been listening quietly, added, “Silverwing is a good choice. She’s wise and gentle, perfect for someone like you.”

Reilla looked at Aegon, a small smile forming on her lips. “Thank you, Aegon. Your confidence means a lot to me.”

Helaena reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Reilla’s arm. “Take your time. The bond with a dragon is not something to be rushed. When you’re ready, Silverwing will be waiting.”

Reilla nodded, feeling a deep sense of gratitude towards Helaena and Aegon for their understanding and support. “Thank you, both of you. Your guidance means a lot to me.”

Helaena smiled, her eyes reflecting her sincerity. “We are family now, Reilla. And family looks out for each other.”

As they made their way out of the Dragonpit, the anticipation and excitement of what lay ahead stayed with Reilla. The Dragonpit seemed less intimidating now, the shadows less foreboding. The notion of bonding with a dragon, something she had long thought impossible, now seemed within reach.

The afternoon sun cast long shadows as they exited the pit, the warmth a stark contrast to the coolness within. Reilla couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope igniting within her. The idea of bonding with a dragon was daunting, yet exhilarating, and she found herself looking forward to the possibilities that lay ahead.

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready,” Reilla said, her voice filled with determination.

Helaena nodded, a look of pride in her eyes. “I know you will, and I’ll be here to support you every step of the way.”

Aegon added, “And so will I. Together, we’ll face whatever comes.”

Together, they walked back toward the Red Keep, their steps light with the promise of new beginnings and the strength of their newfound bond.

The war table in Dragonstone's grand hall was surrounded by the key members of Queen Rhaenyra’s faction, the atmosphere tense and charged with anticipation. The news of Aegon’s coronation and marriage to Daemon’s estranged daughter, Reilla, had sent shockwaves through their ranks.

The chamber was bathed in a warm, ambient glow from sconces and flickering torches, their light casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. At its centre sprawled the Painted Table, an immense block of wood carved and painted meticulously to resemble the detailed contours of Westeros as it stood at the dawn of Aegon's Conquest. Settlements and landscapes were vividly depicted, yet without the confines of borders, offering a panoramic view of the realm's expanse. Near the representation of Dragonstone, a raised seat awaited, providing an optimal vantage point to oversee the entirety of the map. Over three centuries of varnish lent the table a rich patina, while nearby, an iron brazier crackled softly, adding to the chamber's warm ambiance, complemented by the gentle heat emanating from a hearth nestled in one corner.

Rhaenyra stood at the head of the table, her presence commanding and regal even amidst the turmoil. Her silver hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her violet eyes were steely with determination. Daemon stood beside her, his expression dark and brooding. His gaze flickered with anger and frustration, the tension palpable between him and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, who sat opposite with her husband, Lord Corlys Velaryon.

Rhaenyra’s voice broke the heavy silence, steady but laced with anger. “Their union strengthens Aegon’s claim substantially,” she began, her eyes scanning the faces of her loyal supporters. “We need to act swiftly and decisively.”

Rhaenys, her eyes flashing with the same fire that burned in her husband, nodded in agreement. “Harrenhal must be secured. If Aegon sends forces there, it will cut us off from the Riverlands.”

Daemon slammed his fist on the table, making everyone jump. “I will gather an army and claim Harrenhal. Aegon will not hold it while I breathe.”

Corlys looked thoughtful, stroking his beard. “Borros Baratheon remains undecided. We need his support if we are to secure the Stormlands.”

Jacaerys Velaryon, Rhaenyra’s eldest son, stood tall and resolute. “I will fly to Storm’s End and treat with Lord Baratheon.”

“No,” Rhaenyra interjected, her tone firm. “You are needed to fly to Winterfell. We must secure Lord Cregan Stark’s aid. Lucerys will go to Storm’s End.”

Lucerys, though younger and less experienced, nodded bravely. “I will do my duty, Mother.”

The tension in the room mounted as the discussion shifted. Daemon’s face darkened further as the conversation turned to Reilla. Rhaenys brought up her concern with barely concealed contempt. “This marriage is an affront. Reilla should have been here, with us.”

Daemon’s eyes blazed with fury. “Reilla is a mistake, just like her mother. I would have bastardized her if Viserys and that snake Alicent hadn't interfered.”

Rhaenys stood, her voice rising. “You may despise her, but you cannot deny she is your blood. My sources say she is the spitting image of the late Queen Alyssa. Raised with the Royce intelligence for battle and political strategy, she would have been a powerful aid to Rhaenyra’s cause.”

Daemon’s hand went to his sword, his knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. “Speak another word about that child, and you will regret it, Rhaenys.”

Corlys rose to his feet, placing a protective hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Enough, Daemon. You will not threaten my wife. We stand united, or we fall.”

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Rhaenyra’s voice broke the silence, calm but commanding. “We cannot afford to be divided. Our enemies are formidable, and we must stand together. Harrenhal must be secured, and we must bring the Baratheons and the Starks to our side.”

Lord Bartimos Celtigar, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. “We have dragons, Your Grace. They are our greatest advantage.”

Rhaena Targaryen, squaring her shoulders, added, “Silverwing remains in King’s Landing, but Vermithor is on Dragonstone, along with Sheepstealer, Grey Ghost, and Seasmoke. Cannibal is too dangerous to approach. Aemond’s dragon Vhagar is the biggest threat we face; she is powerful beyond measure.”

Daemon nodded, his expression hardening. “We have Meleys and Caraxes.”

Rhaenys squinted at her cousin shrewdly, clenching her hand on the arm of her chair to avoid saying something that would start an all-out brawl. “Baela and Moondancer will train with myself and Meleys as well, so that she might be ready for any circumstance.”

“We might search other avenues as well,” Jacaerys said trying not to let his nerves show. “We could enlist riders from outside the family-

“No dragon will accept a non-Targaryen rider.” Daemon scoffed dismissively.

“Dragonseeds have enough Targaryen blood.” Jacaerys said, eyes flicking to his mother. “Who cares where our fighting power comes from, as long as we have it.”

Maester Gerardys nodded in agreement. “The dragons are crucial to our success and there might still be some on the island with dragon blood…”

Ser Erryk Cargyll, cleared his throat and stepped forward. “I will have my men scour the island for information on any remaining Dragonseeds and descendants, Your Grace. The prince’s idea is a good one.”

Daemon’s jaw clenched and he stood abruptly, storming from the room without a second glance. Rhaenys shared a look with Rhaenyra, conveying her ire towards the Rogue Prince.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, her gaze sweeping over her council. “We will move forward with our plans. Daemon, will prepare to take Harrenhal. Jacaerys, you will fly to Winterfell. Lucerys, you will go to Storm’s End. We must secure our allies and our positions.”

Rhaenyra turned to her sons, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “Be careful, my sons. The fate of our House rests on your shoulders.”

Jacaerys and Lucerys nodded, determination in their eyes. “We will not fail you, Mother,” Jacaerys vowed.

The council members continued to discuss their strategies and plans. Rhaenyra spoke with Lord Bartimos Celtigar about securing additional supplies and reinforcements, while Maester Gerardys and Ser Erryk Cargyll provided updates on their intelligence and reconnaissance efforts.

The air was filled with a sense of urgency and resolve. They knew the road ahead would be difficult, but united, they were determined to reclaim what was rightfully theirs. The battle for the Iron Throne was just beginning, and they would fight with all their strength to claim it.

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