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bumblesimagines · 2 years ago

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When Fire Meets Fate

Part 11

Request: Yes or No

Officially putting this series on hiatus!

~~~

While a war had yet to officially break out, everyone knew it was inevitable. Neither side would give up without a fight. Preparations were made and the Painted Table was lit for the first time in many years. Candles were lit and slipped under the table, the glow of the fire illuminating the carved map. (Y/N) gazed over the table as pieces were set across it, only looking away when his wife entered the room under her new title.

"Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm," Daemon announced as everyone bowed their heads to her, himself included. (Y/N) watched the uncertainty that passed over Rhaenyra briefly, her gaze drifting around the room. As a princess, she'd been given much attention, mostly lords and ladies attempting to get in the good graces of her father. But now, she was queen and everyone looked to her for guidance instead of mere approval. She stepped forward, pausing and looking back at the guards escorting her. Rhaenyra lifted her hand, motioning for them to stop, and turned back, stopping again when Rhaena offered her wine.

"Thank you, Rhaena," Rhaenyra spoke softly, nodding for her to join her on her walk to the table. She nodded for Baela as well and set her cup down, looking over the map and inhaling deeply. She looked up at her husband and he stared back, quirking at brow at her silence. When she realized they were all waiting for her, she swallowed and glanced back at the map."What is our standing?"

"We have thirty knights, a hundred crossbowmen, and three hundred men-at-arms," Daemon answered, glancing at (Y/N) with a small frown. "Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves much to be desired. We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I'll have some support there but I cannot speak to the numbers."

"We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton, Massey, Darklyn, and Bar Emmon." The maester listed off as the men present bowed their heads in turn. Jace retrieved the pieces and began setting them across the map to show their allies. Rhaenyra nodded and lifted her hand to point.

"My lady mother was an Arryn. The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin."

"Riverrun was always a close friend to your father, Your Grace. With Prince Daemon's permission, I've already sent ravens to Lord Grover." The maester piped in again and (Y/N) looked toward Daemon who avoided his eyes.

"Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed. He will need to be convinced of the strength of our position and that we will support him should it come to war." Rhaenyra pointed out and Daemon nodded.

"I am going to treat with him myself."

"We should look toward Winterfell as well as Storm's End. Starks are known for their loyalty and rarely- if ever- do they break oaths. House Stark could prove to be a strong ally and if they're with us, so is the North. However, Lord Borros Baratheon did not bend the knee when Her Grace was declared heir, his father did. He is someone who will likely need to be convinced but it'll be worth doing if he becomes an ally." (Y/N) spoke up and a knight set a piece above Winterfell. Rhaenyra nodded to herself, growing confident in her new position. Her eyes lingered over one of the names and she turned toward Rhaenys.

"What news from Driftmark?"

"Lord Coryls sails for Dragonstone,"

"To declare for his Queen?" Daemon tilted his head, earning a frown from the older woman.

"The Velaryon fleet is in my husband's yoke. He decides where they sail." Rhaenys reminded the man and Rhaenyra nodded, sighing softly.

"We shall pray for you and your husband's support. Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake's return to good health." Rhaenyra told her pointedly. "There's no port on the Narrow Sea that would dare make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet." Rhaenyra turned back to the table and cleared her throat. "And our enemies?"

"Without a doubt, not a single Hightower will support our cause, kin or not, and Tylan Lannister has stood by Otto Hightower for far too long to turn against him which means the Lannister Fleet is at his disposal. Without the Lannisters, we are sure to have no friends west of Golden Tooth." (Y/N) answered, gazing down at the map as enemies were marked.

"The Riverlands are essential, Your Grace," Daemon muttered.

"Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Grace, but talk of men is moot. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons!" One lord piped in and Rhaenyra glanced at him, gaze casting over those present.

"The Greens have dragons as well-"

"They have three adults, by my count. We have Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys. Your sons have Vermax, Arrax, and Tyraxes. Baela has Moondancer." Daemon interrupted, drawing a glare from Rhaenyra.

"None of our dragons have been to war."

"There are also unclaimed dragons. Seasmoke still resides on Driftmark. Vermithor and Silverwing dwell on the Dragonmont, still riderless. Then there are the four wild dragons, all of whom nest here."

"And who is to ride them?"

"Dragonstone has thirteen to their four. I also have a score of eggs incubating in the Dragonmont." Daemon retrieved a piece and made his way around the table. "Now, we need a place to gather, a toehold large enough to house a sizeable host. Here, at Harrenhal. We cut off the west, and surround King's Landing with dragons. And we could have ever Green's head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns." He explained, placing the piece in hand on Harrenhal. The same castle that had seen Harwin's death. (Y/N) wrapped his fingers tightly around his wrist at the thought of going to such a place.

"Your Grace, a ship has been sighted offshore: a lone galleon flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon." The knight, Ser Erryk, revealed as he approached them. Rhaenyra turned to look at her husband as Daemon gave off instructions and walked away. (Y/N) moved around the table and stood beside his wife.

"If I see my father, I fear I will not be able to hold my anger. You must go and show you will not back down. Otto will have your head, regardless if you do as he says or not. He is not afraid of having others get their hands dirty for him." (Y/N) spoke to her quietly and Rhaenyra nodded, placing her hand over his before stepping away to deal with the traitors.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Gazing down at the table, Rhaenyra held a distant look in her eye. The page Alicent had sent her, a memory from their youth, had shaken Rhaenyra. One couldn't simply turn on someone they'd loved once so dearly. But she couldn't forget the betrayal of naming Aegon as king. (Y/N) watched his wife as planning and discussion continued.

"It's no easy thing for a man to be a dragonslayer. But dragons can kill dragons. And have. The simple truth is this: we have more dragons than Aegon." Daemon continued his idea, the plan he'd conjured without their input. His behavior toward them after the passing of King Viserys had considerably soured (Y/N) view of him.

"Viserys spoke often of the Valyrian histories. I know them well. When dragons flew to war... everything burned. I do not wish to rule over a kingdom of ash and bone." Rhaenyra asserted coldly, her growing irritation with her uncle beginning to spill over.

"Are you considering the Hightowers' terms, Your Grace?"

"As Queen, what is my true duty to the realm, Lord Bartimos? Ensuring peace and unity? Or that I sit the Iron Throne no matter the cost?" Rhaenyra questioned, earning a scoff from Daemon.

"That's your father talking."

"My father's dead. And he chose me as his successor... to defend the realm, not cast it headlong into war."

"The enemy have declared war! What are you going to do about it?"

"Everybody out!" (Y/N) bellowed suddenly, slamming his palm into the table and even making Ser Erryk flinch slightly from his outburst. The lords and knights quietly shuffled out of the room, leaving the couple and Daemon alone. The silver-haired prince paced before the fireplace, glancing toward his friend every few steps. (Y/N) closed his eyes for a moment and turned to look at Daemon, taking slow steps toward the man. "You are mourning your brother, I know that. I've mourned a brother too long ago. But you are allowing your anger to guide your tongue-"

"I am not-"

"Do not interrupt me whilst I am speaking, Daemon!" (Y/N) shouted at him and the prince narrowed his eyes but fell silent regardless. Inhaling deeply and moving closer, (Y/N) continued, "I understand you wish to act as quickly as possible to avenge what happened to Viserys and to help your beloved niece take back what was stolen from her. But I refuse to stand by as you challenge us, unknowingly or not. I care for you, Daemon. Years ago prior to coming to Dragonstone, I wouldn't have given a damn if you passed away in battle. But now I do. You're my family and I know you care for me as well. It is why I've allowed you to speak out of turn, to speak down to us. You have more experience and knowledge of battles, I acknowledge that but Rhaenyra is your queen now and you will treat her as such. Because as much as I care for you, you are not the only man we know with experience who is willing to help us. Question Queen Rhaenyra publicly like that again... and you will be replaced. Have I made myself clear?"

Staring into his (E/C) eyes, Daemon clenched his jaw, exhaling through his nose and nodding. "Very clear, My King." He muttered lowly and stepped away, walking away from the two and retrieving Dark Sister. He looked back at them over his shoulder before exiting the room. (Y/N) watched him leave, feeling Rhaenyra place a hand on his back.

"You've done well by me, Husband. Not many can threaten my uncle and live." Rhaenyra murmured, hand slipping from his back to his cheek. She smiled softly at him and leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. "There is something I must tell you... it is one of the reasons I hesitate on war."

"What is it?"

"The Song of Ice and Fire," Rhaenyra whispered, glancing toward the door and sighing softly. "When my father named me heir, he told me a prophecy Aegon the Conqueror had. He claimed that the property foretold the coming of a winter so deadly it ended the world of men. He said to survive, all of Westeros needed to be united and a Targaryen needed to sit the Iron Throne. He had me swear an oath to keep this secret and I am sharing it with you now because I know you will not share it with anyone."

A soft breath escaped his lips and he reached up to touch Rhaenyra's cheek. "And you believe this prophecy?."

"I know it sounds like nonsense but the way my father spoke about it... I believe that sooner or later, this winter will descend upon Westeros. I cannot allow myself to plunge the kingdoms into war and leave a broken mess for Jace and Luke to mend whilst battling a deadly winter." Rhaenyra told him softly, resting her hand over her husband's and releasing a soft sigh. "The future children of our sons deserve a peaceful future, regardless of whether this prophecy is true or not."

"I understand, Nyra. Whatever you decide, you will have my support."

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Standing beside his wife's chair, he listened to what felt like endless arguing between lords. Rhaenyra leaned back in her chair, absentmindedly listening to them, mind filled with worries and plans. The couple still needed to decide on what to do; risking war or accepting the terms. Both choices would have consequences. Dire consequences that could result in bloodshed regardless of what Otto claimed. His father's words couldn't be trusted, even if he said to be a messenger for Queen Alicent.

"The Lord of the Tides!" Ser Erryk announced loudly, drawing the couple from their thoughts and toward the doors as the man entered, cane in hand. The sight of him brought Rhaenyra to her feet, a soft gasp leaving her. "Lord Corlys Velaryon... and his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen."

Lord Corlys entered the room with a limp, his neck heavily bandaged but his strength could not be doubted. Rhaenys stood beside him proudly and their granddaughters followed behind them, both looking equally relieved and pleased to see their grandsire back on his feet. "My lords." He greeted them hoarsely.

"Lord Corlys... It brings much relief to see you hale and healthy again." Rhaenyra spoke softly, smiling at the man. Lord Corlys studied her for a moment, gaze briefly shifting onto (Y/N).

"I'm very sorry about your father, Princess. He was a good man." Rhaenyra's gaze turned down when he regarded her with her old title but Lord Corlys' attention had turned toward his granddaughters as they took their places beside Jace and Luke. Glancing at his wife, he limped toward the table and swept his gaze over the room. "And where is Daemon? I am aware he's quite close to you both."

"Prince Daemon is attending to other matters at the moment." (Y/N) answered and Lord Corlys hummed, moved around the table, and studied the map, taking note of allies and enemies.

"Your declared allies?"

"Yes."

"Too few to win a war for the throne." He pointed out, lifting his eyes toward the couple.

Rhaenyra stepped forward, clearing her throat. "Well, we would also hope to have the support of Houses Arryn, Baratheon, and Stark."

"Hope... is the fool's ally," Lord Corlys said bluntly and Rhaenyra glanced back at the map, pursing her lips slightly.

"Both Arryn and Baratheon share blood with my house. But all of them swore oaths to me."

"As did House Hightower, if I remember correctly." His gaze flickered toward (Y/N).

"As did you, Lord Corlys." Rhaenyra's reminder made the man fall silent, his eyes meeting his wife's before he turned and gazed upon his granddaughters and their stance beside the two Velaryon boys. He nodded lightly and looked back at Rhaenyra.

"Your father's realm... was one of justice and honor. Our houses are bound by common blood and common cause. This Hightower treason cannot stand." Lord Corlys voiced. Rhaenyra's brows furrowed at his wording, glancing back to her husband. "You have the full support of our fleet and house, Your Grace."

"You honor me, Lord Corlys." Rhaenyra breathed and when Lord Corlys looked toward his wife, they knew Princess Rhaenys had much to do with his decision. Turning to look at the woman, Rhaenyra nodded with a thankful smile. Inhaling, Rhaenyra gazed over the map with a more relaxed figure. "But, as I said, to my bannermen, I made a promise to my father to hold the realm strong and united. If war's first stroke is to fall, it will not be by my hand."

"You do not mean to act?"

"Taking caution does not mean standing fast. I wish to know who my allies are before I send them to war." Rhaenyra responded, watching him step closer. Lord Corlys nodded along to her words, looking back down at the Painted Table.

"The consequence to my... near-demise in the Stepstones is that we now control them. I took care to fully garrison the territory this time. A total blockade of the shipping lanes will be in place in days, if not already. The Triacrhy have been routed. The Narrow Sea is ours." Lord Corlys revealed. Rhaenyra's eyes widened and she glanced around at her supporters, releasing a breath of relief. "If we... further seal the Gullet, we can cut off all seaborne travel and trade to King's Landing."

"I shall take Meleys and patrol the Gullet myself." Princess Rhaenys said, coming to a stop beside Rhaenyra and nodding to her in support.

"When we drain the Narrow Sea, we can surround King's Landing, lay siege to the Red Keep, and force the Greens to surrender." Lord Bartimos offered his plan but (Y/N) stepped forward, gazing down at the table.

"While that plan may work, we first need enough men to surround King's Landing and those men can be provided to us through Winterfell, the Eyrie, and Storm's End." (Y/N) chimed in, turning his eyes onto the maester who bowed his head in turn.

"I'll prepare the ravens."

"We should bear those messages," Jace spoke up, pulling his parents' attention away from the table and toward him. "Dragons can fly faster than ravens and they're more convincing. Send us." He explained, holding his mother's gaze.

"The Prince is right, Your Grace." Lord Corlys agreed, turning to look at the two.

Rhaenyra looked at her husband and met his eyes, brows, and lips twitching. Her eyes told him enough of her concerns but when he gently wrapped his fingers around her wrists and nodded, she inhaled deeply. "Very well. Prince Jacaerys will fly north. First to the Eyrie to see my mother's cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn, and then to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will fly south to Storm's End and treat with Lord Borros Baratheon. We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore. And... the cost of breaking them."

With that, the room dispersed and Rhaenyra headed up to one of the many balconies after writing the messages as their sons prepared for their departure. (Y/N) joined her on the balcony, placing his hand over hers and staring out at the sea. Their sons would be heading off into the world as man-grown, helping them on their quest. But (Y/N) couldn't shake the lingering feeling that something was wrong.

"I believe we'll garner the support of House Stark and House Arryn. House Baratheon worries me. Lord Borros is not exactly an easy man to sway and the fact he himself didn't swear oath... He'll use that as reasoning enough." (Y/N) muttered quietly, turning his head to look at his wife. Rhaenyra looked down at the letters in her hands and sighed.

"We must have faith." She whispered and (Y/N) sighed, looking back out at sea. Rhaenyra turned around as the boys approached them and she smiled softly. "It's been said that as Targaryens, we are closer to gods than to men. And the Iron Throne puts us a touch closer, perhaps. But, if we are to serve the Seven Kingdoms, we must answer to their gods. If you take this errand, you go as messengers... not as warriors. You must take no part in any fighting. Swear it to me now under the eyes of the Seven." Ser Eryyk stepped closer with the book, extending his arms forward.

"I swear it." Luke reached out first, resting his hand on the book as he spoke. (Y/N) turned around to look at them, swallowing down the worry bubbling up in his chest.

"I swear it." Jace followed after a moment of hesitance, resting his hand on the book as well.

"Thank you." Rhaenyra nodded to Ser Erryk and stepped forward, looking down at the letters. "Cregan Stark is... closer to your age than he is mine. I hope that as men you can find some common interests."

"Yes, Your Grace." Jace took the letters from his mother, safely tucking them away.

Turning her attention away from her eldest and onto Luke, Rhaenyra took in the worried look on his face. "Storm's End is a short flight from here. Lord Borros is an eternally proud man. He will be honored to host a prince of the realm and his dragon. I expect you will receive a very warm welcome." Rhaenyra assured, placing the letter in Luke's hand and smiling fondly.

"Yes, Mother- Y-Your Grace." Luke stammered, ears turning a soft pink.

"Do not freight if they prove to be stubborn. Your safety is much more important to us than their support." (Y/N) said, stepping forward and reaching out to touch Jace's arm before looking down at Luke. "Come home safely. That is all I ask for."

"We will," Jace assured and placed a hand on Luke's shoulder, smiling widely at his brother. Luke returned the smile and nodded to his father before Rhaenyra dismissed them, watching them walk away. As they walked, Jace spoke to his brother, lightly shaking his shoulder and smiling down at him. They could only assume it was an attempt at easing Luke's anxiety regarding his flight. It'd be his first time traveling alone without his brother or parents to guide or protect him. Jace had been born with the ferocity and confidence of his mother. A headstrong, stubborn young man. But Luke... Luke reminded (Y/N) so much of his sister. Kind, soft-hearted. A sweet boy in a cruel world.

"They will be... They will be alright." Rhaenyra whispered to herself, tilting her head toward the sky and blinking away the tears forming in her eyes. Breathing out through her mouth, she nodded to herself and stepped toward the stone railing, resting her palms against it. (Y/N) inhaled and stood beside his wife, pleading with the Mother to bring his boys back home safely. He closed his eyes and made one last silent plea to the gods above before opening them and watching Arrax and Vermax take to the skies alongside Meleys. (Y/N) watched Arrax take a turn, breaking off from the trio first and disappearing into dark storm clouds. The two waited until Vermax and Meleys disappeared from view before stepping away from the balcony, reaching for each other's hands as they returned inside.

Only a day or two had passed with no word from either of their sons. The feeling in (Y/N)'s chest had intensified, leaving him unable to find much sleep at night as he stayed up, gazing toward the balcony in hopes of seeing the outline of dragons approaching. Rhaenyra had similar issues although she'd been able to get at least a few more hours of sleep than him before they forced themselves out of bed and to the Painted Table for more planning.

The Hightower could only stare blankly at the table, offering input when asked and dismissing the worries of his wife. His gaze lifted from the soft glow of the table when Rhaenyra placed a hand on his shoulder, attention directed toward her uncle who walked toward them with a glum look on his face. (Y/N) straightened up, holding Daemon's gaze as the men stopped before them. The silver-haired prince glanced at the other lords, reaching out a hand to touch (Y/N)'s arm and leading them toward the fireplace to speak privately.

"I have received..." Daemon began but found himself unable to continue whilst looking at them. He turned away and faced the flames of the fireplace, taking in a deep breath before continuing. "I have received word from Storm's End that... that parts of Arrax have washed up onshore. Lord Borros states a dispute had occurred between Prince Aemond and Prince Lucerys before both princes' departed. It is to be believed Prince Aemond killed Prince Lucerys."

(Y/N) felt his vision spin, feet staggering backward as he took in Daemon's words. The prince quickly steadied the man, muttering his apologies to the couple. Rhaenyra stumbled forward, lifting a hand toward Daemon when he attempted to reach toward her. Her lips parted, watery eyes staring into the flames, and hands coming to rest on her abdomen. She nearly doubled over, sobs beginning to shake her shoulders violently. (Y/N) could hardly breathe, feeling as if his lungs were being squeezed for every last drop of air. He leaned forward, resting his hand on the stone wall and taking in breaths, holding a clenched fist to his chest as the tears fell from his eyes.

Leaning in, Daemon whispered to the grieving man, "An eye for an eye, a son for a son. Lucerys shall be avenged."

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backjustforberena · 1 year ago

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I still love that the first time we see Corlys alone, with just his wife, the first thing out of his mouth is to basically ask: did i do okay?

and that her response is: calm down, you did fine.

#like i don't know WHAT you guys were watching if you think rhaenys is not an equal partner in that marriage #publically and politically OBVIOUSLY they are shown to be in different positions - he's the flipping lord and head of the house #but privately corlys actively seeks validation from his wife #he's genuine asking her opinion - he values it #he's doing all of this FOR HER as much as for his own ambitions #and i know that she's conflicted about it but it still counts as a total show of devotion despite this #they refused rhaenys the crown and corlys took that personally #house of the dragon #rhaenys targaryen #corlys velaryon #rhaenys x corlys

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 7 months ago

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Hi, can you write a Cregan Stark x Velaryon reader where the reader is the youngest daughter of Rhaenys and Corlys, she is the rider of the Cannibal, she finds out about her mother’s death through a Raven and Cregan comforts her, she nearly breaks down in rage similar to rhaenrya

Request: Being the daughter of Rhaenys and married to Cregan Stark

I had a few requests of the same genre (Lucerys's death, Rhaenyra's deah), but I decided to go with this one as I rarely write for Rhaenys and Corlys' children!Reader

Warnings: mention of death (spoilers for Rhaenys' fate), grief

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Leaving Driftmark for the North after marrying the Lord of the North came with a lot of changes. The weather, for instance, was much different. Driftmark was windy and cold due to the Blackwater Bay, but the North was just cold. And it was always snowing. Even in the summer.

You landed your dragon in the courtyard of Winterfell, the cold air biting through your riding cloak. Cannibal’s warm breath created brief clouds of steam as he settled, his scales glistening with a thin layer of frost. Around you, Northerners scurried away with looks of terror on their faces.

In their defense, Cannibal was imposing and scary. With his pitch-black scales, glowing green eyes and the jagged spines that ran down his back; he was a beast from children’s nightmares.

‘’Winter is coming, my Lady,’’ Cregan reminded as you dismounted, sliding down from Cannibal. ‘’In two moons, the snow will be so intense that you will be unable to see Winterfell from the skies.’’

You grimaced, not looking forward to that time. ‘’Do not remind me.’’

Cregan chuckled, and Cannibal took to the skies again. ‘’A raven came from Castle Black about troubles. Wildlings trespassing.’’

‘’When are you leaving?’’ you asked, knowing what it meant.

It always saddened you whenever he would leave for the Wall. The journey was eighteen days, and his return was uncertain. But Cregan was the Warden of the North. Protecting the realm from what was beyond the Wall was his duty.

‘’In the morrow. A hundred men are making the journey,’’ he informed, walking alongside you towards the doors of the castle where a hot bath was waiting for you in your chambers. ‘’Winterfell will be in your command while I am away.’’

You never wished to take the succession of Driftmark, but you enjoyed your position as Lady of Winterfell. It came with responsibilities, but not too many that you couldn’t be a dragonrider. You took a pleasure being called ‘Lady Stark’.

‘’The nights are colder without you,’’ you said, curling your arm around Cregan’s.

‘’And the nights are longer and more lonely without you, my love,’’ he responded, pulling you in by your waist and leaning down to kiss you.

The kiss was short-lived as you were interrupted by a fellow northmen.

‘’My Lord,’’ he said, holding a small roll of parchemin. ‘’A raven has arrived. Urgent news from Dragonstone.’’

Cregan took the rolled parchemin and unrolled it. You watched as he read, the loving smile from seconds ago washing off his face.

Something has happened.

In his life, Cregan has had many bad news to deliver, but the one he just received was one he never wanted to tell you. He knew it would crush you.

He rolled the parchemin back and didn’t speak until you reached your chambers.

‘’What did the message say?’’ you asked, worry settling in your guts. Was it the Queen? Or your nieces? ‘’Cregan, you must tell me.’’

‘’My Lady,’’ he began, his eyes somber as he looked down at you. ‘’The Princess Rhaenys has perished with her dragon Meleys at Rook’s Rest. She got caught into a trap set by Aegon and Aemond. The Queen sends you her deepest condolences.’’

In that moment, the world around you seemed to turn to a blur as you processed Cregan’s words. Your mother was dead. The news felt like a punch to the gut, a knife to the heart, and you stumbled backwards. Cregan’s hand gripped your elbow, steadying you from falling over. His touch was firm but not tight, his large hand easily keeping you upright. He could see the shock and pain in your face, and his heart ached for you in that moment.

Years ago, he too dealt with the loss of a parent — his father. He had been three and ten, but he remembered the pain and grief he had felt then.

Cregan watched you, waiting for the moment you would break down in tears, but you never did. Instead, your jaw clenched and you straightened yourself.

‘’Where are you going?’’ he asked in concern, watching as you walked toward the door.

‘’To King’s Landing,’’ you replied, your voice steady and cold. ‘’I’m going to burn the Greens to a crisp. They are about to face the rage of a dragon.’’

—

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#cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #cregan house of the dragon

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sophie-looks-at-stuff · 7 months ago

Text

As You Wish

Pairing: Aemond x wife reader

Summary: Aemond's new wife has a moment of reflection wondering if her new husband truly cares for her. Aemond is determined to prove to her that he is utterly devoted to her.

Warnings: smut, some slight angst? maybe idk honestly haha, Aemond loves his wife he just has issues expressing it lol, p in v, oral (f receiving) man is a champ when it comes to that, praise, 18+, vulgar language lol, slight breeding kink

AN: hey y'all! long time no see haha, I finally watched the season 2 hotd premiere last night and had to finally write something! this is my first go at a legit fic and not just headcanons so don't be too judgy haha. but I hope y'all enjoy it! :)

PS: it is unedited rn, but I was just too excited to post it, so I'll edit it later!

The rose-scented bubbles of the bath water lapped soothingly against your flesh. This had become your routine, after the evening's supper or feast you would call to your handmaid to draw a bath. Scalding hot water, warm enough to turn your skin pink upon contact. The boiling water and the familiar scent of the roses were one of the few things that brought you comfort after your marriage to Prince Aemond. Your family had come seasonally to court for many moons now, your mother being a friend of Queen Alicent. As your brothers sparred with the young princes in the training grounds, you took more kindly towards the gardens. Wandering around the maze of flowers and bushes searching for faeries and nymphs. Of course, you had been only a child then and had not yet known that such silly things don’t exist.

It had been the Prince himself that informed you of such. You had been crouched on your knees before a bed of yellow roses, looking between the stems and leaves for the little creatures. The skirts of your dress soiled and stained brown from the earth beneath you. You had been so preoccupied with searching for them, that you hadn’t heard the crunching of grass and footsteps behind you.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?” Aemond had asked you, voice bitter but curious. You stood up hastily, nearly tripping on your own two feet as you spun around and curtsied clumsily.

“I am searching for faeries my Prince. Mother said that they can be found amongst the stems of the most beautiful flowers!” Your small hands began to nervously dust themselves off on your already dirty skirts. Aemond’s eye followed the motion, his upper lip curling in disgust. It had only been a couple of moons since the young prince had lost his eye. The scar was still fresh and red around the edges, the eyepatch clearly bothering him. For it appeared to be fastened too tight around his head.

“Don’t be absurd, such pathetic things don’t exist. All you’ve succeeded in doing is soiling your clothes.” He motions down towards your skirts, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. Feeling ashamed to be talked down upon by someone you hoped to be a potential friend. Even though his eye, or lack thereof, scared most, you had found it intriguing. Your father had told you stories of men in faraway places who wore their scars like badges of honor, like trophies of war. The marred skin being a testament to their victories in battle. Your father however did not return to tell the tails of his own scars, for he had passed in the Stepstones, aiding Lord Corlys and Prince Daemon in their war.

“My apologies my Prince, for I-” you dared a look up into face, his brows knit together, arms crossed over his chest. You lowered your eyes in shame once more “I shall go change my skirts at once.” And with that you darted off, not waiting for a response from the young Targaryen.

That had been many years ago though, and you were no longer a child, and nor was he. Prince Aemond had grown into a handsome man, not just physically, but intellectually as well. The water of your bath had grown tepid as you recalled the memory, a slight frown adorning your features. Why had he wanted to marry you? He hardly had shown any interest, more likely it was because his mother and grandfather craved the military prowess your family possessed. They needed it for the impending war. So a proposal for your hand had been made, and your eldest brother eagerly accepted. After your father’s passing, and your mother grew older in age he had taken it upon himself to attend to the coming and goings of your house.

It wasn’t that Aemond was exactly an unkind husband, he just wasn’t present, ever. There was always a reason or excuse for him to leave a room once you arrived. The only full night you had spent with him had been your wedding night, in your marital bed. He wasn’t rough, nor was he gentle, but he possessed an air of duty and responsibility when it came to the consummation. For once he spilled his spend inside of you he had fetched a cloth for you to clean yourself. Then turned his back to you and slept, not uttering another word.

The sound of your chamber doors creaking open drew you from your thoughts. The clanking of a sword and heavy footsteps made their way towards you in the bathing room. You were met with the sight of your rather disheveled lord husband. Before you could offer him a greeting, however, his eye lifted to your face, and he asked:

“May I join you?” Taken aback slightly by the question there was a pause, the room silent. Then, you nodded, “Yes, yes of course you may husband.”

Aemond had waited for your approval before stripping himself bare of his clothes, riding clothes by the looks of it. He must have been out on Vhagar. You observe him as he untethered his belts and the laces of his boots. The years of training had done him well, his arms and back muscles lean and corded. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to drag your nails down them, as he fucked into you–

“Wife? Did you hear me?” Shit, he must have asked you something, looking up from the muscles of his arms to meet his eyes you shook your head. He chuckled a bit, smirking, you had been caught in your staring.

“I asked you, how was your day my lady wife.” A hint of amusement laced his voice, he had rid himself of his clothes, having placed them neatly over the back of one of the armchairs in the rooms.

“Oh, well, it was alright. Nothing too exciting I'm afraid. I did have tea with your mother and sister though. That was quite pleasant, Helaena was telling me of the butterflies that come for the roses this time of year. She said we must go see them once they arrive.” As you spoke Aemond made his way around the tub, to behind you. It took an embarrassingly great deal of effort not to stare as he had presented himself bare before you. To look only above his waist and not let your eyes drift down towards his cock.

“Mmh, yes we must see them then,” his cold hands met your shoulder blades, rubbing small, soothing, circles on them. This was his way of telling you to move forward, so that he may join you in the tub, taking his place behind you, and pulling you onto his lap.

“You take such tepid baths wife. You’ll catch a cold one of these days.” He mumbled into your ear as he made himself comfortable behind you, his legs outstretched beside your own. It wasn’t that such small talk was uncommon between the two of you when he was around. Besides, you two did share chambers, so despite his avoidance during the day, he was bound to return to you at night.

Turning fully to face him now, with a surge of annoyance, the water sloshing around the two of you with your sudden movements. “Why do you care? You are hardly even here to see me as is, I doubt you would even notice.” Aemond’s singular lilac eye widens, not from anger, but rather from surprise. His lady wife was always so sweet, so silent, this was new, and dare he say exciting.

“A woman can only take so much you know–” You go to stand, to leave the tub, and go to bed, done with whatever this conversation is. Aemond’s hand shoots out to grasp your wrist, stopping you from doing so.

“Wait!” It came out more harsh than he had intended. “I do care for you my lady, truly I do. I did not know that you–”

“Prove it.” You say interrupting whatever he is about to tell you. You keep your eyes level and voice steady. “Prove it to me then husband,”

Aemond says only one thing before attacking your lips, “As you wish,” He is not gentle in his kisses, he does not know how to be gentle. Perhaps you could teach him. His grasp on your wrist moves to your waist as he continues his assault on your lips. His hands roam the flesh of your waist, your hips, your thighs, his lips move down towards your neck. Biting and nipping at the flesh there, sure to leave a mark for all to see.

“Aemond–”

“Shhh, let me take care of you tonight. Let me prove to you how much I desire you, my love.” He murmurs between bites and kisses. He pulls back, only for a moment, “You are beautiful, I am sorry I have not told you this enough,” his lips attach themselves to one of your breasts, suckling at the nipple. You let out a surprised breath as he bites down, a wave of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

His roaming hands have found purchase on your ass, his deft fingers kneading the plump flesh. Suddenly his grip becomes tighter as he rises from the tub with you in his arms, water spilling over the sides and onto the floor. You hurriedly wrap your arms around his neck, in an attempt to steady yourself.

“Aemond! You’ve made a mess–” He laughs, fully this time, not just a chuckle. It’s a lovely sound you think.

“Fuck the mess, the maids shall deal with it in the morning. I’ve neglected my dear lady wife and that must be rectified immediately. One of the hands on your ass pulls back and gives it a small slap. You gasp in surprise, tucking your face into his neck, peppering small kisses there, just as he had done to you moments before. You could get used to this side of your husband. Aemond lets out a hum of satisfaction at your ministrations, soon after playfully throwing you down onto your shared bed.

“Aemond the sheets, they’re soaked now–” you began to protest cut off rather abruptly by his grip on your ankles. Pulling you down towards the end of the mattress, your cunt now level with his lips.

“That should hardly matter, we have others–” he places a kiss on your inner thigh. “Besides the only thing I care to see soaked is your cunt after I am done–” Without another word or hesitation, Aemond licks a hot stripe up the center of your core. Then a second, and a third, until he loses all control. He devours you like a man starved. His strong arms wrap themselves around your things, pulling you impossibly closer to him. His tongue continues its assault on your cunt.

“You taste of the finest ambrosia–” the vibrations of his voice sending shock waves of electricity to your clit. Aemond is only spurred on further by the sound of your sweet moans. His name falling from your lips like a chant, like a prayer to the Seven. His lips find purchase on your clit, sucking and licking till you're writhing beneath him. Your hands shoot down, finding purchase in his long silver locks.

“Aemond, oh Aemond–” the words spill from your lips like nonsense. The only thing you are able to focus on is his lips and tongue lapping at your cunt. The man between your thighs devouring you like this is his last meal alive.

“Cum for me, cum on my tongue. And then I shall reward you with my cock. Cum for me my love–” As if on command, you feel the muscles of your lower abdomen contract, and then all that lovely pleasure overflows, and bursts from you. With a strangled cry of his name, you cum on his tongue. You look down at your husband between your thighs, his lips glistening in your release.

“Good girl, my good, sweet, perfect girl. You did exactly what I asked,” he crawls up your body, stopping only to place the occasional kiss to your hot skin. His lips return to your neck, sucking love marks into the skin over the faint ones he had left before. A newfound favorite of his perhaps. He gives his cock a few strokes, his thumb collecting the beading drop of arousal from his tip. Wordlessly, he brings the digit up to your lips, pressing down gently on your bottom one. You open your mouth, sucking the essence from his finger, swirling your tongue around it, eager to please him. He groans in response, resting his forehead on yours,

“Perhaps another night my love, I need to be inside of you now.” You release his thumb with a slight pop.

“Fuck me then, husband–” Not needing any further encouragement, Aemond sheathes his cock inside of your cunt. The warm, velvety walls squeezing him perfectly. “Fuck–” he moans breathlessly as he slowly begins to thrust into your weeping cunt. The squelching noises from his movements turn your cheeks red, you move to hide your face in the crook of his neck once more, but a hand on your chin stops you. From above, Aemond’s lilac eye bores into your own, like a spell, you are unable to look away.

Aemond’s thrusting becomes faster, harder, like a man starved. The grasp on your chin returns to your hips. As Aemond rolls back slightly, sitting on his knees, he brings your hips to meet his, your back still on the bed. From this angle he has full control over your body, not that he hadn’t before. But now he could control his thrusts, making them sharper, harder. Beneath him, your eyes screw shut in pleasure, consumed by his ministrations.

You look beautiful like this, he thinks. Cheeks red, hair a mess, sweat glistening on your skin. He had been a fool before, not indulging you more often. Not being by your side, it was a mistake he would make no more. He had been too afraid of your rejection, too afraid you would find him repulsive because of his scar. The scar that he himself found so disturbing. But clearly, the way his name fell from your lips, as your face contorted in pleasure, this was not the case.

“Shall I cum inside of your perfect cunt? Shall I plant my seed, and watch you grow and swell with my child?” He barely recognized the words coming from his lips, too lost in carnal desire to notice.

“Yes, yes Aemond, yes–” the words leaving your lips like a hymn, a prayer to your lord husband. Aemond’s fingers began to circle your bud as he continued to rut into you.

“Together then, I can feel you little wife–” As if he possessed some kind of magic, you did as commanded. Aemond’s release coating your walls, both of you warm and well sated. Once more he leans down, leaving a small peck on your lips before resting his forehead on yours.

“I have been a fool, a complete and utter fool. I am not a great man in many ways my sweet lady wife. But for you perhaps I could be,” He places another kiss on your lips.

“I would like that very much Aemond,” you smile a bit as you say this because it is true and it would be unfair to not allow him to prove as much. After all, that is what you asked of him is it not? Without pulling out or away from you, Aemond rolls to his side, tucking you into him, desperate to keep you in his arms.

“Stay like this with me tonight, please?” He asks, afraid you’ll send him away.

“Tonight and every night if you behave,” you give him a slight pinch to add emphasis to your comment. You feel his chest vibrate against your cheek with laughter.

“As you wish,” he says one final time, as the two of you drift off to sleep, held safely in the arms of one another.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader smut #smut #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond x y/n #hotd aemond #smutty smut smut #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #love this man #god i love him #aemond x reader #prince aemond targaryen

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ellastone-olsen · 10 months ago

Note

Could I request something Rhaenyra x Stark!reader smut with them being feral codependent soulmates? I love that trope. They would totally be unhinged and in love wives together plus the fire and ice parallels 😭 Like after Laenor “dies”, Rhaenyra’s goes looking for a new spouse and runs into Stark!reader and it’s just love/obsession at first sight?

MY QUEEN IS CRUEL

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem!Stark!reader

Summary: your family comes from Winterfell to the capital at the invitation of the Targaryen family. Princess Rhaenyra announced that she would choose a new spouse. Your brother was a contender from the House of Stark, but it seems to the princess that another contender from the rulers of the north is more interesting.

Warnings: NSFW 18+, soulmates dynamic, mentions of blood and alcohol, innocent reader, virginity loss, oral, fingering

Word count: 3.1k

AN: omg my first House of the Dragon fic, I hope I translated some titles and names correctly. Thanks for the request, it took me so long to write this, but I love Rhaenyra so much 💕

Rhaenys's bitter, heartbreaking cry is heard in the silence of the room. The woman looks at the burnt body that just a few minutes ago was her son. “Who allowed this?! Why wasn’t anyone around?!” Corlys embraces his wife in rage and grief. That day, sadness became the main companion of the grieving parents.

No one knows that on the shore, the one who is now considered dead is running towards the boat. Laenor Velaryon sails away to disappear forever from this life in which he was imprisoned. Rhaenyra gave him a chance at happiness and Laenor will not forget this.

Rhaenyra Targaryen is officially recognized as a widow. It is expected that rumors about the death of the princess's husband began to spread like a plague, from servants to other servants, and those to their families, from there the plague was transmitted to all seven kingdoms. Some believed in the official story, others, like the grieving mother, blamed the Targaryen family for everything, they said that the princess ordered the murder, that she was tired of her husband. But for Rhaenyra it was enough to know that this was absurdity and slander.

“So what are you going to do next?” Daemon approached unnoticed. Rhaenyra didn’t look at him, her gaze was directed far out to sea. "I think I'm looking for a new spouse." Damon thought the hint was crystal clear. He thought that she still wanted him, wanted to finish what they started that night all those years ago. “Rhaenyra...” He was interrupted, “No uncle, leave it alone. Kiss me and let me go. If you do not...” A ringing silence hung between them. The phrase did not need to be continued; he already understood it.

King's Landing was filled with lords, princes and princesses from all over Westeros. The royal family invited all the noble houses, announcing that the heir to the iron throne would thus choose a new life partner.

“I don’t understand why you took me with you.” Your carriage was approaching to the King's Landing. Your parents were, as always, calm and cool, as befits the Starks, the rulers of the north. Your younger brother looked around the windows excitedly, clearly excited about his first trip outside of Winterfell. “Your mother and I think that you also need to see the capital.” Your father, as always, spoke directly and to the point. You smiled bitterly. “Only we’re here to try to marry Rob to this pompous princess.” You didn’t hide your bias towards this whole thing, which was more like an auction. “Y/N just try to say something like that about the princess in public and you will disgrace the entire House of Starks.”

For the rest of the trip you rode in silence, only occasionally fiddling with the hilt of the sword hidden in a sheath under your heavy black coat. Perhaps you had a little curiosity about the princess. What does the one who will take the iron throne look like, against whom there was so much outrage just because she was a woman. You thought that she must be strong and stubborn just like her ancestors. The same as the previously lived Visenya about whom you once read.

The carriage stopped.

“Do I have to wear this? How will I take my sword with me?” Your mother stood in the chambers that had kindly been allocated to you and watched as a maid helped you lace up a black dress with antique long sleeves. “You don't need the sword today, honey. This is a royal ball and you are not a knight in service." You looked in the mirror, and even though dresses weren't something you wore often, it didn't look bad at all for your taste. Still, the velvet in tandem with the large fur coat that you took from Winterfell looked harmonious.

“But what if something goes wrong and I’m left without a weapon?” You insisted. After so many years of training, the sword became an extension of you, and going out without it was akin to death. "The Royal Guard will protect us all." Your mother tried to be gentle and calm your worries. The woman came up behind you and put her hands on your shoulders. “For just one evening, be a princess and not a rude warrior. For me." You covered her hands. "Okay, just for you."

All arriving guests entered the huge hall in turn, after which they were seated at long tables, which were bursting with an abundance of dishes kindly offered by the royal family. “The Starks of Winterfell,” the man shouted and your family entered the hall. You followed your parents straight to the table in the center, at which the Targaryen couple was already sitting with the king and that famous Princess Rhaenyra at their head. Finally, you were close enough that you could see a woman with dazzling white hair and sharp purple eyes. Your breath caught somewhere in the depths and you couldn’t look away. It seems at this moment the ice and skepticism inside you broke, burst into a thousand pieces. You had to lower your head according to the rules of etiquette, but you couldn’t tear yourself away from contemplation. And when she finally looked at you, when your eyes met, you realized that you had problems. “Your Grace, this is our son Rob and eldest daughter Y/N.” Your father, as the head of the family, introduced his children and added, “I hope that Rob can claim the place of your husband Princess Rhaenyra.”

At these words, you remembered why you were here and a little jealousy pricked somewhere in your chest. You were almost jealous of your brother. But who are you to be jealous, because you just met. This is all becoming too strange, but so tempting. You sat down and the evening began.

Wines of different varieties continually filled the glasses of rich gentlemen, everyone laughed, joked and discussed who the heiress would choose as her husband. The Lannisters were sitting next to you and you could hear snatches of greasy jokes about how their eldest son could have Rhaenyra in all poses. Anger boiled inside you, how could this bastard say such things about this woman. “And they also say that her sons are bastards, and she is a whore.” The loud laughter of the Lannisters infuriated you even more. “Then your house is no better for having sworn allegiance to a whore.” You thought you said it quietly, but they apparently heard you.

“I didn’t hear what the pup from Winterfell was barking just now?” Everyone who was at your table fell silent and the whole room also paid attention to this. “I said what I meant.” The man was already deeply drunk and clearly in the mood for a fight. He stood up and you stood up next, you were the same height. “If you are so brave, then say out loud what you think of the princess.” Rhaenyra's purple eyes watched your quarrel carefully, it would be a lie to say that she did not look at you all evening, knowing that all the men in this room would be denied. She definitely liked your spark and wanted to see what happened next.

“I said that her sons are bastards, and she is a whore.” The man said the last word slowly, syllable by syllable, everyone present was in suspense. King Viserys took out his favorite blade. "I'll cut out your filthy tongue." As soon as he finished the phrase, a knife, prudently hidden under a fur coat, appeared in your hand and pinned Lannister’s palm to the table. He tried to get it. “There are a lot of vital veins in this part of the arm; if you try to pull it out, you will bleed to death.” The white cloaks immediately drew their swords and stood ready. Rhaenyra's entire being was hypnotized in delight by your actions and words, at that moment she chose her spouse. The entire Lannister family stood up and was ready to tear you apart.

"Get them out." For the first time that evening, Rhaenyra's voice broke the silence of the event. The bastard's face lit up with a smile. “My princess, thank you...” But before he could finish speaking, the guards twisted his hands, pulling the knife out of his palm, causing the man to let out a bitter scream. The entire Lannister family was disgracedly eliminated from the feast; there was silence for several more minutes, only whispers were heard from different sides.

"What are you doing." Your father pulled you by the arm, urging you to sit down, and glared at you with eyes full of rage. “Your mother asked you not to take weapons with you.” “She asked not to take the sword, dear father.” Rhaenyra stood up. “Today, to our great regret, unpleasant and unacceptable events occurred for the royal court.” She paused, her gaze returning to you and a smile gracing her lips. “But let’s not let these events overshadow our holiday, let’s raise our glasses and have a feast.” The crowd cheered and raised their glasses as they praised Princess Rhaenyra's wisdom and resilience. The celebration continued until late at night, you drank several glasses of wine after the incident and by the end you were decently drunk.

All evening you kept looking at Rhaenyra, your head was filled with thoughts about how beautiful and wise she is, about how wrong you were, how you regret that you didn’t want to go to the capital. But then these euphoric thoughts were darkened by the fact of her imminent marriage to one of the men of these noble houses and perhaps even to your brother.

You headed to your chambers, every now and then passing by local servants. Your legs dragged you heavily, your mind only thought about taking a warm bath and washing away inappropriate thoughts about the heiress. The heavy door opened with a slight creak, letting you into the semi-darkness of the room. You thought that you asked the servants to extinguish all the candles, but for some reason they were burning. Your gaze caught on an unfamiliar figure standing with his back to you, and the knife that had recently been in the Lannister’s bastard was again in your hand, waiting to defend yourself from intruders.

"You're a little warrior aren't you?" A velvety voice broke the silence and the stranger turned to face you. You immediately lowered the knife. “Your Grace, forgive me, I didn’t know it was you.” You immediately bent your knee in front of her. You were absolutely at a loss and the whole situation was a little confusing, why was the princess, the heir to the throne, waiting for you in your chambers in the middle of the night? “No need for formalities, please stand up.”

She walked through your chambers looking at some of your personal belongings until she found the sword. “Oh, this is your main weapon, as I understand it, you don’t to swing a knife every time of course ...” she bent down to take a closer look at the sparkling silver blade. “Such a beautiful thing, to match the owner.” Her compliment made your already red cheeks flush. “Did you want to talk about what happened, Your Grace?” you desperately wanted to change the topic.

“Did your mother ever tell you the legend of soulmates?” You were dumbfounded by her question. “Your Grace, I don’t quite understand...” She continued to walk around the room. “Don’t they really tell such stories in the north?” Her tone sounded fakely upset. “They say I know one.” “Then tell me too.”

You didn’t understand anything, Rhaenyra Targaryen came to you at night to listen to fairy tales for children? Perhaps something was put in the wine and now you were hallucinating, but it seemed like everything looked real. The woman lit the fireplace and, unbecoming for a future queen, sat down on the soft fur in front of the fire. She looked up at you, inviting you to sit next to her, you obeyed. The crackling of logs, the heat of the fire and the soft floral perfume of Rhaenyra lulled to sleep.

“My mother... told me when I was a child that there was a belief...” you cleaned the throat. “That every person has their own soulmate, but not everyone is able to find it, it’s like a person who was created by the seven gods just for you.” Rhaenyra began to unravel her tight braid; her head began to hurt unpleasantly from her hairstyle. You watched out of the corner of your eye as her snow-white strands gradually fell onto her shoulders. “And how do you understand who exactly your person is?” She encouraged you to continue. “I don’t remember exactly, but they said that when you see him or her, you will immediately understand, just the first glance or the first meeting and…boom.” "Boom?" She asked again, not quite understanding your strange wording. "Yes." You were looking at the burning logs when Rhaenyra's hand covered yours. She has already unbraided her hair. “Do you want to brush them?” Something strange was clearly happening. But who are you to refuse, you nodded and took the wooden comb brought from Winterfell from the nightstand. Hands carefully took strands of silver hair and combed them, as if they would break from the wrong movement.

“Do you believe in this legends?” You thought for a second. “I’m not sure, or rather I didn’t believe it before, but now these fairy tales don’t seem so stupid to me.” You put comb down, combing all hair perfectly. “I don’t understand why these questions are asked, Your Grace.” Your head was a complete mess due to the mixture of alcohol and adrenaline caused by the woman next to you. “Please call me Rhaenyra.” She turned to face you. “You understand everything, little warrior, don’t lie to me.” The woman moved closer and closer until she placed one hand on your shoulder. "Your Grace...Rhaenira." She leaned in so close that her lips were almost touching yours. "I want you." You looked into bright purple eyes, which shone yellow in the firelight. “Tell me the wolf of Winterfell, do you want me?” Her perfume smelled so delicious, her soft skin, white as her hair, that the dress did not hide, begged to be touched, “I...yes please, I want you.”

Rhaenyra's lips touched yours, sharing the sweetness of the recently drunk wine. One of the woman's hands grabbed the collar of your velvet dress and began to pull it down your shoulders to free your soft breasts. She carefully laid you on your back, on the soft fur, holding the back of your head. Her lips moved to her neck, then to her shoulder and then wrapped around her pink nipple. The action caused you to place your hand on her head, stroking her silver hair. The princess's hands lifted the skirt of the dress to the waist and stroked the skin of your soft thighs. "Cute little thing." She giggled and touched your lips again. The kiss was untidy, but full of tenderness and desire. Rhaenyra relieved you of underwear, her fingers slipped inside without a barrier, you were completely wet, just for her, but then she remembered. “Is this your first time?” She stopped any action, waiting in horror for an answer. "Yes, my grace." Rhaenyra buried her nose in the crook of your neck and began to kiss you, whispering, “I’m sorry, I should have asked earlier.” Your hand rested on hers that was still between your legs. “Please continue, I want this more than anything.”

And she continued, gently pounding and curling her fingers to hit that sensitive spot inside that made you see stars and whine like a pup. "Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra, oh please my grace." Your hand touched the sensitive bud for additional stimulation. “Oh fuck, fuck...I'm gonna...” “Cum for me, cum for your queen.” Her movements became faster and clearer until you came, squeezing around her long fingers, biting your hand so as not to scream from the new sensations that she was giving you. She pulled out and showed you her hand, which sparkled in the firelight from your release, and then licked every last drop, causing your eyes to darken.

When you came to your senses, you stood up, only to strip completely and push Rhaenyra towards the bed, urging you to sit on it. "Please let me return the favor." You knelt in front of her, lifting the skirt of her dress up to expose her stockinged legs. Your lips kissed every centimeter of skin, no one worshiped it like you. When your mouth reaches her pussy, you notice that her arousal has left a wet mark on the bed linen. The tongue draws a line along the entire length, collecting her arousal, and the woman moans, lowering her hand to stroke your cheek. “My little savior, tell me, would you have killed him if I had not intervened?” You kiss her palm. "Yes my grace." And you hug her sensitive bud with your lips, simultaneously pushing three fingers inside, immediately picking up a fast pace. "Oh Gods!" She moans and screams without being embarrassed to be heard, the way you stretch her drives the woman crazy. “Fuck, that’s it!” and “Yeah right there, that’s my good girl.” You fuck her, trying to please your queen as best as possible and feel how she clench around your fingers. “Fuck fuck Y/N!” She cums, for a long time, and you fuck her through orgasm until she whines from overstimulation, asking her to stop.

You move onto the bed and lie on top of her again, kissing her. “I didn’t believe in soulmates until I saw you.” She hugs you, covering your naked body. You lie there, again inhaling the aroma of her perfume and not believing in the reality of what happened. “I would like to believe that it’s true,” she replies and you think.

“Have you already chosen someone to be your spouse?” You say this quietly, in a whisper. It was at this moment that you remembered why your family came here in the first place and how you may have acted meanly towards your brother. She laughs and you don't understand. "Yes, I chose you."

You lift your head sharply, looking into those purple eyes to see if she's deceiving you. “But...what if people are against it, what will you do?”

She thought about it, she knew that there would be dissatisfied people. “Then I will personally give Syrax the command to burn to the ground anyone who questions my choice.”

#house of the dragon #rhaenyra is my queen #rhaenyra targaryen #queen rhaenyra #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #hotd rhaenyra

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arabellasleopardcoat · 6 months ago

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Doom of Ghis (Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You decide to trick a Queen. It doesn’t quite go according to plan.

Warnings: Smut. Corruption kink. Twisting of religious rituals. Dubious consent? Fingering. Playing doctor.

A/N: I am tired of writing older man x younger woman. Meet older woman x younger woman. Palate cleanser in the middle of writing a new character. Also, I miss writing girls.

“THIS IS NOT a task fit for a Queen.” Rhaenyra looks at Corlys with narrowed eyes. Her annoyance at her own council has begun to build like a sore, and threatens to explode at any given moment.

Presently, it can’t. It would be in poor taste to do during dinner. Lord Corlys has asked her if they could sup in her quarters, to discuss a private matter. She had been expecting war preparations, not this.

“Yet it is a task we require of you.” Her Hand answers, unintimidated by her glare. Rhaenyra reminds herself it is a good thing, not to be feared. She wishes to be a wise Queen, one who is remembered as a champion of peace and not as the next Maegor the Cruel. She wants to be exactly like her father. Viserys the Peaceful.

Viserys the Peaceful never throttled his Hand. And his was much more irritating than hers.

“Why can’t we just… Forgone the custom?” She asks him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“The House of Pahl is already offended by the offer we made them. Marrying one of their daughters, even if it is one of the ones from the second son, to a bastard is an insult. Not having Graces present for the ritual is, too. We cannot afford to offend them any further.”

“Can’t Baela do it?” It sounds childish even to her ears. Rhaenyra isn’t quite sure why she feels so awkward about the ritual, it’s hardly as if she will see something she is unfamiliar with herself. She bets the girl will be more awkward than her, and the thought of having to soothe her seems unappealing. “Or Lady Mysaria?”

“Both of them are quite busy with their duties.” Lord Corlys takes a second to drink from his goblet. It stings, the unspoken fact that Rhaenyra is not. “The Lady Mysaria would provide greater offense, considering her… Previous occupation and lack of relationship to me. As for Baela, I do not feel prudent to recall her from her patrols.”

“My own kinship to you is fairly removed.” Rhaenyra cuts a piece of venison and takes her time chewing. When a Queen wishes to speak, men wait. And it is important to remember her Hand of that fact, especially since he is asking favors. “I am, what? Your second niece? And only through marriage.”

“They feel honored that a Queen will perform the ritual for their daughter. And we need their coin.”

“Slaver’s coin.”

“Coin that will win us the war.” Lord Corlys interjects. “That will buy men. Armor. Weapons. Food.”

Rhaenyra doesn’t answer. She simply cuts another piece of venison.

YOU SIT ON the table, legs hanging off the edge. A fire is lit, and a tea set is already prepared on another low table, along with cushions. A small, dragonglass dome, covers the cakes the Queen and you will share. The message is clear. Your family expects the ritual to go without a hitch.

You aren’t too sure. This Queen you will meet, who will take the place of your elder because your betrothed has no suitable relative to do so, isn’t Ghiscari like you. She is Valyrian. You hate Valyrians.

Cloaked in your pink veil, and wearing your simplest white shift, you await her arrival. You remember your mother’s words. Befriend her. Let her use you and touch you as she pleases. Do not try to instruct her to perform the ritual the right way.

What your mother suggests, simply put, is to see if she can be seduced while being convinced she is the one doing the seducing. Her friendship could give House of Pahl an even greater advantage that you will be getting after you become Lady of the Tides.

Not only control over a fleet that can block trade routes by marrying a Valyrian bastard. Friendship to a Queen. Lover to one. A whispered word in her ear and your wishes shall be law if you play your cards right.

There is no shame in it, your father had said, when they had instructed you as to how to behave. The Red Graces and White Graces do the same and their blood is as noble as yours. They serve the Gods of Old Ghis by providing pleasure to many men. What is asked of you is to only pleasure a single woman.

A single woman who is Valyrian. Whose ancestors burned Old Ghis, and forced yours to flee to Mereen.

It’s not that you object to the fact that it is a woman. You object to Valyrians. They are ugly little things, with queer facial features and skin and hair too pale.

But the woman who enters the room is anything but. She is beautiful, dressed in a black gown that makes her look regal. She has a sweet face, and her distasteful colorless hair is pulled back. It looks less offensive that way, you suppose.

“Your radiance.” You address, lowering yourself from the table you sit in and curtsying. The title has never felt more apt. Her face is beautiful despite her age, and her body shapely.

“Good morrow.” The Queen says. Her voice is delightful too, strong and commanding, with a feminine quality to it. Seducing her now doesn’t seem like much of a chore. “We use the title of Your Grace here.”

“Your Grace.” You rectify, and give her another curtsy. Underneath your veil, you are giving her an apologetic smile. She cannot see it.

You wonder what she thinks of you, cloaked in a soft pink veil that covers both your hair and face. Thanks to the artfully draped pleats, she cannot see you, but you can see her.

She probably thinks you look like a strawberry dipped in clotted cream. You cannot wait to marry and use the Velaryon colors. They look much more dignified than yours.

“I was explained by your Lord Father that I will become your elder after this ritual.” She says, voice full of gravitas. “So there is no need for you to curtsy so much. I hope to become a mother to you.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” You are thankful she cannot see your face, or you would burst out laughing. It’s what is supposed to happen, yet you are not counting on it. “I am sure you are a busy woman. We should begin soon.”

You sit yourself on the table again, feet dangling. The table is the perfect height for bending you over it, but you do not comment on it.

“…I… Of course.” The Queen seems taken aback by how straightforward you are, which makes you smile.

You wait for her to come to you. She hesitates, as if unsure of herself, before coming to stand between your parted legs.

Slowly, her hands pull your veil back. You school your expression into one of quiet dutifulness.

Rhaenyra gasps slightly when she sees your face. You do not allow your face to change, but internally, you are dancing a gig. The veil had been a stroke of brilliance on your father’s part. He always said the best part of worshiping a Red Grace was the reveal.

“You are a beautiful young woman.” She says, starting to map out your features with her fingertips. Her touch is soft, as if scared of hurting you. You play the part of the blushing maiden, letting out a gasp of your own when she traces your lips. Her eyes darken. “Alyn is a very lucky man.”

This Alyn is an accomplished sailor, you hear, and on the fast track to become a Captain. His recent acknowledging by Lord Corlys only propels him higher. You have heard the men admired him from starting from below, unlike other Lord’s bastards.

It’s not a bad prospect. Any man can give you children, you know. It’s not a difficult task. Not every man can give you a fleet.

“And I am very lucky to be marrying him.” You say, after a while. Rhaenyra’s hands have stayed where they are, lingering on your jaw. She doesn’t dare move further down. Her eyes are focused on your lips, as if noticing how intimate the embrace the two of you are in.

Her hands, holding your jaw. Her hips, nestled in the space made by your spread legs.

She goes back to tracing your lips with her thumb, a storm brewing in her eyes. She is confused, this Queen of yours. The intimacy is getting to her, but her morals are holding her back. Rhaenyra is not supposed to take advantage of a maiden she is supposed to welcome as her daughter.

You decide to push her a bit. You take her thumb inside your mouth, cradling it softly in your tongue. Her eyes dart to yours, but you close them, as if delighted by what you are savoring.

Rhaenyra pulls back.

“What are you doing?” She snaps at you. Your eyes open, but your lips remain tantalizingly parted still.

“You are meant to inspect me wholly.” You try your best to sound shy. “Even inside. My mother said…”

Guilt passes once again over her features. You are a poor naive girl, who doesn’t feel anything like arousal. She is the one getting a sick satisfaction over a sacred ritual.

It’s not the truth, of course. But it is what she believes.

She slips her thumb inside your mouth again. You close your eyes, scrunching them tightly. Feigning embarrassment once more. Her thumb presses down on your tongue, drawing a line. It makes drool begin to gather at the corners of your mouth.

As Rhaenyra checks your molars with a careful press of her fingers, warmth begins to accumulate in your core. You open your eyes, looking at her.

She seems absorbed by the task. The Queen barely notices you are holding her gaze, fascinated by your warm mouth. She removes her thumb, wiping it on your chin.

Her hands trail lower. Down your jaw, and to your neck. She keeps her touch light, making you squirm. Everywhere she touches, a trail of goosebumps follows.

“Shh, sweet girl. You are doing so well.” She rubs your shoulder, probably thinking you shake from nervousness and not from pure, sheer want. “So well for your Queen.”

You feel your flower growing slick with her words. You worry if that will give you away when she reaches that part of the examination. Rhaenyra might yet discover that you are not as innocent as you pretend to be. It only makes you wetter.

Would she punish you if she found out? Pinch your little pearl until you cried? Spank your rear?

Her hands slip the straps of your shift down your shoulders. You are left bare in front of her.

Your nipples are pebbled. They have been since she started touching you.

The Queen doesn’t touch you there at first. Not where you need her the most. Instead, her hands trail over your shoulders, teasing you with promises of what is to come. She traces imaginary patterns, all the way to your forearms.

You fight the urge to whine. You just sit there, eyes on your lap, not attempting to cover yourself nor to help her, the picture of dutifulness.

She runs one of her fingers over a taut nipple. You hiss. She gives it a pinch, carefully observing your face. Perhaps wondering how far you will let her go.

You say nothing. She pinches the other one, gently. Then, she cups your breasts in her hands.

“A pretty pair, these.” Rhaenyra licks her lips. You wish she would wrap them around your nipples instead. She continues to give your breast soft caresses, squeezing from time to time. An amused smile appears on her face, when she sees how you twitch when she accidentally brushes your nipples.

“Lay down, love.” She orders you, pushing your stomach. You obey her, laying flat on the table. A feast spread for a dragon.

Her hand lowers your shift even more, exposing your belly button. She touches under it, over your womb. She presses down on it, and you gasp.

The pressure feels odd. It feels good, too. It’s not something you would have thought to do to yourself when playing on your own, but her hand feels scorching hot over your skin.

“Hurts?” She asks you, softly.

“Feels strange.” You reply. “Good.”

Rhaenyra hums. Her hands pull your shift down fully, and take it from you. You close your legs tightly, embarrassed at how wet you are. Your father had ordered you to remove all your body hair before the ritual, so you are bare for her to observe. Completely.

“Spread your legs, sweet girl.” It’s said with a frown. Her hand grazes your bare mound, puzzled by it.

You spread your legs. Your folds unstick with the motion, slick shining between your legs.

“It’s customary. To facilitate the checking of the womanly parts.” You offer her, suddenly embarrassed.

“I see.” Rhaenyra says, spreading your folds. It only makes your cunt leak more. She presses on your pearl with her thumb, almost playing with it. Her face is dark, eyes almost all pupils. No longer a queen, but a dragon.

She doesn’t comment on your wetness, but swirls one of her fingers on it, before dragging it all the way to your pearl. Then, she presses a finger into your hole, checking your maidenhead.

You barely muffle your squeal.

“Tell me.” She says, tone almost conversational, starting to rub circles on your pearl. “Is this customary, too?”

Your mind blanks. Your famous ability to talk your way out of almost everything fails you. She keeps rubbing maddening circles on your pearl, and when you do not answer, she slaps your flower.

You yowl like a kitten.

“Answer your Queen.” She orders.

“No, Your Grace. It’s not.” You have your answer, you suppose. What would she do? Spank your flower. She does so again, making you tense. The pain feels strangely good, forcing blood to rush to the area, warming it. When Rhaenyra runs her fingers over your hole after, everything feels much more heightened.

“Naughty girl.” She scolds. “Get down from the table, and bend over it.”

You obey her, a bit breathless. Rhaenyra remains fully dressed, with a stern look in her face that makes you tremble. Your naked body is now on display, but under her heated gaze, you feel no shame.

You let your upper body hover slightly over the table, hips bent, your backside and flower on display. She pushes down on your shoulder, until your face and chest are squashed against the rough wood of the table.

The wood grains feel interesting against your nipples, making you squirm. You are not sure if the rough scrape is pleasant or not.

“Don’t move.” Rhaenyra says, and spreads your cheeks open. You can feel your other hole winking at her, and she makes a pleased sound. She pushes a finger inside, and quickly retreats it when you tense.

“You have such a sloppy cunt, sweet girl.” She says, voice almost impressed. “It betrays your intentions so easily.”

She begins to torture your pearl once more. She presses inside, rubbing at something that makes your cunt gush.

Rhaenyra is relentless. You try to squirm, but her other hand is firm between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned down and spread for her. Her motions get faster, touching you in the way you like best. Your peak comes fast and unannounced, making you let out a muffled yelp.

“I think I have to examine you again.” She says, coyly. “Only to make sure.”

You cannot wait.

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asumi2020202 · 7 months ago

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You and I.. We were Born to Die

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Princess Y/n, The Foreseer and Princess Rhaenys, The Queen who never was, were chosen to fly to Rook's Rest.

A/n: It's just a different ending than the one they actually presented in the show. I just wanted to write something for Aemond. Anyways, Thank you for reading!

Note:

Reader is Rhaenys' granddaughter.

Reader's dragon is Moonfyre The Nightdream. She was one of the last eggs of Balerion and Dreamfyre. She is only 9 years old during the Dance of the Dragons.

Reader can Foresee glimpses of the future.

__________________ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ_______________

Cole and his army were marching towards Rook's Rest. The council was in distress in the absence of the Queen.

The lords argued with themselves and the Heir to the Throne. Pointing out their views on the matter. Y/n stood beside her brother and Princess Rhaenys.

The council's bickering halted as the Queen suddenly walked in.

Jacaerys, your brother, looked very dissatisfied with your mother, the Queen. They argued as to who would go to Rook's Rest.

Your mother volunteered herself which made Jace rage up.

"Send me" Jacaerys said with confidence.

"No" Rhaenyra replied with a sarcastic laugh.

"I will go to Rook's Rest and wipe Cole's line and return-"

"You lack the experience." Rhaenyra stopped Jace's argument.

"You must send me. Meleys is the second largest dragon you have." Rhaenys intervened, to which Rhaenyra felt speechless.

Rhaenys gave Corlys a smile before leaving the room. A vision flashed before your eyes as your body stilled.

Meleys getting killed.

Rhaenys falling to her death.

There were..... two dragons.

One was Sunfyre you thought you saw... But you couldn't recognise the other.

Your mother's calling snapped you out of your vision. You looked panicked. Your mother and brother sensed something wrong.

"Y/n-" Jace reached for you before you said

"Send me as well"

"That cannot be done sweet girl." Rhaenyra said.

"It must be! Rhaenys- .... I saw her. And Meleys! They were ambushed. There were two dragons! Aegon will come! She cannot go alone! She Will Die!"

Rhaenyra looked shocked at your outburst. She pondered for a while before agreeing.

Moonfyre and Meleys were the largest dragons of the blacks. Rhaenyra trusted her daughter's judgement.

_________________________________________

As you walked to the Dragon Pit, you saw no one. No one dared to come closer to your child. They feared their lives.

Rhaenys had left early. You left an hour after she had left. You doubted if you could catch upto her. Meleys was the fastest dragon.

Moonfyre let out a groan as she flew through the clouds to Rook's Rest.

Your memories flashed before you. The first time you rode a dragon was with your father. It was Seasmoke.

"Kepa! Soo high! Hehe" little y/n threw her arms up in the air as Seasmoke flew through the clouds, huffing proudly.

"Yes. Do you like it? Being here atop the clouds?" Laenor asked his daughter who only giggled and said.

"Yes kepa" laenor smiled and said "If you like, we can fly on Seasmoke every now and then. Just don't tell your mother or i won't hear the end of it."

You smiled at the memory. Those times perished very quickly, right infront of your eyes.

You could only look ahead now, not behind. You may not even make it out alive today. But you'll die knowing that you tried.

_________________________________________

Meleys tackled Sunfyre in the sky as the roar of another dragon was heard. Larger wings taking off in the sky.

Vhagar had arrived.

"Thank the gods!" Aegon exclaimed before his face turned to horror upon realisation of what was to come.

"Dracarys!" Aemond said

"No! Noo!" Aegon screamed trying to take cover of his dragon. Meleys fled the moment Vhagar breathed fire.

Meleys was away from Vhagar and Sunfyre. Rhaenys felt no hope returning back home. She would fight. She would fight here and die. She closed her eyes and opened them slowly before saying

"Angōs Meleys.."

Meleys turned back to the fight, she gave a look to Rhaenys which she reciprocated. Rhaenys tightened her strap, and held tighter to the saddle.

Vhagar and Meleys were flying towards each other, when suddenly...

A loud roar could be heard...

Moonfyre came out of the clouds. Her size a close match to Vhagar.

She was one of the unhatched egg of Balerion and Dreamfyre before Balerion passed.

"Dracarys!"

All eyes went on the White dragon and her rider as she breathed fire. Vhagar flew away from the fire before she could collide with Meleys.

Rhaenys watched as Moonfyre the 9 year old dragon chased after Vhagar the 180 year old dragon. Both almost equal in size.

"Angōs Moonfyre!" Y/n shouted to her dragon.

Aemond looked back once. He didn't anticipate that another dragon, let alone the dragon of his once betrothed, would be coming to Rook's Rest.

He didn't turn away and flee. Vhagar turned back and charged towards the Nightdream.

The largest dragons collided with each other. Moonfyre clawed at Vhagar's wing as the Queen of the Dragons let out a loud wail.

Rhaenys got rid of any of the remaining green soldiers before joining Y/n in her battle.

Y/n grunted as Moonfyre flew away just in time to dodge Vhagar's attack.

Meleys came in and clawed at Vhagar's right wing. Tearing away some flesh from her wing.

Aemond, knowing he couldn't win and fled from Rook's Rest.

Yet amongst all, two were completely forgotten.....

Aegon the Usurper and Sunfyre the Golden....

Meleys told y/n that the last she saw them was when Sunfyre crashed near the woods.

Nodding at her grandmother's word, Y/n took off towards the direction of the woods along with Rhaenys.

_________________________________________

Moonfyre and Meleys were just a few feet away.

As you walked through the woods with Rhaenys, she drew out her sword for protection.

The two of you saw smoke coming out. Upon a closer look, the two of you saw Aegon and Sunfyre.

Aegon's body partly burned and bent. While Sunfyre's one wing was almost torn.

Rhaenys and you shared a look before deciding that you both would take Aegon back to Dragonstone.

Sunfyre was smaller than Moonfyre so she could carry the Gold dragon with her feet.

_________________________________________

"Your grace you must calm down-" Corlys tried to reason.

"How can I possibly calm down?! I don't know if my girl would return safely! I cannot lose another child!" Rhaenyra said, her voice raising.

All became silent....

A loud roar was heard. Rhaenyra and the rest ran outside. There they were...

Moonfyre and Meleys.

Rhaenyra squinted her eyes which widened when she saw what came with the dragon riders.

Moonfyre dropped Sunfyre's body a bit far before landing on the beach.

Y/n came down from Moonfyre as Rhaenys came down from Meleys, taking Aegon down with her.

Guards took Aegon's body away. He would be dealt with afterwards.

Rhaenyra ran and hugged her daughter. She offered Rhaenys a smile and thanked her for protecting her daughter.

Baela ran and hugged y/n as she hid her face in y/n's neck.

_________________________________________

When night came over Driftmark, you stood near the balcony. A letter in your right hand. You turned back to your trusted maid and gave her the letter.

She nodded and quickly left from to room. She was to deliver that letter to the one eyed prince or rather..... The Kinslayer..

You gently took the letter you had received from him that evening in your arms, reading it again.

You look up at the sky, closing your eyes as Moonfyre soared above the sky, your white hair flowing away from your face due to the wind.

The letter which you had received made you question everything. You do love that man even though he killed your brother..

Dear y/n,

I didn't expect to see you today. I realised after today that this war is neither yours nor mine to fight yet we both find ourselves tangled in it.

I wished for the throne because my brother is unfit for it. But I realise now that... I wish for you more. That I need you more than any throne, any power.

Aegon will die and so will the other Greens. I know that you would not believe me but I am willing to leave my grudges and be with you.

I need you not some Baratheon girl.

I have realised that you.. and i... We were born to die... together....

That was what the letter stated. You stilled as a vision flashed in your eyes.

Your little brother..... Was it Aegon or was it Viserys? Who ever it was.. looked quite grown up...

He was getting coronated....by Aemond..

You stood beside him, and on the opposite side stood Lord Cregan Stark...

You panted as your vision ended, eyes regaining their color.

Maybe everything was going to okay after the war ends.. You and Aemond lived.. your brother sat on the throne..you could only hope the rest of the family was okay.

You felt relieved a bit by the vision, thinking about the letter you had sent.

It stated that he must accept Rhaenyra as the queen and pledge loyalty to her. If he doesn't, there isn't any thing you can do. He already took your brother, your mother won't let go of that easily but he could try.

The last line was one of the same lines he wrote to you.....

"You and I .... We were born to Die...."

#fanfiction #game of thrones #got #hotd #house of the dragon #x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #prince aemond #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #dance of the dragons #x y/n #x yn

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rennalaqotfm · 5 months ago

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𖤓 DRAGONSPEAR | J.V (PART I)

Pairing: Prince Jacaerys Velaryon x Martell Princess! Reader

Synopsys: Upon discovering Aemond Targaryen's alliance with the Triarchy, the Blacks are pushed to the point of desperation. With the war looming over the horizon, they have no choice but to turn to an unlikely ally: House Martell.

Content Warning: Swearing and a lot of 'fucking politicking,' as King Viserys said.

WC: 3.9k

Series Masterlist

(A/N at the end of the chapter)

The cold castle of Dragonstone stirred back to life in the early evening as the Black Council was hastily reunited after receiving news from an unknown sender, most likely one of Lady Mysaria's informants. The hall was silent as the members of the council cocked their brows in confusion.

"An alliance with the Triarchy?" Rhaenyra Targaryen shook her head in disbelief.

Daemon took the message from her, not believing what she had just said. He tossed the piece of parchment on the table, letting everyone have a look.

"An alliance with the Free Cities is a risk, but a necessary one nonetheless. Their hold on power currently hinges heavily on Vhagar. Aemond knows that the city will be defenceless once Vhagar leaves King's Landing and we could easily overtake it. That is when the Triarchy will come in, to break the blockade of the Gullet," Daemon said, adding a ship figurine to the Table Map.

"We should have enough ships—" Lord Corlys said.

"Forgive me, Lord Corlys, but I do not think they will be enough. The Triarchy can muster a much larger naval power than any house in Westeros, including House Velaryon."

"Are you underestimating my fleet, my King Consort?" Lord Corlys said through his teeth.

"I am just being realistic. It is not just the Triarchy we might end up encountering," Daemon countered, adding two more ship figurines to the Table Map. "The Greens know that we will solely be relying on the Velaryon fleet, and with enough luck, we would be able to defend ourselves against the Triarchy. Which is why they would also want to send Hightower and Lannister fleets."

"We would be outnumbered," Rhaenyra muttered.

Daemon shook his head as his eyes scanned the map, realising that the Greens had managed to amass a larger number of allies, from the Crownlands, all the way to the Westerlands. He raised a brow in a particular spot in the South, a place the Targaryens haven't been able to tame after centuries of their rule.

"Not if we make an alliance with the Dornishmen," he finally said.

After a brief moment of silence, everyone in the Black Council but Daemon erupted in laughter.

"I don't know which is worse, the Greens making an alliance with the Triarchy or us with those goatfuckers," Ulf laughed.

"Have we no other choice?" Rhaenyra muttered, staring at the map. "The Hightower and Lannister navies would need to sail around Dorne before reaching the blockade, after all."

"My Queen, you cannot possibly be considering this," Jacaerys stepped forward. "We cannot make a deal with those barbarians. Our houses have been at each other's throats for generations... What makes you think that they would want to help us? There is a reason why the Greens would rather turn to the Triarchy instead of House Martell."

"The Prince is right, my Queen," Lord Corlys said. "We do not know how those Dornishmen operate, where their loyalties lie. What if they withdraw their support after making a deal, or demand more than we agreed upon? I should not be reminding you of this, my Queen, but the Dornishmen... Well, they are known for being unpredictable. They might even end up switching sides and joining the Greens."

"That will not be happening, Lord Corlys. After all, the Greens are still Targaryens. At present, the Dornishmen have a neutral stance. They do not wish to partake in this war—"

"Because they're just watching everything from afar and placing bets on who's gonna win," Ulf sniggered, earning a glare from Rhaenyra.

"As I was saying, they do not wish to partake in this war," Rhaenyra paused, watching as Daemon picked up another ship figurine and placed it strategically in front of the Hightower and Lannister ships. "But if we manage to convince them to join us, then we could eliminate the Triarchy and block the Summer Sea, preventing the Lannister and Hightower fleets from crossing it."

"Convince them to join us? How are we going to do that?" Lord Corlys shook his head, growing irritated as Rhaenyra seemed to have decided to carry on with the plan. "This is another reason why Aemond has not even bothered negotiating with those barbarians in the first place. Those Dornishmen—House Martell... they would not easily accept any deal. They are too proud. And in this case, we need them more than they need us. We cannot show our desperation or else they will bleed us out—"

"But we are growing desperate, Lord Corlys, and we are running out of options," Rhaenyra raised her voice, causing everyone in the Council to flinch. "The Velaryon fleet alone does not stand a chance against all of them."

"This is absolutely—" Lord Corlys burst out, clenching his fists as he tried to hold his ire.

"Making a deal with them would be the hardest part, but I am certain they would be satisfied if we offered them a dragon," Daemon suggested. "Ulf, how do you feel about flying to Sunspear with Silverwing and spending the rest of your days with those... goatfuckers?"

"I don't really have a choice do I?" He grimaced. "But it wouldn't be all too bad, I s'ppose. I've yet to taste a beautiful Dornishwoman and—"

"Looks like it is sorted," Daemon waved his hand, cutting him off.

"Send a raven to Sunspear," Rhaenyra ordered Maester Gerardys.

"My Queen, please listen to me," Jacaerys raised his voice, catching everybody's attention. "This risk that we are taking is completely unnecessary. We do not even know whether the Greens would be sending the Hightower and Lannister fleets. If they do not, then we would have wasted our time in trying to reason with those savages. Besides, how would that make us look? To think that you are even considering trading Silverwing for a handful of ships..."

The Black Council grew quiet, letting Jacearys' words hang in the air, and they hummed in agreement.

"Listen, boy," Daemon cut him off. "Aemond just burned Sharp Point out of anger. Do you think he is the type to hold back? He is going to want to strike with everything he has, and House Lannister and Hightower would not want to miss a single chance to appease him."

"But House Martell—?" Jacaerys snapped.

"It will not just be House Martell, Jacaerys. If we somehow manage to convince them, then other Dornish houses will follow. Think about House Allyrion, Blackmont, Dayne..." Rhaenyra tried to reason with her son. "Maester Gerardys, send a raven to Sunspear. Now. We have no time to spare."

The room was filled with exasperation. Some were nodding their heads, murmuring and pointing at the map, whilst others shook their heads yet kept their mouths shut nonetheless. The maester himself began to hesitate as he began to write the message:

To the Honourable Prince Qoren Martell of Sunspear,

In these dire times, as the fleets of the Triarchy, Hightower, and Lannister press upon us, Her Grace, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, seeks the aid of House Martell to join forces with our Velaryon allies at sea. In return for your assistance, we offer the protection of our dragon, Silverwing, as a symbol of our alliance and mutual respect. We acknowledge the history between our houses, but now, unity is essential more than ever. We hope to set aside past tensions and forge a partnership that will benefit both our realms.

From Maester Gerardys, in service to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.

To Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen,

House Martell has long stood apart from the conflicts of the rest of the realm, and we see no benefit in entangling our house in this war. Our independence is our strength, and we will not risk it, even for the promise of a dragon. Dorne will continue to walk its own path.

Prince Qoren Martell of Sunspear.

Three weeks have already passed, only to receive a cold rejection from the Martells. Their enemies were already making their move, as according to one of Lady Mysaria's informants within the Red Keep, the Green Council had agreed to send Tyland Lannister as an envoy and were soon going to start preparing the ship for the lengthy journey to the Free Cities.

After reading the message, Rhaenyra scoffed and threw the note in the fireplace, watching as the paper shrivelled into ashes. The Council needn't ask what the Martells had replied since the indignation from the rejection was written all over her face.

"I told you they were too proud, my Queen. Making a deal with those savages... it was never going to work," Lord Corlys said.

"Do not give up so easily Lord Corlys. That just meant our deal was not good enough," Daemon said.

"You cannot be serious. They have already refused to help, even with the promise of a dragon," Jacaerys snapped. Baela placed her hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down.

"What else could they possibly want?" Rhaenyra inhaled deeply as she closed her eyes.

Daemon paced back and forth as his eyes wandered on everyone present in the hall.

"Maester Gerardys, remind us again of the children Prince Qoren has sired," Daemon asked.

"Don't name the bastards, though. We'd be stuck 'ere forever," Ulf joked, only to be met by an awkward silence and glares from those in the council.

"His eldest is a daughter of two-and-twenty, Princess Y/n Martell; Prince Elyas Martell, of nine-and-ten; and Prince Farien Martell, of seven, my King Consort," Maester Gerardys said.

"And is Princess Y/n betrothed?" Daemon asked.

"Not that I am aware of, my King Consort."

"It seems that securing an heir is not her main priority," Rhaenyra muttered. "I wonder why she remains unwed..."

"Well, with the number of bastards Prince Qoren has sired, they would never run out of heirs," Lord Corlys muttered under his breath.

"I do not know, my Queen. I am not entirely familiar with Dornish customs, but I have heard that Prince Qoren has yet to find a suitable match for his daughter," Maester Gerardys said.

"If I may speak, my Queen," Addam bowed his head, waiting for Rhaenyra's nod of approval. "Some of the men who've sailed in Dornish waters have shared stories about why Princess Y/n Martell remains unwed. It's not that Prince Qoren hasn't found a suitable match for his daughter; rather, many of those suitors have met... untimely ends. Their bodies have been discovered in the desert, feasted upon by scorpions. Of course, I can't say how much of this is true and how much is mere sailor's tale."

"Fuckin' hell..." Ulf exclaimed in amusement at Addam's story. "Hopefully that princess was worth dying for."

The Council grimaced, their prejudice somehow convincing them that everything they'd just heard was true. Jacaerys was starting to grow uneasy, feeling Daemon's gaze piercing his as Addam of Hull told the story. He didn't like where the conversation was going, and even if he knew what Daemon was going to say, he still wasn't prepared to hear those words.

"We present Jacaerys as a suitor for Prince Qoren's daughter," Daemon declared, silencing the council.

"No. No. Absolutely not," Jacaerys clenched his fists, his voice trembling with anger as he shook his head furiously. "I am to wed Princess Baela," his gaze darted to Rhaenyra, desperation in his eyes. "The Queen would never agree to such a preposterous match," he said, searching his mother's face for reassurance. But Rhaenyra's gaze was cast downward, and fear gripped his heart. "Mother... you would not marry me off to a savage, would you?"

Rhaenyra felt her son's pressing gaze upon her, yet she refused to look him in the eye. She turned away from the table and stared at the fireplace illuminating the room, trying to find answers in the dancing embers. At first, she found Daemon's proposal outrageous, but his unconventional thinking often led to surprisingly effective strategies. The fire seemed to whisper to her, telling her it was the right thing to do. The Martells. Dorne. She slowly began to realise that if they managed to secure the support of House Martell, and most importantly, the hand of Princess Y/n, then the whole realm would be united.

However, as everyone in the Black Council had already warned her, it wouldn't be an easy feat. House Martell despised the Targaryens after the mass destruction Aegon the Conqueror had caused during the First Dornish War in his attempt to bring Dorne under Targaryen rule. Cities were burned to the ground, leaving much of Dorne a barren waste of sand and ashes. But even then, the Dornish resisted. Led by House Martell, Dorne fought fiercely for their independence at the cost of hundreds of thousands of lives. Yet it was all worth it in the end, as they remained free from the binds of Westeros.

Then she thought of her father, Viserys, and his dream of The Song of Ice and Fire, and how he urged her to unite the realm for what was to come. The alliance with Dorne was necessary, and though they were in dire times of war, there was no better time to unite the two realms.

With a heavy heart, she turned to face her son, Prince Jacaerys, whose eyes were full of desperation. As a mother, she had hoped she could've spared the heavy burden of her duties from her beloved son, but it couldn't be helped. He was going to be the Crown, and sooner or later, he was bound to carry the burden one way or another.

Rhaenyra exhaled and slowly nodded her head, mustering the courage to speak her final decision. If there was one thing she could handle, it was the hatred from her enemies and the smallfolk, but being despised by her own son was something she wasn't sure she could bear.

"Maester Gerardys," Rhaenyra spoke, trying to ignore how her son's eyes widened in disbelief at her words. "Send another raven to Sunspear for a marriage proposal between Prince Jacaerys and Princess Y/n."

Jacaerys stormed out of the room, and Baela looked at Rhaenyra for permission to go after him.

As Rhaenyra looked at the Table Map, she felt a hand momentarily ghost at the small of her back.

"You made the right call, my Queen," Daemon whispered, his lips lightly brushing against her ear, causing a chill to run down her spine.

To the Honourable Prince Qoren Martell of Sunspear,

I write to you once more on behalf of Her Grace, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, about the proposal concerning an alliance between our houses. While we understand and respect your initial decision, the urgency of our situation compels us to make another appeal. In light of the escalating threat posed by the combined forces of the Greens, we recognise that the need for strong allies has never been more critical. As such, we wish to renew our proposal.

Her Grace is prepared to betroth her son, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, who eagerly seeks the hand of your daughter, Princess Y/n Martell. We believe that this union will not only strengthen our positions but also signify an enduring alliance between House Targaryen and House Martell.

From Maester Gerardys, in service to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Rhaenyra's footsteps echoed in the stone hallways of the castle as she made her way to her son's chambers. The night was quiet, nothing but the flickering sounds of the torches and the distant waves crashing against the shore could be heard. A few days had passed since she ordered Maester Gerardys to send the raven to Sunspear, and she decided that it was best to give Jacaerys some space so he could come to terms with his future betrothal to Princess Y/n.

Jacaerys refused to speak to anyone, not even Baela, and Rhaenyra's concern for her son was beginning to keep her awake at night to the point she began to question her decisions. However, the raven had already been set, and there was no turning back.

Rhaenyra knocked on the door, only to get no answer. After the second and third try, she sighed, debating whether she should just give up and leave her son. But she knew how Jacaerys felt, and she couldn't bear to see him so distant, losing himself at the thought of marrying a foreign princess they all knew little to none of. Rhaenyra thought Jacaerys was justified to feel the way he did.

She was pleased the marriage proposal between Jacaerys and Baela was approved by her father Viserys. She thought she could give her son the gift of betrothing someone close to him, someone familiar, someone he could eventually grow to love, just as she had been lucky to have been married to Laenor first, and though they weren't each other's preferences, they managed to come to an agreement.

"Jace, let me in," she said one last time. "We need to talk."

Jacaerys still refused to reply, and she expected as much. Rhaenyra slowly opened the door, only to find her son looking through the windows, watching how the waves violently crashed against the cliffs. She couldn't believe how much her son had grown over those past few years, the babe she used to carry in her arms had turned into a man of eight-and-ten, with sharp, handsome features and dark brown curls framing his face. Her heart was full of pride knowing that the Crown would be in good hands with her son, as not only he excelled in politics and affairs of the realm, but he possessed the kindness and compassion her father Viserys did.

"Jace..." She slowly approached her son, placing a hand on his broad shoulder.

He flinched at her touch and stepped away, refusing to look at her.

"I wish to be alone, Mother."

Rhaenyra closed her eyes and sighed, leaning forward as she also gazed at how the ocean infinitely stretched before her eyes, not knowing how to address the situation.

"I cannot even imagine how you must feel, Jace. If your grandsire had put me in the same position as you, my feelings would not be any different from yours... Though I still recall how your grandsire had me sit down and meet a never-ending line of suitors," she smiled sadly, feeling the soft breeze of the sea blow gently on her face.

Although Jacaerys remained silent, she still listened to his mother. They rarely had the opportunity to talk so casually about matters he deemed trivial, but he always appreciated those few times they got to talk about anything but war and politics.

"My grandsire already approved of my betrothal with Baela," he mumbled. "I wonder what he would think if he found out you wanted to wed me to a savage."

The sound of the sea seemed to have carried the whispers of her father's wish, as she heard distant voices murmuring The Song of Ice and Fire.

"Your grandsire would be proud," she smiled.

Jacaerys turned to look at her with furrowed brows, wondering if what she had just said was nothing more than a jest. But when his gaze met hers, he could see the love her mother carried for his grandsire Viserys reflected in her eyes.

"Before your grandsire made me heir, he said that I must unite the realm, and this alliance with House Martell is the key to that. This is not just about the ships and this war, Jace. It is beyond that. There are things you will come to understand in time. If this betrothal between you Princess Y/n comes forth, the two of you would finally be uniting the Seven Kingdoms," Rhaenyra said, with a faint glimmer of hope in her eyes, something Jacaerys hadn't seen in a long time.

"I know my duty as the Crown Prince, Mother," Jacaerys said, his voice heavy with resignation. "I understand that there is no undoing the proposal," he sighed. "But it pains me deeply, how you all discussed it as if I were nothing more than a pawn in a game, moved around as you see fit. Baela and I have known each other since childhood; it feels only natural that we should marry. We were just talking about the ceremony we would have once the war is over, imagining weeks of feasting and celebration... only to have it all snatched away from us."

"I am not saying you should, but if worst comes to worst, you could always make an... arrangement with Princess Y/n," Rhaenyra said.

"An arrangement?" Jacaerys scoffed, shaking his head. "What for? So I can sire more bastards like me?"

Rhaenyra's features hardened as she glared at her son, a flare of anger igniting within her as he brought up those bitter rumours she had buried deeply in her memories.

"Do not speak of yourself that way," Rhaenyra snapped, her voice shaking as she spoke. "You are a true Targaryen, born of fire and blood, and of salt and sea. Let no one, not even yourself, suggest otherwise."

Jacaerys shook his head, growing tired of hearing the same words of denial coming from his mother.

"I will do what I must for the realm and I will do my best to win the hand of Princess Y/n," Jacaerys muttered in defeat with his gaze cast downwards. "But I will not repeat your mistakes, Mother. I swear I will not sire any bastards, for I will not condemn my future children to face the same humiliation and torment that has haunted me all these years."

To Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen,

How amusing it is, to send a mere bird in place of a prince, when seeking the hand of my beloved daughter. Mayhaps you are unaware of our customs, or mayhaps you believe a Targaryen name is worth more than the effort or courtesy. Here in Dorne, we value actions over titles. The hand of my daughter is not something to be bargained for in letters.

Prince Qoren Martell of Sunspear.

"My Queen, Ser Tyland Lannister has been reported to depart to the Free Cities on the morrow," Lady Mysaria spoke before the council.

Rhaenyra clenched her jaw in irritation, not taking House Martell's second rejection well. Daemon read the message over her shoulder, amused at the words of Prince Qoren. Jacaerys hoped that his mother would give up the negotiations, but after the discussion they had weeks ago, he knew that she was going to do everything in her power to secure the deal with House Martell.

"Calling us cravens for sending a raven..." Daemon sneered. "What, were they expecting us to march to Sunspear in person, just to deliver the message?"

"We are running out of time, my Queen. It's only a matter of weeks before Ser Tyland reaches the Free Cities if the winds are in their favour," Lady Mysaria said.

"That is not all, my Queen," Maester Gerardys intervened, concerned. "Just as the King Consort predicted, we have just received various ravens from our allies reporting that they have sighted an alarming number of fleets departing from Lannisport and Oldtown a fortnight ago."

The Queen breathed in, feeling the pressure to make a decision as the enemy took another step. Reading Qoren Martell's letter one final time, she crumpled the parchment in her fist and turned to her council.

"Value actions over titles..." Rhaenyra muttered at the boldness of his words. "If what he desires are actions, that is what he shall get. Daemon, Jacaerys and I shall depart for Sunspear on the morrow on dragonback."

A/N: Hello, my lovelies! I hope you enjoyed the first part of this series. This chapter was basically the Targaryens and the Martells sending emails at each other lol. I don't wanna spoil anything but this story will kinda go from 0-100 hehe. Chapter 2 is like 90% finished, but still needs a lot of editing. Anyway, would you guys prefer if I have a regular updating schedule (once a week), or if I just upload whenever a chapter is finished (obviously there will be times when I won't be able to update as much but I sometimes get random bursts of energy)? I would love to know what you think.

If you wish to be added to the taglist, please fill out this form for easier management.

Until next time ;)

#dragonspear #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon smut #jace x you #jace x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #house martell #oc x reader #oc x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader smut #jacaerys velaryon x you smut

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divinesolas · 6 months ago

Text

The hour of the wolf

summary: You make an offer for an old friend. You offer up anything to make sure his life is spared. What the wolf wants shocks you more than anything.

Cregan Stark x Beesbury!Reader

w.c: 3k

c.w: SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD; the hour of the wolf, mutual pining, soft? cregan, SMUT !, oral (male and fem), minor fingering (fem), face sitting, dirty talk, lord kink, hairy cregan, p in v, minor bearded cregan, breeding kink, minorly proofread

a.n: literally just a reimagining of the black aly and cregan scene from the books, i hate that fact that they rlly might cut black aly from the show let me kms.

perm cregan taglist (open!)

The room is far too hot. The glares of the men in the room far too intense. Words unspoken louder than anything. You had been sitting in this room for hours now, the arguing the anger seemingly never ending. You understand him. A stark never does forget his oaths that much has become very clear to you.

The fur covered man turns his back to the group after some harsh words leave his lips. You decide enough is enough and turn to the other men in the room. “Leave us.” Oscar and benjicot give each other nervous looks before turning back to you. “y/n…” You place a hand on Oscar's shoulder and squeeze it, “I have this, trust me.” He hesitates for a few moments before he nods and with the help of benjicot clears out the council room leaving you alone with the wolf of the north.

His back is still turned to you, staring at the window with a glare in his eyes. “My lord-” “I have done all that you all have asked. I have agreed to not storm on the green castles, i have given my men, i have been merciful to those who should have been marked to death i will not relent on this.” He had finally begun to face you, his face angry. You can see the stress of the last days weighting down on his face, a noticeable stubble from not being able to shave, bags under his eyes, he looked exhausted and you felt awful

Corlys Velaryon. once a man who you would have considered a good friend turned turncloak. The new king had pardoned his crimes along with the rest of you except for cregan, so stuck in his justice it will not stop until he has his head. Thought he had pardoned corlys, when you had went to the king to see to cregan being stopped, not wishing to fight one of the only men he trusted he did nothing to fight the northern leaving you all to try to persuade him yourselves.

You understood his anger. Having vowed himself to the queen and the late prince and both now dead due to the greens. “i’m afraid i cannot relent on this as well my lord.” You knew corlys did what he had to. maybe you would have not done the same in his place but it did not matter to you. Cregan huffs, pushing off the table he was leaning on to walk past you. “then there is nothing for us to speak of.”

You do not try to grab him as he walks past as much as you wish to. you only knew the lord stark for a year now but he had become a good friend to you and you like to think you were one to him as well. it took him awhile to open up to you, the northern not interested in speaking to most and was flat out rude to most but you persevered and was rewarded by earning the favor of the stark, leading him to seek out your council.

You felt more for the stark. More that was beyond friendship. you were a minor lady from minor house, the war and the growing tensions and battles with the hightowers leaving you even worse for wares and he was probably the most powerful man in the realm right now as well as a recent widow. He would want nothing to do with you if it were not for you insistence and you’re sure after this is all said and done if he does not agree to be the kings hand permanently this will be the last time you ever hear from the man.

Yet you are desperate. you so badly don’t want him to do this. corlys’ life more valuable than many realize. “what can i offer you?”

You voice cracks as you speak, whipping around to see his retreating form paused at your words but he does not turn around. you take a deep breath as you take the steps towards him. every step you take he steps back. “grant me this one thing and i shall never ask another thing from you ever again. If you do i shall have sonnets and songs written of you, tales of your great strength and wisdom. Grant this one wish and i will do anything you desire.”

His back hits the wall and he pears down at you with a tilted head as you stand firmly in front of him. not closely enough to be touching but close enough you can smell him, woodsmoke musk of his skin. He’s quiet but the look in his eyes shows Hes thinking about your words. You begin to grow a bit nervous when a light smile creeps up on his face. “I shall grant you your wish.”

“and what in return?”

“you.”

You stumble back while cregan remains rooted where he is, watching you with delight. “you misspeak.” “i do not.” you shake your head furiously. he cannot truly mean that as much as your skin crawls and your heart pounds you cannot accept his words. “If you are looking for a wife i am more than happy to help you find one.” “i am not looking for a wife. i want you.”

You pace around the room, tugging at the collar of your black and yellow dress. The room suddenly having grown hot and you dress uncomfortable. “There are many lovely ladies,” “im sure there are,” “The war has left many without a husband as awful as it is to speak. i would be more than happy help set you up with a couple meetings with them.” “is one of them with you? i will attend that one.”

You turn to him and almost wish you could curse at him and his pleased face. “my lord please.” his face drops and he grabs your hand tugging you into him. His hand softly coming to your face, the obvious look of affection in his eyes makes your stomach churn. “a hand for a head. give me your hand and i will do as you say. i will do as you say for the rest of my life.”

You take a couple deep breaths in disbelief, he wanted you. “A hand for a head. i will give you as you ask.” He leans in closer to you, you almost feel as though he is going to kiss you and you close your eyes in anticipation but he pauses right as your lips are about to touch and you hear him chuckle lightly. “You want me as well.” It is not a question but despite that you nod and his lips are pressed against yours. You can feel him hum and smile against your lips. He is an animal, hungerly eating at your lips like he is a starved man, as if he had been waiting for this for far too long.

You try your best to meet him all the same but he completely consumes you and you can do nothing but submit to him. When you pull apart you both stare at one another with lust in your eyes. So when you lightly step back he stares at your curiously until you sink down onto your knees and his breathing stops. “What do you think you’re doing?” You trace your hands along his thighs as you peer up at him. “doing my best to please you my lord.” he groans in delight and licks his lips. “will you allow me to my lord.” “if you do not put me in your mouth right now i will push you down and fuck you on the floor like a whore.” You wish his words did not affect you like they did, you can feel how soaked you are, you might as well be dripping onto your feet.

He allows you to grab at his pants and watches as you pull them down exposing them fully. He is huge. How in the hells were you even going to put this thing in your mouth? You can see the hair that trails up towards his stomach, the veins that line up and down him pulse with need while he lightly drips out some precum. As if driven by pure lust you reach out and lick at the drops that spill out of him, sucking around his tip to see if you can get anymore. You must be doing something right because he groans at your actions, grabbing the back of your head as you continue to push him further into your mouth. “fuck you feel so fucking good.” You whine lightly at his praise as begin to rub yourself onto the heel of your foot. When you moan around him he pushes you greedily further into him. “you feeling good too? such a greedy girl.”

You have no real clue what you’re doing but cregan helps you every step of the way, and when you put him fully in your mouth, your nose is buried in his hair. His hand on the back of your head pulling you closer and further until you get a good rhythm yourself and he lets you do as you please. “so fucking good for me fuck.” You can tell he’s close to cracking, his grip on your head grows tighter and his panting gets heavier, his words of praise turn into slurs of mumbles of nothing. He tries to pull you off not wanting to overwhelm you, “its too much.” But you keep firm and hes flowing into your mouth, you almost choke but pull yourself off of him and swallow down his salty seed.

You almost look up at him to try and see what his reaction was but you instead yelp as you’re pulled up and thrown over his shoulder. “what are you doing?!” he pulls up his pants and readjusts himself before he walks out of the room with you still over his shoulder. people stare as you walk past but nobody dares to question the hand so they all continue about their business. you even see oscar on your way who shoots you a bewildered look but you just throw your hands up in confusion and embarrassment.

You realize he is taking you to his room. He shuts the door with his foot and tosses you onto the bed. He strips himself of his furs and clothes where he’s standing bare in front of you. He truly was a man and you gulped. Greedily admiring his hairy body as he strode towards you with the utmost confidence. “If you do not want this you will tell.” You nod, “With your words.” You shiver, “yes..” hes pleased but gives you a look. “yes,,,?” you purse your lips before answering him, “yes my lord.”

He kisses you and leans on top of you until you’re laying on your back. You feel his fingers trailing up your leg and push past your underwear to push two fingers inside of you. You grip onto his shoulder and gasp as he begins to work his fingers in and out of you. “you’re dripping down my fingers, look at you pretty girl.” you shudder against him as he continues to work at you. He suddenly pulls away and you whine but he kisses your complaints away. “sit on my face.” Your brows furrow together in confusion, “what?” He chuckles, his hair tickling your face and shoulders. “just do as i say.”

Despite your confusion you nod, trusting your future husband who rolls the two of you over and you’re suddenly on top of him. He pulls every string and pushes away every piece of fabric under you sit just as bare as he is. You almost fold your arms to cover yourself but his hands grab yours as he continues to admire you with heart eyes. “you are the most beautiful lady i have ever seen.” Your face burns as you turn your head away from him. “sweet talker.” “I mean every word.”

He lays all the way back and it suddenly becomes abundantly clear what it means and you are alarmed. “You will suffocate.” He laughs and shakes his head as he continues to try and pull you up to his face. “a real man would not, trust me.” “this cannot be right.” “it will be good i promise. trust me. i want to.” Despite your doubts and worries you allow yourself to hover over his face lightly, his beard scratches at your face. you hear him sigh as he kisses your thigh, “I said sit.” He suddenly pulls you down and you’re fully sitting down on his face and he begins to lap at you.

You were not the most innocent women, having touched yourself a fair share of times but this was a completely different experience. His tongue laps at you eagerly, drinking up every drop while his hands knead your sides. You grip onto his hair as you as, your eyes closed and you throw your head back in pleasure. You keel over when his hands move you to grind on top of his face, his nose rubbing against your bud and your hips eagerly begin to move to try to get more and more friction. with every call of his name he hums and groans into you sending shockwaves down your spine.

You can do nothing to stop yourself from releasing all over his face. you mumble apologies but he simply eagerly licks up every drop before suddenly flipping you over and hovering over you. his face gleams with the shine of your essence. “ive been wanting to do that for too fucking long.” you turn away as your face heats, he turns your head back towards him and pecks you on the lips. “I hope you know i am being truthful, my words do not stem from purely desire. i love you.” Your breathe escapes you and your hands come up to cup his face, “my lord…” “cregan.” a smile plays on your face, “cregan, i have loved you since the moment i met you.” His face softens at your words, “even when i was an ass?” “especially when you were an ass.” He shakes his head in humor before he presses his lips against yours once again.

His hardness his your thigh and you moan. “i dont wish to force you.” “I want you to cregan. take me.” He wraps your legs around his hips as he aligns himself up to you, “if it hurts too much tell me.” you nod and your heart continues to pound in anticipation. It does hurt, it hurts like hell as his hard cock pushes its way past your walls, you find yourself biting his shoulder and he groans at your actions. When he bottoms out he pauses, allowing you enough time to adjust to him. Its hard to, when he is so big and you can feel every vein and the way he throbs against you. He pecks kisses around your face and down your neck to distract you, pouring his love into every peck.

“You can move.” “you sure?” it does not hurt as much anymore, sure there is a light sting but surely that will only add to the pleasure. “yes please fuck me cregan.” He lets out a noise one would only consider to be a growl, “you want me to fuck you? ill fucking fuck you.” His pace is quick but not too rough, its enough to have your toes curling with every thrust. He’s mumbling into your ear, words of praise but you can barely make sense of it as you begin to see stars. Your hands scratch down his back and he howls as you bite his shoulder. “fuck wanna see you full, with my kid.” you moan with pleasure at his words and nod your head eagerly, “yes yes yes i want that so bad please please.”

“You want my babes? for me to fuck you full and round? for you to carry my pups?” you nod eagerly against his shoulder as you begin to chant his name like its the only word you know and he calls out your name just the same. You can feel your stomach burning, “cregan im gonna im,” he shushes you as he only begins to move faster, one of his hands coming down to play with your bud. “cum fuck do it. wanna feel it.” He makes no moves to stop even as you burst around him, if anything he seems more motivated as the sounds of your skin slapping together grow louder. His thrusts your sloppy and his hips move more eagerly until you feel yourself being filled with his hot seed, pumping you full.

You two attempt to catch your breaths, you wipe his sweaty stuck hair away from his face as he grins at you. The moment suddenly ruined when loud banging hits his door and the two of you freeze, staring at each other with wide eyes. “Lord stark!” you recognize the voice as one of the squires and you watch as cregans face falls with annoyance. “what?” his voice is clearly angry as he spits at the door, seemingly having no intention of pulling out of you. “one of the lord has requested an audience-” “i am not available for the rest of the day.” “but my lord-” “leave me be.”

You can sense a pause from outside the room before the footsteps suddenly begin to fade away leaving the two of you alone once more. You open your mouth to speak but he sudden pulls out and spins you over quickly shoving himself back inside of you. there will be time to talk later it seems and when a maid walks in later that evening cregan makes no attempt to explain why the room smells as it does and why the windows are foggy. but everyone knows, the lord stark is not one for quiet women.

#cregan stark x you #hotd cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #hotd cregan #cregan fanfiction #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader

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imonanotherlebel · 6 months ago

Text

Gentle Love - Jacaerys Velaryon

Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem Reader

Any Fire and Blood / HOTD fans?

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Genre : Romance, Smut

Warnings: Smut, Minors DNI, kissing, penetrative sex, oral fem receiving, virginity

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The grand hall of the Red Keep was alive with celebration, the echoes of laughter and music filling the air as the wedding festivities for the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms continued late into the night. The union between Jacaerys Velaryon, the future heir to the Iron Throne, and the reader, a noblewoman of high standing, was a momentous occasion. It was a match that had been anticipated for years, ever since their betrothal was announced when they were both very young.

Though their marriage had been arranged, there was genuine affection between you and Jacaerys. Over the years, you had grown close, sharing stolen moments in the gardens of Dragonstone and long conversations by the fire during the cold winters. Jacaerys was a man of duty, but he had always treated you with kindness and respect, valuing your opinions and cherishing your presence. As the years passed, your bond deepened, evolving from a tentative friendship into something much stronger, a love that neither of you had expected but were grateful to have found.

Tonight, that bond was to be consummated, sealing your union not just in the eyes of the realm, but in the eyes of the gods as well. The thought made your heart race with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as you stood at the center of the hall, surrounded by the revelry.

Jacaerys was by your side, his hand resting lightly on your back as he engaged in conversation with the lords and ladies who had come to celebrate your wedding. He looked every bit the prince he was, tall and regal in his dark attire, his dark hair falling in soft waves that framed his handsome face. There was a warmth in his dark eyes as he glanced over at you, a reassuring smile playing on his lips that made your heart flutter.

As the evening wore on, the mood in the hall grew more raucous, the guests well into their cups and eager for the next part of the night's events-the bedding ceremony. The air was thick with anticipation, the guests exchanging knowing glances and ribald jokes as they waited for the signal to begin.

Finally, Lord Corlys Velaryon raised his goblet, his booming voice cutting through the din. "To the bedding!" he declared, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

A cheer went up from the crowd, and before you could react, you felt hands tugging at the laces of your gown. Laughter echoed around you as the guests moved in, eager to carry you off to the marriage bed. But before they could pull you away, Jacaerys stepped forward, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist as he gently but firmly held the crowd at bay.

"Easy, my friends," he said with a laugh, his voice carrying a note of authority that made the guests pause. "There is no need to rush. We will see to this ourselves."

There was a murmur of surprise, but the guests quickly acquiesced, stepping back with playful grins and nods of approval. They respected Jacaerys too much to challenge him, and besides, there was something endearing about the way he was so protective of his new wife.

With the crowd giving you some space, Jacaerys turned to you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he looked into your eyes, his expression softening. "Are you alright?" he asked, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

You nodded, grateful for his intervention. "Thank you, Jace," you murmured, leaning into his touch.

He smiled, a tender expression that made your heart swell with affection. "There is no need to thank me, my love. I would never let them take you from me."

With that, he took your hand, leading you through the throng of well-wishers and up the winding staircase to your chambers. The journey was a blur, your heart pounding in your chest as the reality of what was about to happen began to sink in. You had been waiting for this night for so long, and now that it was here, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

As you reached the door to your chambers, Jacaerys paused, turning to face you. His eyes were filled with a tender warmth as he took both of your hands in his. "I know this is a momentous night," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "But I want you to know that we don't have to rush anything. We will go at your pace."

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man you had married. "I trust you, Jace," you whispered, squeezing his hands in reassurance.

He nodded, his expression softening even further. "As do I, with all my heart," he replied, before opening the door and leading you into the room.

The chamber was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the warm, flickering flames casting a golden hue over the rich tapestries and the large bed that dominated the center of the room. The bed was draped in silks and furs, a testament to the luxury and status that came with being the future king and queen.

Jacaerys closed the door behind you, the sound of the revelry outside fading into the background, leaving the two of you in a cocoon of intimacy. For a moment, you both stood there, taking in the enormity of the moment, the weight of your new titles, and the future that lay ahead of you.

Sensing your nervousness, Jacaerys walked over to the table where a decanter of wine sat waiting. He poured two goblets, handing one to you before downing his own in a single, practiced motion. The sight made you giggle, the sound breaking the tension in the air.

He smiled sheepishly, setting his empty goblet aside. "A little liquid courage never hurts," he said with a wink, his playful demeanor putting you at ease.

You took a sip of your own wine, the rich, sweet flavor calming your nerves as you watched him. There was something reassuring about the way he moved, the way he smiled at you, as if he was determined to make this night as comfortable and special as possible.

Setting your goblet down, you took a deep breath and stepped closer to him, your fingers brushing against the fastenings of his doublet. "Shall we begin?" you asked softly, your eyes meeting his.

Jacaerys's expression softened, his hands coming up to gently cradle your face as he leaned in to kiss you. The kiss was slow and tender, a promise of what was to come, as his lips moved against yours with a gentle insistence that made your heart race.

As the kiss deepened, you felt his hands begin to move, his fingers deftly working to undo the laces of your gown. The fabric loosened and fell away, sliding down your shoulders to pool at your feet, leaving you in nothing but your thin chemise. The cool air of the room brushed against your skin, but the heat of Jacaerys's gaze was all you felt as he stepped back to take you in, his eyes darkening with desire.

"You are breathtaking," he murmured, his voice husky as he reached out to run his hands over your bare shoulders, down your arms, and around your waist, pulling you close.

Your breath hitched as you felt the hard planes of his body press against yours, the evidence of his desire clear as he held you close. His lips found yours again, this time more insistent, as he backed you towards the bed, his hands never ceasing their exploration of your body.

The bed hit the back of your knees, and you tumbled onto the soft mattress, Jacaerys following you down. He hovered over you, his dark hair falling around his face as he looked down at you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he reached for the hem of your chemise, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you completely bare beneath him. His eyes roved over your body, his hands following the path of his gaze as he explored every inch of you, his touch both reverent and possessive.

"You are mine," he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet determination as he leaned down to press a kiss to your collarbone, then lower, his lips tracing a path down your body.

You shivered under his touch, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair as he worshipped your body with his lips and hands. He took his time, savouring the feel of your skin beneath his fingers, the taste of you on his tongue, until you were trembling with need, your body aching for more.

Finally, unable to wait any longer, Jacaerys pulled back, his hands moving to undo the laces of his own breeches. You watched, your breath catching in your throat as he stripped off the last of his clothing, revealing the hard lines of his body, the muscles rippling under his skin as he moved to join you on the bed.

He settled between your legs, his hand sliding up your thigh to part your folds, his fingers brushing against your core with a touch that made you gasp. He teased you, his fingers circling your sensitive nub, before sliding into you with a slow, steady motion that had you arching into him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he worked you with a skill that only a husband who knew your body intimately could possess.

The pleasure built slowly, a steady crescendo that had you writhing beneath him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he brought you to the brink of ecstasy, only to pull back at the last moment, leaving you trembling with need.

"Jace, please," you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper as the tension within you became unbearable.

Jacaerys smiled down at you, his expression one of tender affection mixed with desire. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. "Patience, my love," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "I want to savour every moment of this."

His words were filled with a promise, and though your body screamed for release, you nodded, trusting him completely. Jacaerys's hand slid back down to your core, his fingers slipping inside you once more, this time with a slow, deliberate rhythm that had you gasping for breath. Each stroke was measured, the pads of his fingers pressing against that sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

Your hips bucked against his hand, desperate for more, and he obliged, quickening his pace just enough to drive you closer to the edge. His thumb brushed over your sensitive nub, the added stimulation sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body that had you clenching around his fingers, your release just out of reach.

Sensing your need, Jacaerys leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss as his fingers worked you with expert precision. The kiss was a heady mix of passion and desperation, your mouths moving against each other with a hunger that matched the intensity building inside you. You could taste the wine on his lips, mingling with the salt of your shared sweat, a potent combination that only heightened the urgency of the moment.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were red and swollen from the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looked down at you with a fierce determination. "You're mine," he growled once more, his voice thick with emotion as he removed his fingers from your heat, leaving you feeling empty and bereft for the briefest moment.

Before you could protest, he positioned himself at your entrance, his hard length pressing against your core, the tip just barely breaching you. He paused, his eyes locking with yours as he waited for your nod of approval. When you gave it, his lips quirked up in a soft smile, and with one fluid motion, he thrust into you, filling you completely.

The sensation was overwhelming, the stretch of him inside you both painful and pleasurable as your body adjusted to his size. He stilled for a moment, giving you time to acclimate, his hands bracing on either side of your head as he gazed down at you with an intensity that took your breath away.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with concern as he searched your face for any sign of discomfort.

You nodded, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pulled him down for another kiss, your lips moving against his with a fervour that left no doubt of your desire. "I'm more than alright," you whispered against his lips, your words punctuated by a roll of your hips that had him groaning in response.

Taking that as his cue, Jacaerys began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. He set a steady rhythm, the friction between your bodies building with each movement, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as you lost yourselves in the heat of the moment.

As the pleasure mounted, his pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder, more desperate, as he chased his own release. Your bodies moved in perfect sync, the connection between you deeper than just the physical act, as if your very souls were entwined in this moment of pure ecstasy.

You could feel the coil of pleasure tightening in your core, the pressure building to a crescendo that had you teetering on the edge of oblivion. Sensing your impending release, Jacaerys shifted his angle, his hips snapping forward with a precision that had him hitting that sweet spot inside you with every thrust, sending you hurtling over the edge.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with pleasure as you cried out his name, your nails digging into his back as you clung to him, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity.

The feeling of you tightening around him was Jacaerys's undoing, and with a few more frantic thrusts, he found his own release, spilling into you with a guttural groan. He collapsed onto you, his weight a comforting presence as you both struggled to catch your breath, the aftershocks of your shared pleasure still rippling through your bodies.

For a long moment, you lay there together, the world outside forgotten as you basked in the afterglow of your lovemaking. Jacaerys's hand found yours, his fingers lacing with yours as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet reverence that made your heart swell with emotion.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice equally soft as you turned your head to look up at him, your eyes meeting his in a gaze that spoke volumes of the love and devotion you felt for him.

With a contented sigh, Jacaerys rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so that you were nestled against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you into a state of blissful contentment, the worries of the world outside your chamber forgotten in the safety of his embrace.

As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn't help but smile, your heart full of love and hope for the future. You had married the man you loved, and though the road ahead would no doubt be filled with challenges, you knew that as long as you had Jacaerys by your side, there was nothing you couldn't face together.

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baelarys · 6 months ago

Text

THE WOLF

Lord cregan stark X reader targaryen

word count : 2669

Warning : Fluff :)

The war had ended. Rhaenyra had perished, Aegon had died, and the dragons had ceased to exist. The letter you received from King’s Landing confirmed these events and proclaimed Aegon III as the new king.

The Stark army had already taken the capital, and ravens were sent to every lord in Westeros, urging them to bend the knee to the new monarch. Storm’s End was the first to submit. Lord Stark, who had assumed control of King’s Landing until the culprits of your brother’s poisoning were captured, ordered that you and your niece, Princess Jaehaera, betrothed to Aegon and the future queen, travel back to the capital.

The journey was long and tedious. Accompanied by Jaehaera and some daughters of Lady Baratheon, who had been sent to serve as the queen's ladies-in-waiting, you arrived in King’s Landing. Though these young women were likely hostages, their presence ensured that House Baratheon would not rebel again.

Upon arrival, the city felt both familiar and foreign. The people cheered for their new queen, hailing her as you and Jaehaera were transported in the carriage towards the castle.

The little girl clung to the sleeve of your dress as she observed the crowd. It was no wonder she was not an ordinary child; she had witnessed the death of her twin, lost her siblings, mother, and father. Though just a child, her gaze reflected a depth of sorrow acquired at a great cost.

You thought of your mother, the former Queen Alicent, now consumed by hatred and madness, according to what you had heard. Concern and sadness mingled in your heart as you prepared to face her.

Lord Corlys Velaryon greeted you at the entrance, accompanied by the young King Aegon III and Lord Cregan Stark. You could not deny Lord Stark’s imposing presence; his grand furs, despite the sweltering heat of the capital, spoke of his northern heritage.

Aegon III, at eleven years old, displayed a seriousness beyond his age. His features, inherited from his mother and father, bore the marks of ancient Valyria: dark violet eyes, almost black, and platinum-white hair. Beside him stood his cupbearer, Gaemon Palehair, the bastard of your brother, who was derisively called the "Rabbit King" by the people and his mother when they took the castle.

“My king,” you said, bowing to the young monarch.

“Princess,” greeted the Sea Snake, stepping forward. You observed Corlys, whose face, though lined with age, still radiated the authority and wisdom of yesteryears, qualities he had shown when your father was king. “Welcome back to your home.”

Corlys’s tone was firm but warm. The Red Keep, with its towering walls, seemed to whisper tales of glory and tragedy, and your return was just another chapter in that vast history.

As you moved into the castle, you hoped Lord Stark would say something, but he remained in quiet reserve throughout the journey. His presence was imposing yet unobtrusive, allowing you to acclimate to your surroundings in peace.

Everything looked as familiar as it was distant. The corridors, now enveloped in constant silence, were the same ones where you and your siblings used to play, filling them with laughter and voices now reduced to echoes of a distant past.

You were escorted to your former chambers. Before entering, you exchanged a final glance with Lord Stark. His eyes, filled with a silent understanding, seemed to offer you a tacit comfort amidst the confusion of your return.

Upon opening the door, you were met with a poignant sight: your belongings remained in the same place where you left them when you had to flee the day Rhaenyra took the city. The room seemed frozen in time, a sanctuary of unaltered memories amidst the ravages of war.

Every object, every detail, evoked a fragment of your past life. The childhood toys, the books you had eagerly read, the fabrics and adornments you had carefully chosen to make this space a reflection of yourself, were all there, waiting for you.

You hoped Aegon III’s reign would be peaceful. He and Jaehaera were to be married in two days, giving the realm something to celebrate. As you immersed yourself in your thoughts, one of your new ladies-in-waiting entered the room, announcing that you could see your mother now.

To be honest, the news did not excite you; rather, it filled you with dread. You nodded as you followed the lady to the Maegor’s Holdfast, where two guards stood watch over your mother’s chambers.

Queen Alicent appeared haggard. Her room, once adorned with greens and the Hightower sigils, had lost all traces of its former splendor. The tapestries and decorations that had once symbolized her power and status had vanished, leaving behind a coldness that reflected her current state.

Alicent turned to look at you, her eyes sunken and dim. You did not know what to do. The contrast between the mother you remembered and the figure before you was striking. The strength she had once shown seemed to have dissipated, leaving you face-to-face with a woman consumed by pain and despair.

“Mother,” you said softly, taking a step towards her.

Alicent regarded you with a mix of recognition and distrust. Her lips moved slightly, as if attempting to form words that refused to emerge. The room was in a deathly silence, broken only by the faint murmur of the guards in the hallway.

“Daughter,” she finally responded, her voice a faint whisper laden with contained emotion.

You approached her cautiously, unsure of how to comfort her in her current state. You sat beside her bed, taking her hand in yours. Alicent’s skin was cold and rough, a reflection of her suffering.

“I am here, mother,” you said firmly, trying to convey the strength she so desperately needed.

Alicent closed her eyes, a solitary tear sliding down her cheek. The pain of past years was palpable, and you knew that recovery would be slow and difficult. But in that moment, your presence was a small ray of hope in her darkness.

The conversation with your mother was brief and fragmented, but each shared word was a step towards reconciliation. When you finally rose to leave, you felt a small bond had been restored between you.

As you descended the stairs, you encountered Lord Cregan Stark in the vestibule. His presence, though silent, exuded a quiet strength. His eyes, serene but vigilant, regarded you with a mix of curiosity and respect.

“Princess,” he said, inclining his head slightly.

“Lord Stark,” you responded, returning the nod.

The silence settled between you, creating a tense but not uncomfortable atmosphere. The men of the North were not known for their friendliness or talkativeness, and Lord Cregan Stark was no exception. However, his presence conveyed a seriousness and commitment that did not go unnoticed.

“Are you enjoying your stay in the capital, Lord Stark?” you asked, attempting to break the ice with a question.

“I would enjoy it more if the circumstances that brought me here were different,” Cregan replied with a cold tone, his face as serious as ever.

You nodded. “I understand, milord. The circumstances surrounding us are far from ideal.”

Cregan looked at you for a moment, his grey eyes scrutinizing yours. “Do you not wonder who was responsible for your brother’s death?” he suddenly asked.

The question took you by surprise. The truth was, you had not deeply considered it. Aegon deserved that end; he was your brother, but perhaps it was for the best.

“Anyone could have done it, and besides, what purpose would it serve to torment myself with that?” you sighed, lowering your gaze. “Aegon III would have been his heir after all.”

Cregan nodded slowly, his expression showing a hint of approval. “True, the succession was clear. But justice is important, and the guilty must be found and punished.”

“Indeed,” you responded, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. “And will you be the new Hand of the King?”

Cregan shook his head. “No, my place is in the North with my people,” he replied firmly. “I will leave once I find someone to manage the realm until the king is old enough to fully assume his responsibilities.”

"Understood," you said, feeling a mix of respect and admiration for his sense of duty. "Your commitment to your people is truly admirable."

Cregan nodded, a faint glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. "The North has its own needs and challenges. I can't stay here forever, but I hope things stabilize soon."

"I hope so too," you replied. "The situation isn't the easiest, but with the right cooperation, I'm sure we can move forward."

"I hope so," Cregan said. "In the meantime, I'll ensure the kingdom has the necessary direction until I can return to the North."

"That's all anyone can ask for," you said. "I appreciate your willingness to help in this transition."

The conversation, though brief, was quite gratifying. You retreated to your room to resume your old duties, those you had set aside during the war. It was a moment to take up the tasks that once were part of your daily life.

A month had passed since your return to King's Landing, and life in the capital was beginning to find a new balance. Aegon and Jaehaera's wedding had taken place without incident, and most seemed to accept this new chapter in the kingdom's history. Lord Corlys Velaryon had taken on the role of Hand of the King with an efficiency that surprised no one, while Lord Cregan Stark and his men prepared to return to the North.

However, among the new debates in the council, a matter arose that directly affected you. Marriage was a topic that, in times of peace, was treated with the same seriousness as in times of war. You were already of age to consider a suitable marriage, and several lords had shown interest in your hand.

The council actively discussed the best path forward, considering both your personal needs and political ones. Marriage, in the context of nobility, was not simply a bond between two people but a strategy that could affect the balance of power and alliances within the kingdom.

Meanwhile, you found yourself at a crossroads. On one hand, there was a desire to preserve your autonomy and make decisions based on your own desires and aspirations. On the other, the reality that a marriage could be a crucial strategic tool to consolidate alliances and strengthen the position of your House.

You had shown interest in several knights, though your attention had particularly focused on the lord of the North. The encounters in the hallways and conversations in the gardens had revealed a connection that went beyond mere courtesy. The mutual attraction between you and Lord Cregan Stark was evident, though kept with the discretion that court politics required.

When Lord Cregan made the formal proposal of marriage, no displeasure was shown on your part. On the contrary, the proposal was received with a mix of pleasure and expectation. The connection you had established with Cregan, combined with the political stability that a marriage with the lord of the North could provide, made the idea a logical and acceptable option.

The council, upon learning of the proposal, recognized that this union could strengthen relations between the North and the rest of the kingdom, creating a valuable strategic alliance in times of reconstruction.

You prepared to travel to the North, bidding farewell to King Aegon III and your mother. The journey promised to be long and challenging, but you were determined to move forward with this new stage of your life.

The North greeted you with the cold welcome characteristic of the region. The cold was intense and penetrating, a stark contrast to the warmer climate of King's Landing. Despite the harshness of the weather, Lord Cregan Stark was attentive and ensured that your stay was as comfortable as possible. His efforts to provide warmth and comfort were a tangible sign of his care and concern.

The wedding ceremony was scheduled for that night. The atmosphere in the castle was imbued with a mix of solemnity and anticipation. The ceremony would take place before an imposing weirwood tree, a symbol of the ancient tradition of the North. This majestic tree, with its wrinkled bark and evergreen leaves, would witness your vow to spend the rest of your life alongside your new husband.

The preparation for the ceremony was meticulous. You dressed in an elegant wedding gown adapted to the cold of the North, decorated with embroidery reflecting the region's tradition. Every detail was carefully considered to honor both your new family and the customs of the place.

As night fell, the castle filled with a warm and soft light, contrasting with the cold outside. Guests gathered around the weirwood tree, while bonfires created a cozy and ceremonial atmosphere.

When the moment came, you approached the tree, feeling the weight and importance of the commitment you were about to make. Lord Cregan, beside you, was equally prepared for the exchange of vows. In the presence of the men of the North and the gods they worshipped, you would pronounce your oaths, hoping that this union would bring both stability and a new beginning for both of you.

"In the Presence of old gods, I bind these two souls, joining them for eternity. Look at each other and say the words," ordered the maester of Winterfell with a solemn voice.

Lord Cregan, holding your hands with firmness and tenderness, recited the vow with a clarity that resonated in the cold night air:

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am hers and she is mine. From this day until the end of my days."

You, with a pounding heart and a voice full of emotion, followed the ritual:

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am his and he is mine. From this day until the end of my days."

As you recited your vows, snow fell gently around you, creating a charming contrast with the warmth of the ceremony and the glow of the bonfire lights. The snowy landscape and the cozy atmosphere of the castle fused into a scene that seemed straight out of an ancient tale.

At the conclusion of the ritual, Cregan looked at you with an expression of deep emotion and devotion. Slowly, he leaned towards you, his eyes reflecting a bright intensity under the torchlight. With infinite delicacy, he placed a hand on your cheek, and his lips gently touched yours.

The kiss began with palpable tenderness, a light contact filled with promises for the future. It was a kiss full of the promise of support and unconditional love, one that extended and deepened over time. The connection between you was evident in every caress and in the way your lips moved in perfect harmony.

The cold night breeze, combined with the warm glow of the ceremony, created a magical atmosphere. The kiss, besides sealing your commitment, seemed to absorb the essence of the night itself, symbolizing the start of a new life together, full of hope and a love that promised to grow with each day.

When you finally parted, Cregan looked at you with a smile that spoke of his joy and commitment. The ceremony, although marked by the winter's cold, had been warm in spirit, and the future that awaited you seemed full of promising possibilities.

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aemondapologistfrfr · 6 months ago

Text

The Knight of Your Dreams

addam velaryon(of hull) x targ!fem!reader

Summary: You help Addam learn the ways of dragon riding. Feelings start to emerge the more time you spend with him.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, oral(f receiving), fingering, p in v

Authors Note: me wanting to read an addam ff but there’s like 2 so i’ll do it myself!!, reader is rider of silverwing bc that’s a pretty ass dragon let me be obsessed w her, oldest daughter is the therapist for mothers and i recognize that as the baby, jace was kind of bitchy in ep7 and it’s reflected in here bc i was lowkey gagged like i get his trauma but damn acting like harwins traits aren’t fine asf 🙄

Word Count: 3k

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Jaces voice cracks as he begs Rhaenyra to get rid of Seasmokes new rider. I feel for him but in a time of war for the crown we need all the help we can get. Rhaenyra is at a loss for words and looks to him sadly. I turn to him as his tears begin to fall.

“Brother,” I start.

“No,” he sniffles. “You wouldn’t get it. You have the silver hair and violet eyes. Everyone knows what I am.” he words have a bite behind it like I had a choice in my parentage, like any of us had a choice in our parentage.

“Jacaerys,” Rhaenyra walks to him to comfort him but he’s running out of the hall. She turns to me and sighs. She walks back to her desk as takes a seat.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper not knowing what to say to comfort her.

“It’s not your fault. I just never expected him to say those things.” she looks to me sadly as I take a seat on the other side of her desk.

“I don’t think he meant it out of malice. It’s just something he’s felt his entire life and it seemed to be bubbling over.” I try to find reason in his actions and words.

“Have I too not had accusations and insults thrown at me for the entirety of my life?” she places her head in her hands.

“You have had more years to subjugate those accusations.” my words are soft.

“Yes, I know. I had just thought maybe he wouldn’t have blamed me so fiercely. I’m trying. This was his idea after all. I can’t change the past and I won’t be dismissing Addam.” my ears perk up at finally hearing the new riders name.

“I don’t think he blames you, mother. What could you do? Father didn’t have a taste for women like us.” a playful smile comes to my lips.

“And I never faulted him for that. He was a kind and caring man. Who raised you regardless.” she looks off as our minds drift to Laenor.

“If it makes you feel any better he seemed to also blame me.” I shrug my shoulders looking to her.

“It doesn’t,” he exhales deeply. “I don’t want this to cause a rift between you two, but I fear what I’m going to ask of you may further it.” her eyes look to mine pleading.

“What can I do?” I ask tilting my head.

“I need to focus on finding a rider for Vermithor. I need you to help train Addam. You know what a fresh bond from a full grown dragon feels like. Help him learn some commands, take him flying, do what you must to prepare him. Please, daughter.” her eyes begging.

“Of course,” I nod my head and begin to rise.

“Thank you,” she rises with me and offers me a hug before I leave the hall.

I walk out of the hall and begin my journey to the guest chambers. I have no idea what to expect from this man. As I’m approaching the door Corlys walks out.

“Lord Corlys,” I nod my head to him.

“Princess, what can I do for you?” he stops in front of me.

“I’m to help Addam learn the ways of dragon riding.” I offer him a smile.

“He worked hard on my docks and I expect nothing less from him in the skies.” his words sound almost proud.

“I would expect nothing less from the man Seasmoke claimed.” my smile widens. Corlys nods to me once more before leaving down the hall. I let out and exhale and knock on the door.

“Come,” a deep voice comes from within. I slowly open the door and turn my head around the corner. The man standing before me takes my breath away and I’m quick to advert my eyes as I seal the door shut behind me.

“I am Princess Y/n. Rhaenyra has sent me to help train you in the ways of dragon riding.” I smile softly to him as I walk deeper into his chambers.

“I’m honored, Princess.” he bows deeply as I chuckle walking to him.

“We have no need to bow as dragon riders.” I stand in front of him as he rises with a sheepish smile.

“Of course, Princess.” he starts to bow his head again but stops himself.

“Y/n.” I softly correct. “No need for titles either.” as I look up to him at his full height.

“Y/n,” he smiles down to me and I can’t help but smile back. “I am Addam.” he offers me his name.

“Addam.” his name falls off my tongue. “Rider of Seasmoke. Tell me how that happened.” I go to sprawl across his couch.

“He hunted me down himself.” he claims a chair across from me. “I was on the shores and Seasmoke started circling the sands. He usually flies around Driftmark so I thought nothing of it. Until he started flying directly at me. I’ll admit I fled to the trees. He had no trouble finding me anyways.” he bites his lip sliding his eyes to me.

“He claimed you?” I sit up on the couch searching his eyes.

“Yes, only a fool would approach a dragon.” he shakes his head.

“So you think I’m a fool, Addam?” I tilt my head smirking.

“No, I didn’t say that, Princess,” he stutters and looks at me worriedly.

“I claimed a dragon. I wasn’t gifted a dragon egg as a babe, but that wouldn’t stop me. I used to sneak through the pits to look at them and one day I got too close to Silverwing and now I have a dragon.” I smile thinking back to that day. Rhaenyra was livid but so proud.

“I didn’t mean any offense, Princess.” he uses my title once again.

“Y/n,” I correct rising off of the couch.

“Y/n,” he looks up to me.

“Let’s go to the library. I’d like to help you learn some commands and High Valyrian.” I hum as I walk to the door and hear him jump to his feet.

“I’d be honored if you taught me, my Prin- Y/n,” I smile at his correction.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

We’re all sitting around the dining table enjoying a meal in silence. Jace has somewhat settled over the past fortnight about Addam and sourcing another for Vermithor. Addam has been doing excellent in learning High Valyrian and is getting more comfortable around dragons.

“How fares your classes with Y/n?” Rhaenyra asks looking between me and Addam.

“She’s been absolutely perfect. She’s very patient with me, yet never fails to give me a hard time.” he turns and smiles to me chuckling.

“You usually deserve it.” my eyes crinkle as a smile spreads across my face.

“I’m thankful you’re feeling more confident.” Corlys nods from Rhaenyras side.

“Flying is just..” Addam trails off not being able to find the word of how euphoric it truly is. Jace lets out a scoff and I feel Addam turn in on himself next to me making my brows furrow.

“What the fuck are you still so mad about?” I snap down the table at him.

“Y/n,” Rhaenyra scolds.

“You’ve avoided Addam for the past fortnight. He isn’t here to begrudge you. Seasmoke chose him and he had no choice in the matter. What is it that you want us to do, Jace?” I rise from my chair to look at him.

“Y/n, please,” Addam looks up to me with pleading eyes. Jace mumbles something under his breath before scraping his chair against the stone and leaving the hall.

“To your chambers.” Rhaenyras eyes narrow on me and I roll my eyes and leave the hall.

I walk up the stairs as anger and frustration are still flowing out of me. I don’t know why I’m so protective over Addam. He’s just so sweet and so innocent. I don’t know why Jace wouldn’t try and bond with him. They have more in common than he knows. I push my chamber doors open and slam them behind me. I pull a book out from my shelf to get lost in for a couple hours.

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“Come,” I call looking up from my book to see Addam enter. “I hope my mother wasn’t too angry after I left.” I smile as he clicks the door shut.

“No, just a little frustrated.” he sits next to me on the couch. “What are you reading?” he pulls the book out of my hands playfully and begins to read aloud. “So the knight rushed up the stairs to save the Princess and-“

“Addam,” I whine trying to pull the book from him.

“Oh, but it was just getting good.” he smiles raising the book above his head out of my reach. I go to stand to reach it and he stands himself to tower over me. “Seems like you’re too short, Princess.” he chuckles looking down to me.

“Addam,” I pout looking up to him.

“You’re too cute.” he pinches my cheek with his free hand and I can feel my blush creep up my neck. “I was coming to see if I could sneak you out of here and we could go for a moonlight ride?” he offers my book back to me.

“I would love to.” I snatch my book from him.

“I’m surprised you’re so willing to abandon the knight of your dreams.” he chuckles as I toss my book to the couch.

“I’ll return to him later.” I hum as Addam chuckles pulling me out of my chambers.

We quietly make our way down to the pits and our dragons greet us. We offer them warm greetings before we mount and take our saddles. We emerge into the moonlight and our dragons quickly take to the skies. I sigh in relief as the wind whips through my hair. I turn to look at Addam who is equally enjoying our time.

Our dragons twirl and dip around each other playfully. Silverwing drags her claws playfully into the water causing it to spray up on me as I giggle. We slowly start flying back to the pits as Seasmoke sings us a low song. Once we dismount Addam begins to laugh at my sea ruined dress.

“She’s lucky this isn’t one of my favorite dresses.” I huff as we start into the castle.

“It’s not? But you look so pretty in it.” his eyes scan me over as I feel my cheeks heat.

“Thank you, you’re very kind.” I say bashfully.

“I have to compete with the knight in your book somehow.” his fingers dance around mine as I feel my heart pound.

“There’s no competition.” I say hushed grabbing his hand.

He walks me back to my chambers with his hand still in mine. The halls are silent save for the low grumbles of the dragons below. As we stop outside of my chambers he lingers looking down at me.

“Addam,”

“Y/n,” we say each others names at the same time.

“I just want to say thank you. For your kindness, and your patience, and for how much you care. It’s always unexpected.” his eyes search mine.

“You are deserving of kindness and compassion.” I say hushed bringing my hand to his cheek. He dips down and kisses me quickly.

He pulls back before I can even start to enjoy the moment. I furrow my brows and pull his face back down to me. The second kiss is more fierce and passionate. Our tongues dance and caress one another as I melt into him. We pull apart breathing heavily.

“Enjoy the rest of your night and the knight of your dreams.” he smiles down to me before he opens my doors.

“I’ll imagine him as you.” I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face as I slip into my chambers shutting the doors behind me. A small giggle bursts out of me as I’m still giddy from his kiss.

“Princess,” Addams voice comes through my doors once more.

“Yes?” I ask opening my doors.

He lifts me up and brings his lips to mine again. He kicks the door shut as I sigh into his mouth. His hands are digging into my backside as my arms wrap around his back. My hands roam all over his muscled shoulders and back while I get lost in his kiss.

He breaks the kiss by setting me back on the ground as I look up to him trying to catch my breath. He looks to my swollen lips as he licks his own. My hands travel to his chest as I start to lift his shirt off.

“We don’t have to, I didn’t mean to barge in here.” his words tumble out of his mouth as my fingers trail over his muscled torso.

“Mm, but I’m so thankful you did.” I smile looking up to him.

I turn to him so he can begin untying my gown. His fingers make quick work of my gown and I’m soon stepping out of it. I turn to face him as his eyes roam over my body that the slip is doing nothing to hide. Once his eyes lock back onto mine he stalks over to me and kisses me.

His hands ghost along my thighs before he slowly starts to lift my slip off of me. He steps back and groans as he takes in my body. He pulls me back to him as his hands begin to roam across my skin. I whimper into his mouth as his hands cup my breasts. His thumbs brush against my nipples pulling a whine from me.

“The noises you make are simply divine.” he whispers against my lips. “I want to hear more.” he says lowly before bringing a hand between my thighs.

“Addam,” I moan as he trails a finger along my slit.

“Mm, I quite like that.” he chuckles as he swirls around my clit as I grip onto his arms.

His other arm supports me as he begins to speed up his movement. My breaths are coming out in pants as my hips chase the pleasure his fingers are offering me. He slips a long finger down to my core and begins to dip in.

“Let me know if it’s too much.” he whispers as he begins pumping slowly.

“Not enough,” I whine breathlessly grinding down on his hand.

He removes his hand and I cry out. He chuckles and pulls me to my bed. I fall back as he continues to push me further up the bed. He begins to unlace his trousers while looking to me. Once he’s freed my eyes drink in his body and my thighs spread open a little more taking in the length of him. He settles between my thighs with his face at my core.

“I don’t care who hears, I want to hear you.” he says lowly before attaching his mouth to my wetness.

My hips jolt up into his face as his tongue laps at my clit. He circles two fingers around my entrance before slowly sliding them in. A sob tears through me as my legs shutter. His free hand trails up my torso and claims one of my breasts and begins to tease one of my nipples.

“Yes, please Addam,” I beg as my hand rests around his that’s pinching and pulling my sensitive bud.

His tongue quickens at my words and my jaw goes slack as whimpers fall from my mouth. His fingers start to pound into me as my hips grind into his face. I cry out his name as pleasure washes through me as he starts to untangle himself from me.

He snakes up my body before crashing his lips into mine. I sigh against him as I taste myself on his tongue. As he settles between my thighs I feel his length gliding through my wetness.

“Are you ready?” he pulls back looking down at my squirming body.

“Yes,” I nod as my chest rises and falls rapidly.

He begins to push into me watching my face and drinking in my noises. Once he’s fully sheathed he brings his lips to mine. I whine as his hips begin to slowly rock into me. The stretch of him is making my head spin as I become lost in the pleasure. My legs wrap around his waist and his hips snap into mine at the new angle causing me to sob out.

“‘m sorry.” he grunts trying to slow his movements.

“More,” I whimper bucking my hips into his.

He kisses me fiercely once more as he begins to snap his hips into mine. I moan into his mouth as his pace speeds up. I’m slowly sliding up the bed and he continues to move with me lowly chuckling. My head hits the headboard as I moan loudly.

“Sorry,” he breathes out and places a pillow between my head and the wood.

His hips never falter as he brings a hand between us and starts to circle my clit. I sob as pleasure course through me as I clench around him. His hips shutter but his fingers and hips keep up their movements as I screw my eyes shut at the repeated pleasure. Shockwaves continue to flow through me as his trusts become stronger.

“Addam,” I whine as pleasure starts to burst through me again.

He twitches inside of me and I feel warmth spreading throughout. My legs fall from his waist as my breaths continue to come out in pants. He pulls out of me and falls to the other side of the mattress. We sit there catching our breaths before I turn to him and kiss him once more.

“Was I better than the knight in your book?” he offers me a lopsided smile.

“Considering the knight in my book is just my fingers, yes.” I giggle kissing him again.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌

#hotd smut #addam velaryon #addam of hull #addam velaryon x reader #addam of hull x reader #addam velaryon smut #addam of hull smut #x reader smut #x reader #x reader fic #smut #hotd fic

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scribendis · 1 year ago

Text

𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐒𝐞𝐚

Daemon Targaryen x female reader (third person perspective) ❖ husband & wife

Warnings: smut, profanity, these two are SO horny, dirty talk, p in v sex, size kink ish, breeding kink ish, just a little bit of throat grabbing Rating: 18+ MDNI Word count: ~5,100

Summary: Mere months after their wedding, Daemon left his young bride to join the War in the Stepstones. His victory and subsequent return to King's Landing three years later meant that his wife would never spend another night alone in their bed.

A/N: I hope all my Daemon girls out there enjoy! This one's dedicated to you! Also, this is barely proofread and not beta'd. Lordy help me. Dividers by @saradika | AO3 link | Wattpad link

Mini HV glossary for ~future reference: ābrazȳrītsos - little wife ñuha dōna - my sweet issa - yes

Prince Daemon Targaryen had not been her father’s first choice of husband for her. It had, in fact, been the lord’s intention to marry her - his youngest child and only daughter - to King Viserys following the death of his queen. The prospect of such an arrangement brought her immense pride, for her house would benefit greatly from the wealth and status that would follow. But, by the time their wheelhouse finally passed through the gates of King’s Landing, the marriage between the king and Lady Alicent Hightower had already been set in stone.

The king had thus suggested that she wed his younger brother instead, a prospect that her lord father balked at at first. Prince Daemon’s reputation certainly preceded him. No man called the “Rogue” anything had any right to take his precious daughter to wife. But when the Rogue Prince placed a wreath of flowers on her head and proclaimed her the Queen of Love and Beauty upon winning the tourney held in celebration of the king’s wedding, her betrothal to him was all but assured.

She allowed herself to be wooed by him and his devilish smile, feeling herself falling harder and harder for him each time she caught his gaze from across rooms and banquet tables. There could be one hundred people between them and their eyes would always seem to find one another. His, more often than not, studied far more than her pretty face, trailing downward to her ample breasts or the curve of her waist.

She had been told that Daemon was no great lover of dancing, but he offered his hand to her during every occasion that had musicians in attendance. And that hand found itself, more often than not, wandering dangerously past her hips as they moved about the dance floor. She was blissfully unaware of the fact that the prince would fuck his fist each night afterward at the thought of the places his hands had touched and what they might look like once he tore her clothes from her body.

It was no wonder, then, that Daemon made certain that she fulfilled her wifely duties as soon as they were wed. He was barely able to make it through their wedding feast without whisking her away to finally claim her. But that night, he ensured that the entire Red Keep knew exactly whose wife she was.

In those first days of their marriage, she felt that she hardly left their marriage bed. When her presence was required at court, she walked with such an ache in her thighs and between her legs that she wished she could lounge about in bed all day. Each morning, without fail, their shared chambers still held the warm, musky scent of their coupling from the night before. It lingered on the sheets and on her skin throughout the day, only encouraging her husband’s desires further once he returned to her side.

But their time together, it turned out, would be short lived. She and Daemon had hardly been married for three moons before Lord Corlys Velaryon’s invitation to join his house in the War for the Stepstones brought him hundreds of leagues away from her. Daemon could not refuse, for the potential glory of battle - his greatest chance to prove his worth to the realm - was a far more alluring prize than even his beautiful new wife. The kiss goodbye he gave her before climbing on the back of his dragon tasted bitter on her tongue.

She did not see her lord husband for three years. Life at court became a lonely thing. She was without children to care for or a husband to tend to. What she had was a husband whose actions in the Stepstones seemed to ripple all the way back to the Red Keep. To her. Slowly but surely, she watched her image deteriorate from that of a prince’s wife to that of a social pariah. How ashamed she must have been of her husband, the other ladies would whisper when they thought she was not listening - and, sometimes, when they knew that she was.

Their shunning of her only worsened as news continued to trickle in about the rising victory of the Triarchy. She would sometimes linger outside of the Small Council chambers and trail after Ser Tyland Lannister in search of any information he had regarding her husband. Toward the end of the war, none of his news was good. She had come to accept that she would awake any day now a widow at the tender age of one and twenty.

Until the morning that her maidservant burst through her door and all but shook her awake, uttering what, to her, was a garbled mess of words in her half-asleep state. But she did process enough to know one thing: Daemon had been spotted returning to King’s Landing.

She rarely wore the colors of her husband’s house, opting instead for her own house colors. But today, as she followed the crowd into the throne room, she wore a striking dress of blood red the same hue as her husband’s dragon, Caraxes, and a necklace of rubies to match. Today, she was once again a Targaryen bride.

She caught the eyes of some of the women who had spent the last three years lambasting her for her husband’s deeds. For his failures. She barely regarded them as she pushed past, her head held high and a smirk painting her lips. But, briefly catching the shocked look on Lord Beesbury’s wife, which somehow made the old woman look even more like a pigeon than she already did, she felt validation run warm through her veins. This would stop their wagging tongues.

In her place near the front of the throne room, she and everyone else watched Daemon approach the king. She had hoped but not suspected that he would find her among the crowd, so when his eyes flickered to her for a fleeting moment, she felt warmth radiate down her entire spine.

Though he had looked away to address his brother, she did not take her eyes off of him for even a second. His silvery-blonde hair, now cut short, gave her an admirable view of his face and neck. Though obviously kissed by the sun, his skin also bore other changes. Forehead creases and other new wrinkles, likely from frowning or stress or both. A mottled, pink scar painted the right side of his neck and disappeared below his armor. She dreaded to think about just how far it went and how many others lay beneath his clothes.

Truthfully, their time together before his departure had been so brief that she could not quite put her finger on all of the ways in which the war had changed him physically. From where he stood, the light pouring in from one of the high windows behind him highlighted a small scar just beside his right eyebrow. Did he have that before? She could not remember just now.

There would be plenty of time for her to relearn her husband’s body anew, just as he would hers. She did not realize how lonely a place the marriage bed could be with her husband so far away for so long. All she could hope was that he would still find her pleasing after their years apart.

Their reunion, it seemed, would have to wait, for the king was eager to whisk Daemon away from the eyes of the court following his return. Her disappointment meant little when measured against the wishes of the king, even though the ache in her heart felt all too real as she watched the brothers ascend the steps out of the throne room.

She fielded several congratulatory remarks and other words of praise for her husband from those around her - the very same individuals who had spent years speaking naught but ill about him, whether to her face or behind her back. But she had known all along that Daemon would prove them wrong.

The dispersing crowd soon filtered out of the throne room, with some individuals most assuredly sharing whispered words of gossip with their neighbors and others simply wondering when the celebratory feast would be held. She was one of the last to exit the room, a dizzying mixture of anticipation, relief, and disappointment churning in her stomach.

So when a hand caught her by the throat and another by her upper arm as she ascended the stone steps into the hallway, she was taken completely by surprise. She hardly had time to let out a frightened gasp before a familiar voice breathed into her ear.

“Will you not welcome the prince home from war, my lady?”

Her fear washed off of her just as quickly as it had come. Heaving a sigh, she smiled. “Daemon.”

He turned her on the spot so they were face to face, his hand moving to hold her by the nape of her neck so she could not pull away. But she would not have done so even if he had not held her in such a way.

“Gods, you scared me,” she continued. If he could only feel the way her heart was racing in her breast at his little stunt.

His bottom lip stuck out in a feigned pout. “And here I thought my dear wife would be excited to see me.” He placed his forefinger beneath her chin to tilt her face upward, his violet eyes studying the planes of her face as though he was seeing her for the first time all over again.

“She is.”

A satisfied grin tugged at Daemon’s lips at the warmth of her remark, though he did not release her from his embrace. Rather, he pulled her closer and leaned down to claim her lips for the first time since his departure. To kiss him felt so familiar, yet also like a distant dream of a time long past. He allowed his lips to linger, savoring the moment as though they did not have dozens of onlookers watching them.

“Should you not be with the king?” she murmured against his lips but felt him smirk.

“I have had to look at my brother’s ugly face since before I can remember,” Daemon replied, running his hand down the length of her spine until it came to rest in the small of her back. “I would rather have a moment alone with my pretty wife.”

That he had forgotten her or, at least, his burgeoning feelings for her during his years in the Stepstones had been a great worry of hers. He had been all too enthusiastic to leave her side and partake in the war to begin with. She often thought that, should he return one day, the two of them would be no more than strangers to one another. That whatever spark that had ignited between them in the early days of their marriage would have long since burned out.

But she recognized the look in his eyes as they roamed her face and continued downward, along the exposed line of her collarbone and shoulders before going even further. They ravaged her form as they had on all those evenings both before and after they were wed. He was entranced by the way her crimson gown enhanced her womanly shape. No doubt, he was toying with the thought of tearing it from her body right here and now, and reclaiming what was his for the entire court to see.

The mere prospect of such an act sent heat rushing through her lower stomach that pooled between her legs. She hadn’t worn her smallclothes beneath her gown today, remembering how tedious her husband had always found the extra barrier to be. He would have discovered that, if only he would have taken her by the hand and led her to their quarters.

“You heard what I told my brother,” Daemon continued, his breath feather soft and warm on her cheek. “About the title they bestowed upon me in the Stepstones.”

“King of the Narrow Sea,” she whispered, feeling her mouth go dry as she watched the violet of his eyes become consumed by black. “But… you gave your crown to His Grace.”

Daemon clicked his tongue as he would in disappointment at a child. “Would my wife not have me be her king?”

Gods, she began to ache with need at such a question. She knew he noticed every flutter of her eyelashes, every rise and fall of her breast, every lick of her lips. He was an animal playing with its food, enjoying the act of teasing her. Testing her to see if she had missed him.

“She would.” Her reply came out hoarsely, which only made the wicked smile on his lips widen further.

“And that would make you my queen,” he cooed as their noses brushed against one another. “Queen of the Narrow Sea.” His thumb moved slowly along the line of her jaw until it found the soft spot just beneath it where her pulse was hammering against her throat and pressed lightly.

She swallowed hard. “Queen of… of rocks and crabs and sand,” she said in jest, a paltry attempt at distracting herself from the now unbearable ache between her thighs.

Daemon chuckled shortly. “But my queen nonetheless.” His lips moved to her ear to deal their final blow. “Do not think that I have forgotten the sweet sounds of your moans, ābrazȳrītsos,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble like that of a dragon’s echoing throughout the Dragonpit. “Or the even sweeter taste of your cunt.”

She could not stay the soft whimper that fell from her lips. Her body practically trembled with unfulfilled need - three years of it. What a devil her husband was for inflicting such torment on her, and in clear view of every nobleman and servant who walked past.

And he was even worse for withdrawing from her completely and regarding her with a saccharine grin, though the dark lustfulness in his eyes belied his sudden pleasantry.

“My brother unfortunately demands my company just now, ñuha dōna, but rest assured…” He looked her up and down hungrily once more before stepping around her in a single languid step. “I shall be treating you like a queen tonight.”

Her eyes scanned the page of the open book that was draped across her lap, but the words may as well have been written in Lhazareen. She had gone over this page a dozen times but retained nothing, plagued by thoughts of her husband as she was.

The sun had long since set and here she sat, alone, by the fire waiting for him. Of course, the king was not to be denied his brother’s presence and she knew that Daemon was certainly basking in the attention and praise that was being showered on him. But she would still hold him to his promise.

Having given up on her paltry attempt at reading, she rose. Her bare feet carried her restlessly back and forth across the cool flagstone floor of the bedchambers that her husband had not slept in for three long years. With every turn, her eyes flitted to the door as though she could will it open with her mind alone.

“Seven hells, Daemon,” she sighed.

She had not sated her own desire after her husband had left her wanting earlier, so the anticipation of their reunion this evening had only continued festering inside her throughout the day. It gnawed at her now, an itch that only he could scratch.

What could she do to prepare for him, she wondered? There was no use in changing into a nightgown that would only end up on the floor. She had no wish to drink herself into a haze that would rob her of the pleasures of their lovemaking. In the end, she decided to perch herself before her vanity and remove the jewels adorning her neck, ears, and fingers. They would only get in the way.

It was when she dipped her head to unclasp her necklace that she heard the heavy wooden door push open. Her eyes immediately snapped to the mirror in front of her, only to see her husband already leaning against the far wall, admiring her. The mere sight of his lips curled into a half smirk was enough to send a rush of heat through her lower belly.

“Do you require assistance with that, ābrazȳrītsos?”

Daemon did not wait for an answer before he pushed himself away from the wall and sauntered over to her. Sneakily placing something on the cushion beside her, he took his place behind her and lifted his hands to remove her necklace.

“Red was always so becoming on you,” he whispered against the shell of her ear, admiring the color of the rubies against her skin before carelessly tossing the necklace onto the vanity. “You were destined to be a Targaryen bride.”

Her eyes fell closed as she felt his lips move downward to press to her neck. “Yes, I think I was.”

“Keep your eyes closed.” His words were a soft hum against her skin. “I have something to give you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. With her eyes closed, she could hear the rustle of his tunic as he turned. Smell the sweet aroma of wine on his breath. Feel the warmth of his arms enveloping her. Then, there was the cool touch of metal on her forehead and the sudden weight of something in her hair. His fingers gathered the long strands of hair that she had already unbraided and brushed, pulling them to one side of her neck. Once again, his lips found her ear.

“Open.”

She found her image in the mirror again and beheld his gift to her. A circlet cast in what she assumed was Valyrian steel with glittering rubies mounted along the front of the band. It fit her head perfectly and complemented the color of her hair in a way that no other accessory ever had before. When she reached a hand up to touch it, Daemon caught her fingers and brought them to his lips.

“Oh, it’s beautiful…” she breathed. The smile that lit up her features elicited one of his own. “This is what kept you, isn’t it?”

A look of pride flashed in his eyes. “My queen deserved a crown.”

She turned around in her chair to face him, her smile gone and her brow furrowed. The gesture was a lovely one, but it would be an insult to Queen Alicent for her to ever wear this publicly. And she had already spent the last few years as an outcast at court; she would never take risk worsening the others’ view of her. “Daemon, I-I couldn’t possibly wear this. Not at court…”

“Then wear it for me,” he crooned, slowly smoothing his hands along the warm skin of her exposed shoulders. “And nothing else.”

She couldn’t bear it any longer or deny her burning need for him. He could ask anything of her and she would submit. He had her in the palm of his hand and he knew it.

“How… how do you say ‘queen’ in High Valyrian?” Her voice was but a breath, trembling and full of lasciviousness.

Daemon smiled crookedly. “Dāria.” His thumb brushed across the spot on her neck where he could feel her hammering pulse, just as it had earlier. “Ñuha dāria.”

She knew enough of his mother tongue to know what that meant.

My queen.

“And ‘king?’” Her throat felt painfully dry, now.

He leaned forward, his gaze reflecting a mixture of playfulness and possessiveness. “Dārys.”

She watched as what little was left of violet in his eyes was overtaken by the black of his pupils. His hand at the side of her neck squeezed slightly. His nostrils flared. And, all the while, he wore the same half-smirk on those lips of his that she wanted to kiss every last inch of her.

“Say it,” he growled.

“Ñuha dārys.”

Their lips crashed together in a devouring kiss far more passionate than the one they had shared in the hall that afternoon. Daemon easily lifted her into his arms and bore her toward their bed, just as he had on the night that they were married. He did not break their kiss for even a second, not to breathe or to utter soft words of yearning and love. They had so much lost time to make up for and tonight would only be a start.

With barely any care for the intricately sewn gold buttons that trailed down the back of the dress, his hands began to rip the garment open. He tore at the red fabric with the ferocity of a beast while his tongue danced with hers. They were caught in a swirling storm of desire and longing, heat and passion - and they were perfectly content to let it sweep them away together.

Buttons scattered across the flagstone floor to be lost forever underneath the heavy furnishings, and soon her dress joined them as it fell in a heap beside their bed. Daemon’s roguish smirk returned when his hands cupped her bare arse and pressed her against him.

“It’s hardly befitting of my queen to strut about the palace without smallclothes like a common whore.” He bit down gently on her bottom lip and relished in the soft mewl that rose in her throat. “Any man could…”

As his voice trailed off, she felt his fingertips ghost over her hip before moving to her center and sliding into her wet heat. His fingers curled inside her immediately, expertly finding her most pleasurable spot as though it had not been years since he had last fucked her. A stuttering, wanton moan left her, only encouraging him to continue.

“...take advantage.”

Daemon coaxed her back onto their bed, never pulling his hand away from where, with rapacious speed, he was already bringing her to the brink of the most carnal pleasure. But as she pushed herself up onto her elbows in search of his lips, he pulled back.

“Uh uh,” he hummed. “Look at me, ābrazȳrītsos.” He no longer wished to kiss her, choosing instead to watch her with the same darkened eyes as he had earlier. He saw it all. The way her half-lidded eyes struggled to stay on his, the way her brow twitched and furrowed, the way her neck strained with effort.

And she was ablaze beneath him, the dragon’s touch inside her reigniting a fire that she had not felt in so long. The warmth of it began to spread through her as his fingers swiftly brought her to her release, which spread through every limb until it consumed her like a wildfire in the countryside.

There was a grin of satisfaction on Daemon’s face when she opened her eyes again. To him, no sight could have been better than that of her beneath him, breathless, with flushed skin as she lay in the haze of her release. And to her, the image of him licking her wetness from his fingers with such lecherous desire in his eyes could have finished her once more.

He sat back on his haunches to remove his doublet and tunic, which joined her gown on the floor as though they may as well have been dirty rags. She barely had time to study his bare torso, scarred and more muscular than it had been when she had seen it last, before he was upon her again. When he leaned over her to kiss her, her own hands took over and began to fumble at the closure of his breeches.

“My poor little wife,” he rasped, “left without a husband to fill her all this time.”

Her lips curled into a sly grin that she knew he could feel against his lips. “Perhaps I have taken a lover in your absence.”

“Name the man and I shall have his head.” Daemon spoke in jest, she knew, but she also surmised that a certain level of sincerity lay beneath his words. Any man that would dare touch the wife of the Rogue Prince would incur his wrath. “Nay, his cock, and he may live out the rest of his days as a eunuch. Perhaps I will have him sent away to become an Unsullied or a priest of Boash.”

He watched her face intently as her trembling fingers finished their work at his breeches. She had already been brought to pleasure but the sight of his thick, hard cock emerging from his trousers as she pushed them down renewed that same need inside her like an ember that had been rekindled into a blaze. A memory bloomed in her mind of when she had first laid eyes on his manhood on the night of their wedding and how she had doubted that it could even fit inside her. She found herself considering the same thought now.

“O-on the contrary,” she managed, dotting her tongue out to wet her bottom lip. “I have had to pleasure myself.”

“Oh?” Daemon’s eyes narrowed and his lips parted as his hand lifted to her chin to hold her gaze so she had no choice but to see his lust. “I would have you show me sometime, ñuha dāria,” he purred with voracious need. “But for the rest of tonight? You will not cum anywhere but on my cock.”

He took her firmly by the hips, his calloused fingertips digging into her skin as he pulled her with him so that she straddled him. And then, in a brief moment of tenderness that barely concealed his near-animalistic desire, he twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers. “Know this: your cunt shall never go unfilled again. And perhaps I will put a babe in you, now that I am home.”

“Please.” Her voice, though barely a whisper, was heavy with want.

“Issa, ñuha dāria.”

Daemon pulled her hips down so that she sank onto his cock, too impatient to give his wife any time to adjust after three years apart. A soft whine left her at the sudden fullness, the way he stretched her as though he had claimed her maidenhead for a second time. He did not let even a second go to waste before he began to guide her movements atop him. She was at the mercy of his hands, which demanded her pleasure and the closeness of her body without remorse.

What he need not demand was the sweet cries of ecstasy that passed her lips, which filled their bedchambers and, likely, spilled into the hall outside of their door. They felt almost sinful to listen to and, yet, were the most beautiful sounds that he had ever heard.

“Gods… Daemon…” she moaned, her body arching into him. She had spent so many nights whispering his name into the darkness of their bedchambers as she brought herself to release at the thought of him. But to have him beneath her, inside her, around her once again was pure bliss.

At the sound of his name on her lips, Daemon pressed his face between her breasts and groaned hoarsely. “That’s it, ābrazȳrītsos,” he panted against her flushed skin, his fingers moving further to grasp her by the arse and pull her closer.

It would not be the gods that would make her cum tonight; it would be him.

She could feel it, the pleasure beginning to tighten inside her. She was at his mercy, lost in the feeling of him bucking his hips up into her and the sensation of his lips at her breasts. It felt impossible that one should experience such rapturous delight as this. In every touch and every choked growl that left him, she could sense that he felt exactly the same.

“Daemon, please–” Her words left her as a high-pitched squeak, signaling to him just how close she was to falling over the edge. Her body began to tense, her thighs trembling on either side of his hips. Her hands flew to his upper arms, grasping and almost pushing, as if to try and escape the wave of pleasure that was fast approaching.

But he would not let her go until it consumed them both.

With his hands still at her hips, Daemon pushed her backward until she was buried in the soft blanket that had been so perfectly laid atop their bed mere moments ago. His body sunk into hers, taking over from her previous ministrations atop him as her hands anchored themselves to his shoulders. He rutted into her like an animal, starved as he had been of her body for the last three years.

She felt herself shudder when his lips planted kisses along her jawline and moved up until they found her mouth. He swallowed every desperate moan that left her, the taste of them growing sweeter and sweeter the closer she came to her peak.

Her walls began to clench around him, her breath hitching with his every thrust. Any words she may have uttered only coiled at her throat, her thoughts meaningless as the building pleasure finally unfurled inside her. He held her steadfastly as she came around him, his touch her only lifeline as the heat and delirium ravished her completely.

“Cum with me,” she gasped against his lips. He would have kept going, brought her to another peak before finishing, but her soft plea was enough to end him, too.

“Fuck…” he groaned, thrusting into her one final time as he spilled himself inside her.

And when their shared pleasure had passed, her vice-like grip on his shoulders released. The light touches of her fingertips traveled across his back, feeling each new scar that he had acquired in the Stepstones. But he relished in her gentle touch after so many years of war, and allowed himself to collapse against her.

The weight of his body was soothing, his warmth a balm for her lonely heart. Their breaths slowed and, soon, the only sounds in the room came from the fireplace opposite their bed. It crackled and burned, its radiant heat intermingling with the lingering warmth of their coupling.

Daemon eventually lifted his head again and reached a hand up to straighten the circlet that had half fallen off of her head in their final throes of passion. He paused to admire the sight of her, still in a daze and wearing a sleepy smile on her lips. He kissed her once more and, when he withdrew, she saw that his eyes had regained some of their earlier hunger.

“Do not think that I am finished with you, ñuha dāria.”

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illyrianbrat · 7 months ago

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Prisoner (Part 1)

Set: Middle of season 1 to beginning of season 2

Pairing: (kind of) Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon female!reader, (platonic) overprotective!Jacaerys Velaryon x Velaryon female!reader

Warnings: typical westori violence, curse words/spoilers for both seasons but especially season 2, everyone being absolutely stupid, conversations about characters that were 💀, major character death, talks of arranged marriage, being made prisoner, bruises, scrapes, minor talk about weight and not eating

Plot: One of Viserys Targaryen’s final wishes was to see them married. To please him, Rhaenyra allowed her daughter to stay in the Red Keep alone, not knowing it would be a terrible mistake.

"Luke, what's wrong?" You asked, a sense of dread washing over your body.

Your brother sat there, looking panicked, twiddling his fingers. "Vaemond Velaryon has questioned my legitimacy… Mother said we're going to King’s Landing."

"It’ll be alright," you assured him, lightly squeezing his hands. "This matter will be settled in front of the court and nothing will come of it."

Lucerys did not believe your words. All his insecurities about his parentage resurfaced. He had tried to suppress them because his siblings never treated it like an issue; on the contrary, you seemed proud.

"What are you two doing?" Jace walked into the sitting area and plopped down beside his sister.

You scoffed, playfully pushing him away. "There are other places to sit, Jace."

"It all seems occupied to me," he laughed, but it quickly died down when he sensed the tension in the room. "What is it?"

Luke stared at the ground, not wanting to repeat it. You glanced at Jace with a frown and gave a short nod, making him sigh.

Sniffles could be heard across the room.

Rhaenyra stood in the middle of her chambers, holding a piece of parchment that had arrived by raven. Her eyes, reddened and swollen, stared at the floor, tears slowly falling down her cheeks.

You and Jace wept silently, while Luke sat on the floor, trying to process the news.

Harwin Strong had died. Their father was gone.

Rhaenyra had revealed the truth after Harwin and Lionel left for Harrenhal. You and your siblings had suspicions but were never brave enough to ask her directly. Jacaerys was the one who finally did it after they left the Red Keep.

In hindsight, it all made sense: the way Harwin visited them as often as he could, all the gifts and flowers, the affection he showered on them, even the training sessions. Even joining them to get a dragon egg for Joffrey…

… It was also clear to them that Laenor knew and agreed with the situation.

The three of them understood how dangerous this secret was. If others found out that Laenor was not their father, they would be branded as bastards, and their mother's claim to the Iron Throne would vanish.

After Laena’s funeral and Laenor’s death, you and Jace had a conversation about everything.

Viserys had protected them that night. He could have easily told everyone the truth, but he did not. Instead, he chose to threaten anyone who would dare question their parentage, including his wife and his sons.

You vowed to protect each other and your family. You knew that someday, someone would challenge their claim to Driftmark. Corlys always wanted Luke to be Lord of the Tides, but Luke did not want it. He declined the offer multiple times, content to remain a prince if it meant his family was still alive.

---

The Red Keep felt strange, unfamiliar.

Seven-pointed stars hung on the walls, while the House Targaryen symbols and tapestries had disappeared. You could tell that Daemon and your mother were not happy about these changes.

As Daemon and Rhaenyra went to see the King, you and Luke followed Jace to the courtyard. He was reminiscing about childhood antics.

"Everything will go in our favor," you promised Luke, noticing his worried expression. "Mother will not let Vaemond get away with this."

"No one would question me being heir to Driftmark if I looked more like Ser Laenor Velaryon than Ser Harwin Strong."

"Lucerys!" You softly reprimanded him.

"It doesn't matter what they think," Jace added.

You were about to speak when gasps and applause erupted nearby. As you walked together towards the commotion, Jace held your hand, prepared for anything.

It was Ser Criston Cole and their uncle Aemond. They had not seen them in six years, since the incident at Driftmark. Lucerys tensed, noticing Aemond's eyepatch.

"Nephews, niece… have you come to train?" Aemond asked.

"I have," you announced, stepping forward. Jace's eyes widened as he watched you pick up a sword.

Aemond, his face a mask of confidence, addressed you with a slight smirk. "Ready to learn, niece?"

You replied defiantly, "Let's see what you can teach me, uncle."

Their swords clashed, the sound ringing out across the courtyard. Aemond's initial strikes were powerful and precise, but you met them with equal force and skill.

Jace, tense and protective, clenched his fists. "She shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, stepping forward as if to intervene. Luke quickly grabbed his wrist, holding him back.

"She can handle herself," Luke insisted, though his eyes never left the duel, also scared for his sister.

You and Aemond moved with speed and precision. The intensity of the fight increased, and the crowd's murmurs grew louder. It was no longer a mere training session, Aemond wanted you to suffer.

His smirk faded, replaced by a look of concentration and annoyance. Your determination was shining through, every move demonstrating your skill and strength. As you continued, it became clear that neither had the advantage.

Finally, Criston Cole had enough and carefully stepped in the middle to stop it. You both stepped back, breathing heavily. The courtyard fell silent.

Aemond nodded, lowering his sword. "Well fought, niece."

You, equally breathless, feeling proud of yourself and the outcome. "Thank you, uncle."

Jace, still held back by Luke, relaxed and let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"See? She's alright," Luke whispered.

Jace scoffed, growing angrier by the second. You were grinning as you received praise from the crowd, but your smile faded when you turned to see your brothers. Jace held your gaze, silently letting you know of his displeasure.

As everyone left the courtyard to head towards the Throne Room, you approached them. "What did you think?" you wondered shyly, even though you knew what the answer would be.

"It was brilliant," Luke admitted. "I knew Daemon was overseeing your training, but I didn't expect this."

"And you?" You asked Jace directly. He clenched his jaw.

"I thought it was foolish, exposing yourself that way and with him, of all people." You lowered her head, while Luke sighed. "Let's go. Mother is probably waiting for us."

---

You stood between Daemon and Jace in the Throne Room. Jace had briefly told Daemon what had happened outside. Although proud that you could hold her own against Aemond, Daemon did not want to let you out of his sight for fear you would do something like that again.

"You may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides," Vaemond Velaryon ranted. "And gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this..."

"Say it," Daemon dared.

Vaemond smirked. "Her children are bastards! And she and her daughter are whores."

"I… will have your tongue for that," King Viserys said, standing up from the Iron Throne.

Jacaerys quickly wrapped his arms around you, holding your face against his chest so you wouldn't witness what was about to happen.

In the blink of an eye, Daemon stood behind him and sliced his head in half. The court gasped at the sight. "He can keep his tongue."

"Disarm him!" Otto Hightower ordered.

"No need," Daemon said, returning to his family's side. You were shaking. Even though you hadn't seen it, the noise alone would haunt your dreams. On the other side of the room, Aemond’s attention was on you. On how your bastard brother held you close, to protect you from the bloody sight.

Part 2

#hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velarion imagine #lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon imagine

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strawberrytoki · 7 months ago

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kairos

Jacaerys Velaryon X reader

summary: You and Jacaerys have yearned for each other for as long as you can remember, but all you could spare one another were lingering glances, hesitant touches, and stolen moments of solitude, all on borrowed time.

warning: slight changes and deviations from the books, implied smut

forbidden love, slight angst.

1 hour.

It had been 60 minutes since you began frantically pacing through the echoing, vacant halls of the castle, not knowing what your next move should be.

This was due to the explosive dispute that ensued earlier within the very walls of the keep that stood atop Dragonstone. Your parents, both proud Velaryons and representatives of the house, were invited by Rhaenyra to further discuss strategies to strengthen her claim to the iron throne. Both your houses were strongly tied by bounds of marriage, and extensive history dating back centuries. There had even been talk about further strengthening the bond both houses shared by betrothing you to Jacaerys, an idea both of you were more than pleased by. However, relations between your houses have been less than sturdy as of late, due to your father discovering Jacaerys' parentage. It was surely the whispers of the court that unveiled the truth, they were hard to silence after all. Your father deemed Jacaerys a bastard with sullied blood, viewed him as someone who'd taint the bloodline with shame, and essentially wanted nothing to do with the house altogether, but war had ways of bending even the strongest of convictions.

Your father decided to put all differences aside in consideration of the imminent threat of war, and accepted Rhaenyra's invitation. She was aware that Corlys was exposed to the truth regarding Jacaerys' father, but decided that she was not going to address the matter if he wasn't, in order to prevent further destabilization within the realm. You were elated when your parents asked you to accompany them, as you were gradually taking on greater responsibilities, and were surely to be asked to weigh-in on their discussions soon. However, that wasn't the only reason you couldn't hold your excitement.

Jacaerys Velaryon was always a constant factor in your life, and denying your feelings for him was simply postponing the inevitable. It wasn't long before you learned that your feelings were reciprocated. That being said, the two of you couldn't come forward with your love just yet, considering that both your families currently had bigger fish to fry with war looming ahead and what not. You were both aware that you'd have to eventually join Rhaenyra's forces as dragonriders and fight for her cause as rightful heir to the throne. Therefore, you both wished to spend as much time in each other's comforting company as you possibly could. Despite your protests, Jacaerys posed the idea of seizing the opportunity of the presence of both your families, and declaring your love before them this day.

As you approached the gate's entrance, you noticed Jacaerys staring at you, with a glint of adoration in his eyes, which you gladly, but subtly returned. After both families were done greeting one another, you entered the chamber, and took your seats around the painted table, where both of you continued your exchange of fleeting glances.

The determined discussions were then paused for a meal, after which you noticed your father call upon Jacaerys for a word, his face a controlled mask of fury. Fearing what was to come, you quietly followed them both, making swift maneuvers to avoid getting caught.

You saw Jacaerys hesitantly follow your father into the Great Hall and quickly made your way to the giant door before it was fully shut, leaving yourself some room for eavesdropping.

"I have always treated you with respect," Lord Corlys began, his voice low but steady. "I have welcomed you into my home as family, as kin. But it seems my respect has been misplaced." Jacaerys frowned, confusion and fear knotting in his chest. "My lord, I don't understand." He did. He understood, and his racing heartbeat and beads of forehead sweat betrayed him. Lord Corlys' eyes mirrored his blazing anger. "Save yourself what little dignity you have left and do not play the fool with me, boy! I know the pitiful truth of your birth and I am certain you do as well. You do not bear Velaryon blood, and most certainly are not suitable for my daughter."

Both the accusation and the denial of your love hung heavy in the air, making it too thick to inhale. Jacaerys was always aware of the rumors and hearsay that circulated regarding his legitimacy, but to be ambushed with it so harshly, so firmly, was a blow he was not prepared for.

"Who told you?" Jacaerys managed to choke out, his facade of confidence slowly crumbling. Lord Corlys condescendingly scoffed. "It matters not, it is true isn't it?"

Jacaerys felt his head spin, and his identity scramble with it. "My mother loved Laenor. He raised me as his own-"

"But he did not father you," Lord Corlys snapped. "And you will not corrupt my bloodline with your tainted heritage." Deciding that you heard more than enough, you stormed in the hall, desperate for your father to bring his verbal assault to a halt.

"Father! Please stop this at once!" Lord Corlys turned to face you, his expression softening slightly. "You deserve better, my daughter. You deserve a true Velaryon, not this pretender."

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked between your father and Jacaerys. "I love him, Father. He was raised as a Velaryon, he knows our ways, is that not enough?"

"It is not." Lord Corlys said firmly, maintaining his stance. "You will not be betrothed to him." Both you and Jacaerys were speechless since your throats tightened with heartache, leaving no room for words.

Jacaerys quickly turned and walked away, his head hanging low, not sparing you a glance. You looked at your father in despair, but he was unmoved. Knowing that your protests would've fallen on deaf ears, you decided to save your breath and go after Jacaerys, whose heart was sure to be in pieces after what transpired.

Ever since both of you were children, Jacaerys loved taking warm baths whenever he was upset, since he felt like they imitated the warmth he lacked at the time. Old habits die hard, so you were more than certain that's what he was about to do.

You were torn between giving him the space he needed and offering him the comfort he surely wished for at the moment, which was why you were pacing back and forth near the entrance of the bathing chamber. Eventually, you decided against your better judgement to enter the chamber, convincing yourself that this was solely to comfort him even though deep down, this was comfort you sought for yourself as well.

You stepped into the dimly-candlelit chamber to find Jacaerys soaking in the warm water, his eyes glazed and his lips slightly pouted. Even in sadness, he was beautiful. His eyes then met yours as you were idle in your spot. The silence was deafening but understandable. Tentatively, you approached the tub, and sat at the edge of it.

"Jacaerys-" You started, but were promptly interrupted by him. "He tells the truth, you know? Lord Corlys." He stated shakingly, his eyes fixed at the rippling water.

You were angry at this sentiment that he held, angry that he thought of himself so lowly, it pained you. "I've heard it all before," He continued. "I didn't wish to believe it at first, but I'd have been a fool not to. I thought it'd sting less with time, but it seems I've been mistaken. I loathe how I can be dismissed with just a word." A pensive, frustrated sigh escaped his lips, and that was when you grabbed his sharp face with both your hands, gently coaxing him out of his worried trance. You carefully caressed his face, not breaking eye contact. "My father is only concerned with titles, with names. You are a dragonrider, and dragon blood courses through your veins. He cannot take that from you."

Much to your delight, his lips curved into a serene smile, and with one hand, he pulled you in for a tender kiss. Unbeknownst to you, he used the other to slyly sneak around your waist and pull you into the tub. The water splashed up around you as you let out a surprised gasp, stifled by Jacaerys' kisses. The comfort of his embrace and the laughter that bubbled up between you two created an atmosphere that enveloped you in its warmth. Your bodies were desperate to be bound, and so you let them. In that stolen moment, you and Jacaerys found solace in each other’s warmth and could not think of anything else that mattered as much.

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