#maegor x y/n

[targaryen-dynasty]

LITTLE LIGHTS. (4/5)

Maegor Targaryen x pregnant!niece!Reader

WORDS: 2 K

WARNINGS: childbirth, swearing, blink and you’ll miss Maegor being his cunty self again

NOTES: Here is the highly requested Part 2 of Precious Delights! Tbh, I haven't put much thought into the exact details, so most of it probably doesn't make any sene, but Reader is Rhaena's twin. Tyanna died before the wedding.

Tyanna of the Tower had been long dead before Maegor had claimed your hand in marriage and that alone seemed to be as fruitful as it was, since your pregnancy had lasted full ten moons.

You were exhausted beyond belief, pacing your chambers up and down with screams of despair and heavy groans leaving your throat at any contraction that rippled through your body. The maids had been calling for Maegor five times by now, but your husband was nowhere to be found. 

“He is meeting with the small council, I fucking know!“ You groaned as the guard stepped into your chambers to inform you about his unsuccessful mission, your ladies-in-waiting taken aback by your sudden outburst for you had been notorious for nothing else but being soft-spoken and calm. 

The maids, and Grand Maester Benifer, more often than not had advised you to lie down on your bed for reasons of comfort and safety, yet your body told you not to. 

“Where is he really?” you hissed through gritted teeth when a particularly harsh contraction forced you to your knees, clinging to the bedpost as if your life depended on it. Clad in nothing more than a thin, white underdress, you still felt confined, the linen scratching your skin as you ached to tear it off your body. 

Talisa rushed to your side, her gentle hand on the small of your back not mending your discomfort and the confusion and fear you felt at the thought of mastering the birth all by yourself. “We must begin, Princess,” she urged, and despite not being able to think straight at that point, you still heard the tinge of worry in her voice.

You threw your head back, groaning in agony as another contraction followed that forced you to push. Your arms clasped around the bedpost, your sweaty forehead resting against the wood, while you became busy focusing on pushing. 

Too lost in the burning sensation of the babe’s head beginning to crown, you barely noticed the door to the chambers opening, revealing none other than your husband himself. 

Your maid lifted the skirt of your underdress to gauge the process of the birth, paying much less attention to Maegor than you did, as your safety and well-being seemed to be her top priority. Or perhaps it was the well-being of the heir that concerned her most. 

“Where have y–” The words caught in your throat at a harsh contraction and the heightened pain. Your knuckles turned white from how tightly you clung to the bedpost, your maid’s words not making it easier for you. “I can see the head, Princess, just a few more pushes.”

If it wasn’t for your mind dealing with all the different sensations coursing through your body at once, you surely would’ve noticed the way Maegor stood completely frozen in the doorway at your maid’s words. 

“Please��� make it stop,” you pleaded with a strained voice, clenching your jaw as you pushed once again. Then, the pain settled for a few moments, allowing you to steady your breath and calm down for the time being. 

A sheen of sweat covered your skin, silver strands of your hair clinging to your face, and the white linen of your underdress was slightly dampened at your back and arms. You raised your head to lock eyes with Maegor, and the sheer audacity of him just standing there useless made your blood boil and soured your mood. “This is… this is all your fault,” you hissed through gritted teeth, though the words were interrupted by groans, “gods… you cunt!”

Perhaps the maester had informed him beforehand about what was going on in a woman’s body during her labors, or perhaps he was cunning enough to put one and one together, but he hardly took any offense to your harsh words. Quite the contrary happened, as the insult seemed to pull him out of his shocked state, prompting him to pass the maids and maester, dismissing all their efforts to talk and inform him about the process of the birth to crouch down beside you. 

Talisa was flabbergasted by Maegor’s movements, her mouth agape with no words leaving her lips for a few seconds, before another scream of you brought her back to the task at hand. “Bear down and push, Princess,” she instructed, and you did as she told. 

Maegor’s paw replaced the maid’s hand on your lower back, his other one raising to cup your folded hands, and you were quick to seize it to squeeze it instead, causing him to take in a sharp breath. “Just a few more,” he encouraged, and you merely groaned in despair. He could be lucky you were occupied by birthing him his long awaited heir, fulfilling your wifely duties, because otherwise you probably would’ve smacked him across his face. 

When the pain got worse all of the sudden, you released a scream that was louder than the ones before, and pushed not once, but twice, until a sudden wave of relief washed over you and you heard the cries of the babe. It lived. 

Your husband’s attention immediately shifted from you to the newborn, and when the maester cut the cord, Maegor forced him and the maid to usher the babe out of your reach. “What is it?” you asked, your voice weak from the exhausting procedure you had to endure. 

But every sense of calmness and comfort washed away when another contraction soared through your body, and a scream of yours seized the attention of Talisa. “It’s the afterbirth,” she tried to reassure you, but her loud gasp proved otherwise, more so as she rose to fetch the maester. 

The urge to bear down once again was too strong to ignore it, pushing yet again. “Gods,” you whimpered, tears running down your flushed and sweaty cheeks, “it hurts.”

Maegor towered over the maester, while he lifted the skirts of your underdress, to spot yet another head breach your body. “Another child,” he proclaimed, whereas you only groaned an ‘I can not do this again’ in your state of shock and pain. 

But you could, and not many moments after, the second babe’s cries pierced through your agonizing groans and pants, only to be seized by your husband and the maester again. This time around, the maids tended to you, gripping your arms to help your weakened frame onto the large bed. 

When the screams of both children grew silent, a certain uneasiness washed over your body, and you would’ve loved nothing more than to get up and grab both children to leave the goddamned Keep altogether. “Bring them to me,” you demanded, but when no one seemed to move to your orders, you merely managed to whine a desperate ‘please’. 

Maegor was the first one to act, slowly creeping closer towards you. He held a bundle of linen in his arms, looking ridiculously small in comparison to his muscular chest and arms, and presented one babe to you. “A boy,“ he said, and you already smiled when you spotted the silver tuft of hair peeking from beneath the cloth. He bowed toward you to show you the small, scrunched face, and you reached forward to take him in your arms, but Maegor just tsked and pulled him back, “you’re too weak, my love, get some rest first.“

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Grand Maester Benifer came forward, looking at the King, “but at the Citadel they say that it’s best for the mother and the child to let it nurse right after birth.” 

With a grim expression on his face, Maegor’s eyes darted to you for a moment. “That is what wet nurses are for.” At this point, your bottom lip trembled, realization settling in that you had been nothing more than a pawn to your uncle. 

Grand Maester Benifer brought a hand to Maegor’s shoulder and ushered him a few steps away from you, their deep voices suddenly turning into whispers you could barely hear. “She has given you two healthy heirs, my King. You ought not risk her life, for she can give you even more.”

Maegor merely nodded at that, and when he turned around, the soft look in his eyes was unsettling you. He handed you the boy without any fuss, but didn’t leave your side as you pulled down the neckline of your underdress to free your breast and allow your child to latch. While his eyes were pale blue, you couldn’t wait for the day they’d be as lilac as yours, staring up at you with the same intensity they carried now. You smoothed his tuft of silver hair, the soft smacking and cooing while he swallowed your milk calming your worries and fear a bit. 

In less than an hour after birthing twins, you had taken on a motherly aura that no doubt even softened the cold heart of your uncle-husband for he gently brushed the knuckle of his index finger over the small boy’s cheek. “I have named him Aerion,” Maegor stated matter-of-factly, and you just nodded, admiring the memorial of your great-grandsire. 

“And the girl?” you asked, not able to tear your eyes from the delicate creature in your arms. “That is up to you,” your husband replied, and with a come hither motion of his fingers, the maid brought over another bundle of linen. That piqued your interest, and Maegor seemed to notice, since he pulled the cloth down enough for you to spot her scrunched face. She was just as beautiful as her brother. Despite her being barely an hour old, you spotted a few similarities to your grandaunt in her features, and hoped she would grow up to be as fierce as her. “Visenya.”

Maegor raised his brow at that, obviously not expecting you to name your daughter after his mother, but he welcomed the sentiment by pulling his lips into a soft smile that perhaps even sparked a hint of admiration and affection to flicker in his violet eyes. 

Once the boy was done nursing, his place was taken by his sister, though you placed her so she latched on your other breast. The relief it brought you was unmatchable, and the peaceful, nurturing feeling the nursing granted made your heart swell with love. 

“My sister has placed dragon eggs in the cradles of my younger siblings, and I want the same for our children,” you said, your fingers mindlessly dancing along the crown of the newborn’s head. “A clutch of eggs laid by Dreamfyre is still kept here in the Keep.”

You lifted your head to gauge where Maegor had taken Aerion, slightly panicked that you had seen the last of the boy, only to spot him sitting on a chaise not too far away with the sleeping boy cradled in his muscular arms. His head was bowed forward, and his whole attention was focused on his son. It was a moment of unusual softness, and you didn’t know he possessed a trait like that–or rather that he kept it up even after the children were born. 

When he raised his head to meet your expectant gaze, he was quick to address the maids with a stern tone he had rarely used in your presence for the past few moons. “You have heard your Queen’s demands. Bring her the eggs, so she can choose the ones most suitable for your King’s heirs.” 

You hadn’t noticed the silence surrounding you four before, maids and maester alike silenced in awe, and only appreciated it once it was gone with the hurried rustling and stomping from the staff exiting the room. 

And when night overcame King’s Landing, two cradles carrying the most precious creatures standing in front of your marital bed, your uncle-husband joined you for the first time since the start of your pregnancy, sharing the bed with you without any bawdy intentions on his mind. 

Ever since you were forced to leave your mother on Dragonstone to take Maegor’s hand in marriage, you felt at ease in the confines of the Red Keep, despite not knowing what the forthcoming summers might hold for you. 

Maegor Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby

General Taglist: @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1

[novaursa]

Fire and Blood (reader's choice)

- Summary: For as long as Maegor could remember, you were denied to him by others. By his own father, by his half-brother, by the gods themselves. They saddled him off with a barren bride and locked you away on Dragonstone. And once Aenys died and Maegor has returned from exile to take the crown, he also takes you, as was his right. But before the wedding could happen, you disappear. You never arrive at the capital with your royal procession. And Maegor tears the realm apart.

- Paring: niece!reader/Maegor I Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne

The air was heavy with the heat of the afternoon sun, and the sky above King's Landing was an expanse of pale blue. The waters of Blackwater Bay sparkled under the light, and the wind carried the scent of salt and stone, mingling with the hum of the city behind. The Red Keep loomed in the background, a skeletal structure still rising from the hill, its walls unfinished, its towers yet to scrape the heavens as Maegor intended. The clatter of hammers and the creak of scaffolding were distant echoes, reminders of the power he was building, brick by brick.

But today, all of that faded into insignificance. Maegor Targaryen stood with his mother, Visenya, the only one who had ever stood by him. His bannermen, royal retainers, and lords stood at a respectful distance, their whispers nothing but gnats in his ears as he stared out at the empty horizon. You were supposed to arrive today, your royal procession expected any moment, the ships that carried you from Dragonstone cutting across the bay.

You. His bride. His blood. His right.

His gloved hands tightened around the pommel of Blackfyre, the ancient sword of his house, as his mind drifted, despite himself, back to all the times you had been denied to him.

His father, King Aegon the Conqueror, had made the first refusal. Maegor had been young then, but old enough to know what he wanted. You were young too, of course, but even then, Maegor saw the fire in your eyes, the way the blood of Old Valyria ran through you. You were his match in every way. He had stood before his father, demanding you be betrothed to him.

"It is not your place to demand, Maegor," Aegon had said, his voice calm, but his eyes cold. "Your brother's daughter is not for you. Aenys' children will be wed to strengthen the realm, not to satisfy your desires."

It was the first time Maegor had felt the sting of denial, but it would not be the last.

His half-brother, Aenys, had been no better. When he became king after Aegon’s death, Maegor thought surely now, with the crown on his brother’s head, he could finally claim what was his. You had grown by then, blooming into a woman with the beauty and strength of their ancestors. Maegor had approached Aenys, who sat upon the Iron Throne, looking every inch the weak ruler he was.

"You will not have her," Aenys had said, shaking his head. "She is promised elsewhere."

"To whom?" Maegor had demanded, his voice laced with barely contained rage. "Who could be more worthy of her than I, her blood and kin?"

"A match will be made in time, but not to you, brother," Aenys had answered, his tone patronizing. "I have other plans for her."

Other plans. The words still tasted bitter on Maegor’s tongue, as though they had been spoken only yesterday.

He had begged. Yes, even he, Maegor the Cruel, had begged. But only to one person. His mother, Visenya. The warrior queen, the woman who had conquered Westeros by Aegon’s side. The only person who had ever truly understood him.

"I will not be denied her," he had told Visenya, pacing the halls of Dragonstone in frustration. "Father, Aenys, the gods themselves conspire against me. They will not give her to me."

Visenya, regal and fierce, had looked at him with those sharp, violet eyes of hers, the eyes of a dragon, and she had smiled—a cold, knowing smile. "They fear you, my son," she had said. "They fear the strength of your blood. Aenys and his ilk think they can control you by keeping her from you, but they are fools. They do not see what I see."

"And what do you see, Mother?" Maegor had asked, desperate for the answer he knew only she could give.

"I see the future of our house," she had answered, stepping close to him, resting a hand on his armored shoulder. "And I see you at its head, with her at your side. The dragons of Old Valyria will rise again, Maegor. And no one—no one—will deny you what is yours."

Her words had kept him sane through the years of exile, through his marriage to Ceryse Hightower, a woman who had proven barren, and a marriage that had been nothing but a chain around his neck. All the while, he had thought of you. You, locked away on Dragonstone, hidden from him by his enemies, the gods, the world. But now, none of that mattered. Aenys was dead, the throne was his, and soon, you would be too.

And yet... the ships did not come.

The sun was sinking lower, casting ghastly shadows over the unfinished Red Keep, over the city of King's Landing, over the assembled lords and banners. Maegor’s patience was wearing thin, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface like wildfire ready to consume all in its path.

"They are late," he growled, his voice low, but his anger clear. "Where are they?"

Visenya stood beside him, silent and still as ever. Her presence was the only thing that soothed him, that kept him from mounting Balerion and flying to Dragonstone himself. But even her patience had its limits, and he could see the tightness in her jaw, the tension in her shoulders. She felt the delay, the insult, as keenly as he did.

"They will come," she said, though there was a note of uncertainty in her voice that Maegor did not like.

And what if they did not? What if something had happened? What if your brother, Aegon, or even that fool Rhaena, had interfered, whisked you away before you could reach him? The thought sent a surge of fury through him, and he gripped Blackfyre tighter, his knuckles turning white beneath his gloves.

"No one will keep her from me," he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Not this time."

Visenya turned to him, her sharp gaze cutting through his anger. "If they try," she said, her voice cold and final, "then we will burn them all."

Maegor’s heart beat with the promise of fire and blood. They had all denied him for so long. His father. His brother. The gods themselves. But he was king now, and no one could deny the King of the Iron Throne.

You would be his, one way or another. The realm would tremble at his wrath if you were not.

But still, the horizon remained empty.

Maegor’s patience shattered like glass underfoot. The stillness of the harbor, the absence of the royal procession, and the delay that felt like a deliberate insult boiled within him until he could bear it no longer. His fury was a living thing, a fire in his chest that demanded release.

Without a word to anyone, Maegor turned sharply on his heel and stalked away from the gathered lords and his waiting bannermen. Visenya's gaze followed him, but she did not call him back. She knew what was coming, and she would not try to stop him. No one would.

He marched through the half-constructed Red Keep, past the workers who hastily moved out of his way, their eyes wide with fear at the sight of him. His blood thundered in his veins, his mind consumed by a singular thought: you. You were not here. Someone had kept you from him again, and he would have answers. One way or another, he would have answers.

Balerion waited for him, the great black beast shifting restlessly as though sensing the storm of rage within his rider. Maegor did not hesitate. He approached the dragon without a word, his dark cloak billowing behind him as he climbed onto Balerion’s back. The dragon’s scales were hot beneath his hands, and the air filled with the smell of smoke and brimstone as Balerion opened his massive jaws, letting out a low growl that reverberated through the air.

"To Dragonstone," Maegor commanded, his voice sharp and cold as steel.

With a mighty beat of his wings, Balerion launched into the air, and the city of King’s Landing fell away beneath them. The wind roared in Maegor’s ears as they ascended, higher and higher, until the Red Keep and the harbor were nothing but distant specks below. His eyes narrowed against the rush of air as they flew toward Dragonstone, the ancestral seat of House Targaryen, a place that should have been your prison but was now the key to your disappearance.

The journey was swift. Balerion’s immense wings cut through the sky, and soon, the looming shape of Dragonstone appeared on the horizon, its dark, foreboding towers rising from the volcanic island like jagged teeth. The familiar silhouette of the castle did nothing to soothe Maegor’s fury. If anything, it fueled it. Whoever had dared to take you from him was hiding here, he was certain of it. And they would pay.

Balerion descended with a roar, his massive form casting a shadow over the castle courtyard as he landed with a thunderous crash. Maegor dismounted swiftly, his boots hitting the ground with purpose, and strode toward the keep without hesitation. The guards, clad in the black and red of House Targaryen, scrambled to stand at attention, but Maegor paid them no mind. His eyes were fixed on one figure—Alyssa Velaryon, Dowager Queen, widow of his late half-brother Aenys.

She stood at the entrance of the great hall, flanked by her own royal guards, her expression calm but her eyes wary. She had been expecting him.

"Where is she?" Maegor’s voice was thunder, echoing across the courtyard as he approached. His gaze was locked on Alyssa, his hands still resting on the hilt of Blackfyre at his side.

Alyssa’s lips thinned, but she did not answer immediately. Her silence was an insult in itself.

"Where is she?" Maegor demanded again, his tone darkening, his patience long gone. "The ships have not arrived. My bride is not here. Where is she?"

Alyssa lifted her chin, her eyes meeting his with a quiet defiance. "I do not know," she said, her voice steady, though her guards shifted uneasily around her. "She is not here, Maegor. I swear it on the blood of my children."

His anger flared like a flame doused in oil. He stepped closer, towering over her, his eyes burning with rage. "You lie. Do you think me a fool, Alyssa? Do you think I will believe your false words? You know where she is. Someone here knows."

Alyssa did not waver, though there was a flicker of fear behind her eyes. "I do not lie, Maegor," she said, her voice firm. "Your niece is gone, but I do not know where. You think you can demand answers, but the gods have taken her from you."

"The gods?" Maegor spat the word as if it were poison. "The gods have no power here. I am king. I am the only god that matters in this realm."

He drew Blackfyre from its scabbard with a vicious hiss of steel. The sight of the ancient Valyrian blade, its edge gleaming in the waning sunlight, caused Alyssa’s guards to stiffen, their hands moving to the hilts of their swords. But Maegor did not care. He had faced armies and dragons alike; these men would not stand against him.

"You will tell me where she is," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Or I will take this castle stone by stone and burn it to the ground. I will burn you all."

Alyssa stood her ground, but her defiance was waning. Still, she did not answer.

Maegor’s grip on Blackfyre tightened. "Very well," he said, his voice cold and final. "If you will not speak, then I declare war on you, on this entire realm, and on the gods themselves. I will rip the truth from your dying lips if I must."

He raised the sword high, and Balerion let out a deafening roar, his fiery breath licking at the sky, as if in answer to his rider’s fury. The ground beneath Maegor’s feet trembled as the beast’s wings unfurled, casting the courtyard into shadow once more.

"Do you hear me, Alyssa?" Maegor shouted, his voice carrying across the castle walls. "I will bring fire and blood to this land until she is returned to me. Every house, every banner, every village will burn. No one will be spared."

Alyssa’s face paled, but she held her tongue, her defiance crumbling under the weight of his rage.

With one final, furious look at her, Maegor turned and mounted Balerion once more. The dragon’s wings beat against the air as they took to the skies, leaving the castle of Dragonstone behind, but not forgotten.

War was coming. The realm would know the full wrath of Maegor Targaryen, and nothing would stand in his way.

Not even the gods.

The sky had darkened with storm clouds, a fitting shroud for what was to come. Maegor could feel the death in the air as Balerion, the Black Dread, flew low over the countryside, the sound of his massive wings beating like the drums of war. Beneath him, the land stretched out in peaceful ignorance—green fields, small villages, and the occasional hamlet, all unaware of the doom that was about to descend upon them.

His fury had not abated. If anything, it had grown, simmering inside him like the flames that Balerion carried in his belly. For days, he had waited—waited for some word, some message, some whisper of where you had been taken. But there had been none. Not from Dragonstone, not from King's Landing, not from any corner of the realm. Silence. It was as if the earth itself conspired to keep you hidden from him.

And so, Maegor had decided to speak in the only language he knew would reach them all—fire.

The town below was small, insignificant in the grand scheme of his rule. It had no great lords, no strategic importance. It was nothing more than a farming village, its people simple, its streets quiet. But that did not matter to Maegor. He was no longer a king seeking strategy. He was a dragon in search of blood.

Balerion let out a growl as they descended, and the townspeople, who had begun to gather in the streets, looked up with wide, terrified eyes. They had heard tales of dragons, but few had seen one in the flesh, let alone the Black Dread himself. Some screamed, others fled, scattering like ants before a boot.

But it was too late.

Maegor did not speak as they approached. He did not announce his arrival or give them time to prepare. His rage did not allow for such mercy. Instead, he gave the only command he had come to deliver.

"Dracarys."

Balerion unleashed his fury with a deafening roar. Flames erupted from his jaws, a torrent of fire that engulfed the first row of houses in an instant. The wooden structures went up like kindling, the dry summer heat making them burn even faster. Screams filled the air, high-pitched and desperate, as people fled their homes, only to be caught by the flames that licked at their heels.

The fire spread with terrifying speed, consuming everything in its path—roofs, walls, fields. The village was alight, a beacon of destruction visible for miles around.

Maegor watched from above, his face cold and impassive, his grip on Balerion’s reins tight as the dragon circled over the burning town. The people below looked so small, like insects scurrying for cover, trying to escape the inevitable. But there was no escape. Not for them.

A handful of soldiers, likely from a nearby lord's keep, arrived, rushing into the chaos with spears and shields. They might have hoped to protect their people, to fight off the monster in the sky, but it was a hopeless effort. Balerion roared again, and another wave of fire descended, swallowing the soldiers in flames before they could even raise their weapons.

Still, Maegor felt nothing. No satisfaction, no relief, just the same gnawing fury. This town was but the first of many. If no one would give him what he demanded, then they would all burn.

Balerion landed in the town square, his massive form crushing the few remaining carts and stalls beneath him. The fires crackled and raged around them, the air thick with smoke and the stench of burning flesh. Maegor dismounted, his black armor gleaming with the reflection of the flames, and strode through the smoldering ruins. The people who hadn’t already fled or died in the fire cowered at the edges of the square, their faces streaked with soot and tears, their eyes wide with terror.

One man—a farmer by the looks of him, his face blackened with ash—dared to stand before Maegor. His legs shook, and his hands trembled as he held out a crude pitchfork, a pitiful weapon against the man who wielded Blackfyre.

“Please!” the man cried, his voice cracking. “We’ve done nothing! We don’t know where she is!”

Maegor’s gaze fixed on him, cold and unfeeling. “Then you are of no use to me.”

With a swift motion, he drew Blackfyre and swung. The blade cut through the air with a whistle, and the man’s head rolled to the ground, his body collapsing like a puppet with its strings severed. Blood pooled at Maegor’s feet, mixing with the ash and dirt.

He turned to the remaining villagers, their tear-filled eyes pleading for mercy. “Where is she?” Maegor demanded, his voice cutting through the crackling flames. “Tell me, and you will be spared.”

But there were no answers. Only silence, punctuated by the occasional sob or gasp. They knew nothing, and he could see the truth of it in their frightened, helpless faces. These people had never laid eyes on you. They did not know your name. They were caught in a storm that was not theirs, a storm they could not hope to survive.

“Then burn,” Maegor said, his voice flat, his heart devoid of pity.

Balerion roared once more, and fire swept across the square, swallowing the villagers where they stood. The screams of the innocent echoed in the night, but they were distant to Maegor, drowned out by the roar of the flames. He mounted Balerion again, his mind already turning to the next town, the next village. There would be no end to his wrath until you were returned to him.

As they lifted into the air, the once-quiet town was a sea of fire below, the smoke rising in dark plumes that would be visible for miles. The next town would see the flames and know what was coming. They would know the price of silence.

But as they flew over the burning ruins, a grim thought gnawed at Maegor’s mind: even this, even the screams of the dying, had not brought forth any word of you. No ravens, no messengers, no spies. It was as if you had vanished from the face of the earth.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes hard as stone as he looked out over the darkened horizon. Let them hide you. Let them try to keep you from him. He would burn every inch of this realm to ash until they had no choice but to deliver you back into his hands.

War had come, and the realm would know the full measure of his wrath before it was over.

And still, you remained lost to him, as distant and unreachable as ever.

The halls of Oldtown’s grand keep were filled with the scent of burning torches and incense, the air heavy with the weight of old stone and old gods alike. Maegor strode through the corridors, his armor clinking with each step, his cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. The lords of the Reach had gathered in the great hall ahead, awaiting his arrival, their banners lining the walls like silent witnesses to the war he was bringing to their doors.

He would have their armies. He would have their swords and their oaths. And soon, the realm would bleed for keeping you from him.

Yet, as he approached the towering doors of the hall, he was intercepted by a voice that grated on his already thin patience.

“Maegor.”

He halted but did not turn immediately. He recognized the voice, the cold, haughty tone that had once filled his ears with promises of alliances and power. Ceryse Hightower, his wife—the woman the Faith of the Seven deemed his lawful bride. The one who had failed him, who had borne him no heirs, no strength. She was a chain, an anchor from a life he despised. And now, she stood between him and the destruction he sought to bring upon the world.

With a slow turn, he faced her. She stood in the narrow corridor, her expression as cold as the marble pillars that flanked her. Her gown was white and gold, as befit a woman of her station, but there was no warmth in her. She had never had any warmth for him, nor he for her.

Ceryse’s eyes narrowed as she stepped closer, her chin lifted in defiance. "This madness must stop, Maegor. What you are doing—it is unholy. This war you wage for your niece, this obsession, it will bring the gods’ wrath upon you. Upon us all."

Maegor’s eyes, dark and brooding, bore into hers. "The gods?" he scoffed, his voice laced with venom. "Which gods, Ceryse? The Seven who gave me nothing but a barren wife? The gods who have denied me my rightful bride and my throne time and again? They are nothing to me. I am the king, and I will take what is mine."

"You are the king," she snapped, stepping closer, her voice rising, "but I am your wife. The only true wife you have before the gods. I was wed to you under the light of the Seven. I am your queen, not some girl you lust after because she shares your blood and your fire."

Maegor’s lips curled into a sneer. "Do not speak of things you do not understand. She is more than fire. She is mine by right, by blood, by destiny. You are nothing but a symbol of a failed marriage and the weakness of the Faith. Your gods mean nothing to me, Ceryse. They have never meant anything."

Ceryse’s face flushed with anger, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “The Faith is all that holds this realm together. The Seven bless our rule, and you spit on their favor. Do you truly believe this war you’ve started will end with your niece in your arms? The realm will turn against you, the Faith will rise—”

“The Faith?” Maegor’s laughter was dark, a cruel sound that echoed off the stone walls. “The Faith cowers beneath the strength of dragons. I have already broken their High Septon, and I will do it again if they dare stand in my way. Do not speak to me of the Faith when they have already bled under my blade.”

Her eyes flashed with fury. “And what of me? Do I mean nothing to you, Maegor? I am your queen. I stood beside you when the world was against you, when you were exiled, when you returned to take the throne. I have endured your temper, your ambitions—everything. And yet you throw it all away for her, for a girl who should never have been yours.”

Maegor stepped closer, towering over her, his voice low and filled with menace. “You have never stood beside me, Ceryse. You have stood in my way, like all the others. The day you failed to give me an heir was the day your use to me ended. You are not my queen. You are a symbol of weakness and failure.”

Her breath caught in her throat, but her pride would not allow her to shrink before him. She held her ground, her chin raised defiantly. “This war is blasphemy. Even your late father would not stand for it. You break every sacred vow for this—this madness. And for what? For a girl who may be dead already, taken by the gods to punish your arrogance.”

Maegor’s hand shot out, gripping her throat, though not enough to truly harm her. His eyes were burning coals, his patience long gone. “Speak of her again,” he growled, his voice dangerously low, “and I will end you here and now, wife or not.”

Ceryse’s eyes widened, but she did not flinch, even with his hand at her throat. “Do it,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but steady. “Do it, and see how the realm turns against you. They already whisper of your cruelty, your madness. Kill your wife, and you will become the monster they fear.”

For a long, tense moment, Maegor said nothing. His grip tightened slightly, the temptation strong, but he released her with a shove, sending her stumbling back a step.

"You are a fool if you think I care for their whispers," Maegor said, his voice filled with disdain. "I will rule through fear if I must. The realm will submit to me, whether they love me or hate me. And you will stay out of my way, or you will burn like the rest of them."

Ceryse straightened, her hand to her throat, her eyes filled with a mixture of defiance and fear. She had pushed him as far as she could, and she knew it.

“You will destroy yourself,” she said quietly, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to hide it. “This war, this rage... it will consume you.”

Maegor turned his back on her, his cloak swirling in the dim torchlight as he moved toward the doors of the great hall. "Then let it," he said coldly, without looking back. "I would rather burn the world to ash than live in a world where I am denied what is mine."

The heavy doors of the great hall swung open before him, and Maegor strode inside, leaving Ceryse standing alone in the darkened corridor, her hands shaking, her heart pounding with a fear she had never known before.

The lords inside turned as one to face him, their faces pale with the knowledge of the man they served. Maegor took his place at the head of the long table, his eyes sweeping over the gathered men like a predator surveying its prey.

"You will gather your armies," he said, his voice echoing through the hall, "and you will march with me to war. I care not for the gods, nor for the Faith. Those who stand against me will burn, and those who submit will live. But I will have my bride, or I will see this realm consumed by fire."

The lords exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared defy him. They knew the price of disobedience under Maegor’s rule.

"Are there any who would challenge me?" Maegor demanded, his eyes flashing with a dangerous light.

Silence fell over the hall, thick and suffocating. Not a single voice rose in opposition.

"Good," Maegor said, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Prepare your men. The realm will bleed until she is mine again."

And with that, the great hall of Oldtown descended into preparation for war, while outside, Ceryse Hightower stood in the shadows, her heart heavy with the knowledge that her words had fallen on deaf ears.

The battlefield stretched wide before Maegor, a patchwork of torn earth, trampled grass, and bloodied banners. His army stood in sharp contrast to the smaller force across the field, led by his nephew, Aegon the Uncrowned. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a bloody hue over the land, as if the gods themselves had abandoned all hope of peace.

Balerion, the Black Dread, shifted beneath him, his great black wings stretching wide as the dragon growled, sensing the impending battle. Maegor’s grip tightened on Blackfyre, the weight of the ancient sword familiar in his hand as he surveyed the field below. The banners of House Targaryen and Velaryon fluttered in the wind, a cruel mockery of what should have been unity between their blood. But unity had long been shattered.

On the opposite side of the field, Aegon sat astride Quicksilver, his dragon a flash of silver-white scales that shimmered in the dying light. Aegon’s army was smaller, but it was fiercely loyal—men who believed in the legitimacy of his claim, men who called Maegor a usurper and a tyrant. Men who were willing to die for a boy who had been denied his crown.

Maegor’s jaw clenched as he gazed across the field at his nephew, the boy who had dared to raise arms against him. Aegon had your blood running through his veins, and that alone made Maegor’s rage burn hotter. But it was not just Aegon’s challenge to the throne that stoked Maegor’s fury—it was his insolent defiance in keeping you from him.

The armies stood still for a breath, the wind carrying the sound of clinking armor and the distant neighs of restless horses. Maegor’s soldiers waited, their faces grim, their hands tight on their weapons. His bannermen were eager for the bloodshed to begin, eager to crush the boy who dared challenge their king.

But Maegor had eyes only for Aegon, who met his gaze across the field with the same cold intensity. Even from a distance, Maegor could see the steely resolve in the young man’s face. Aegon was no longer the boy he had once dismissed, and that truth gnawed at him.

Without a word, Maegor spurred Balerion forward. The great dragon let out a thunderous roar, his massive wings lifting him from the ground in one powerful sweep. The air around them seemed to hum with tension as Balerion soared into the sky, circling high above the battlefield, casting an enormous shadow over the armies below.

Aegon wasted no time. With a sharp command, he urged Quicksilver into the air, the silver dragon shooting upward with graceful speed. The two beasts circled one another in the sky, the gathered armies below looking up in awe as dragon met dragon.

Maegor’s eyes locked onto Aegon, his blood boiling with the need for victory. He would crush this boy, as he had crushed all who had stood in his way. Blackfyre was already in his hand, the sword gleaming as he prepared to strike.

Quicksilver let out a high-pitched roar and dove toward Balerion, claws outstretched. Aegon, no doubt thinking speed would be his advantage, urged his dragon forward with a deadly precision. But Balerion was no ordinary dragon—he was the Black Dread, the most fearsome of all Targaryen dragons, and his size alone was enough to instill terror in any opponent.

With a bellowing roar, Balerion met Quicksilver head-on, jaws snapping as the two dragons collided in a flurry of wings, fire, and claws. The sky around them lit up with dragonflame, bright orange and yellow in the fading light. The sound of their clash echoed across the battlefield like thunder, and Maegor felt the familiar thrill of battle pulse through his veins.

Aegon swung his sword at him, their blades clashing as Quicksilver veered away, trying to outmaneuver Balerion. But Maegor was relentless. He urged Balerion onward, following the silver dragon, breathing down its neck with every beat of its wings. Aegon was skilled, but Maegor could see the hesitation in his strikes, the uncertainty in his eyes.

"You will never have her, Uncle!" Aegon shouted over the roar of the wind and the battle below, his voice laced with both fury and desperation. "She is free of you! The gods will never let her fall into your hands."

Maegor’s face twisted into a snarl, his fury consuming him as he swung Blackfyre toward Aegon with all the strength he could muster. Their blades met again, the force of the strike sending sparks flying between them. "The gods be damned!" Maegor roared. "You think they care for your claims, boy? I will have her, and no man or god will keep her from me!"

Aegon’s lips curled into a bitter smile, his eyes flashing with defiance. "You’re a fool if you think she would come to you willingly," he spat. "She despises you. She will never be yours."

Maegor’s rage flared hotter than dragonfire. He urged Balerion forward, closing the distance between the two dragons, but Quicksilver darted away, its speed giving it the advantage. Maegor’s strikes were powerful, but Aegon’s precision allowed him to evade, always one step ahead, always just out of reach.

Below, the armies had clashed. The sounds of battle—clanging steel, screams, and the thunder of hooves—rose from the ground, but Maegor cared little for what happened below. His focus was entirely on Aegon, on the boy who had denied him his rightful bride, on the nephew who dared to defy him.

Suddenly, Quicksilver darted upward, high into the clouds, and Aegon disappeared from sight. Maegor cursed, pulling Balerion up after them, but by the time he broke through the clouds, Aegon and Quicksilver were gone.

A howl of frustration escaped Maegor’s throat. He scanned the skies, his eyes searching for any sign of the silver dragon, but Aegon had vanished, leaving nothing but the roar of the wind and the distant sounds of the battlefield below.

"Damn you, Aegon!" Maegor bellowed into the empty sky, his voice echoing across the heavens. His blood boiled with fury, his vision clouded with rage. Once again, Aegon had slipped through his fingers, just as you had been denied to him time and time again.

He descended with Balerion, landing amidst the chaos of the battlefield, his soldiers still locked in fierce combat with Aegon’s forces. But it was not enough. The battle, the bloodshed, the cries of dying men—all of it paled in comparison to the rage burning inside Maegor. He had come for victory, for vengeance, for you—and he had been denied once more.

The soldiers around him fell to their knees, their faces streaked with blood and mud, their eyes filled with terror at the sight of their king. But Maegor’s gaze was distant, his thoughts consumed by the promise Aegon had made before vanishing into the clouds.

You were free of him, Aegon had said. You would never be his.

But Maegor was not a man who accepted defeat. Not now. Not ever.

The realm would continue to burn until you were in his hands, and not even his nephew’s empty threats would change that.

With a final, chilling glance at the battlefield around him, Maegor mounted Balerion once more, his mind already racing with thoughts of what was to come. The war was not over. Aegon may have escaped, but Maegor would hunt him down. He would tear the realm apart, piece by piece, until there was nowhere left for his enemies to hide.

And in the end, you would be his.

Whether you wished it or not.

The second clash between Maegor Targaryen and his nephew, Aegon the Uncrowned, was inevitable. The gods had no place on this battlefield; only dragons, fire, and blood would decide the victor. Beneath the clouded skies of the God's Eye, the two riders faced one another atop their colossal beasts. Quicksilver, the pale silver dragon, hovered in the air with Aegon astride him, eyes blazing with defiance, while Maegor sat atop the mighty Balerion, the Black Dread, a shadow over the land, a force of destruction waiting to be unleashed.

Aegon was no child, but neither was he the match of his uncle. And yet, as they circled high above the waters of the God's Eye, you could almost feel the weight of his resolve. Maegor could sense it, too—a determination to stand, to fight, to protect what little remained of his claim. But Aegon was a fool to believe he could stop what was coming. Maegor had returned, stronger than ever, and no man, no dragon, no usurper would deny him what was his—neither the throne nor you.

The dragons roared and circled, Balerion’s immense shadow darkening the sky. Maegor’s heart was black with fury, the rage of the denied, of one betrayed by his own kin. For years, he had been denied you, stolen from him by a weak brother and a cowardly nephew. Aenys had never been strong enough to hold the kingdom together, nor had he the will to make the hard choices. Now Maegor would show Aegon the price of such weakness.

“Tell me where she is,” Maegor bellowed, his voice a force of its own, carrying across the winds between them. “Tell me, and I’ll make your death quick.”

Aegon’s expression hardened, but his lips remained sealed. He said nothing, his jaw tight, the defiance in his eyes unbroken. It was clear that he would rather die than betray your whereabouts, and for a brief moment, Maegor almost admired the boy's stubbornness. Almost.

But that would not save him.

Quicksilver lunged first, his bright scales gleaming like molten metal in the dim light. His teeth snapped, his wings beat the air, and Aegon drove him forward, spear in hand, hoping to catch Balerion’s flank. But Balerion was no ordinary dragon, and Maegor was no ordinary rider. The Black Dread twisted mid-air with terrifying speed, jaws snapping shut around Quicksilver’s wing. The smaller dragon shrieked, a sound that echoed over the lake like thunder, and his body faltered as he was dragged downward, closer to the earth.

Balerion's fire erupted, black and red flames that swallowed the sky. Quicksilver was engulfed, his silvery scales turning black as smoke and ash filled the air. Aegon fought back, his dragon resisting, but it was clear to all who watched that there could only be one outcome.

With a final, sickening crunch, Balerion’s teeth sank into Quicksilver’s neck, tearing through flesh and bone. The dragon screamed, a high-pitched, agonizing cry that seemed to go on forever. And then, with a sickening crash, Quicksilver and Aegon were flung into the earth below, the ground trembling from the impact.

Maegor descended slowly, his eyes never leaving the crumpled form of his nephew. The once-proud Aegon, Uncrowned and unbroken, now lay battered and broken beside his dying dragon. Maegor dismounted, stepping down from Balerion’s back as if descending from a throne. The grass beneath his feet was scorched from the battle, and the air smelled of death and fire.

Aegon coughed, his body shattered, blood pouring from wounds too numerous to count. His breaths were labored, each one a struggle. Maegor stood over him, the weight of his fury and triumph heavy in the air.

“Where is she?” Maegor demanded once more, his voice like steel.

Aegon lifted his head weakly, his eyes meeting Maegor's with the last of his strength. Blood bubbled on his lips as he smiled—a bitter, bloody smile.

“You’ll never find her,” Aegon rasped, defiance even now.

The anger that surged through Maegor was all-consuming, a wildfire burning through his veins. He had half a mind to rip his nephew’s head from his body then and there, but he knew Aegon would welcome such an end. No, his death would come soon enough. But it would not be swift, nor merciful.

With a final look of disgust, Maegor turned his back on the dying boy, mounting Balerion once more. There was no more time to waste on the Uncrowned. He would find you, with or without Aegon’s cooperation. And when he did, nothing and no one would ever separate you from him again.

After the battle, as Maegor's forces regrouped, a rider approached him. The man, bloodied and worn from the fight, bowed low before his king.

“My lord, we have received word,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “It is said... she is being held in Lys.”

Maegor’s eyes narrowed, his blood roaring in his ears. Lys. So far away, beyond the sea, beyond his immediate reach. But no distance was too great. He would cross oceans, burn cities, and tear apart entire kingdoms if need be.

“Prepare the fleet,” Maegor ordered, his voice like iron. “We sail at once.”

Balerion let out a low rumble, as if sensing his master’s intent. There would be no peace until you were his, no rest until the blood debt was paid in full. The dragons were coming, and all of Lys would burn if it meant bringing you home.

The sun had long begun its descent when the black sails of Maegor's fleet appeared on the horizon, darkening the waters that surrounded Lys. The city, gilded with beauty and wealth, stood as a gleaming jewel in the far east. But to Maegor, it was a den of thieves—those who had dared to steal what belonged to him. As Balerion descended from the skies, casting a vast shadow over the city, panic spread like wildfire through its streets. The people of Lys had never seen the likes of such a beast, nor the wrath of a king who had come to reclaim what was his.

You had not expected him so soon.

The small tower in which you were held offered little more than a view of the sea and distant freedom, but you knew that no bars or walls could hold you forever. You had seen the men sent to guard you, faces hardened by greed and violence, yet even they had begun to whisper in hushed tones over the past days—of dragons, of black sails, of the King who would come. Maegor.

For weeks, you had wondered if it was only a matter of time before your captors sold you to another—or worse. But it was not the men of Lys who had taken you—it was Aegon. Your own brother. He had sent you here, far away from Maegor, far from the throne. He believed it was for your own good, to keep you safe from the king who had burned through the realm to take the Iron Throne. To keep you from the man who had claimed you as his.

But your brother had gravely underestimated the lengths to which Maegor would go to have you back.

And now he had come.

The tower trembled beneath your feet as Balerion’s roar split the sky, shaking the very stones of Lys. The dragon’s fire lit the horizon, the harbor a hellscape of flames and destruction. You could hear the distant cries of men fleeing from the wrath of the Black Dread, and in that moment, a strange calm settled over you. You knew Maegor. You had known him since childhood—his strength, his darkness, and above all, his possessiveness. He would burn this city to the ground for you. He would raze every last building, tear every stone apart brick by brick, until he had you back in his grasp.

The door to your chamber flew open, splintering as it slammed against the wall. The guard who had been stationed outside was gone, replaced by men bearing the black and red sigil of House Targaryen. They moved aside without a word, and there, standing in the doorway, was Maegor.

He was just as you remembered him, but now there was a fierceness in his gaze that you had never seen before. His armor, still streaked with blood from battle, glinted in the dim light. His silver hair, windswept from the flight atop Balerion, framed a face carved from stone, hard and unyielding. And his eyes—those dark violet eyes burned with a hunger, an obsession, that had only grown stronger with time. He had come for you.

Without a word, Maegor strode into the room, his presence filling it like a storm. He did not wait for pleasantries, nor for explanations. He reached for you, his hand closing around your arm with a grip that was firm but not painful, his eyes searching your face as if to assure himself that you were real, that you were truly here.

"You’re coming with me," he said, his voice low and rough. There was no question, no hesitation, just the ironclad certainty that had always driven him.

"Maegor," you began, your voice quiet but steady. The words you had rehearsed in your mind seemed to dissolve as you looked into his eyes. The fury, the relief, the need—it was all there, laid bare. He was not a man to be denied.

"You will never be taken from me again," he growled, his fingers tightening slightly around your arm as if to emphasize his point. "I’ve burned half the world to get to you. No one will stand between us now."

You had heard tales of what he had done—of how he had torn through Aegon’s forces at the God's Eye, of how he had set the seas aflame in his pursuit of you. But you never imagined that it would come to this—that your own brother would try to keep you from him. And now that he stood before you, towering, unyielding, you realized that there was no escaping the inevitability of what came next.

"You were mine from the moment you were born," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And they kept you from me. All of them—my father, your brother, the gods themselves. But no more. You will be my queen, and no one will ever take you from me again."

His words, raw and fierce, echoed in the space between you, and for a moment, all you could hear was the distant roar of Balerion outside, the great beast that had carried him across the skies to find you.

You met his gaze, and in that moment, something shifted within you. You had known Maegor your whole life. You had seen the violence in him, but you had also seen the man beneath it—the one who, for all his ruthlessness, had always looked at you as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered. And now, standing before him, you understood that there was no escaping him, not now, not ever.

"Then take me," you whispered, your voice soft but clear. "I’m ready."

Maegor’s eyes darkened, and in one swift motion, he pulled you into him, his lips crashing against yours with all the pent-up fury and longing that had driven him to Lys. His kiss was fierce, possessive, and you knew then that the man who had come for you was not just the king, but the dragon itself—untamable, unstoppable, and wholly yours.

When he pulled away, his hand still cradled the back of your neck, his eyes locked on yours. "We leave now," he said, his voice a low growl. "There’s nothing for you here. Nothing but ash."

He led you from the room without another word, the tower and all its horrors fading behind you as you stepped out into the night. Balerion waited, his massive form dark against the sky, and as Maegor helped you onto the dragon's back, you knew that whatever fate awaited you, it would be by his side.

And so, with a single command, Balerion’s wings unfurled, and together you soared into the night, leaving Lys in flames behind you.

[fairysluna]

Helloooo, thanks for sharing your writing with us, I love all of your fics specially sinners 🤍🧸⭐️

For the short drabbles could you do Maegor + asking for his niece’s favor at a tourney

this is such a cute idea! i love this so much. Also, thank you for your kind words, I hope you like this🤍✨

tags — fluff, rhaena being lowkey a hater, reader being delulu (like all of us).

The way the whole crowd roared with excitement when the royal prince came out victorious from the tournament was deafening. You were laughing excitedly, clapping as your smile couldn't get any bigger. Eyes shining as bright as stars at midnight as you watched your beloved uncle smiling back at you from afar. Your beloved older sister, Rhaena, was sitting next to you wearing an unfazed expression on her face, completely opposite to the cheerful attitude you had.

From your seat, you saw Maegor galloping slowly towards the royal family, wearing that winning smile that you loved so dearly as he rested his lance against his shoulder. The butterflies that appeared on your belly were hard to ignore when he started to get closer and closer to you. You fixed your hair, nervously played with your fingers and impatiently waited for him to get close enough to hear his voice. At your side, your sister scoffed, already annoyed by your attitude towards your uncle, with whom you wished to marry; she had heard all of it, and she was tired of hearing that man's name coming from your lips.

But you couldn't care less about it.

Your attention was all over the man on the horse in front of you, standing proudly and looking so gallant inside that thick metal armor of his, you couldn't help but to bite your lip before he decided to open his mouth and say, “May I have the honor to ask for the princess' favor?” He didn't even have to specify which princess he was talking about, for every single person knew he meant you. They all certainly knew about the close relationship you had with him.

You slowly arose from your seat, taking with you the crown of flowers that you made early that morning, especially for him. You walked closer to the railing and looked down at him, feeling the air getting caught in your throat as you saw him more up close. He removed the helmet of his armor, wanting to look into your pretty eyes before he uttered the next words. “I'm convinced that everytime the sun rises you become far more beautiful, my princess.” He spoke slightly lower, as if he wanted just you to hear. You couldn't help but to feel suddenly shy under his mischievous stare, the heat on your cheeks growing as you tried to look away from him.

“You flatter me, uncle,” you replied, managing to throw the crown of flowers down the lance. “I feel like the most beautiful maiden in the Seven Kingdoms whenever you speak with such kindness to me.”

“Well, you are, my dear.” He winked at you. “Before I leave, allow me to remind you that this victory, as well as the ones that are yet to come, are dedicated to you. My beautiful princess.” A silly, enamored smile was drawn on your lips as he turned around in his black horse and galloped away from you. He made you feel all kinds of things in such a little amount of time, including a strange, new sensation located in your lower belly which you decided it was best to ignore.

Once you returned to your seat, you found your sister staring at you with a visible frown on her face. “Could you be any more obvious? You left a path of your drool behind you.”

“I will marry him someday,” you told her, your voice filled with the purest of illusions.

Rhaena could only roll her eyes.

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updated 11/07/24

[thesongoficeandfir3]

Poll time!

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO. ( HOTD x READER ) [ FINAL PART ]

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Niece! Targ! ( Strong ) Reader suggest song to listen to whilst reading: Like Real People Do by Hozier or Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives prompt : would you be open to writing a part3 for like real people do where they both find out that y/n's pregnant so aegon genuinely wants to be a better person for her and their kid, and wants to prove it to her. she still hasn't forgiven him and she's pregnant and moody so one day they have a similar fight like in part 1 but this time its her who's telling him to stay away from her. they stop talking to each other and during that time aegon realizes how he made her feel when he said all those things. her pregnancy gets harder for her and one day she faints and is put on bed rest so aegon slowly starts befriending her and falls for her but on the other hand she's still cautious of him. he's by her side when she gives birth and through raising their child together they finally start having a normal relationship and on a feast held for their baby they finally patch up and make love afterwards??? ty ❤️❤️❤️ word count: 1, 000+ words

It was now Aegon that looked for you when he entered a room. It was now Aegon was patient. It was now Aegon that was met with sneers and glares. It was now Aegon would dote on you, no matter how many times you snapped at him to leave you be. A bitter twist of fate. It killed him. It was worse than dagger or dragonfire. You, the one person who had treated him with so much kindness, had finally run up. But, it was a faith he had created himself. 

He gave you your time. He slept in separate bed chambers. He ate alone in his chambers. He avoided small council meetings when you sat in. He was just alone. His Mother was livid at him for his treatment towards you. His Grandsire was even more livid, condemning him for ruining years of planning and plotting with his foolishness. His siblings had been distant, Aemond purposely bumping shoulders with him or tripping him when they passed by each other. 

Then a Maester came to him. Four simple words that made him want to fling himself from Maegor’s Holdfast. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child. She is with child.  She is with child. 

You were with child. His child. Exactly two moons, not long enough for anything to show. It all made sense. It all made fucking sense now, on why were you so keen on tending to him. On why you attempted to mend the distance. On why you tried so hard with him. It was all for the sake of the babe that was growing in your belly. It killed him. You were trying so hard to not repeat history. And he had gone out, fucking it all up. 

Tucking his hand behind his back, he stares at the door of your bedchambers, attempting to muster up some courage. You were four moons along now in your pregnancy. He could only imagine what you looked like now. Would you have a tiny bump now? Would you have that glow that many pregnant women had? Would you be miserable? Would you detest him and the babe? Would you damn him to the seven hells for having to carry a babe made from hate and duty? 

“Come on, come on, stop being a coward.” He murmurs, attempting to hype myself up.

You ruined her. You fucking ruined her. It was all your doing, the voice in his head says.

“Come on, come on..” He fusses with his hair and doublet, attempting to fix his appearance.

She hates you. She hates you just as everyone else does. Just leave her be. Leave her alone. You’ll only just worsen things. You’ll break her just as you do to everyone else, the voice taunts.

Flattening out the wrinkles in his doublet, he fidgets with the gold livery collar chain, fixing the gold and emerald dragon pendant. Looking over at a polished mirror on the wall, he looks at his reflection with wide eyes, sharply turning around to face it. Swallowing the thick lump in his throat, he anxiously smoothes out his hair, the strands of white hair all greasy and a mess. Gods, damn it! 

Why did no one tell him how bad his hair looked?! Had he been walking around the Red Keep like this the whole damn time?! Desperately attempting to tame his hair, the loud creaking of a door opening fills the air, making him freeze. Looking towards the door in dread, there you stood, eyes racking him up and down like a provoked dragon. 

“Why are you standing at my door like a fool?” You ask, only keeping the door open a crack.

“Um, I…I missed you?” He blubbers out, sounding like a complete and utter fool. 

“You. Missed. Me?” You ask agonizingly slow. 

“Yes..?” He sheepishly smiles, the words coming out as more of a question. 

“Why?”

Watching you open the door just a inch more, he can see the soft periwinkle of your maternity gown, soft silk with gold embroidery on the neckline and hem. It was the same one that your Mother had worn a few years ago after giving birth to your youngest brother Joffrey.

Gods, that shade of blue looked beautiful on you. Slowly taking in the parts of you he could see, he chews on his bottom lip, fiddling with his wedding ring. You were beautiful, strong willed, stubborn, and as fierce as a dragon. He felt like the wee lamb that had been given to you to eat. 

“I..Um, why would I not? You are my wife and I..”

“Oh, really? Now, I am your wife? I thought I was just the burden, the thing you crawled to when you needed your cock wet..” You mock, repeating the same insults he had sneered at you over the years. 

“It was a mistake, me saying all of that to you.” He looks down shamefully, “I am, truly, sorry for what I have done.” 

“I take it the Maester’s have told you already. Tis’ quite pathetic that only now you wish to rekindle, all because I am with child. You would still be gorging yourself fat on wine if it was not for that.” You snip back, unimpressed.

Opening his mouth to argue back, he stops himself at the last second, a cruel insult on the tip of his tongue that threatened to come out. No. No. No. He would not do that. He would just sit there and take it. It took weeks to get you to even look at him, he would not ruin this now. He could not allow it. Gulping as his heart skips a beat, his hands grow clammy, watching as you open the door a little more to reveal the tiny baby bump. It was small, just noticeable. 

A clear sign you were still in your early months of pregnancy. But, it was all he could see. You were with his child. His heir. A tiny part of him wanted to reach out and touch it, to see if he could feel the tiniest of kicks yet. He had seen so many couples in Court doing things like that, touching the baby bump and then giggling at the feeling of kicks. He wanted to do that. He wanted to do that with you. 

“No, I..I, um, have been wanting to give you your time.”

“Then, why did you come here today?” You ask, face softening even so slightly.

“I..I suppose I had hoped that we could speak, and I could ask you how you fared so far. If there is anything, absolutely anything, that I can do to ease any pain you feel. I can even have a raven sent to your Mother if that would please you⎯” He rambles on, the words spilling out like vomit. 

“Stop talking. Just, stop talking, Aegon.” 

“I can stop talking. I can stop talking for the rest of my life is that is what you⎯” He rambles on, unable to stop the words from spilling out. 

“Aegon!” You repeat, a little louder. 

Watching your nose softly wrinkle up in irritation, you reach out for him, covering his mouth with your hand. The words instantly die on his tongue. His heart skips a beat, his breathing growing ragged. You were touching him. For the first time in weeks, or was it months, you were touching him. Finding himself melting into your touch, he stares up at you like an obedient dog.

“If not for my sake, then for the babe, let us..” You look like you were dreading saying it aloud, “Let us try again. No more fighting. No more silence.” 

“I..I would love that.” He stutters, cheek heating up. 

“I do not wish for this babe to grow up with the same tension we had⎯”

“It won’t, you have my word. I will do as you ask of me.” He vows, a dead serious expression on his face.

He meant it. He meant every word. Watching you shake your head with a sigh, you open the door a little more, sauntering inside of your bedchambers. He resists the urge to frown. What happened? You two were on seemingly good terms. Standing in the doorway like a kicked puppy, you turn to look at him, hand resting atop of your tiny pregnant belly. Had he done something wrong?

“Stop standing there like a fool and come inside.” You crack the tiniest of smiles, “My feet are aching from standing for so long.”

“Coming, coming.” 

“Now, what dull names did you come up with for the babe? Or are you going to name him 'boy' just as you do all of your squires?” You ask, a flicker of your old self returning back.

"Oi! It was one time!"

---

this little series is done done, no more, and i love it soooooo much..

[vanilleandclove]

rings of fire | prologue

ser erryk cargyll x targaryen! reader | prologue: the realm's craving

In honor of Queen Aemma's labors beginning, King Viserys the First and his two twin daughters, Rhaenyra and Y/n, host and sponsor an heir's tournament. The Realm's Delight was a title owned to Rhaenyra, rider of Syrax and the King's cup bearer, the older twin. Though Y/n wore the title: The Realm's Craving, rider of Nymeria and wielder of Blackfyre; Y/n made her reputation known for being the princess whom was outspoken and untouchable, wielding the conqueror's blade just after Jaehaerys.

word count: 2.4k | warnings: reader is described to have pale white hair and to look like visenya (plus largely endowed in the chest…), graphic descriptions of violence, y/n is otto's biggest opp, viserys you fool, slight misogyny. | author's note: welcome back! i fear i will not get over elliott tittensor as ser erryk, i hope you enjoy this series and it will be much longer! also, i took the liberties to spice up the reader. - i will update the meadow in which you lay soon!

next

"Since the dawn of our birth, father has exceedingly taken an interest in marrying us both off to a Valyrian house dear sister" you teased to your sister just before you saddled onto your dragon mounts, "And solemnly for us, Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys have only one male child".

Nymeria was a pale purple dragon, reminiscent of your eyes that passed down through generations of Targaryen lineages, your sister's eyes were painted blue, just as your mother's and father's. The townsfolk all spoke of your appearance in great detail in the days they ever saw you. "The favorable yet quieter and fiercer twin", "The twin with more Targaryen than Arryn in her", "The Princess with the mounds of Valryia", "The actual Dark Sister", and your personal favorite, "*King Maegor as a consort".

"I love our father dearly but I do not wish to be married off… especially to someone of father's tastes" Rhaenyra spoke as she pet Syrax, earning a light coo from the dragon. Nymeria was larger than Syrax though smaller than Vhagar due to age, the Dragonkeepers all spoke of Nymeria being the dragonseed of Meraxes or Vhagar.

As your sister and yourself took off on riding into the skies of King's Landing, jesting one another into a race. Nymeria outshined Syrax though both dragons were quite fond of one another, sisters though did not share an eggs hatch. If Rhaenyra were to be the daughter of Westeros, you were the daughter of the dragons. Though your father was staunchly disagreed with your attitude and the lack of conformity both you and your sister paraded, he wished you both to be near silent and seen sisters, rather than heard.

The clouds felt soft against your skin, your hair braided strategically and your dress flowing in the wind, the fabric straining against your body leaving little to the imagination of what you were gifted with when you came of age. Your father always ordered your clothes to be modest, fearing the great houses and his council were to mistake you for a whore he would say, though you defied him endlessly, giving the king no ounce of rest. The high-born folk and townsfolk were the same when it came to you and commenting on your bodice, horny men clutched to their belts in restraint and shifted in their seats or stance whenever you were present in court, jealous women who were displeased by your body as their husband's had lack the respect for their wife, it was not your problem you told yourself. It was nature's design to be given a body like yours, your mother tiredly reassured you, being of Targaryen and Arryn lineage, your body was evidence of years of warriors. Though, she refrained from calling you what everyone else did, "Visenya's twin".

You did not see being compared to Visenya as an insult, though not your direct ancestor, Visenya was still a beautiful woman- who's beauty matched her brain. She is the reason your father has a Kingsguard by his side, the reason Daemon now has Dark Sister, the reason for your own beauty. You wore it as a badge of honor rather than a distasteful insult, often wondering if Daemon did not stain and smear your family name with his unfiltered temper that aged well before you and Rhaenyra were birthed, if you were to be named Visenya as well. Daemon's temper was compared to that of Maegor and his mother's, when you came of age of six-and-ten with Rhaenyra, your father once joked, "Now we must wait and see whom Visenya will be, and whom will be Maegor". His eyes landed on you at the instance of saying Maegor's name; you remember viscerally crying in your chambers that night, questioning if your father saw you as a nuisance of the family. Twins only meant that one child was not planned, and Rhaenyra was the older twin.

They used to speak of Aegon's feats as a soldier and warrior, though never of him being a husband or a father. Rumors and tales were spoken of Targaryen men, they are either fierce knights, or wonderful fathers. You'd wager your father was neither, but only under your breath you'd say such a thing. They would also speak of Aegon's love for his wives, for every one night he'd spend with Visenya, he'd spend ten with Rhaenys. They'd also speak of Visenya's unfaltering fidelity to Aegon, but how there were whispers at court that Rhaenys took younger men to her bed on the nights Aegon would be with Visenya. You almost felt pity for the woman, her son abused and neglected whilst her sister's sired kin were cherished and respected. Underneath it all, Visenya was still an amazing queen and consort, even with the wicked feats of Maegor, that was still her baby, even so as she waged the revenge of her younger sister's death. Though you were technically younger than Rhaenyra, you were her Visenya.

"We should see ourselves back, to check on mother" you spoke up to your sister, shouted as she was a distance away from you. She nodded at your advisement, both of you delving down into the ground, racing once again. Upon reaching the ground, met with Ser Harold and the dragonkeepers, along with a carriage that revealed Alicent. You were never too fond of Alicent, though she was your sister's dear friend and lady-in-waiting, your fondness resided in Laena, forming an inseparable bond as she rode Vhagar and you rode seemingly, Vhagar's closest kin.

"I am taking you are here for the tourney our fathers are planning Alicent?" you questioned as you removed your gloves and slid off Nymeria's mount, petting your dragon once more before touching her with your forehead in order to bid farewell as she was taken by the dragonkeepers. Walking up to the Lady before looking back to see your sister dismounting from Syrax. Alicent only nodded at your question, you could barely earn a few words from Alicent, often wondering if it was because you were the second daughter to the king, yet still a higher-born daughter than any great house of Westeros. Or if it was due to the desire her brother held for you, though you always shut down his advances, it was insult to you that he felt the privilege to speak to you, the eldest son of the second son to a noble but not great house. You'd never soil your family's name and heritage to wed a Hightower, it was not your taste.

As you walked off, Rhaenyra and Alicent engaged in conversation, you mounted yourself on a horse before looking at Ser Ryam, you were fond of him though, wildly attracted to his newly appointed kingsguard, the Cargyll twins. Tall lads they were, only two-name days older than you and your sister, their hairs match each other's short and disheveled but strategically disheveled, almost as if they both wanted to appear more desirable. Though your desire for the new brothers did not blind you of the health of Ser Ryam, noticing his energy and will to live deplete as the days pass.

"Will you follow me to the castle Ser Ryam? You look awfully tired" you asked, earning a nod from the knight, before he was named Lord Commander once again, your father had him as your sworn shield for several years. As you rode back to the Red Keep, taking sparing glances back at Ser Ryam, just as you wondered into the woods just before reaching the Keep, slowing down in order to conversate with Ser Ryam.

"Anything on your mind dear princess?" Ser Ryam questioned, his horse taking small gallops.

"Do you believe me to be inept?" you asked for his opinion, "I am taunted with the fact that I am in the body of a woman, yet I decline every Lord's hand, including the handsome Stark boys, though the only man to ever catch my intrigue…" you nearly spoke too much yet too little.

"Is bound to another?" Ser Ryam questioned in confusion. You looked up at the sky in defeat, sighing before shaking your head, chuckling in the depravity of your mind.

"Bound to oaths" you then broke the pregnant silence, "Ser Erryk makes a fine knight, does he? Seeing that he and his brother were sworn in just under a year of training. He is quite the handsome man the townsfolk yelp about" you bit your lip, allowing yourself to vent to the knight.

"He may not take a wife I am afraid, my princess" Ser Ryam begun, only earning a somber look from your face, "I too loved a woman before being knighted, she had gone off to marry one of the Tully lads due to my oath. I see her once every blue moon, my love never faltered or betrayed me. I do not blame her for going off to marry, she deserved to be loved in more ways than words, stolen kisses, and nights".

"Do all members of the Kingsguard follow the vow of chastity?" you questioned further.

"We do. Granted I was not in a sticky situation being that of equal ranking to the maiden, though her honor was one I did not want to take lightly. I do pity her husband, it should have been him to be the one to take her maidenhead, not a kingsguard besmirching both her's and I's honor. Our vows are sworn under the seven, as every woman is a picture of the mother, no matter how much we wish it to be individual" Ser Ryam answered honestly, "I am to guard your secrets as well my Princess, any words spoken in this moment are under the eyes of you and me. Though I do advise you, being unmarried puts you at odds if you fall pregnant".

You laughed at the knight's comment, "It is only a crush I am afraid; I am too socially inept to talk to him more than the simply escorts to and from my chambers in the morning and eve".

As you and Rhaenyra walked into the chambers of your mother, being met with kisses on your forehead. You quickly made way to apply warm towels to your mothers' legs as they were swollen, kissing your mother's forehead before moving her hair out of her face as the sweat led it cling onto her skin. You did not envy your mother though she was carrying the burden and joy of life in her. It was you and Rhaenyra who held royal wombs, as your mother would say.

"I will be in the council mother; I will see you in the eve" you told her before dismissing yourself. You never could stomach seeing your mother in agony, Rhaenyra knew it, your mother and father knew it.

As you were met with the knight of your dreams, you smiled carelessly, "May you escort me to the council room, Ser Erryk? I find myself craving conversation to someone who isn't completely eager to marry me off". The knight offered his forearm for you to hold, escorting you to the council room across the Keep and floors down.

"Are you enjoying the preparations for the tourney Princess?" Ser Erryk asked you, both of you never were sure of what to talk about.

"I do wish I were involved in combat I must say, I envy you men for being able to succumb yourselves to violence for a day" you jested, earning a soft smile from the knight, "Are you and Arryk participating? Perhaps I can bless you both with my favor or offer you to hold Blackfyre".

Erryk was stunned greatly of your offer, Blackfyre was a noble sword, the Conqueror's no less, "You honor me more than I deserve princess, though yes, Aryk and I are participating, hopefully we do wish to not have to face your uncle, the prince".

You scoffed silently, smirking at the knight, "Which is why I offered Blackfyre" you instigated the knight as you made your way through the halls. "Daemon wields Dark Sister and I envy him for it, it is an easier fit for a woman's hand. Though, Blackfyre was sworn to me instead of my father by Jaehaerys himself".

Once you made the way to the council room you dismissed Erryk before stating once again, "If you wish to take upon my offer, you can meet me in my chambers tonight" the bold words flowed out of your tongue as if it were familiar to you.

The knight nodded, hand finding purchase on the small of your back as you stepped onto the stairs that led into the council room. You bit your lip once again, holding his eyes for a bit too long before Ser Rickard Thorne took notice, clearing his throat in the process. As you straightened your back and bid him a farewell in a glance, moving your body to enter the council room. Noting the heat that electrified between you and the loyal knight. Only choosing to distract yourself with the bland conversations held at your father's table before Rhaenyra made her way into the council room, only then you found yourself amused once again. Tomorrow will be the heir's tournament, a babe outshining you and Rhaenyra, though you hoped to the god's that tonight, the knight of your dreams finds himself taking your offer.

taglist: @wolvestitches

[lynette-m-roses]

𝔈𝔫𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱

𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤: Jealous Rhaenyra, Daemon x niece reader, Incest, reader's pregnant with Daemon's baby.

The sun was setting over the Red Keep, casting a warm glow on the city of King's Landing. Inside the castle, the royal family was gathering for dinner. Daemon, the handsome and charismatic prince, sat at the head of the table, his wife and niece, Y/N, by his side. They had been married for just over a year, and Y/N was now pregnant with their first child.

As the feast began, Rhaenyra Y/N's mother, entered the room. She was known for her beauty and her fierce love for her family. But tonight, there was a darkness in her eyes that sent shivers down Y/N's spine. Rhaenyra took her seat at the opposite end of the table, her gaze never leaving Y/N.

As the evening went on, Y/N couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in her stomach. Rhaenyra's behavior was becoming more and more erratic, and she seemed to be glaring at Y/N with hatred and jealousy. Y/N knew that Rhaenyra had always been fiercely protective of her husband, but she never expected her own mother to turn against her.

When the feast ended, Y/N excused herself and made her way to her chambers. She could feel Rhaenyra's eyes following her, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. As she entered her room, she found Rhaenyra waiting for her, a wicked smile on her lips.

'Mother, what is the matter?' Y/N asked, trying to hide the fear in her voice.

Rhaenyra's smile widened. 'You, my dear. You are the matter. How dare you steal my uncle's love and bear his child? You are nothing but a pawn in his game.'

Y/N was taken aback by Rhaenyra's words. She had always known that her marriage to Daemon was unconventional, but she never imagined her own mother would see her as a threat. But before she could respond, Rhaenyra's hand shot out and grabbed Y/N's wrist tightly.

'You will not bear his child. I will not let you,' Rhaenyra hissed, her grip tightening.

Y/N's eyes widened in horror as she realized what Rhaenyra was planning. She was going to harm Y/N and her unborn child. Without thinking, Y/N pushed Rhaenyra away and ran to her chambers, locking the door behind her. She could hear Rhaenyra banging on the door, demanding to be let in.

Y/N's heart was racing as she looked around her room, trying to come up with a plan. She knew she couldn't stay in her chambers, but she also couldn't leave the safety of the castle. Suddenly, she remembered the secret passage that led to Daemon's chambers.

With trembling hands, Y/N opened the hidden door and made her way through the dark tunnels. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could feel the baby kicking inside her. She prayed that Daemon would be in his chambers and that he would protect her and their child.

As Y/N entered Daemon's chambers, she was greeted by the sight of her husband, sitting by the fireplace, lost in thought. She ran to him and collapsed into his arms, tears streaming down her face.

'Y/N, what is the matter?' Daemon asked, concern etched on his face as he held her tight.

'It's mother. She...she wants to harm our child,' Y/N sobbed, her body shaking with fear.

Daemon's face hardened as he pulled away from Y/N and looked into her eyes. 'I will not let anyone harm you or our child. I swear it on my life,' he said, determination in his voice.

Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of love for her husband. She knew that he would protect them no matter what. But she also knew that they couldn't stay in the castle any longer. Rhaenyra would not stop until she got what she wanted.

Together, Y/N and Daemon made their escape from the Red Keep, leaving behind the treacherous world of the Targaryen's. They found a new home in Dragonstone, far away from the chaos and danger of King's Landing. And there, surrounded by love and safety, Y/N gave birth to a healthy baby boy, their firstborn. He was named Maegor, after Maegor the first.

As they looked at their child, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for Daemon's love and protection. And as for Rhaenyra, she was never seen or heard from again. But Y/N knew that her mother's love for Daemon would always burn bright, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for the woman who had lost everything to her own jealousy.

[targaryen-dynasty]

SEMPITERNAL. (5/5)

Dad!Maegor Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, p in v, breeding kink, slight praise kink, kinda medieval daddy kink (?), size kink, lactation kink, lactating, pregnancy, pregnant sex

WORDS: 4.3 K

NOTES: Precious Delights comes to an end with this. I‘m a bit sad, because I really started to love the series, but I think I've managed to end it in a good way. Thanks to everyone that joined me on this journey.

It was going to be a day of revelry. The construction of the Red Keep had been completed, and your husband found it fitting to throw a feast in celebration for those who had taken part in it. 

Taking on a fatherly aura the moment your twins took their first breaths, Maegor didn’t want the festivities to start without his precious family present, even though you were meant to depart for your chambers once they started to indulge themselves in bawdier things. 

“You have to sit still if you want Mama to finish the braid quickly,” you warned the little girl sitting in front of you, though there was no sharpness to your tone, knowing you could not expect your daughter to sit still for so long. She was just three summers old after all, and just as excited about the feast as everybody else. 

Your own flowing locks loosely cascaded down your back and shoulders, not combed and unbraided as you had been taking care of your children the whole morning, often taking their care into your own hands as they were a blessing from the Gods above. And, while Visenya was clad in a black dress that once belonged to you when you were around the same age, your swollen curves still were concealed by a white nightgown. 

The raspy chuckle you heard, as your little girl didn’t remain still long enough for you to finish the task properly, prompted you to turn your head towards your husband, sitting in a stool not too far away while the barber tended to his hair and neatly trimmed beard. 

You raised an eyebrow in innocent enquiry at the sound, which briefly changed into something different while your eyes flickered over his frame. He was dressed, but barely. His cloak, and most pieces of his wardrobe, still were draped over a chair across the room from where he sat. His torso was exposed from the waist up, covered only by the leather breeches he wore. 

Maegor had a grin on his lips – entirely different to the expression he usually wore around servants and maids. In the confines of your chambers, he often lowered his guard, not too concerned about what others thought was proper. But in the presence of other people, he was always focused on remaining harsh and cold, wanting to display his dominance and power. 

“Have you been at this all morning?” Maegor asked, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes trailed over your body just like yours had done before. A hint of nervousness filled your veins, and you scolded yourself internally for your thoughts to stray towards things you should not be thinking at that moment. 

Not bothering to hide the blush that covered your cheeks, you finally replied. “Yes, I started at first light, not long after you left. I was hoping to finish before sundown, but this little one…,” you emphasized the word, causing your daughter to glance over her shoulder, flashing her father a big smile, “... has other ideas.”

You continued to braid her hair, trying to stop the braid from becoming too tight whilst also keeping the little princess’ fidgeting at bay. The barber was done trimming Maegor’s beard at this point, packing his utensils and scurrying off at once. 

“You would think that at three she would be more disciplined,” you sighed, smiling softly at your daughter. “But she takes after you.” Briefly pressing your lips into a thin line, you wondered if you had overindulged yourself in the bantering the moment the words slipped past your lips, and if Maegor knew you were just joking. Partially, at least. 

Visenya was the spitting image of your husband in more ways than one. Not when it came to the looks, as she was taking after you in that, but her rambunctious spirit was most definitely one of the attributes she shared with him. Aerion, however, was a different story. His looks resembled Maegor’s more and more with each passing day, while he had inherited your gentle presence. 

As Maegor chuckled, your frayed nerves calmed again. “You might have been better off dressing yourself before attempting to braid her hair,” he jested. 

“And I thought you might have helped, instead of sitting there and making witty comments,” you replied, glancing at Maegor, and trying to disguise your slight frustration as playfulness, directing your husband to your current predicament. 

You knew you couldn’t expect the King to take care of his children, not on an important day like this, but you also knew that Maegor more often than not had deferred his duties in the past in order to bond with the twins. 

Not wanting to admit defeat, you continued to braid your daughter’s hair, fighting against her lack of patience, and trying to finish before she kicked the entire braid off her head. Eventually, you were successful, pulling the braid into a bun behind little Visenya’s head. 

Maegor rose from his seat, and walked over to where you sat behind your daughter. He focused his attention on her, admiring her and your work for a moment, a soft sigh escaping him as he scooped her up into his arms. 

You smiled at the sight, your heart swelling in your chest, more so as you watched the gentleness with which he handled her. In a feeble attempt, Visenya tried to escape his bear hug, grumbling slightly as he snuggled her head and smelt her hair. It was the same as whenever you did it, but something in your children’s scents was just too intoxicating. 

Tilting his head back, Visenya’s little hands grazed over his beard, seemingly enjoying the feeling of the coarse hairs under her fingers just as much as you did, before she placed them at the sides of his thick neck for stability. 

He smiled softly at your daughter, a smile that scarcely graced his features when looking at you. It was gentle and loving, and whenever his eyes met yours, his expression was tinted with desire and longing. 

“Does Mama not know that your Papa is a skilled swordsman, and not a hairdresser?” Maegor asked your daughter in a playful tone, swaying her in his arms and pressing his lips to her temple. She was giggling uncontrollably, barely comprehending what he said, clearly keening at his affection and attention. 

When the doors to your chambers opened, the wet nurse came in with a styled and dressed prince at her side. Getting Aerion ready had taken you one hour at most, and was far less complicated. 

Upon spotting his father carrying his sister in his strong arms, the boy all but barrelled towards him in jealousy. The wet nurse failed to pull him back, leaving him as he tugged on the leg of Maegor‘s leather breeches, demanding to be picked up as well. 

You used the opportunity and leaned past Maegor, trying to fix a stray strand of Aerion’s silver hair – but the excited boy didn't have any of it. 

“My my, look who is here,” Maegor said with a smile, kneeling down while carrying Visenya on his hip.

The boy hugged his father tightly, squeezing him with all the strength he could muster with his tiny arms, which left Maegor chuckling. You could not feel any greater joy than seeing the brute of a man, mostly known for his harshness, so soft and full of affection for his children. 

“I want up, Papa. I want up, now,” the boy demanded, wrapping his arms around Maegor’s neck. The sight was adorable, and you could see on your husband’s face just how much he basked in your children’s affection. 

“Up you say, mh?” Placing a hand under the boy’s bottom, your husband lifted him up with ease, carrying both children on his hips. 

You sighed, bringing a hand to your swollen belly as you planted your feet firmly on the ground, and slowly rose from your seat. It was evident Maegor had wanted to help you, to reach out to support you, but with both arms filled with your twins, he could merely offer you his forearm for you to hold onto. 

This pregnancy was not as woeful as your first one, truly a blessing from the Gods above. And your husband was more generous this time as well, allowing you to walk the gardens and the keep all by yourself, despite it taking you a bit longer to be with child again. The pregnancy in general was not that strenuous for your body, though your breasts and bump had swollen to ridiculous proportions already, and you barely exceeded the fifth moon. 

Approaching them, you brought both hands up to their cheeks, the pad of your thumbs brushing along their soft skin as they leaned into your touch. “That is enough, you two,” you hummed, smiling softly. “You must go with Erena now. We have guests arriving soon, and Mama is not ready yet. It would not do to keep our guests waiting.” 

The twins pouted, but with neither you nor Maegor being too lax with them, they knew there was no chance they could stay for any longer. You motioned for the wet nurse to approach, before you cupped your children’s faces one by one, and pressed a kiss to their foreheads. 

“Aye, you have heard your mama,” Maegor said, having your back. His eyes had taken over a half-lidded look as they were all but glued to your features, your lips mostly, watching you and admiring your motherly aura. 

He put both of them down, but not without ruffling your boy’s hair in a way that had you taking in a deep breath, trying to keep the anger of him destroying Aerion’s hairdo at bay. 

Clinging to the wet nurse's hands, they left the room at once, no doubt going to their chambers for her to read them a book. There were merely two servants around you at this point, stopping in their tracks as Maegor’s deep voice rang out. “Leave us,” he ordered sternly, his usual demeanor crawling back to the surface. 

It was the side of him your children were not meant to see, at least for now, and with Maegor’s paw coming to your swollen belly once you were alone, the softness returned. Cupping your bump gently, he looked down at it in awe.

“Are you ready for the feast?” you asked, smiling softly at him before your eyes trailed over the expanse of his bare chest. 

“I am, for as long as you’re by my side,” he said, his other hand trailing over the slight curve of your waist. Both his hands now rested where the swell was, feeling the gentle curve of your bump. When he spoke again, you could hear a tinge of jealousy in his voice, his words making you chuckle. “But I fear the crowd will pay more attention to you than me.” 

Bringing your hands up to his face, you cupped it just like you had done with the twins before, your thumbs brushing the stubble on his jaw. His eyes softened, fixing yours. “I can not wait for you to be with my fourth child,” he spoke with a mischievous grin. 

You raised a brow. “Oh, only if you will be the one carrying the babe,” you retorted, the tease in your voice and sparkle in your eyes hinting at something only he would understand. “I doubt this pregnancy will spare me from the terrible birthing pains, and I do not know whether I can endure it for a third time.”

Maegor sighed at your words, his hands running over your sides once more, before one moved to the back of your head, threading into your thick locks. Gently tugging your head back, he leaned down to press a kiss to your jaw. 

“Would you like me to try?” he chuckled against your skin, pulling back just enough for you to spot the smirk on his lips. His tone had taken on a huskier edge, one that always forced you to squeeze your thighs together. “The Gods will be on our side this time. There will be only one babe, I am sure.” 

Licking his lips, he kept his grip on your hair, and pulled your face towards his. You anticipated a kiss, but alas, he kept a few inches between your faces, your heavy breaths fanning over each other's lips. 

You tried to chase him for a kiss, but Maegor kept your head in place. “I hope you know the dangers of challenging a Targaryen man,” he teased. 

Oh, you did know. More than once had he proven that it was just not wise to challenge him. It was impossible for him to resist a good challenge, no matter how bold or brazen. Your late brother Aegon was the perfect example, and also the reason he and his dragon Quicksilver were slain by your uncle in the Battle Beneath the Gods Eye. 

Slinging your arms around his thick neck, you kept your eyes locked with his, a mischievous glint flickering in them. “I shall take my chances,” you replied, biting your bottom lip. 

That was the last bit that caused his resolve to crumble. Bowing his head forwards, he pressed his lips to yours fervently, void of any gentleness. Your hair was released, only for him to snake one arm around your waist and bring the other to your arse. Cupping it, it was easy for him to lift you up, holding your body to his in a cradle carry with your lips still connected. 

You pulled back from him to chuckle breathlessly. “We can’t… not now,” you laughed, bringing a hand to his bare chest as if you meant to stop him. “Our guests will soon arrive.”

But he was not having any of it. “Oh, is that so?” he taunted, slowly walking towards your marital bed, shrugging his shoulders when he came to a stop. “Let them, they can wait.”

You stared up at Maegor with wide eyes as he placed you down on the bed, one of your hands cupping your bump, while the other just rested on your chest, your full breasts hard and heavy. He stood at the side of the bed, and began to undo the laces in the front of his breeches. 

As much as you wanted to lock your gaze with his, your eyes always trailed down to where his fingers were fumbling with the laces, your breathing growing heavier and your mouth running dry. 

Maegor was the most handsome of all men, and his other skills were unparalleled. Even though his cock was the only one you had seen, you knew Maegor was very well endowed, and probably possessed one of the most beautiful cocks in Westeros.

Unable to wait any longer, you tugged the skirts of your nightgown up as much as your bump allowed, and shimmied your way out of your smallclothes. Your swollen belly was obvious, but you hadn’t thought of it as so obtrusive. But your husband didn’t seem to mind, if anything, he was even more determined and motivated to have his way with you.

Maegor eyed you just as hungrily, and his jaw set as he noticed the slight glistening of your womanhood as you spread your legs. You were eager and ready to take him. 

Stripping the last of his clothes off, Maegor joined you in bed, making himself at home between your parted legs. Leaning over you, careful not to put any of his weight on your bump, he planted kisses to the side of your neck, trailing up to your lips. His large frame completely covered your significantly smaller one, making you feel protected and safe as your fingers entangled into his silver strands, tugging on them gently and keeping his lips locked on yours. 

His cock was hard, pressing snugly against your soaked womanhood, sure to coat the underside of it and the sac of his stones in your arousal. You couldn’t help but to grind your hips against him, rutting your swollen folds against his hard member which prompted him to groan against your lips. 

“Be still, would you,” Maegor scolded, but his tone was void of any harshness. 

But you couldn’t. Not when your body craved to be filled by him so badly. And Maegor seemed to notice your despair. He sat back on his haunches, looking down at you. The pout on your lips had him smirking smugly. “You have teased me long enough,” you whimpered, innocently batting your eyelashes at him. “It’s what I deserve after this strenuous morning.”

Raising his brow, Maegor sighed – he was admitting his defeat. “I shall make it quick for you then.”

His hands roamed over your bump, the white silk allowing them to slide over it with ease. He then proceeded to lean to the side, fetching one of the pillows next to you and folding it in half. 

Maegor hooked one hand beneath your knee, and used that grip to lift your hips, slipping the pillow beneath them to slightly raise your body for him, and make your back arch in a way that was not uncomfortable. It caused your swollen breasts to spill from the low neckline of your nightgown, the white silk dampened and darkened by the droplets of milk that had oozed out of your hardened buds. 

“Let me take care of you, mama,” Maegor drawled, his dark blown eyes traveling over your frame. Despite most of your body still concealed by your nightgown, he couldn’t be any more attracted to and aroused by you than he was in that moment.  

Gripping the base of his cock, he used your arousal to tug on him once, twice, before aligning the tip with your throbbing entrance. He was completely focused and careful as he pushed inside, moving slow enough for you to feel every vein and ridge of his cock drag along your walls. 

“Gods be good,” you moaned, enjoying the feeling of being stretched out by him, bliss taking over your senses. 

Your husband remained upright, his hands on your knees as he started with a slow, deep grinding. Your smaller one found his and held onto him for stability and to feed your longing for his touch, your eyes never leaving his. You felt the familiar heat building in your belly quicker than usual, the coarse hair around his member grazing over your sensitive pearl every time he moved and fueling the pleasure you felt. 

“You truly were made for me,” he grunted, a large hand moving to splay over your bump, covering most of it. “The most beautiful woman in the realm, swollen with my seed and carrying my children.” With a blush covering your cheeks, you bit your bottom lip, stifling a wanton moan. 

Noticing the color on your cheeks, Maegor smirked, slightly increasing the pace of his hips, his cock hitting deep enough to drag over the spot that had you whining and whimpering. You were squeezing him so well, making it impossible for him to keep going for much longer – not that you had time to do so anyways. 

Your pearl throbbed with anticipation, and your cunt clenched and convulsed around his member, announcing your approaching peak and coaxing grunts and groans to escape his parted lips. 

You tipped your head back into the pillows, unraveling beneath him as you closed your eyes in bliss. 

“So good,” he groaned, reaching to rub your bump before trailing his hand up to your full breasts. “I shall fuck you full of my seed, and bed you until your womb runs dry.” You weren’t sure if it were his words, the thoughts accompanying them or the sensual rolling of his hips, but your brain went fuzzy with pleasure, clouding each thought to the point you couldn't think straight and answer him. 

His big hand tugged the neckline of your nightgown down to the point it ripped at the seam, freeing your breasts from their confines. It could have been a growl or a groan rumbling in his chest – either way it sounded threatening and dangerous, lured out by the sight of your leaking breasts. Clamping one of your darkened buds between his calloused fingers, he squeezed it to force some more droplets of milk out of it, coating his fingers in it.

Bringing them up to his lips, he sucked them clean with a groan, only for him to pay equal attention to your other breast not long after. It was not much, but already helped enough to relieve some of the pressure and ease the fullness. 

You bit your bottom lip and started up at him with half-lidded eyes, a teasing grin on your lips. “Want to get your fill, papa?” you asked, feigned innocence weaving itself through your tone. 

Maegor panted heavily, his eyes glued to where his fingers were milking you. “You little minx,” his husky voice drawled, interrupted by strained breaths. He was close. “Later.”

The coil in your belly tightened each time his body rutted against your pearl in combination with his fingers on your breasts, and it eventually snapped and allowed your peak to wash over your body with a loud cry. Maegor watched you mesmerized, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered around his cock with relief etched onto your features. 

He seized the opportunity, and bowed his bull-like body forwards, placing one hand next to your frame to support his weight as he increased the pace and intensity of his thrusts. Your cunt melted around his hard member, sucking him in with each snap of his hips.

You couldn't deny the slight aching that started to blossom between your legs, growing more apparent with the repercussions of your peak slowly subsiding, but you knew Maegor was racing for completion at this point, his breathing ragged and his jaw set. 

“When this babe is born…,” he rambled, panting in between the words. Strands of his blonde hair fell in front of his eyes, a sheen of sweat on his skin. “… I shall fuck another into you. I can not get enough of watching your body swell with my seed, making it clear to everyone that you are mine.”

“Y-Yes, Gods, please.” The flush on your cheeks grew hotter, matching the growing volume of your whimpers and moans. Suddenly, the thought of another babe growing inside of you didn’t seem too bad. 

It was with a final thrust of his hips that his body finally relented, his cock spending in a burst so strong Maegor stilled his movements. You felt him twitch and throb inside of you, spilling his seed and painting your walls as you milked him for every drop. 

The sight was divine. His muscular body crouched forwards slightly, blonde strands framing his chiseled features, beads of sweat highlighting his flexing muscles, and his jaw set tight enough you feared for his teeth. 

If you weren’t with his child already, you would have mounted him to make sure his seed would bear fruit. 

Every muscle in his body was tensed, until he eventually collapsed into the vacant spot right next to you, careful not to put any weight on your swollen belly. His flaccid cock slipped out of you in the process, causing you to pout at the sudden feeling of emptiness. 

But you were quickly distracted when you looked to the side, studying him carefully. The blissful smile on his lips sent heat straight through your veins again, reigniting the fire and longing for more. You traced your fingertips over his sharp cheekbones, while his hand had remained splayed over your bump in a protective manner. 

Moving to lie on his back with his arms crossed behind his head, mischievous thoughts filled your head, inspired the moment you glanced down at his thick cock. Teasing and arousing you was a weapon only Maegor possessed, and he wielded it so perfectly – intended or not. 

“Mh, our guests may have to wait a little longer,” you said, voice laced with desire. 

It was a bit troublesome for you to get up, but once you managed to do so, you moved to straddle your husband’s hips, his cock trapped between your soaked womanhood and his lower stomach.  

He watched you with an eyebrow raised, but made no move to stop you. You rutted your hips over his length, coating him in your mixed essences and coaxing him to full hardness again. 

Maegor propped himself up on his elbows, a groan leaving his lips, and brought his paws up to graze over your sides. He understood what you wanted, and was eager to give you just that. With unsurprising strength, he fisted the silk of your nightgown and tore it in half, exposing your whole body to him. 

You gasped, more because of the chill air hitting your hot skin than the shock of the sudden movements. 

Licking a flat stripe over the curve of your full breast before wrapping his lips around your hard bud, Maegor sucked on it a few times to swallow some of your milk. You moaned at the stimulation, tipping your head back as your cunt clenched around nothing. 

He pulled back with a string of saliva connecting his swollen lips and your skin, glancing up at you mischievously. And when he spoke, his voice was husky and strained, teasing you with a smug smirk on his lips. “I think they will understand.”

Maegor Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @watercolorskyy @xxxkat3xxx @baedebnam @simonedk @heavenhatesme @valyrianglass

General Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @sirenangelroyal @malfoytargaryen @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @melsunshine @docmartinis @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @nockerin @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1 @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @goldyfishsstuff @connorsui

[novaursa]

Fire's Legacy

- Summary: A few moons after he came for you, Maegor finally took you as his under eyes of the Old Gods of Valyria. And it didn't take long for you to find yourself with his child. Now it's the time to bring that innocent life into the world of fire and blood, and all you can do is pray it lives.

- Paring: niece!reader/Maegor I Targaryen

- Note: This short story follows the events of Fire and Blood.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Next part: bloodline

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: Unplanned post.

The day began like any other in the Red Keep, the sun casting a dull haze over the court. You could feel the weight of your pregnancy pressing against your body, every step a reminder of the life you carried within you. The maesters had said it would still be weeks, but something inside told you otherwise. You sensed it in the way your belly tightened, the sharp twinges that had begun early in the morning.

It was Maegor’s presence that both comforted and unnerved you. He had been a dark storm ever since you were taken as his wife, fierce and relentless in his possession of you. His touch was often rough, claiming, but there were moments, brief as they were, where you saw something softer flicker in his eyes. But softness had no place in Maegor's world, not now, not when he held the Iron Throne in a grasp as unyielding as dragonsteel.

He was seated on the dais, the Blackfyre sword at his side, when the pains became unbearable. You could not stop the gasp that tore from your throat, sharp and urgent. Maegor’s head snapped toward you immediately, the room around you falling into a hush. His dark eyes narrowed in on you, assessing, as you pressed a hand to your belly.

“It is time,” you whispered, breathless, and the realization hit you both at once.

The maesters scrambled to their feet, rushing to assist you, but Maegor rose faster, his steps heavy and purposeful as he closed the distance between you. He dismissed the maesters with a growl, sweeping you into his arms. His grip was fierce, but there was an underlying protectiveness you had rarely seen in him before.

“Visenya,” Maegor barked, his voice carrying through the hall.

The queen dowager appeared as if summoned by the very gods themselves, her face calm but her eyes sharp. She had always been an imposing figure, her silent strength a constant presence in Maegor’s life. She regarded you with a knowing look as Maegor carried you toward your chambers, her hands deftly organizing the chaos around her.

Once inside the room, Maegor set you down carefully, though his hands lingered on your arms, his gaze intense. He didn’t say a word, but you could feel the command in his posture. You would survive this, for him, for the child you carried.

Visenya took charge with an efficiency that belied her age, directing the midwives and maesters with curt nods and gestures. Maegor, however, refused to leave your side. His hand found yours, gripping tightly as the labor began in earnest. He watched with a burning intensity as each contraction wracked your body, his jaw set as though he could command the pain to cease by sheer will alone.

Hours passed, the agony becoming nearly unbearable, but you could feel the moment drawing closer. Maegor's face never wavered, though you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes darkened with each scream that left your lips.

Then, suddenly, it happened. The first babe emerged, a healthy, wailing boy. The midwife handed the squirming child to Maegor, and for a moment, he simply stared, his face a mixture of disbelief and pride. His firstborn son.

“Your heir,” Visenya whispered, a rare softness in her voice as she looked upon the boy.

But before the moment could settle, another wave of pain crashed through you. The midwives rushed back into position, their hands working swiftly, and then, just as swiftly as the first, a second child came forth—a girl, strong and full of life.

“Twins,” one of the maesters muttered, astonished.

Maegor was silent, but the weight of the moment pressed down on the room. He held his son in one arm and, when the midwives offered, took his daughter in the other. His face, hard as stone and as fierce as the dragon he was, betrayed nothing at first. Then, slowly, a rare, dangerous smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Two,” he said, his voice low, reverberating with something primal. “Two strong babes.”

Visenya’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she looked between you and the twins. “It seems the gods favor you after all, Maegor,” she remarked, though there was a glint in her eye that spoke of more than just familial pride. She approached, inspecting the babes as if they were her own creations, her approval unspoken but seen.

You, exhausted beyond measure, watched through bleary eyes as Maegor gazed upon his children, the weight of what had happened finally settling over him. He turned his attention to you, his expression unreadable, but there was something new in his gaze—a fierce possessiveness, yes, but also a deeper, quieter pride.

“You have given me a dynasty,” he murmured, low enough for only you to hear. “You will be remembered as the mother of dragons.”

And in that moment, you knew—whatever fears you had before, whatever doubts—Maegor had truly claimed you, not just as his wife, but as the mother of his legacy. The realm might tremble under his rule, but here, in this room, Maegor Targaryen had found something he valued even more than power.

His family.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

You are ours - Blacks

Blacks x fem!reader (hostage)

characters : Daemon, Rhaenyra, Jacaerys, Rhaenys

Warning : hostage (trapped), hurt/comfort, implied possession, emotional, kiss, war, fear, implied death, filth (slightly implied), Targaryen incest, f/f, m/f, no use of y/n

Summary : Held hostage after the Black's escape, the princess of the realm could do nothing but hope for rescue at last, while the color black shrouded her more and more in emotions far beyond hate and love.

info : so now the counterpart to the green ones yes yes i would like to be trapped on both sides but well let's see…i hope you enjoy reading and thanks for the support :)

masterlist

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He was the rough prince he was the ete pirnz of the realm the brother of the king he was feared by all he was unpredictable maybe he was just like his great-great-uncle Maegor. He was the wielder of Darksister and flew on Caraxes the blood worm.

He had always had a right to the throne and even if he had children with his wife, even if he had two daughters with his second wife, in the end he was only the prince regent of the realm, subordinate to his queen and niece Rhaenyra.

But in the end, he still had her, ,,The green sister-in-law was a little mouse at court and couldn't do anything to prevent the rise of this false cunt king," he continued to talk to her as he stood in front of her cell.

He was grateful to his cousin Rhaenys that the queen had brought the widow queen's sister with her on her escape with Meleys, it was one more thing they had in hand against the leeches.

But perhaps it was because the prince had taken a fancy to the sweet mouse since he arrived in King's Landing more than ten years ago that he was amused by her.

She wasn't like her younger sister Alicent she was a wanderer she stood up for herself didn't let herself be manipulated by her father or at least less than the dowager queen and had an opinion. ,,The mouse that will survive the dragon…mice breed quickly and what family doesn't back its own blood?" she replied and rose from the simple bed, exchanging the dress that was once green on her for a black one and leaning lightly against the bars.

She saw the hatred for her, for her sister and nephews and her niece and twins. He hated her and hated all her blood, but above all he realized that the mouse was dancing around his nose, ,,Hiding in plain sight with the prince, what does your father say?" he asked, coming closer to the bars and seeing how she tensed up even though she showed no fear.

In all other cases he was stronger, he was always stronger and he realized this with a grin as her eyes lingered on his violet eyes and his center for a moment too long. The mouse had a fascination for dragons, ,,What would he say if his daughter came home with a bastard child? The star of Oldtown desecrated by me mhhh?" he came closer to her and saw her looking at him uncertainly as the dragon wallowed in her fear.

Daemon grabbed her wrist hastily before she could move into the cell and pulled her back so that he could see her body pressing against the bars, a little unsteadily and yet the fear in her eyes mingled with the daring smile on her lips. ,,Then my nephew the king will kill you-" she began, sure that the green ones would hound her, but his lips were quicker. He wrapped her in a kiss, making her fall silent and his hands held her.

It was one kiss of many they threatened each other keeping her limited position in mind and yet she couldn't help but wear more and more black and red the blood red as perhaps in the lost texts of the books she did give birth to a child but whether it was the dragon's no one knew in the centuries that passed. But who could say what was clear was that she was a prisoner of the black under the control of Daemon Targaryen the Rough Prince.

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

Rhaenyra : The Queen of the Blacks the Queen who was the first child of King Viserys was her step niece a woman of power. A queen who should not be lait the green according to her nephew, according to the Widow Queen's sister.

However, it was not in her position to say the contrary, it was completely different since she was taken as a hostage as revenge for the death of Lucerys, she was the bargaining chip in a war that was about to break out. A war that could have been prevented, but things had happened that had led to this.

The queen had chosen a new one in her circle of ladies-in-waiting. The Lady Hightower of Oldtwon the star of the house elder sister of her former friend Alicent.

Maybe it was because she had the look of the living Hightower, maybe it was because she was Alicent's sister or her voice was similar to Alicent's…maybe she was just looking for someone who was like her friend.

But it didn't matter because she had made her her lady in waiting, of course, with guards who were with her so that no attack could be made. But the color of the dress was black with red, the conversations went on about the past and Rhaenyra found herself looking for her former friend's company when she was alone in the evening, ,,You wanted to see me Rhaenyra?" she asked and came into the room and saw the queen standing at the balcony.

One of the Queen's Guard was in the room watching the two of them and was about to kill the star if they lost leverage, but they accepted that. But perhaps she herself liked the position she was in, ,,Stand by me, I want to watch the stars with you," the Targaryen ordered her old friend, who came striding towards her.

It was a position in which she felt like a beautiful thought back then, ,,They are beautiful like you," she replied and saw Rhaenyra's smiling face and the violet eyes on her.

There was a kind of back and forth between them, a teasing and a hatred that lay between them. ,,Flattery will get us no further dear," she reminded the star of Oldtwon before they both looked up at the sky again, looking at the star constellations they had already seen when the three of them sat in the garden or on the balcony and looked up at the sky.

But Rhaenyra was right, she was only here as a prisoner for information, if it went near Daemond she would be tortured but Rhaenyra hoped for other ways, ,,Even if it would be nice to have it like back then," the older one admitted and saw the sad expression on the violet eyes lips that seemed to tremble for a moment and hands that held on to the railing.

Rhaenyra looked away for a moment, seeming to want to gather herself, only to see her hand raised in a wave of her eye and her nostrils turned to panic. With a hasty movement she had her former friend against the railing of the balcony, ,,Is this what you want? Or do you want to hurt me?" asked the queen, pushing her further and letting her go, while the two women saw the tears in each other's eyes. They held each other tightly, seeing the pain, knowing that in the end there was a way out, a war that ended in death.

Before she could slowly break away, Rhaenyra allowed her to do so, leaning her head against hers and stroking the queen's cheek. It was silent tears that they exchanged, they just held each other and she knew that the black thread had been in her heart for years.

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

Jacaerys :

Jacaerys : The first prince of the realm to succeed his mother on the throne, the brave young prince with a duty to serve his mother.

A young boy born into a crige who tries to kill him because of his blood but before that he was a young man with a gentle nature who after the death of his brother wants to see an end to the war the sooner the better but whether his decision was right when his family fled King's Landing on his dragon to take his great aunt with him he did not know.

It was a thought, a feeling that he could not otherwise protect his family, a shield that would protect them all, but for them for long? But now after weeks of being on Dragonstone with his family and her still being here made him realize that his decision was wrong.

He had taken his own aunt hostage what prince does that or was he too lost in grief? Questions he couldn't answer and walked helplessly through the castle, his thoughts diminishing as he trained, when he was with his fiancée and her sister it was bearable but as soon as he saw them the feeling of guilt returned.

A feeling that consumed him and he didn't dare to speak out, she on the other hand always had a knowing look in her eyes when she brought the wine to the war table, cleaned the rooms or stood by the cliffs she was a green dragon in a cage of black fabric which was actually her family.

But the least he would do was apologize when his boots echoed in the corridors and he was on his way to the cliffs that pointed towards Driftmark where the dragons flew over their heads and he could call Vermax if he needed his dragon. But in fact she was there as she usually was in her free time he never knew why and the rest of the family and their vassals seemed uninterested.

His hand loosely on the hilt of his sword, his cloak blew gently back and forth with her dress as the winds on the cliffs were always stronger than in the castle where it was like a breeze.

Winds he felt whenever he flew over the castle on Vermax it was one of the few places of peace where he could talk, cry, laugh it was a place he hoped to stay forever. ,,You are always here, dear aunt," he said and saw how she did not turn her gaze away from the sea but a slight smile came to her lips, a sad smile.

He tried to follow her gaze to find out where she was looking until he saw her nod, ,,Two families Jace from here on a good day you can see King's Landing a bit I feel closest to them…but please can I do something for you?" she asked back and turned to him e saw the tears in her eyes she seemed to have weighed another stone of guilt inside him.

He felt his heart beat faster with nervousness as he looked away from her at the sea and breathed shakily, ,,I…I apologize for what I did I thought it would help us…help my mother the queen but now I see it was wrong" he admitted lowering his own gaze and smacking the lump in his throat and wiping away the tears as the memories came back, memories of his brother, of the short happy time until it all went down.

But suddenly he felt her hand on his, a gentle squeeze and a look that told him she didn't blame him, ,,A prince who wants to protect his family is nothing to condemn believe me I don't approve of what my nephew did either and yet I tried not to do the same to you the pain is the same" she reminded him and gave him a moment before pulling him into a brief embrace the sniffling of both of them lost from the winds as they knew they had to forgive and resent everything at the same time in this uncertain time as family and as enemies.

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

Rhaenys : The queen who never was was a title she had accepted for a long time since her birth, her beloved mother and father had perhaps hoped or wished that she could become queen. She was older, had a dragon and was of the blood of the heir to the throne but she was a woman and a woman would be dropped by the council in the face of her cousin Viserys.

It was hard, the beginnings were truly hard but the longer she watched the game with Viserys the more relieved she became as she realized the dangers and her beloved husband Corlys let her know that even if she was robbed of her throne he was there for her. Until she saw herself in another woman "the queen that was meant to be" a title that belonged to Alicent's elder sister.

A woman younger than Rhaenys and yet a fate that Alicent shared, being queen was a false choice her older sister more fit for the throne than a young woman.

But it had happened and after retreating from the castle they had simply taken her away, not that she was to blame, it was a decision of the Prince Consort and she would follow her Queen.

But now whenever the two crossed paths there was a caution and understanding between them, a "My Lady" and a "My Princess" as a formal and polite form of address, even though they were enemies, they came together again and again, it was a meeting of conversation and curiosity about how to deal with such a title. A title that Rhaenys gave up and a title that she wanted to have.

A fact they both did not deny but with another meeting that evening in Rhaenys' chamber while Corlys was away showed how they fit together. ,,I ask you now as the title of a woman who never received a crown…do you believe your nephew has truly inherited the throne?" came the question as the two women sat in a chair in front of the fireplace, the light making their shadows dance and the amused smiles appear as they took a sip.

The Lady shook her head, ,,I was there when my father proclaimed the title of King…but I think we both know that was not your cousin's wish," she admitted and took a long sip. Everyone in the black party knew that Viserys had appointed his daughter, that he had given his son to a ram but not to the throne.

Rhaenys sat up slightly in the chair and leaned slowly towards the younger woman, ,,I know that, but you deserve the crown, don't you? Being passed over for a queen because of your own younger sister's looks makes you sorry, doesn't it?" she asked and saw exactly how the wariness appeared in her lady's eyes, her gaze lowered for a moment only to want to retreat, which Rhaenys didn't allow.

She had it where she wanted it and knew that even if she never got the crown, any ally in green could be used to put the black on her and create the illusion of a crown.

She knew when their eyes met she saw the determination in the Hightower's eyes she knew there was something between them, always had been, that they would use.the Lady was not a dragon but when Rhaenys placed her hand on the younger one's the fire crackled in the hearth the green seemed as hot as the dragon's blood flowing through the black.

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

[fairysluna]

“Don't you wanna feel good, baby?”

“Tell me how it feels. It doesn't hurt does it ?”

With big daddy plssssss 🥹

a/n: after MONTHS i finally got to fulfill this request (and work on others). I wrote this in an hour or so, so I'm sorry if it's not perfect but i had to take advantage of the inspo boost i had. Hope you like this, babyy.🤍

TW: king!maegor x maid!reader, smut (masturbation, innocence kink, pussy slapping, orgasm denial), power imbalance dynamic.

Maegor has always looked at you with lustful eyes. He would shamelessly stare at your cleavage whenever you bend over to serve him wine or to prepare him a bath. It was no surprise for you that he soon found himself being infatuated by your body, and the way your innocent eyes seemed to obliviously look at his naked form each time you would bathe him.

What was a surprise was the fact that he invited you to join him in, sitting you between his thick thighs after he observed patiently how you slowly and shyly removed your attires. There was a slight heat on your cheeks; this was so wrong in so many ways but you couldn't help but to feel drawn to his warm skin as he wrapped his muscly arms around your body. It was a quite uncomfortable position, the bathtub was perhaps too big to fit your bodies inside; yet, he did not seem to care, for he wasted no time in burying his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling that sweet scent that made him cock twitch against your lower back.

You would be a liar if you dared to say that it did not arouse you; the King was blessed with a charm that most men desired, he was desired by all the women in the realm and yet, he chose you - a simple maid that had never seen the world beyond those castle's walls. His calloused fingers would travel all around your body, leaving a trace of chills and heat behind as he made sure to touch every inch of you. Suddenly, you felt some kind of wetness between your legs, and you were certain that it was not the extremely hot water that was covering your body.

"Have you ever been touched?" Maegor asked, his low voice causing shivers down your spine as his hands rested right under the swell of your breasts; as if he was waiting for a sign to go further.

"No, my king…" You answered, almost in a murmur. Maegor smirked.

"Not even by yourself?"

You felt the heat on your cheeks growing as you replied again. "No."

A soft hum left his lips; a pleasant gesture took over his face as his cock only grew harder with the thought of being the one who steals your innocence. His fingers slowly moved upwards, cupping your breasts and squeezing them gently and softly - he was trying to see what your reaction would be, and as he noticed how your delicious lips parted slightly, he dared to capture your sensitive nipples between his thick fingers. A gasp fell from your mouth as he pinch them; it wasn't rough nor painful, it felt rather good as he played with them and you just squirmed over his body.

"So sensitive," he whispered for himself. The warmth of his breath hitting your nape was enough to make you moan softly, all while he started to add more pressure to his touch. You arched your back.

When his hands left your nipples, you felt his touch in your inner thighs. He used his strength to spread your legs, positioning each one at each border of the bath. You sighed, seeing your exposed flesh through the warm water. As you noticed how his touch came closer and closer to your core, your heart beated with anticipation and some nervousness. That is why your first reaction was to cover that intimate part of yourself with your own hand.

Maegor grunted in disapproval.

"Come on, darling, don't you want to feel good?" His husky whisper made you sigh, almost as if he was casting a spell on you. "Be a good girl, and let me touch that sweet little pussy of yours."

He removed your hand from your center, using a bit of strength and roughness to do it. Before you could cover yourself again, he cupped your core with his big hand and a soft moan left your lips. He immediately felt your slick against his fingertips, which were right outside your tight entrance. You gasped when he teased your needy hole, only pushing the very tip of his index finger.

Your hand went to his wrist, and he immediately stopped. Rolling his eyes after how you reacted, for it was not what he had expected. However, his fingers traveled up against your slit, and his skilled fingers found your swollen pearl - which was throbbing at that point, swollen with the carnal desire of being touched by him.

He started to rub it slowly and in circling motions, your eyes closed as an extremely erotic sound escaped from your swollen lips. Maegor chuckled against your ear, almost in a mocking way, as if he was trying to say 'I told you so'.

“Tell me how it feels. It doesn't hurt, does it?” He whispered, putting some more pressure on your sensitive clit.

You mewled, moving your hips against his movements as he fastened his pace just a little. His free hand reached for your nipple, and your eyes rolled back. You were only able to moan, feeling this overwhelming heat rushing all over your body, forming a knot in your gut that begged to be released.

As you did not reply, Maegor gave a sharp slap to your clit. It was painful, yet incredibly pleasing. You cried out as your hips lifted, causing the water to splash all over the floor.

"I made you a question," he grunted, pinching your nipple and making you whine.

All gentleness was left aside as his hand rubbed faster, rougher. Your legs started to shake as you were struggling to find the words.

"G-gods… it feels so- so good…" You managed to say. His hand squeezing your breast as his skillful fingers were moving impossibly fast against your folds.

You turned into a whiny mess, Maegor hardness was rubbing against your back as you moved desperately. It was an odd feeling, it felt too overwhelming but at the same time you just couldn't get enough of it. Your body was burning with desire, begging and pleading for something you did not know.

Maegor was enjoying to see your desperation, a smug grin was drawn on his face as he felt you close to reach that glorious orgasm that you so achingly need.

But just when you were about to reach your release, he stopped.

A cry was heard, your eyes clouded with tears that reflected your frustration as Maegor laughed.

He laughed at you.

"Poor thing," he murmured, "You truly believed I would let you cum first?"

"P-please…" You whined, "It hurts."

"If you want it, you will have to earn it."

He stood up. Drops of water cascading down his muscular chest as he straightened up. His imposing figure brought a new heat inside your belly as you looked up at him only to find his hard cock a few inches away from your face.

"Get on your knees," he commanded, "If you manage to please me, then I will consider returning the favor."

The ache between your legs left you with no other choice but to obey.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Silk Ribbons

maegor x niece!reader

Summary: Maegor crashes Aenys name day tournament which turns into more blood. He shows up unannounced to the feast where he gives all of his attention to Y/n before taking her back to Dragonstone.

Warnings: 18+ death, blood, blades, swearing, wine, bondage, oral (f receiving), p in v, it’s a maegor the cruel fic like wtf else can i say

Authors Note: this was a request from my bestie 🫣😮‍💨, pls i’ve never really read maegor ff so i hope i did him justice

Word Count: 4.2k

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

Servants rush around the Red Keep trying to get everything in order for the feast being held later this evening in celebration of my father’s name day. I’m whisked out of the castle followed by guards who escort me to my carriage. There’s three raps on the wood before we jolt forward venturing into the city.

My father insisted I come to the tourney even though I personally have no taste for it. Instead, I would have been content to host a great ball that lasted days. I sigh and look out the window watching the common folk slowly make their way to the tourney grounds. I don’t think I’ll ever understand what all these people see in such brazen acts of violence, and in the name of my father of all people.

The carriage slows as we push through the tourney grounds opening gates. We come to a stop near the entrance and my door opens. My guard escorts me through the doors and up the stairs to find my seat.

“Come, you’ll sit in front of me and your father.” my mother waves her hand to me.

I sigh as I make my way to the front row of chairs. I know these are the best seats but I have no idea why my parents would think I would want them. I look across the arena and see the seats quickly filling up. My father pats my shoulder on his arrival as he places his hands on the rails to begin making the opening announcement.

“Welcome and thank you all for joining the celebrations for my name day. Good luck to the brave knights, may you fight and win with honor!” my fathers raises his hands and the crowd begins to erupt.

As my father makes his way back to my mother the first two knights are called to the sands. After I hear him sigh and take his seat I allow myself to look off into the clouds and daydream. I lean back in my chair and to anyone else I look as if I’m enjoying the fight but instead I’m dreaming of flying through the clouds on dragonback.

The duels continue as I let my mind drift away. The clashes of swords are turned into dragon songs and the shouts form commands. The announcer calls two new knights to the sands and the crowd goes hushed as a third knight enters the sands.

“Is he mad for coming here?” my fathers voice breaks through as he speaks to his guard.

I shake my head and scan the sands in front of me. The only thing that seems to be happening is the announcer speaking to the third knight. I tilt my head studying them as my father hushes his quick words to the guard. I gasp and grab my chest as the knight strikes the announcer in the face, who falls to the sand not getting up. Guards rush to the announcer as the knight stalks over to us.

“Brother,” the knights deep voice carries up to us. “I will have a place at this tournament.” he points his sword up to the box.

“Go back to Dragonstone, Maegor.” my father calls down to him.

I scoot up to the edge of my seat to try and look upon my uncle. I haven’t seen him in ages but it seems if his temperament hasn’t changed. I lean forward and peek over the rails at him as he rips his helmet off and throws it up at my father. My father ducks barely escaping the flying metal but trips over me in the process.

“Guards, get Y/n out of here.” my father fumes as he rises once more.

I’m pulled up by my arms and I quickly turn to look down at Maegor before they hide me away. Our eyes lock on one another quickly before the guard harshly pulls my arm, jerking my body. Maegors eyes narrow on the guard who’s currently tugging me away from him.

“You let that man handle her like that?” Maegors voice rumbles against the walls.

The guard pulls me down the stairs and we hear continued shouts coming from the hall. Loud footsteps stomp down the stairs and the guard begins to pull me away even faster. I sigh in relief as my carriage makes its way into my sight and I practically sprint to it. The guards hand loosens as hear a slash of metal through bone.

For a moment my breathing stops as I think I’ve been struck as I felt the shutter of the blade. My eyes widen as I turn and take in the scene. Maegor is standing there holding Blackfyre with the guards blood dripping off of it. I look down to my arm as the guards dismembered arm falls to the ground. My eyes then travel to the guard who is on the ground in a state of panic and shock before he goes completely still.

“He should not have touched you like that.” Maegor sheaths his sword, looking to the body at his feet with disgust.

“Uncle,” my voice trembles as steps over the guard and comes to tower over me.

“You’ve become so beautiful, Y/n.” he brings fingers to ghost over my cheek.

My breathing intensifies at his gentle touch after he showed such violence. My eyes dart to the body behind him and he grabs my chin and forces me to look to him. His smile borderline predatory as he begins to lean down. My eyes go wide the closer his mouth comes to mine until he turns his head quickly to whisper something into my ear.

“Maegor you bull, what have you done?” my fathers voice booms behind us as he looks in horror at the guard.

“Did you not see the way your own guard was pulling her. She’ll have bruises come morning. Is this how a Princess should be treated?” he turns to my father tilting his head.

“Please do not use my daughter as an excuse for your wanton brutality.” my father storms over to him.

“Aenys, you don’t want this fight.” Maegors hands go to my father’s shoulders.

I don’t know what leads me to do it, but I place my hand on Maegors arm. He turns and looks down to me curiously as he allows me to remove his hands from my father. I turn to my father who looks from where my hand is placed on Maegor to me.

“Daughter, step away from him.” my father warns.

My hand slips from his armor as I slowly step back to my carriage. Maegor watches every step I take as my father watches him. I slip into the carriage and shut the doors behind me. I sigh out in relief and slide down into my pillowed seats.

The carriage begins to move and I look out my window to see Maegor watching as I’m pulled back through the city. I begin to fan myself off hoping the adrenaline will start to wash away. I find myself blushing at his words of calling me beautiful even though I shouldn’t. I’ve always secretly wished he would see me in that light instead of a child. His temper terrifies me, but Gods he is so handsome.

Once we make it through the gates of the Red Keep I’m escorted directly to my chambers. I huff claiming a chair not wanting to be sequestered here all day. After an hour I pick up a book to hopefully lose myself to another world until the feast begins.

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

“Princess,” my mother’s soft voice lulls me out of my nap.

“No, did I miss the feast?” I quickly rise from the chair in a panic.

“I’ve come to check on you and to see if you still wanted to attend after today’s events.” she grabs my hand to rub soothing circles on it.

“Of course I want to go to the feast. They have been making my gown for almost a full moon.” I whine.

“I figured as much.” she chuckles as she goes to the doors to allow my handmaidens flood in.

I’m quickly stripped of my dress and lead over to the bath. Lavish oils and soaps are brought out and I hum in relaxation as I’m pampered to. My hair begins to be brushed and secured out of my face by a pale pink ribbon. I rise out of the tub when the water turns tepid and begin to dry off. I’m offered a new slip that seems to be made of the same silk as my ribbon.

I gasp as my gown is brought in for me to finally look upon. The gown is white but with all of the beading it looks as if it’s the soft pink of a morning sunrise. It fits closer to my body than I had originally thought but when looking in the mirror I admire it even more. The beads fade into crystals that flow up the neckline. They offer me a close fitting crystal necklace that brings out the rest of the details in the gown. After they place my earrings I’m guided out of my chambers and down to the dining hall.

“You look absolutely lovely.” my mother smiles as I join her on the dias.

“They outdid themselves with this gown.” I look down to admire it.

I take a sip of wine and take in the life and merriment around me. I look down to my father who seems happy enough but I can still see the lingering frustration. Servants come out and fill our plates once everyone has found their seats. The doors to the hall groan open and my father’s face turns red as Maegor saunters in.

“May I sit next to you, Y/n.” Maegor licks his lips looking down at me.

I nod my head as he pulls the chair out loudly next to me. Servants rush to fill his cup with wine as he continues to look at me. I feel my cheeks heat and I quickly turn back to my plate. I can feel my father’s eyes on me but I don’t have the courage to look anywhere besides my plate.

“You look ravishing in this dress.” Maegor purrs lowly.

“Thank you,” I murmur willing my cheeks not to tint as I take a sip of wine.

“Will you let me take it off of you later?” I cough at his low his words.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” my fathers voice laced with worry at my sudden coughing fit.

“Yes,” I nod clearing my throat attempted to offer him a smile.

My father huffs as we return to our meal. It seems as if the whole hall is blind to the tension radiating from our table. Laughter and toasts are shouted across the hall and all I can think of is Maegor who has slowly been inching his chair closer to mine. I try to ignore his closeness until his thigh is pressed against mine.

“Is there something you needed?” I turn and blink up at him.

“You,” his voice low as he looks down at me with dark eyes.

“Maegor-“

“Come, let’s dance.” he rises above me and offers me his hand and I can see my father turn to us with a scrunched brow.

I place my hand in his palm as his fingers engulf mine. He pulls me down to dance as a new song begins. He pulls me flush against his body and I squeak in surprise. His hand continues to hold mine while his other goes firmly to my lower back. My hand rises to his chest as I look up to him.

He holds me possessively as he stares down any man who looks too closely. My eyes land on my father who is currently seething next to my mother who looks worried. I squirm in Maegors arms as his fingers trail up my spine and bury themselves into my hair. He tilts my head so I’m looking up at him as a smirk spreads across his face.

“You’re going to ruin my hair.” I whine breathlessly.

“Apologies,” he chuckles as his hand slides down to rest on my neck.

We continue to sway to the music and I allow my hand to travel across the expanse of muscle that is his chest. I can feel the dips and definitions through his doublet and can’t begin to imagine what they look like in all their glory. I feel his laugh rumble in his chest before I hear it. I tilt my head as I look up to him.

“Do you enjoy my muscles?” he smiles down at me.

“You’re just so strong.” I whisper as I squeeze his bicep allowing my hands to travel the muscle hidden beneath his sleeves shamelessly.

I gasp as he lifts me into the air as my hands wrap around his neck. He begins to walk towards the main doors while I look over his shoulder and see my father shoot to his feet. He looks to us in confusion and doubt until he sees our path is to exit. He shouts to the guards but it’s too late. I can’t help the excitement and adrenaline that flows through me.

He gets us out of the Keep through a back way I’ve never seen or heard of. Before I know it he’s pulling us on a horse and racing us to the outskirts of the city. I feel the low grumbling of the ground before my feet even touch it as Maegor lifts me back to the ground. My breath escapes me as I behold Balerion.

“Maegor,” I look to him with wide eyes.

“You’ll always be safe when you’re with me.” his words are soft as he begins ushering me over to the rope to climb his massive dragon.

He climbs directly behind of me which offers me some semblance of comfort. As I reach the saddle my head spins as I look down. Maegor settles behind me and quickly grabs the reins. Balerion rises to his full height as I tremble in his arms. He begins to break into a run as we start to take flight.

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

We are soon circling Dragonstone as Balerion lets out a fearsome growl. As he descends on the rocky shore some of them begin shaking in his presence. Once we settle I soon realize he wasn’t just shaking the ground, he was waking Vhagar. Gods these dragons make the Red Keep look like a cottage.

Once we make it to the sands he grabs my hand and we begin our walk into the castle. As we make it to the main doors I begin to make out the image of Visenya. She smiles to me but glares to Maegor.

“What have you done, you fool?” she looks to him.

“Found a bride. You told me I should marry and secure my line.” he shrugs as I gape at him.

“It seems as if this is the first time your bride is hearing of this.” he replies curtly.

“Well I planned to woo her with my tongue for a couple of hours before I asked.” his words cause a blush to creep up my neck.

“Must you be so foul?” Visenya scoffs at him. “What is your plan for when Aenys comes to get her?” he raises her eyebrows.

“He’d be a fool to face me. We will be wed on the morrow. He can’t take my wife away from me.” he pulls me closer to his side.

My head is spinning with this discussion. I feel as if I don’t have a say in the matter but I’m not upset at the outcome. I worry for what my father and mother will think but they’ve been asking me to marry for years. I shake my head trying to bring myself back to the present as Maegor begins pulling me into the castle.

He rushes us up the stairs and seals us behind a set of double doors. He turns and stalks over to me grabbing at my waist and pulling me to him. He looks down to me as his hands move to the back of my gown.

“Do not rip this gown Maegor. It took almost a moon to make.” I try to make my voice sound firm.

“Mm,” his fingers begin to slowly unlace the back of my gown.

His fingers ghost along my back as he loosens the gown. He steps back and pushes the gown down my shoulders causing it to pool around my feet. I’m left in my silk slip and I begin to feel as if I’m left in nothing by the way he’s looking at me. One of his hands goes to my hair and pulls the ribbon out causing my hair to cascade down my back.

“Do you always match your hair piece with your slip?” he asks lowly as he trails the ribbon along my arm.

I shake my head not trusting my words as I shiver under his touch. His hand travels back down to my waist and splays across my bare thigh. I look up to him with low lids as his hand begins to move to my inner thighs. I grab on tightly to his arm as he trails a finger along my slit. My breaths come out in pants as he continues his journey through my wetness.

“On the bed.” he looks down to me as he removes his hands.

I compose myself enough to turn and walk to the bed. I crawl to the middle of the bed and lay on my back as he begins to crawl over me. His hand trails up my body with my ribbon following. He dips down and when I think he’s finally about to kiss me he whispers into my ear.

“Hands above your head.” I whimper at his words and do as I’m told.

He brings my ribbon up to my wrists and secures them to the headboard before he rises above me. He looks at me with a sinister smirk and I clench my thighs in anticipation. He hums as he looks at me completely at his will. He stalks around the bed looking at me before he settles next to me.

His hands trail up my bare leg as he lifts my slip with his hands and bunches it up above my breasts. He groans as he takes in my body and his hands begin to travel over every inch of skin. My eyes shut as his hands continue to snake around my body pulling soft whines from me.

“Maegor,” his name falls from my mouth as he pinches one of my nipples between his rough fingers.

“Mm, you like a little pain?” he coos as his other hand cups my other breast roughly.

A moan tears through me as I squeeze my legs shut. He chuckles lowly as I begin to feel his beard across my chest as he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. My chest arches up into his mouth as his teeth tease my sensitive bud.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun.” he says arrogantly as he blows on my nipple.

He trails sloppy kisses down my torso and begins to pepper kisses along my hips. My hips jerk up as his tongue begins to dance on my hot skin. He spreads my thighs and groans as he’s greeted by my wet core. He dives down and his tongue begins to lap at my clit. My hands tug at the headboard causing it to groan as he chuckles into me.

My hips grind against his face seeking more pleasure until his hands land on my hips stilling me. He attacks my clit with his tongue as a moan tears through me as pleasure bursts through my body. He looks up to me from between my thighs licking his lips.

My chest is rapidly rising and falling between us and he dips back down to my sensitive core. He offers soft licks at my clit sending jolts through my body as he teases a finger at my entrance. He slowly pushes a thick finger into me ripping a moan from my lips.

“Maegor, please,” I whine as he slowly starts to pump his finger slowly.

His tongue swirls against my clit as his finger starts a fast rhythm. My thighs try to close around his head again but this time he ignores it as he focuses on my pleasure. As my whimpers fall faster he slowly starts to add a second finger. I cry out as I clench around his fingers and allow him to pull pleasure from my body.

His name is the only word that falls from my lips as I come undone around his fingers. He continues pumping into me as my legs quake around him. He pulls back and hoovers above me with a wet beard. My legs shut once he rises off the bed and I look to him with low lids.

“You will be my wife.” It is a statement as he pulls off his shirt.

“Yes,” I nod still trying to catch my breath as I drink in his bare chest and the muscles that he’s showing off.

“Say it.” he says lowly as he begins to unlace his trousers.

“I will be your wife.” my voice unwavering.

He pushes his trousers the rest of the way down and crawls above me on the bed. His hands spread open my thighs once more as he settles between them. I gasp as I feel him glide through my wetness. He dips down and I crane my neck hoping to finally kiss him. He smiles and pulls back much to my frustration.

“Maegor,” I whine.

“Yes?” he chuckles as he kisses across my chest and makes his way to my neck.

“Untie me, please, I want to touch you.” my voice needy as I arch my body into his.

“Since you asked so nicely.” he sucks on my neck as he slowly unties my wrists.

My hands fly to his bare skin caressing and feeling every muscle I can reach. His hips slowly rock into mine causing him to slide against my clit. My nails dig into his shoulder as he bites down onto my neck. He raises his head above mine and I move my hands to his neck to hopefully pull him down into a kiss.

The second his lips touch mine I melt into him completely. My fingers travel to his short locks as I pull him closer to me. Maegor groans as he slowly begins to push into me as a sigh falls from my lips. I’ve never felt this full before. He looks down at me with a furrowed brow and I can tell he’s holding back until I can fully adjust. Once it becomes tolerable I move my hips and he snaps his back into mine.

His pace is brutal that has my eyes rolling into the back of my head. Moans and whimpers fall from my lips as he pounds into me seeking pleasure. His lips find mine again and his tongue begins to lash against mine. He pulls back and looks at my face as his fingers begin to circle my clit.

“Maegor, Maegor please,” I sob as I come around him while he continues to push into me.

His lips crash to mine roughly as his hips repeatedly snap into mine. His teeth catch my bottom lip as I cry out. My fingers claw at his arms for support as he continues to pull pleasure from me. His trusts become sloppy as his fingers make their way back to my clit again. My vision blurs as I explode around him once more. He settles deep in me as I feel him begin to fill me.

“So fucking good for me. My perfect Princess.” he grunts as he continues to grind his hips into mine.

“My husband,” my words barely audible as I continue to cling to him.

He flips us over remaining in me saying he wants to be as close as possible. My body and mind too tired, I simply let my eyes flutter shut as I drift off to sleep.

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

masterlist 🔌

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬: 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐟𝐲𝐫𝐞

Plot: You, the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen grew up with a very devoted extended family. But after the dance of dragons begins, you know exactly on what side you belong

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, sexual content, no actual smut, mentions of noncon, Aegon being... Him

Notes: I didn't love to make such a long post for the last ending, so this will be a series as well (and I also find it more convenient as people tend to be less likely to read long posts)

You will understand this better if you read this ending

>The night of king Viserys' last supper, you were the victim of a mysterious illness, and were forced to stay in King's Landing as your family returned to Dragonstone

>Since then, you had to be a witness of Aegon's usurpation, and were forced to marry prince Aemond, becoming a prisoner in the strong walls of the red keep in all but name

>You decided very early on that you will return home to your family, you will not be accomplice to this insult to the rightful heir, Rhaenyra

>You loved Alicent, you did, but what she did to you, to your family, was a betrayal. She married you to Aemond, even though she knew of your affection for Daeron, she marries you without your permission or even announcement, she marries you to Aemond, as if it was her call, as if she was in her right to betroth you to anyone

>And the one who you thought of as a brave knight, was silent to the whole thing, not a word to say to you

>In a span of mere days, your affection for them had virtually vanished

>It was hard, and it hurt to feel like all your life you had trusted people who would treat you like this

>Especially for Daeron and Alicent

>But you will have time to mourn later

>You tell yourself you can't let your feelings stale you

>It was the night after Aegon's coronation, Aemond, should be asleep next to you, but he is too busy on the council, fooling himself acting as hand of the king

>Which it's perfect for you, since you want to do anything you can to avoid consummating your marriage

>Your father had taught you everything about the secret passages in the Red Keep, he knew them as well as king Maegor himself, and though you could not memorize it as well, it was enough to know how to get out

>But you had a mission first

>"He wears the conqueror's crown, wields the conqueror's sword and has the conqueror's name" said Alicent

>It was too soon to take away his crown, you not take away his name, but you certainly could take away his sword. It's not like he'd use it anyway

>You looked in the mirror and fixed yourself before going out through the passages, you felt a little disgusted with yourself

>It took you some time to get to Aegon's chambers, (to your surprise) Aegon was there instead of a rat infested brothel

>Still, he was much too drunk to notice you, and he was alone. It had been years since he and Helaena had shared a bed. You pitied her, but at least she was lucky, she had given not one but two male heirs, and she had no reason to keep "trying" with Aegon

>You walked on your tiptoes, the sword was hanging in the wall next to his bed, you feared the sound of metal would wake him up

>But it didn't, he instead was (somehow) was sober enough to know you were there, and most importantly, to know it was you

>"Y/N, you are here..." His voice was as drowsy as it was whiny "Came to congratulate the king?" You could see his repugnant smirk aimed at you

>"Indeed, your grace" you lied

>"Come here, here" he sat on the pillows and patted on the mattress to invite you

>"I don't think that would be appropriate, your grace" you were tense, and scared. You avoided him, you don't remember well when it happened, but he changed, he scared you, you feared he might do something to you, and you could do nothing to retaliate, now it was worse, he was the king

>"Pleaaseeeee, pleaseee, just a bit, just for now, I won't do anything" he promised

>"I truly do not think it would be fitting for your grace to be in that position... Even in innocently" you really hoped for the "innocently" part to be true

>But Aegon did the face a child does once they remember something important, like a candle lighting on their head "But I'm your grace, I'm the king, I demand you come here"

>You could do nothing to those words, so you obeyed

>You sat down at the edge of his bed, but he signaled you to be closer, next to him

>"I like when you say your grace, when you say it to me" he smiled

>"It is how one must address you now, just that"

>Aegon pouted

>"Do you love me?"

>You were speechless, and struggled to come up with a polite response to that, you finally just said every subject must love the king, you just prayed for safety being so close, so late, so alone with him

>"But do you love me? Me? Do you love me now?"

>"I- I beg your pardon?"

>"I wanted you to love me, Y/N, do you love me now? I'm king, do you love me now?" He was drunk, slurring his words and repeating them

>You blushed and you felt your heart pound, you were scared, you knew that. But you were also even a little sad for him, you wanted to look at him the way you did when you both were young, you could, and at the same time, it was impossible

>You don't remember how he ended up in front of you, facing you with sad eyes, and unmistakable stink of wine, that reminded you of who he was now

>"I think I'll always love you, Aegon" you wanted to believe it was a lie you told yourself it was

>A tear or two ran through his pale cheeks and he threw himself to your arms, almost knocking you beneath him in bed

>But instead of the lecherous predatory behavior you expected, he just kissed your cheeks and tried to kiss you in the mouth, it was gross, wet, he was drunk so he was salivating

>You grabbed his face with your hands and placed a kiss on his forehead, he asked for more, but he instantly decided he was tired, and grabbed you like a ragdoll, pushing you to the pillows and beneath the blankets with him, you're still fully clothed so it feels heavy. Aegon hugs you like a Teddy bear until he quickly falls asleep, when you try to leave, he complains in his sleep and grabs the fabric of your clothes. But you manage to slip a pillow in between his arms to replace you

>You look at him for the last time before stealing Blackfyre, and think of how different things could have been.

>Once you have the sword with you, you stay in between the walls for some time. Your dragon is not in the dragonpit, how do you find him?

>You can't go to the city, you can't risk having the sword stolen from you

>This might be a suicide, this probably is a suicide, but is all you got

>You decide to go to the dragonpit, you'll ride a dragon to find a dragon. The rule has always been: one rider, one dragon, one dragon, one ride. But you are desperate

>When you get to the pit, you wonder who could be the best dragon to ride for the search, Tessarion is here, but only ever rode alongside her, same for Sunfyre and Dreamfyre. Trying to tame an unclaimed dragon is dangerous, and even if you could, Dagahrion may kill them

>But there's one that knows you very well: Vhagar

>You rode on her back when she was Laena's, you were a little lass still, but she remembers you. And you rode her with Aemond last night

>It is better than nothing, and if she ate you, you know she's so big it'd be a quick death

>You pet her, and she gives into your touch

>You keep calming and buttering her up before you get on top. You're used to riding a large dragon, but she's different, every dragon is, you suppose

>You feel sorry for the ruckus caused when you and Vhagar ascended, poor dragonkeepers

>Your running was obviously not silent

>And so the search for Dagahrion begins. You have to find him before Vhagar decides to kick you off her back

>And before any other dragon comes looking for you

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

Hii I was wondering if maybe you could write a Aemond Targaryen fic? Where Aemond is like Gomez Addams and he says, "Look at her --I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way --what bliss." With maybe even a taylor swift song? Thanks :))

EITHER WAY WHAT BLISS ( House of the Dragon x Reader )

AUTHOR NOTE! It makes me so happy to know that you requested my writing! I love this idea! He does ( lowkey ) give off this vibe <3

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem! Tully! Reader 

prompt: Aemond is willing to die for the Reader if it means he'll get an ounce of her love.. ( The inspo was 'Gorgeous' by Taylor Swift. )

key: h/c = hair color, Dahlia = random servant girl, Evan Tully

word count: 2,000+ words

Brushing away a strand of white hair from their face, Y/n scans the rows of men, her eyes lingering on her brother Brynden. Her name day was supposed to be a small affair between her family and her bethorthal’s. But, the King was stubborn and insisted on having a Tourney at the very least. So, she’d be sitting through at least an hour of jousting, games of archery, and grueling duels. Not exactly what she wanted to do on her name day. But, what can she do? 

Picking at her bottom lip, Brynden gives her a weak smile as he adjusts his armor, her heart clenched tightly. He could barely hold a sword, and of course, he had to enter a bloody swordsman match. Feeling Dahlia nudge her side hard, she snaps out of her daze, her cheeks flushing red from embarrassment. Shit. Turning to look at Dahlia, she tries to smile as the black haired girl continues to ramble away about something about men and their ‘walks’. 

“I bet you my finest necklace, that knight. The one in black armor is really fine under that helmet.” Dahlia giggles, twirling a strand of her hair. 

“Oh? How do you know that? For all you know he’s got the face of a donkey. How good he looks in armor, doesn’t mean that he’s that good in regular clothes.” Y/n scoffs, following Dahlia’s eyes. 

“It’s the walk. Look at how he holds himself. A fine looking man walks with a little extra pep in his step. Like he knows that the moment he removes that helmet, girls are going to swoon over him.” Dahlia smirks, “Just like your little Prince.” 

“Just because you want to fuck my betrothed does not mean that I wish to hear about it, Dahlia.  Keep that talk for the other maids.” Y/n scoffs, rolling her eyes. 

“I am envious that you, little Y/n Tully, are going to call that man her husband. The ungodly things I would do make him look at me the way he does to you. He looks at you like you crafted the moon and stars.” Dahlia rambles, a dreamy look on her face. 

Scoffing at Dahlia’s teasing, she narrows her eyes at the knight, inspecting the black armor he adorned. His face was hidden under his helmet. Looking for some kind of hint of which house he was from, the only thing that was kind of a hint was the sapphire blue cape he was wearing. But, even then it could mean nothing. Tilting her head to the side, she didn’t like that the man was a mystery, why was he hiding? What was he hiding? Watching as he strolls over to Brynden, she stands up a little straighter in her seat, her jaw clenching. If he so much as touched a hair on her baby brother’s head, she’d make Maegor the Cruel seem like a baby compared to her. 

“Brynden will be fine, Y/n.” Dahlia reasons, but her voice is weak. 

“Brynden cannot even hold a sword upright.” Y/n argues, “Not to mention he’s got two left feet!” 

“Well you’ve always looked rather pretty in black?” Dahlia weakly smiles. 

“Dahlia!” Y/n scolds, shooting her friend a look. 

“I know! But, at least he’ll look good dying?” Dahlia cringes at her own words, “I don’t know! I don't really know what to say..”

Slapping Dahlia’s shoulder, the pit in her stomach only worsens, her face curling up in anger and uneasiness. She did not have any other siblings but Brynden. He was her whole world. Her baby brother. She had practically raised him! She was the one to teach him how to say his first words. She was the one who taught him how to walk. She was there to teach him how to handle a horse. How to be a just and kind Lord. How to be the perfect husband. She did everything that a parent would do. Except how to hold a sword. 

Picking at her bottom lip with her teeth, she slowly rises from  her seat, pacing back and forth in place. She wouldn’t be able to stomach her baby brother getting hurt. It’d kill her, surely! Feeling Dahlia grab her arm, she’s pulled from her darkening thoughts. The taste of blood floods her mouth. Shit. Wiping her bottom lip clean of blood, she’s aware of the eyes that now shifted onto her. The maiden of the day.  Aemond Targaryen’s betrothed. The sweet little Tully girl born with white curls. The Enchantress of the Realm. 

"Ocean blue eyes looking in mine I feel like..I might sink and drown and die.."

“If that was your attempt to make me feel better, it failed..” Y/n breaths out, “Perhaps, I should just talk to him about pulling out. It’s not too late..” 

“My Lady…” Dahlia tries, but Y/n doesn’t hear her. 

“Do not try to talk me out of this, Dahlia. I will not allow my brother to make a fool of himself, or worse kill himself.” Y/n shakes her head, “I have made my mind! Come let us⎯”

“It’s your future husband..” Dahlia speaks through her teeth.

“You're so gorgeous, I can't say anything to your face..'Cause look at your face..gorgeous...” 

Furrowing her brows at Dahlia’s odd words, the black haired girl turns her around, forcing her to look down. Shit.  She finds herself staring down at Aemond, the mysterious knight in black armor. Her face flushes a bright red from embarrassment. The knight they had⎯Well the knight Dahlia was gawking at was Aemond. Staring at him with wide eyes, Dahlia nudges her side, trying to snap her out of her little daze. But, it feels like her tongue is made of lead. Looking him up and down, his long white locs are braided back from his face, but a few stray strands frame his face. There’s a small smirk on his face, as he adjusts his armor. Gods almighty, he looked gorgeous in armor. 

“And I'm so furious..At you for making me feel this way..But what can I say? You're gorgeous..”

“Aemond..” Y/n breathes out, “You're the blue knight..I..I thought you didn’t give a shit about Tourneys?” 

“I don’t. But, it would be a shame if I did not participate in my future-brides Name Day Tourney.” He smirks, licking his bottom lip. 

“I..Aemond, could you..?” She chews on her bottom lip, “Could you possibly? Please watch out for my brother?” 

“I will.” He nods, making her smile gratefully. 

“Thank you.” 

He kept his word, or at least that was what Dahlia was telling her. She hadn’t dared to open her eyes just yet. She didn’t not care if that made her a coward. She just couldn’t stand to watch the fights and not think about her brother while men pummeled each other with swords. Squeezing Dahlia’s hand tightly, she tenses at the call of her brother’s name and Aemond’s. Her eyes shoot open, her jaw dropping slightly. No. No. No. No. That couldn't be right! She must have misheard! Sharply turning her head to the fighting circle, she bolts from her seat, leaning against the railing. Her nails dig into the wood like a cat’s would. Her eyes are flickering between the two of them. 

One of them would get hurt, she was sure of it, whether it be intentional or not. Her breathing grows ragged, her heart pounding against her ribcage. She was afraid that it would jump out of her chest. Watching as they  raise their swords, she stuck in a trance as they slowly circled each other. Their swords collide, her eyes shutting tightly at the horrid sound of metal against metal. Biting her lip, she doesn’t know why her eyes peel open, but her heart stops in her chest as  she catches the sight of Aemond falling to the ground. His sapphire blue cape slowly turned red. She nearly faints at the sight of red, he’s bleeding. Oh gods..He was bleeding. 

“You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah..”

“AEMOND!” She shouts, the words escaping her lips before she can stop it.

“My Prince!” Someone shouts, their voice a blur in her mind. 

No. No. No. No. Watching with blurry eyes as Maesters rush to him, she wants to bolt to him, but her legs are frozen in place. Brynden drops his sword, the realization creeping on his face. Feeling Dahlia’s arms wrap around her, it seems like the Arena explodes with chaos in an instant. Everyone is shouting loudly. Guards are rushing around in every direction. But, throughout the chaos her eyes are on him. Her Aemond. 

“He’ll be okay…” Dahlia reassures, “Maesters are tending to him..” 

“Take me to him.” Y/n breaths out, tears flooding her eyes. 

“Y/n..” Dahlia nervously warns, “I..I don’t think we should. Not right now at least.” 

“Take me to him.” Y/n repeats, her voice more firm than before.

Shooting Dahlia an icy glare, Dahlia chews on her lip before nodding her head at the request, a nervous look on her face. What if it was bad? What if he died? Would Brynden be punished? Gods, how in the Seven bloody hells did this happen? Following Dahlia, she picks up her skirt, her eyes searching for the white haired man that was to be her husband. Pushing past frantic Lords and Guards,  it felt like an invisible force had her by the throat,  squeezing her lungs and throat with each step she took closer to a bleeding out Aemond.  

Seeing him laying on the ground, his chest piece was removed, his white tunic cut open to reveal the rather gnarly gash on his stomach.  Tears flood her eyes at the sight before her.  Covering her mouth with her hand, she rushes to his side,  her eyes scanning every little detail that she can. His chest was moving up and down, he was drenched in sweat and dirt. That was a good thing. Looking at his face, his eye patch was removed, his hair completely unbraided and spread around him like a halo. 

“Oh..Aemond..” She whispers, petting his sweat soaked hair. 

“My Lady, you should not be here.” 

“He is my husband to be, I will not be leaving.” She argues, turning back to Aemond. “Aemond, are you okay, love?”

“I am fine. Do not worry.” He grunts, clenching his jaw.

Staring into his eyes, she tenses up at the sight of his missing eye-patch. Fuck, he looked gorgeous with that scar. Looking up at her, he notices her attention on his face. Lifting a hand to touch his face, his face drains of color when he doesn’t feel the leather of his eye-patch. He had been purposeful in hiding his scar from the world. He didn’t want to be viewed as a monster. But, she looked at him with such softness in her eyes. Hunching over him, she casually places her hand over his eye, hiding his eye from everyone. Giving him a small nod, his breathing grows shaky. 

“You dodged his attack. But, not like someone as experienced with a sword as you are, would. Why?” Dahlia asks, narrowing her eyes at Aemond.  

“Look at her, I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way⎯what bliss.” He whispers, High Valyrian flowing off his tongue. 

“You are a lovestruck fool, Aemond Targaryen.” Dahlia scoffs, “I hope this is the bloodloss talking.”

“What did you say?” Y/n furrows her brows, “Dahlia..?”

“He didn’t want to risk hurting your brother. That he rather he be the one hurt and not your brother. Come, let us reassure your little brother that he hasn’t killed your beloved.” Dahlia lies smoothly, nodding her head at Aemond.

Y/n looks between Dahlia and Aemond unsure, chewing on her bottom lip. She didn’t know enough High Valyrian to understand what the two of them were discussing. But, she trusted Dahlia enough to take her word for it. Opening her mouth to speak, Aemond grabs onto her hand, stopping her. Looking down at Aemond, her cheeks flushing involuntarily, her heart was pounding frantically in her chest. She wanted him to keep on looking at her like that. 

“Go..” He nods, "I will be fine."

[cherryclitgirl]

The Gods

Maegor x reader

*No use of y/n

Warnings: Child loss, Targaryen incest, mature content, young pregnancy.

Note: This has been sitting in my drafts since the b&c episode, sorry for some mistakes I made:)

Anyone who had a mouth would always say the gods did not favor the king. Although the four pregnancies his niece wife had been blessed with said other wise. It raised a large concern among the Maesters since the girl had been young when she bore Maegor’s first child, and within months, she was pregnant once more with his second. This happened two more times, ultimately she bore three boys and one girl, yet, the king was but satisfied. Despite obviously favoring their oldest son Aegon, Maegor wanted more children. Wanting for his legacy to carry on, he pressed his wife for one more child.

His wife refused having just given birth to their daughter, Rhaella . She had been warned by the midwife and the grand maester that she would not be able to birth another child. King Maegor however, did not take this lightly. He reminded her once more about her position. She was there to provide him with children.

Being the youngest of his wife’s, the princess was often sheltered by Ceryse Hightower. The oldest of the queens. Having seen Alys tortured and killed by Tyanna , Ceryse was more protective of the young girl. Suggesting the young girl to spend her each of the four pregnancies at Dragonstone with the queen mother Visenya. The princess agreed after all, her mother Dowager queen Alyssa and two youngest siblings were wards of queen Visenya.

Upon her return to the almost finished Redkeep, the princess was greeted by Ceryse. Aegon the oldest came running to his mother, his brother Baelon by his side. They adored their mother, more than anything, always following her around.Their youngest son Rheanor who was still a babe was brought in by his wet nurse. “They’ve missed you” Ceryse smiled to the princess, helping her take a seat on the sofa. Ceryse cradled Rhaella in her arms, a beautiful baby girl with light purple eyes and small silver curls “She’s beautiful “ Ceryse whispered more to herself than the princess. “My only girl” the young girl smiled at the tiny girl “she’s so quiet”. As Ceryse held Rhaella, the princess paid her attention to her three boys. Aegon she had when she just five and ten, Baelon came next in that very same year. Maegor believed he had defied the gods who failed to grant him a child. When she was six and ten she gave birth to Rhaenor, following his previous act, Maegor got his wife pregnant again.

“I’m afraid” The princess voice took Ceryse out of her thoughts. Ceryse looked up bewildered not entirely sure what the princess meant. She stayed silent for a moment, then spoke “Don’t be” Ceryse reassured her “Tyanna would be foolish to harm your children “. The princess shook her head “not Tyannna” she paused looking away from Aegon for a second “The gods” she said softly, placing a soft kiss on Aegon’s head.

Ceryse did not know what to say, she simply looked back at Rhaella “Tonight I’ll tell the guards to stand by your door” she told the young girl.

That night, the wind blew hard, the whistling of the air was heard like hushing voices. The rest of the royal apartments had yet to be finished and with Rhaella still being a new born babe, the princess moved her bed to a single room. Where she could be closer to her precious children.

After her sons were fast asleep, the princess turned her attention to her daughter, but as she was about to pick her up from the cradle ; two figures emerged from the shadows. The princess let out a small gasp, but before she could do anything a man grabbed her and pointed a sharp dagger to her throat. His voice raspy and deep “Stay still” he commanded, his spit getting on her frighten face.

The other figure stepped out, he wore the robes of the Faith of the seven and held a small sack in his hand. The man holding the dagger laughed, a wicked and bloody laugh “we’ve got the queen!” he sneered his sharp blade tightening deeper into her throat. The man with robes spoke with a stoic face “they asked for son”. The man with the dagger scoffed “pick one” he said nudging his head to three beds in the room. Aegon, Baelon and Rhaenor slept, unaware of the immense danger they were in.

“Please-“ the young girl begged softly, tears swelling up in her eyes. She did not want to wake up the children, but she needed to be a bit louder so the guards could hear her. “Shush” the man with the dagger hissed “we need to get at it and get out” . She tried to speak louder but the man covered her mouth muffling her sounds while he pulled her closer. The man with the robes looked at then three sleeping boys “Which one is the oldest” he spoke coldy to the young girl. “I-“ she tried to speak but no words came out her mouth. She looked at the man with her dagger who held her with a firm grip.

“I have a necklace” she spoke softly reaching for her neck “It’s of great value-“ she was cut off by the man with the dagger who he snatched the necklace right off her neck. “That’s not a son” he sneered shoving it into his pocket.

“Please” she begged her tears falling down her terrified eyes “kill me” she sobbed “not my boys” she pleaded in desperation. But her pleads were to no avail. She looked back at the door hoping for a guard to hear her, come bursting through the doors and put an end to this madness.

The man with the dagger followed her gaze and mockingly spoke “There’s no one out there”. The young girl’s heart dropped even more. The air had left her stomach, her mouth had gone dry, for a second her tears had stopped. Simply standing there in a paralyzed state, her mind had gone blanked.

“Pick the oldest” the man with the robes spoke . “Or we’ll kill them all” his harsh words snapped her out the shock, like a fish out a water she gasped and pointed at Aegon’s bed.

Her first born, her first babe. The child that had made her a mother.

“She could be lying” the man with dagger said skeptically to which the man with the robes corrected upon seeing the young girl’s expression “No” he spoke solemnly “she’s telling true.”

The man with the dagger pushed the young girl away from him “Hold him down” he said moving to Aegon. The young girl watched in horror as the man with the robes covered Aegon’s mouth “mommy-“ was the last thing she heard as they began to cut his throat.

She moved quickly, picking her baby girl from the cradle, she moved to Rhaenor’s bed pulling up to her. The sleeping child woke up confused, the room was filled with the Aegon’s muffled cries. She reached in for for Baelon but she could not carry three kids at once. She was in despair and unsure what to do, “run” she told Baelon who was still woozy from his sleep. She had a one year old in one her arm and her girl in the other. She hurried after Baelon whose small foot steps were barely heard.

The man with the dagger was right, there was no one guarding her door. She ran, catching up to Baelon making sure not to drop the children, her arms trembling and her voice soft and frighten she begged “please …. please “. Her soft rapid breathing was filled with anguish and terror. She stopped in the middle of the hall, then turned to rushing. The castle was dead silent, the only thing she could hear was the whispering of the hair.

Making her way through the unfinished halls she hurried to Maegor’s chambers. Surely he would protect her, he would understand. He could keep his three children safe from the men’s harm. “Mommy” Baelon’s tiny voice spoke trying to hold on to her. It only made the young girl more desperate, as she had no free arms left. She placed Rhaenor down close to Baelon as she ushered them forward to keep on walking.

She pushed though the doors of Maegor’s chamber to see Ceryse’s naked back on top on Maegor , her back moving on him while their moans filled the chamber. The young girl moved forward crouching down on the far end of the room.

Maegor pushed Ceryse off quickly sitting up, looking at his wife with a horrid expression Ceryse gasped “Your grace-“ she tried to speak but was cut off by Maegor who noticed his young wife pulling the two boys closer while still holding her daughter. “What’s happened “ he demanded loudly.

She didn’t say anything simply stared into the ground still clutching her children “The killed my boy” she spoke solemnly a single burning tear falling down her cheek. The child held her children closely wishing for it to be a nightmare, a nightmare her mother would soon wake her up from.