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connorsui · 1 year ago

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Nah nah nah nah nah nah the fact that the only plp who were meant to protect our tiny ass from getting possibly murdered or sent off as a present with a red bow ontop of our heads ........just look away as maegor made the dam March towards us is soooooo fucked 💀💀💀💀

Like yall really ain't gonna look at me 😭😭 (I mean ...I should thank you really) like how could you do this to me!? (I wanted to get married to him for so long) ...now I'm stuck bearing this assholes kids !? (I'm thinking 5 kids ...4 sons and a girl)

Laura my beloved you had me in a chokehold again for maegor that I swore I thought I was reading the same oneshot again (I swear I'm developing dementia) but nah ...it was my pussy remembering the good times I had with him in the first shots of my life 💀🩷 ...it's like you trapping me inside a room with him but I payed you to do it 🤪✨️

BUT NOWWW THOOOO AFTER PROMISING HIM WE WILL GIVE HIM KIDS AND HE TAKES US BACK TO KINGS LANDING I WOULD GIVE THIS MAN THE BIGGEST TOP HIS DICK WILL EVER RECEIVE 💅🏻✨️🩷🩷

INNATE DESIRES.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist

Maegor Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT — MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, p in v, profanity, semi public sex, size kink, power imbalance, breeding, choking, female reader (no mentions of looks besides purple eyes)

WORDS: 3.4 K

NOTES: The events of this start somewhere between 41 AC to 44 AC, while the rest takes place around 45 AC. Visenya has not died (yet), but Cersye, Alys and Tyanna have. Aegon and Rhaena are captured at Crakehall, and Viserys is still his squire and hostage.

After the passing of your father, you, your younger siblings and mother had fled from Dragonstone to Driftmark almost immediately. It was a blessing and a curse altogether, because it meant you could keep your life after the arrival and coronation of your uncle Maegor, while you would have loved nothing more than to witness the sight of the Black Dread’s shadow devouring the castle on the eponymous island.

When the Dowager Queen and Vhagar arrived, it was her that urged your mother to come back to join the busy life at court – meaning you and your siblings were to abandon her childhood home Driftmark.

Your mother’s stay in the capital was brief, and you assumed it was because she could not stand to be separated from her children any longer, as Visenya had ordered you four to Dragonstone instead.

Two years after your arrival, it was evident that you had become a prisoner in all but name to Visenya on Dragonstone, barely allowed to leave the castle. When she was not around, her spies and vipers were.

And so it was even more surprising that, when you were summoned to the Throne Room in the midst of your lessons, you came face to face with none other than your uncle. He sat on the throne, his mother lingering not too far away. With him in the room, his big frame concealing most of the impressive seat, it was even more apparent how frail she had become over the years. If you would have to guess, she would not do much longer.

As your purple eyes met his, it was as if a wildfire ignited in your body, coursing through your veins, vividly remembering the night you had caught him speaking to your father about a possible betrothal. But it also angered you, knowing that he had left for Pentos with his second wife not long after, without even saying goodbye.

On the other side of the throne stood none other than your mother, and while both Visenya and Maegor seemed rather smug and pleased, Alyssa had a grim expression on her face.

Like an invisible string luring your body towards his, you came to a stop shortly before the first step to where he sat. “Your Grace.“ You smiled sweetly at him and slightly bowed your head, more out of courtesy than true belief, because your brother Aegon was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne after all.

At least five knights guarded the door to the Throne Room behind you, and when Maegor rose from his seat with the pommel of Blackfyre fidgeting between his thick fingers, you were certain that was the moment your life came to an end.

His steps were heavy as he walked down the steps, coming to a stop just shy of you. His domineering frame was looming over yours, and you had long forgotten the last time you had to crane your neck to look up at someone as tall and big as he was.

“Leave us,“ Maegor’s gruff voice rang out, and when both Dowager Queens opened their mouths to protest, he was quick to shush them with a simple raise of his hand. Even when they walked past you, you did not dare break eye contact with your uncle, and while he usually was a hard and brutal man, there was a hint of softness in his eyes solely reserved for you.

When you two were the only people left in the room, he directed his voice towards you. “You have grown,“ he stated, his eyes traveling up and down your body. With the defiance of a young woman, you jutted out your chin just slightly, nonchalantly looking up at him. “How would you know?“ you asked. “Five years and you have not once come to visit me.“

Your uncle chuckled dryly, one hand coming up to pinch your chin. “You know ‘tis not as easy as you make it seem.“

From how much your father had told you after Maegor’s departure, you knew he probably was right, though you had yet to find out the true reason behind it. With his longing stare making you somewhat uneasy, the pregnant pause between you two grew thicker with tension.

Until your voice cut through it.

“Why are you here, uncle? Do you not have a wife to care for and a realm to rule?“

“I do,“ he said, his tone growing a bit harsher as the memory of the stranger taking his three wives not too many moons ago flashed before his eyes. “I am here for you.“

A small crease formed between your brows at his words. “I am afraid I do not understand.“

“Maybe you will understand this.“ Where his paw had rested on your chin before, it traveled down to your waist, almost taking up its entirety with his fingers splayed out.

He dipped his head towards yours, but you were quick to bring your hand up between your faces, taking a careful step back. “We can not,“ you stated, trying to sound stern, yet you were betrayed by your fluttering nerves, your heart beating in your throat.

With his hand still on your waist, he pulled you back against his firm chest as if you weighed nothing, the sheer display of his strength bringing heat to your cheeks. “The matter is settled already. I shall take you as my wife in a sennight,“ he said. “I have waited long enough for this, and with my brother dead there is no one left to deny me.“

“My mother–“

“Has no other choice than to give me what I want.“ The threat was unspoken but clear.

Every attempt to speak against him was silenced by his lips on yours. The kiss was far from being gentle, and it was evident he claimed your lips with a carnal need. With his hands traveling over the curves of your waist down to your rear, roughly fisting the skirts of your gown, it was obvious that he intended to do the same with your body.

Your heart was racing, pounding against the confines of your ribcage when your lips parted, releasing a shaky breath. “I-I have never–,” you whimpered, trailing off as you looked at him with wide eyes. Every ounce of affection and gentleness Maegor mayhaps held before had vanished with a snap, leaving only a man hungry for your virtue.

But no matter how badly your body ached for his touch, having craved it for so, so long, you pulled away to walk past him, climbing the few steps towards the throne with shaky legs as a heat settled at the apex of them. You had to bring some space between the two of you, mayhaps that allowed your thoughts to clear again.

”My brother Aegon–,“ you started, but were interrupted when you tripped over one of the last steps, causing you to topple forwards. Taking in a sharp breath while bracing yourself on your hands and knees, Maegor was quick to not allow you to get back on your feet. Kneeling down next to you with one hand resting in the place between your shoulders, he applied just enough pressure to keep you down.

“Where is your craven brother now, sweetling?“ he emphasized the nickname with a condescending tone, and it should have you feeling sick to the stomach, not aroused. “Not here. He had the chance to claim the Iron Throne, but he did not take it.“

His hand brushed over the bodice of your dress, trailing deep enough so he could cup your arse. But it merely lingered there for a few seconds, never settling. That touch alone still was enough to reignite the flame within you, and only when your fluttered nerves calmed just a bit, you noticed the proximity between you – and how he looked at you with darkened eyes.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you tried to gather some courage before speaking, “You are just as much of a coward as he is. Coming to claim what is rightfully his when he is besieged at Crakehall.” Another chuckle came from Maegor, but this time it sounded somewhat amused.

“Oh, I know you do not think so highly of your own kin,” he said, a smug smirk pulling on the corners of his chiseled lips. His other hand came up to cup your cheek gently, the pad of his thumb brushing your lips.

“Enough with the mummer's farce, Y/N. Are you not at least a little happy to see me, mh?” It was evident in his mocking tone that he did not really care much about your feelings. You were meant to marry him regardless of what you wanted.

With pleading eyes, you looked at him, slowly nodding your head and allowing your guard to fall – even if only for a few seconds. “Y-Yes.”

“And do you not want to be a good, obedient wife to me?”

If his question did not already choke the air from your lungs, his hand fisting the skirts of your dress to lift it just enough for his hand to snake underneath certainly did. It was him harshly groping the flesh of your arse that caused you to speak again, forcing you without voicing a command.

“I do.”

As his fingers started to drag over the dampened spot in the center of your smallclothes, he got all the confirmation he needed to proceed with his actions. The ministrations of his fingers grew in determination, dragging around your little bud in circular motions and eliciting soft whimpers to fall past your lips. As the pleasure rippled through your body, your hands grabbed the edge of the step beneath you, knuckles blanching from the force.

Shame filled your veins, and you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, instead focusing on the throne in front of you. “I–,” you wanted to repeat your previous words, but your uncle was quick to cut you off. “Then let me be the first and only. You belong to me.”

Any protest was once again silenced by your own gasp as two of his thick digits pushed the linen of your smallclothes aside, scarcely dragging through your soaked mound. Only when they were generously coated in your arousal, he eventually pushed them inside without a warning.

“Gods,” you whimpered, tears brimming in your eyes as your maiden hole tried to adjust to the girth of his fingers. “P-Please…” You did not know what you were begging for. For him to leave you be or for him to give you more?

Maegor seemed to be at least a bit mindful when it came to your maidenhead, keeping his fingers still until they were buried to the hilt. You clenched around him tightly, which caused him to hiss through gritted teeth as if it was his cock plunging deep inside you and not his fingers, hardly preparing you for what was to come.

“Please,” Maegor mocked you with a chuckle, pushing his lips forwards into a pout that feigned his pity. “You are so pretty when you beg, niece.” The ministrations of his fingers were slow, pulling out almost completely only to push right in again. The sounds of pleasure they forced from your throat were enough to drive the man next to you close to insanity.

His head dipped forward, looking you down with a sharp expression that savored the sight of your face contorting in pleasure all because of him. Your body was torn between feeling hungry for him and being humiliated because of him, the interplay leaving you utterly confused, and longing to be filled by something else of his.

When he withdrew his fingers from your cunt, they were glistening with your arousal. The warmth that slowly spread throughout your stomach had vanished just like that, and the whine that slipped past your lips at the loss of friction was the epitome of being pathetic.

He brought his fingers up to his mouth, engulfing them with his lips and humming as if he enjoyed the finest Arbor red the castle had to offer. You squeezed your thighs to soothe the aching that burned between them at the sight, feeling empty and not at all satisfied. “So, so sweet,” he purred, the tone a stark contrast from the harsh one he had used before. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath he released in the following, the purple of his eyes almost eclipsed by black.

Magor leaned in to nuzzle his nose along your cheek, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent he had missed so dearly for the past five years.

The softness of his voice and the close contact had you losing yourself in his dominating presence, completely at his mercy. A kiss was pressed to the crown of your head before his bulky frame disappeared behind you, one leg bent at the knee while the other foot was planted firmly on the ground. Because he was so close, you felt him undoing the laces of his breeches, his hands bumping against your arse each time he pulled the strings loose.

Your impatience got the worst of you, masked as a shiver traveling up your spine. You were not sure if you had to accommodate a girth wider or lesser than his fingers, but at this point you did not care. Your body longed for something you hadn’t felt before, and it needed it. Now.

One of his hands darted to your hip, squeezing it harshly while the other wrapped around his hard member. Feeling the impatience take over your body, you pushed your hips back enough for the tip of him to prod at your hole, causing your teeth to sink into your bottom lip.

As you turned your head to look at him from over your shoulder, your hooded eyes met his, a lazy smirk draped over his features. “That is all it takes to change your mind?” he mocked, stifling a grunt as he forced himself into your tightness, your maiden walls squeezing him. “Pathetic.” All of the sudden, his raspy voice was strained, having to restrain himself from pounding into you before he even filled you to the brim. You could see it in the way he set his jaw, forcing you to avert your eyes in fear.

You released a mixture of a whine and a shaky breath, the burning of the stretch prominent enough to cloud your mind and set your body on full alert. With both his paws on your hips, you could not even intervene or squirm away. Every ridge and vein of his cock dragged along your clenching walls as you accommodated the sheer size of his member, not making the stretch any more pleasurable.

“S-Stop,” you whimpered.

And Maegor actually listened, but only because he had bottomed out completely and needed a few moments to regain his composure, adapting to you squeezing him like a vice. “It will become more pleasant soon,” he grunted, trailing his hands up and down your sides in a comforting manner you did not know he possessed. “Trust me.”

The first snaps of his hips were neither hard nor fast, but deep and determined enough to brush that sweet spot inside of you your own fingers had not reached before. Having his breeches pulled down enough to free his cock and the sac of his stones, they slapped against your sensitive bud each time his hips met yours.

With that pace, the burning slowly but surely turned into the pleasure your body had been asking for.

Looking back at him once again, you were blessed with something you hadn’t seen before. A few strands of his usually neat, silver hair hung in front of his face, every now and then clinging to the few beads of sweat on his forehead before the tremors of his thrusts freed them again.

He felt you adjusting to his size, which prompted him to increase the pace to the point he was pounding you. Each impact forced your head to tip forwards and your knees to scrape across the stone floor, barely diminished by the skirt of your dress.

Something you hadn’t anticipated was him bringing his hand in front of you to clasp around your throat. With the strength he possessed, his grip was tight, choking you regardless of him intending to do so or not.

“I want you to look at the throne,” he commanded through gritted teeth, the choking and gasping sounds you made merely a dull noise in the background. “‘Tis the seat our son will sit in one day.”

His other arm snaked around your waist as he pulled your back flush against his firm chest, securing you and keeping you steady despite the reckless snaps of his hips. Mayhaps it was the possibility and danger of the Dowager Queens barging into the Throne Room or because you finally got what you had craved for more than five years, but your peak built in the pit of your stomach far too quickly for your own liking.

“I am going to fuck you so full of my seed, making sure it will bear fruit.”

Maegor shifted his hips, angling them so he was thrusting upwards into you, which had his cock reaching even deeper than before, causing you to mewl and whine. Even if you wanted to, you could not reply, but with a renewed wave of your arousal dripping down his throbbing member and stones, you did not even have to.

“I-I–,” you stammered, his grip not loosening. It was a surprise you managed to inhale enough air to fill your lungs – mayhaps he was better at assessing his strength than you thought.

“Go on,” he rasped, squeezing your throat in a rhythm that matched his hips, sensing your impending peak.

It was embarrassing how quickly your peak took over at his words, rippling through you with soaring pleasure. Each time his stones hit your little bud, your overstimulated body tried to jerk away from him – but to no avail with his strong arm around your waist.

Maegor watched in awe as your body trembled within his grasp, the tremors growing more apparent with each second he did not pull out. His mouth pressed to the side of your face, tongue licking a flat stripe from your jaw up to your temple.

“You want my seed, niece?” he grunted into your ear, “want me to fuck a child into you? See your body swell with my seed?”

Finally loosening the grip he had on your throat to allow you to speak, you croaked a ‘seven hells, yes!’ into the chilly air of the Throne Room. “Put a babe in me… please,” you all but begged, turning your head to the side to catch a glimpse of him – enough to capture his lips with your own.

The response of your body his and your own words elicited was pitiful, but it was just the truth. You wanted his child, the thought lingering in your mind for the past five years. Your walls trembled around him, choking him so tightly the bull of a man behind you had to take a deep breath to keep his composure. But all effort was fruitless when his pulsing cock spent itself inside of your quivering walls.

Each of his grunts and groans was devoured by your lips on his, drinking them down as if they were the only things keeping you alive. Out of instinct, you started to roll your hips against his, prolonging his own peak as you milked him for every drop of his seed.

Maegor was out of breath by the time his movements came to a stop, staying buried inside of you as if he meant to make sure his efforts bore fruit. And you relished in it, despite the vulnerable position it brought you in.

Tipping his forehead against your temple, he closed his purple eyes, breathing shakily before speaking, “merely pack the bare essentials for the travel. We shall depart for King’s Landing in the morrow… on dragon back."

Bowing your head once, you fixed your undergarments and dress once he had pulled out, sitting back on your haunches. With your back facing him, he did not notice the wide grin on your lips.

Mayhaps then you finally were to witness the sight of Balerion’s shadow devouring Westeros' capital.

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

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thesongoficeandfir3 · 1 month ago

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Prince!Maegor x Wife!reader

You’ve heard of Dark!Maegor, Yandere!Maegor, Toxic!Maegor but feast your eyes on 🥁🥁🥁 normal-ish Maegor!

This is just basically Mae before he went cray cray because while I am NOT a Maegor defender I do think that he is definitely mischaracterized ( intentionally ) in Targaryen history

This isn’t exactly supposed to be ‘soft’ Maegor but just him when his father/brother was still alive and him especially before the trial by the Seven ifykyk

Warnings: Maegor is still a bit of an ass and a dash of NSFW

Prince!Maegor before he earns his title as the cruel and is still a cunt, but a cunt who is still sound of mind

Prince!Maegorwho is the definition of the victor writes the narrative because he was not as bad as they tried to paint him to be

Prince!Maegorwho is not good with intimacy and affection at all but that is not to say he doesn’t know what love is, his mother taught him what love was (PLATONICALLY) and showed him what it means to be loved, so he knows what it is but does not know how to express it in the conventional way

Prince!Maegor who has a brute and fierce personality which then seeps into the way he loves

Prince!Maegorwho does not know how to express his love in a soft, calm or gentle way and only really knows how to express his love for you through extreme, passionate and occasionally violent ways

Prince!Maegor who is more than ready to set a city ablaze or remove heads from hundreds of bodies with blackfyre if it means keeping you safe but when it comes to more romantic ( and normal) things like saying a simple “I love you” or even just hugging you, he won’t or rather can’t do it

Prince!Maegor who’s personality will not exactly do a 180° for you, he will still be his rough, asshole, and brute of person but there will be an undertone of softness only reserved for you

Prince!Maegorwho showed an example of this when before a battle you gave him your scarf for luck and he scoffed and mocked you asking if you really thought a piece of cloth would keep him safe, but at the same time he also never took it off and carried it with him every battle from that day forward even when it became bloodied and ripped

Prince!Maegor who when it comes to displaying physical acts of affection it can be small and subtle or passionate and intense never in between

Prince!Maegor who gently forces you to look up at him holding you there with his two fingers on your chin, scanning your features and speaking in High Valyrian so you won’t understand the compliments he tells you, you do not know what he is saying, but his deep and smooth voice along with the unwavering contact with his deep violet eyes is enough

Prince!Maegor who towers nearly everyone so he also towers over you, he uses this advantage to give you a quick kiss atop your head

Prince!Maegorwho is a lot more intense with his physical affection when he is deprived of you for a long time or is going to be

Prince!Maegor who as you send him off to quell another riot before he mounts Balerion he pulls you against his broad chest, with a firm hand at the back of your head and the other squeezing your ass, as he gives you a deep and passionate kiss before pulling away and resting his forehead on yours telling you he will return to you

Prince!Maegor who while he himself is scarce with affection he will not shove you off if you show it , wether it be you laying on top of his large and warm body on a cold night or wrapping your hands around his strong bicep as you two enter an event at the castle

Prince!Maegor who will still be a bit of an asshole to you and will occasionally give you snide and crude remarks and still carry a bit of roughness to his tone but most of the time his words carry no kick to them

Prince!Maegor who is loyal, if you are able to provide him plenty of healthy heirs he sees no reason to take another wife and he sees whores as a waste of time and coin

Prince!Maegor who while he does not entertain the idea of whores that does not mean he is not a lustful man he just prefers it to be you, his perfect wife

Prince!Maegor who even with you tends to be still quick to anger and will still explode at you in an argument either by yelling, breaking things or grabbing you harshly by the forearm

Prince!Maegor who you are the only one where he feels slightly guilty after exploding on you but would rather die than actually apologize

Prince!Maegor who avoids you for days ridden with a mixture of guilt and anger with the whole situation but is not emotionally intelligent enough to just go to you and talk it out thus his apologies come in forms of lavish gifts being sent to your chambers and hopes you’d be the one to come to him

NSFW MDNI

Prince!Maegor who when taking you is rough and fast but never to the point where it’s far more pain than pleasure

Prince!Maegor who at the beginning of your marriage was very selfish when it came to pleasure but the more you grew on each other things change

Prince!Maegor who still very much is a receiver but always ensures you are also well satisfied at the end of it, one thing being him groping your breast and playing with your nipples in between his fingers as you ride on top of him

Prince!Maegor who is most vulnerable after a session, he will either collapse on you burying his face in the crook of your neck, him feeling like a weighted blanket as you comb a hand through his damp white hair or as your back rest against his chest his hands gently rubbing your bare stomach, very rare moments where he is not rough and just soft

A/n: feel free to send in your own prince Maegor asks or hcs if you wish

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fairysluna · 11 months ago

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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.

follow @by-fairysluna for updates!

GENERAL TAG LIST — @islandfantasydream @arcielee @bucknastysbabe @zaldritzosrose @rafeism @valeskafics

MAEGOR TAG LIST — @targaryen-dynasty @hypocritic-trash-baby @mariahossain

#maegor targaryen fanfic #maegor targaryen x y/n #maegor targaryen x reader #maegor targaryen #maegor the cruel #hotd #house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd fanfic

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aemondapologistfrfr · 7 months ago

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so you wanna join my taglist

us fr^

but go to this link and i got you i just edited it hella and wanted a neater and cleaner post xx

love u so much

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gulnarsultan · 15 days ago

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😼

Dangerous Heart - Mafia!Maegor Targaryen x Girlfriend!Reader

Chapter I.

Maegor Targaryen Masterlist.

House Of The Dragon Masterlist.

The bed felt colder without him. You stretched beneath the silk sheets, blinking away the remnants of sleep, and reached for the other side of the bed—empty, as expected. You sighed. It was always like this.

Every morning, Maegor was gone before you woke. Whether he was in the basement dealing with those who had crossed him, or in his office drowning in paperwork, he was never here when the sun rose.

You weren’t surprised. But still, the emptiness he left behind was something you’d never quite gotten used to.

With a soft sigh, you rolled onto your side, your gaze landing on the nightstand. And that’s when you saw it—his black card, placed neatly atop a folded note.

Curious, you reached for the note first, recognizing his sharp, bold handwriting immediately.

Buy whatever the hell you want. —M.

A smirk tugged at your lips.

Of course.

Your fingers traced over the ink, imagining the way he must have written it—probably standing half-dressed, one hand fixing his cufflinks, the other scrawling out the note with that same impatient focus he always had.

Shaking your head, you picked up the card, turning it between your fingers. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this—left you his limitless credit card like it was nothing, an unspoken order for you to indulge yourself. And you would.

A slow, satisfied smile curled on your lips. If he thought he could keep you occupied with unlimited spending money while he was off handling his business… well, he wasn’t exactly wrong.

You stretched once more before finally pushing yourself up, letting the silk sheets slide off your body. The morning light cast a soft glow over the room, illuminating the luxury that surrounded you—the dark marble floors, the expensive chandeliers, the view of the city skyline beyond the glass walls.

You reached for the phone on the nightstand and sent him a message.

I’m taking this as an apology for leaving me alone in bed.

A minute passed before your screen lit up with his response.

I don’t apologize.

You rolled your eyes, but before you could reply, another message appeared.

Spend wisely.

You smirked. Oh, I won’t.

For a moment, there was no response. Then, finally—

Brat.

You laughed to yourself, tossing the phone onto the bed before making your way to the bathroom. If Maegor wanted to play this game, you’d happily make him suffer for it.

After all, he was the one who had given you a blank check. And you were going to enjoy every second of spending his money.

The day had been indulgent, extravagant—just the way Maegor liked you to spend his money.

You had taken your time, strolling through the mall with an air of effortless confidence, slipping in and out of every high-end boutique that caught your eye. Silk dresses, designer shoes, limited-edition handbags—all of them now yours, their glossy shopping bags dangling from your arms like trophies of conquest.

Of course, with how much you had accumulated, it wasn’t long before you had to call in two of Maegor’s men to carry your bags. They followed obediently, silent shadows in black suits, their presence a constant reminder of whose woman you were. No one dared to look at you the wrong way. No one dared to approach.

And yet, despite the thrill of spending, despite the satisfaction of knowing Maegor would see the charges later and smirk at your defiance, your steps slowed when you passed by a jewelry store.

It was the diamonds that caught your eye.

Large, shimmering stones displayed in pristine glass cases, their brilliance reflecting the warm lighting. Necklaces, bracelets, earrings—each more breathtaking than the last. But it wasn’t those that made you stop.

It was the rings.

Your eyes locked onto one in particular—a solitaire diamond, elegant yet bold, set in platinum. A ring meant to symbolize forever.

A ring you would never wear.

Your fingers clenched slightly around the shopping bag handles, your once playful smirk fading into something softer, something almost wistful.

You knew what you were to Maegor. His lover. His obsession. The woman he spoiled, the woman he ruined in the best ways. You belonged to him in every way that mattered—except one.

No matter how much time passed, no matter how many nights he spent with you, no matter how fiercely he held onto you, Maegor Targaryen was not the kind of man who married.

You had accepted that a long time ago.

And yet, standing there, staring at something you would never have, you couldn’t help but feel the smallest twinge of sadness.

“Miss?” One of Maegor’s men stepped closer, his voice cautious.

You blinked, shaking yourself free of the moment.

With a sharp inhale, you pushed the thoughts aside, replacing them with your usual confidence. You turned away from the display and flipped your hair back, casting the bodyguard a cool, effortless smile.

“Nothing,” you murmured. “Just looking.”

And with that, you kept walking.

Because that’s all you could ever do—look, but never touch.

Not when it came to this.

The weight of luxury hung from your arms, glossy shopping bags filled with the finest silks, heels that would never touch anything less than marble floors, and jewelry that sparkled under the golden lights of the mall. It was enough. More than enough.

And yet, as you handed off the bags to Maegor’s men, instructing them to take everything back to the penthouse, you felt… unsatisfied.

“I’ll go to Maegor’s office later,” you murmured, adjusting the strap of your purse. “I have one more stop.”

The guards hesitated for only a second before nodding, knowing better than to question you. With that, you turned on your heels, heading towards the salon.

A change—something new. Maybe that would make you feel better.

The scent of expensive shampoos and scented oils filled the air as you stepped inside. The moment you were recognized, the staff rushed forward, their smiles wide, their voices eager. They knew who you were. Knew better than to make you wait.

As you were guided to a plush chair, fingers already working through your hair, offering you a glass of champagne, your mind wandered back to the jewelry store.

Back to that ring.

Back to thoughts you had no business entertaining.

You could almost picture it—Maegor standing behind you, his hands on your hips, pressing a velvet box into your palm. His voice, low and commanding, telling you he wasn’t asking, he was telling you—you were his, in every way possible.

Your lips curled slightly at the fantasy. It was almost laughable.

Maegor did not propose.

Maegor did not do tradition.

He claimed you the moment he decided you were his, and that had been the end of it. There had never been a need for rings, for ceremonies, for whispered vows of forever. He was not a man who needed the world to recognize what was already his.

And yet…

The thought refused to leave you.

What if, one day, he did?

What if, instead of slipping his gun into its holster every morning, he slipped a ring onto your finger? What if, instead of leaving you a black card, he left you his name?

What if, despite everything, he saw you as more than just his possession?

You exhaled slowly, shutting your eyes as gentle hands worked through your hair, combing through the strands with practiced ease.

It would never happen.

But the fact that you were thinking about it at all—that was dangerous.

Because wanting something Maegor wasn’t willing to give?

That was a weakness.

And weakness had no place in his world.

The champagne in your glass suddenly tasted bitter.

You had been sitting back, letting the salon staff pamper you, their hands working through your hair, their voices soft and professional as they suggested styles. It was supposed to be relaxing. It was supposed to be a distraction.

But then your phone lit up.

I have a meeting. Don’t wait up.

That was it.

No apology. No explanation. Just a simple statement, like you were a doll to be placed on a shelf until he decided to pick you up again.

You inhaled sharply, your fingers tightening around the stem of the glass.

Typical.

It was always like this. Maegor’s world revolved around power, control, and business—his empire came first. You knew this. You had accepted this.

But that didn’t mean you had to like it.

With a quiet scoff, you picked up your phone and turned it off without replying, dropping it into your bag with a little more force than necessary.

Fine. Let him have his meeting.

Let him come home to an empty bed.

Let him wonder where the hell you were.

You weren’t going home tonight.

A slow smirk curled your lips as you leaned back into the chair, tilting your head slightly as the stylist continued working on your hair.

If Maegor thought you would sit around and wait for him like an obedient little housewife, he was sorely mistaken.

Let him search for you. Let him lose his mind.

After all, you belonged to him, didn’t you?

Well, now he would have to prove just how much that meant.

The city lights flickered outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the luxury hotel suite, casting long shadows across the pristine white sheets as you stretched out on the bed. The silence was almost deafening. No distant hum of Maegor’s voice, no sound of him pacing in the other room while on a call, no weight of his presence filling the space.

And that was exactly what you wanted.

You had taken every precaution to make sure he couldn’t find you tonight. A fake name at check-in. Payment in cash. Phone turned off and buried at the bottom of your purse.

He wouldn’t be able to track you, not through his usual means.

Good. Let him suffer.

You exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling, the events of the day replaying in your mind. The shopping, the ring, the frustration that had simmered beneath your skin ever since you left the jewelry store.

It wasn’t just about tonight. It wasn’t just about the meeting. It was about everything.

About the way Maegor always expected you to be there, waiting. About the way he took and took but never gave the one thing you had realized you wanted.

Commitment. Permanence. A place beside him that wasn’t just defined by his possessiveness.

And yet, no matter how much time passed, no matter how fiercely he held onto you, there had never been a promise.

Just nights filled with passion, days filled with indulgence, and a bond that neither of you ever dared to put a name to.

Your chest tightened.

Damn him.

You turned onto your side, squeezing your eyes shut, willing yourself not to think about him.

Not to wonder what he was doing.

Not to imagine the moment he realized you were gone.

Would he be angry? Would he tear apart the city looking for you? Would he storm into the penthouse expecting to find you, only to be met with silence?

Or—

Would he not care at all?

You exhaled sharply, pushing that thought away before it could sink its claws into you.

It didn’t matter.

Tonight, for the first time in a long time, Maegor would have to live without knowing where you were.

The moment Maegor saw that his message had been read but ignored, his patience snapped.

The conference room fell into tense silence as he abruptly stood, his chair scraping against the marble floor. Every pair of eyes in the room turned to him, wary of the storm brewing behind his expression.

“Continue without me,” he said coldly, already pulling out his phone as he strode toward the exit. His men didn’t question him. They knew better.

The moment he was out of the building, he called you.

Nothing.

Straight to voicemail.

His grip on the phone tightened.

Again.

Straight to voicemail.

His jaw clenched. The muscles in his neck strained as his heartbeat pounded against his ribs, an unfamiliar tension crawling up his spine.

He wasn’t just angry.

He was livid.

Maegor had given you everything. His name, his wealth, his loyalty. He had made it clear that you belonged to him, that no one else would ever have you. So where the fuck were you?

He got into his car, tires screeching against the pavement as he sped through the city, ignoring every red light, every blaring horn. He needed to see you. Now.

The moment he arrived at the penthouse, he knew something was wrong.

It was too quiet.

Too empty.

His footsteps echoed through the vast space as he moved from room to room. The closet was untouched—your clothes were still there, your perfumes still lined the dresser. But you weren’t here.

And that was unacceptable.

With a sharp breath, he pulled out his phone again, this time dialing one of his men.

“Find her,” he ordered, his voice dangerously calm. “Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

He ended the call and threw his phone onto the couch, his hands clenching into fists. His mind raced, replaying every interaction from the past few days.

Had he missed something? Had he done something?

And then, as the anger simmered beneath his skin, realization struck him like a blade to the gut.

You were punishing him.

For what? The meeting?

Had it been the final straw?

His eyes darkened as he exhaled sharply. Fine. If you wanted to play games, he would let you. But make no mistake—he would find you.

And when he did, you would learn that no matter how far you ran, no matter how well you thought you could hide... You were his.

The air in Maegor’s office was thick with tension. His men stood in a rigid line, their gazes lowered, their breathing careful, their bodies taut with the kind of fear only he could instill.

Another hour had passed.

Another hour where you remained unfound.

Another hour where Maegor’s patience—what little of it he had left—was crumbling into nothing.

"Useless," he spat, his voice dangerously low, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand. The expensive crystal cracked under the pressure, shards falling onto his desk as whiskey dripped between his fingers.

Not one of them dared to move.

Not one of them dared to speak.

His jaw clenched, fury pulsing through every muscle in his body. You had never done this before. Never disappeared without a word, never shut him out so completely. And the worst part? You planned this. You knew exactly what you were doing when you left.

Fake name. Cash payment. Phone off.

It wasn’t just defiance, it was a challenge. A test of his control and that? That was something he could not allow.

"You have ten minutes," he growled, voice filled with lethal intent. "Find her, or I start putting bullets in heads."

The men scattered.

The door slammed shut behind them. Maegor exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair, his pulse hammering against his skull.

Where the fuck were you?

Meanwhile, across the city, you lounged in a grand marble bathtub, bubbles swirling around your skin, the scent of jasmine and vanilla filling the air.

A flute of champagne rested between your fingers, condensation dripping down the glass as you tilted your head back, letting the warmth of the water soothe you.

The city lights outside your hotel window flickered like distant stars, and for the first time in a long time—you felt free.

No expectations. No demands. Just silence. Just peace.

You took another sip of champagne, swirling the golden liquid in your mouth before swallowing, a slow smirk tugging at your lips. Maegor was probably losing his mind by now.

The thought sent a satisfied shiver down your spine. It wasn’t often that you got to win against him. It wasn’t often that you got to deny him anything.

And God, it felt good.

You giggled to yourself, setting the glass aside as you stretched your legs, enjoying the warmth, the luxury, the knowledge that somewhere—somewhere—Maegor was furious.

Let him be. Let him burn. After all, he always said you were his. Now it was time to see just how far he was willing to go to prove it.

The roar of the engine echoed through the empty streets as Maegor slammed his foot on the gas, his grip on the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. The city lights blurred past him, neon signs flashing like ghosts in the darkness, but his mind was focused on one thing and one thing only—

Finding you.

His jaw clenched, his breath heavy, his entire body pulsing with barely restrained rage.

Another call.

Straight to voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

“Fucking bitch!” he roared, slamming his fist against the dashboard, the leather creaking under the force of his anger.

This wasn’t a game.

This wasn’t funny.

You were his. His woman. His everything. And yet, here he was, driving through the city like a madman, calling you over and over again like some desperate fool, while you were nowhere to be found.

His men were fucking useless.

Hours had passed, and still, they had nothing.

Every hotel. Every penthouse. Every club. Every goddamn luxury boutique and spa in the city—nothing. How? How the fuck were you hiding from him? Maegor’s chest heaved, his mind clouded with fury.

And underneath it all? Something worse. Something he refused to name. Because what if? What if this wasn’t just a game? What if someone had taken you? What if someone had dared to touch what was his?

The thought sent ice through his veins, his breathing turning ragged. No. No one would be that stupid. No one would dare.

But if they had— If someone had dared to take you from him— He would burn this city to the ground to get you back.

His phone rang. One of his men.

“Tell me you have something,” Maegor growled, voice sharp as a blade.

“N—Not yet, sir, but we’re still checking—”

He ended the call without another word, his fury boiling over into something dangerous. Then, as he turned a sharp corner, his eyes flicked toward the towering hotels lining the boulevard.

Luxury.

Privacy.

Secrecy.

His hands tightened on the wheel.

A slow, menacing smirk curved his lips.

“Found you."

With one last press of the gas, he sped toward the nearest hotel, his pulse steady, his rage sharp.

Because you could run.

You could hide.

But there was one thing you had forgotten—

Maegor always, always got what was his.

Maegor’s steps were silent but heavy with purpose as he strode through the grand lobby of the hotel. The moment he entered, every employee froze.

They knew him.

They knew better than to waste his time.

One glance—one sharp, cutting look from his dark eyes—and the concierge was already typing frantically on the computer, hands trembling as they searched the registry.

"Room number," Maegor said, his voice calm. Deadly.

"Y-Yes, sir. The penthouse suite—"

That was all he needed to hear.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode toward the private elevator, his presence so commanding that no one dared to stop him.

The moment the doors slid shut, his fingers twitched at his sides.

Finally.

After hours of chasing, of searching, of losing his goddamn mind—

He had you and you? You had no fucking idea.

You sighed in pure bliss, stretching your limbs across the vast bed, your skin bare except for the delicate lingerie that barely covered anything at all.

The city lights flickered outside, casting a soft glow across your body as you let yourself sink into the expensive silk sheets, a lazy smirk curving your lips.

Maegor still hadn’t found you.

Perfect.

You had won this round.

You knew he must be going insane right now—probably yelling at his men, punching walls, maybe even setting things on fire. And the thought of it made warm laughter bubble up from your chest.

Let him search.

Let him suffer.

Tonight, you belonged to no one but yourself. You reached for the glass of champagne on the bedside table, but before your fingers could touch it—

The lock clicked.

Your breath hitched.

Your body froze.

The air in the room shifted—the warmth of the suite now coated in ice as a familiar, commanding presence seeped into the space. You barely had a second to react before the door swung open, revealing the one man you both loved and feared in equal measure.

Maegor stood in the doorway.

Silent.

Still.

Deadly.

His suit jacket was gone, his black dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the coiled tension in his muscles.

His face was unreadable, but his eyes—

His eyes burned. Not just with rage. Not just with possession. But with something darker. Something merciless. Something unchained.

Your lips parted, your heart pounding as he slowly—slowly—closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing like a gunshot in the silence.

He took one step forward.

Then another.

Your body heated under his gaze, your breath shaky as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, the delicate lace of your lingerie doing nothing—absolutely nothing—to hide the way your chest rose and fell beneath his hungry stare.

Still, you tilted your chin up in defiance, a lazy smirk playing at your lips as you teased— "You found me, huh?" Maegor didn’t answer.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

Then—

He moved, faster than you could react.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat as he grabbed your ankle, yanking you down the bed until you were beneath him, his broad frame towering over you, his hands caging you in.

"You think this is a game?" he growled, his breath warm against your lips, his rage barely contained.

Your heart raced, your body thrumming with anticipation, but you still had the audacity to smirk.

"Wasn’t it?" you whispered.

A dangerous mistake.

Maegor’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured—

"You think running from me is fun, sweet girl?" A shiver ran down your spine. He chuckled—low, deep, predatory.

"Then let me show you just how much fun we’re about to have."

Your breath hitched as Maegor's strong hands tore at the delicate fabric of your lingerie, the lace giving way under his force with a sharp, ripping sound.

"Maegor!" you gasped, glaring up at him as you grabbed at his wrist. "That was new!"

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t care.

His chest rose and fell with controlled fury, his grip possessive, his entire body tense as he loomed over you, eyes dark and unreadable.

"You think this is funny?" he rasped, his voice low, dangerous.

Your lips parted, your heart pounding as he pinned you beneath him, his sheer strength caging you in.

"Maegor, I—"

"You laughed," he cut you off, his jaw clenching. "I was out there losing my goddamn mind, thinking someone had taken you, thinking—" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "And you were fucking laughing?"

Your smirk faltered.

Because now, up close, you could see it.

The exhaustion. The restraint. The terrifying edge of a man who had been seconds away from burning this entire city to the ground for you and you knew. Knew that for all his cold brutality, for all his dominance and control— He had been afraid for you.

A pang of guilt settled in your chest.

"Maegor," you whispered, reaching up to touch his jaw, your fingertips brushing against the sharp lines of his face. "I didn’t mean to—"

His hand caught your wrist, tight. His lips parted—like he wanted to say something—

Then—

He kissed you. Fierce. Demanding. Almost punishing. A raw claim. He kissed you like he wanted to brand you. Like he needed to remind himself that you were real, that you were here, that you were still his.

And you let him.

Your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, your fingers threading through his thick hair, pulling him even closer.

His growl vibrated against your lips, a warning, a promise.

"You," he murmured between kisses, his hands trailing down your bare body, gripping, claiming, owning. "You drive me insane."

You gasped as his lips traveled down your throat, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

Your fingers clutched the sheets, your breath still uneven as you lay beneath Maegor, his warmth still lingering against your skin. The remnants of his anger had settled, replaced by something quieter, something heavier.

But his gaze never left you.

Those sharp, piercing eyes studied every inch of your face, the way your lips parted slightly, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. He was waiting.

And you knew exactly for what.

"Talk."

A simple command. Deep. Unyielding.

You exhaled slowly, turning your head to meet his stare.

"I…" You hesitated. How could you even begin to explain it?

His jaw ticked, his patience fraying. But before you could even find the words— he scoffed.

"I already know."

Your brows furrowed.

His expression remained unreadable, but his fingers trailed down your arm, a slow, measured touch that sent shivers down your spine.

"My men tell me" he murmured, his voice dangerously calm. "Standing outside that jewelry store."

Your breath caught.

His eyes never wavered, dark and unreadable.

"You were looking at the rings."

A single sentence.

A truth you hadn’t expected him to voice.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling exposed in a way you hadn’t when he had stripped you bare just moments ago.

"I was just looking," you murmured, attempting to sound nonchalant.

But Maegor only tilted his head, unimpressed. "Liar."

Your chest tightened.

He shifted, his hand gripping your chin, tilting your face up so you had nowhere to look but at him.

"You think I don’t know you?" His voice was low, almost a whisper. Dangerous. "You think I don’t see the way your eyes lingered on those rings?"

Your silence was answer enough.

Maegor sighed, shaking his head before press his head over your shoukder ,"You can buy as many rings as you want," he muttered. "You know that."

You closed your eyes, frustration building in your chest. "It’s not about the rings, Maegor."

His jaw clenched, his entire body tensing.

"Then what?"

You hesitated.

"You know what," you whispered.

His silence was deafening and then— "You want a wedding."

Your throat tightened you didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

Because he already knew.

A slow, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. "You think I can give you that?"

Your fingers curled into the sheets, your heart pounding.

"You think a man like me can stand in front of a fucking priest and pretend to be normal?"

"Maegor—"

"I kill for a living," he cut you off, his voice sharp, laced with something raw. "I run an empire built on blood and power. I have enemies who would slit your throat just to see me suffer."

"I know that!" you snapped, sitting up fully now, your frustration boiling over.

"Then why the fuck do you want to tie yourself to me?" His voice rose slightly, his own anger bubbling beneath the surface.

"Because I already am, you idiot!" The words hung between you, raw and unfiltered.

Maegor stilled.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to hold his gaze.

"I don’t need a priest, or a fucking paper to prove what we are," you whispered. "I just… I just wanted to pretend. Just for a second."

Something in his expression shifted. Something you couldn’t quite read. Maegor exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair before muttering,

"Fucking hell." You looked away, suddenly feeling exposed, but then— his hand gripped your chin.

Firm. Unwavering.

Your eyes snapped back to him. His expression was serious, but his grip tightened as he lifted your hand, pressing it flat against his chest.

"Listen to me," he murmured.

You did. The steady, unrelenting beat of his heart beneath your palm.

"You belong to me," he said, his voice low, his tone absolute. "With or without a fucking ring, you’re mine."

Your breath caught.

"And I don’t need a goddamn wedding to prove that." A lump formed in your throat. But then— his thumb brushed over your knuckles, his next words quieter, almost hesitant.

"But if it’s what you want…" Your lips parted slightly.

He exhaled, shaking his head. "I’ll think about it."

Your heart stopped. For a man like Maegor, those words weren’t just empty promises. They were everything.

And for now— That was enough.

The moment was quiet now, the earlier storm of emotions settling into something softer, something undeniably real. Maegor rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm and steady, his eyes shut as if savoring the feeling of you in his arms.

He said nothing.

But he didn’t have to.

You felt it in the way his fingers curled around your waist, in the way his body relaxed above yours, as if finally at ease after hours of restless, frantic searching.

Your chest tightened at the realization.

"You were really scared, weren’t you?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. Maegor inhaled deeply, his grip tightening slightly, but he still didn’t open his eyes.

"You have no fucking idea," he murmured.

Your heart clenched at the rawness in his tone. Slowly, gently, you lifted a hand, letting your fingertips trace along his jaw, feeling the tension that still lingered beneath his skin.

He melted into your touch.

The Maegor the world knew—the ruthless, unforgiving crime lord—was nowhere to be found in this moment.

Right now, he was just a man. A man who had been terrified to lose you. A small, fond smile ghosted your lips as you let your thumb graze his cheek.

"I’m sorry," you murmured.

His brows furrowed slightly, his forehead still pressed against yours.

"You should be," he muttered. "You almost fucking killed me tonight."

A chuckle escaped your lips.

"That’s dramatic."

Maegor finally opened his eyes, sharp and piercing, but there was something else there too—something vulnerable, something he never let anyone else see.

"I don’t give a shit," he muttered. "You scared me."

Your heart ached.

"I know," you admitted softly.

He sighed, shifting slightly before flipping you over, pulling you flush against him so that your head rested against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, strong, but still slightly erratic. You pressed your palm against it, feeling every beat, every silent emotion he refused to voice.

"You’re never doing that again," he said, his voice firm, allowing no room for argument. You exhaled, your fingers lightly tracing patterns against his skin.

"I won’t," you promised.

Maegor remained silent for a moment before bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your knuckles.

"Good." You smiled. The world outside could burn for all you cared. Right now, this was all that mattered.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @callsignwidow @ashblooddragons

#maegor smut #king maegor #maegor targaryen #maegor the cruel #hotd headcanon #hotd modern au #modern hotd #house of the dragon #house targaryen #maegor x reader #mafia maegor #hotd #hotd imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones x y/n #got #asoiaf #asoif/got

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cherryclitgirl · 3 months ago

Text

The Gods III

Pairing: Maegor x reader

Notes: Mentions of child birth, child loss, murder, and brief use of y/n.

Before: She was just ten and five when she gave birth to Aegon. She was afraid of the thought of giving birth to a monstrosity . they way Alys did. Maegor would’ve not hesitated to kill her if she did . But was she was more afraid of was giving birth. She had never seen anything remotely close to it. Let alone experienced it.

She looked to her side to see her mother standing by the wall. Visenya had allowed her to be in the room, but not near her. Nonetheless her mother made sure to keep her eyes on her daughter.

She laid on the birthing bed gripping the sheets below. Her face covered with her damp silver hair. Sweat and tears mixing together into an unpleasant salty mixture. Her legs dripped with blood and sweat. She felt her entire body shudder into a throbbing pain. Her insides opening to push out a human, a human she had carried for months. Women died giving birth, mayhaps dying was better than facing Maegor. She felt something moving making it difficult to push. She bit the bottom of her lower lip letting out a loud groan. The tears from her eyes had dried out, the only thing stinging her eyes was sweat. The words of encouragement from the midwife did not help her, all she wanted was her mother. She stopped after a few pushes panting from exhaustion. Everything was blurry, the voices of those around her were incoherent. Her body was weak and filled with pain. Their voices began to drift away as she gritted her teeth tightly. How she managed to keep going was a mystery of its own. She heard his small cries. Still unable to see, she tried to speak but her words came out in mumbles.

“A boy!” Was all she heard around her. Everyone spoke at once with excitement, relieved that a healthy boy had been born. Whilst everyone was distracted by the new born babe Alyssa left the wall rushing to her daughter.

“You did well my dear” she softly brushing y/n’s hair off her face. She quickly looked for a rag to wipe her daughter’s sweat off. “So well” she chuckled sadly, tears swelling in her eyes. Her daughter smiled weakly ,the labor was yet to be done but it was clear that her daughter was exhausted. “Mother” y/n spoke quietly reaching for Alyssa’s hand. “My darling ” Alyssa soothed her gently cleaning the sweat of her daughter.

Alyssa looked up to see Visenya holding a small bundle wrapped in a cloth. She quickly stood up allowing her daughter to see her son. The maids helped her daughter sit up, placing pillow in her back to support her and provide comfort. “A healthy boy” Visenya said carefully placing her grandson on her arms. The boy had been carefully cleaned, his eyes wide awake staring into his mother’s with curiosity. She smiled down at her babe, her vision becoming less blurry. Holding him felt strange, her dizziness confusing her, almost forgotting that the small bundle was hers. Her own flesh and blood. For a moment she just stared and realization slowly crept in. She placed a small kiss on his head that made the babe flutter his eyes “Aegon” she spoke softly.

Everyone around her nodded with agreement, named after his grandsire they thought. They were far from wrong, she named him after her older brother. The only one aware of that was Alyssa, everyone saw a young girl holding her babe but Alyssa saw a child holding a child.

Her return to kings landing happened shortly after giving birth. She was in no condition to travel, however Maegor demanded to see his child. Visenya personally accompanied y/n back to the Red keep, making sure her and the babe were taken care of.

Aegon was fully awake, cooing softly as he nibbled on his small hand. His mother looked down at him and smile, her heart fluttering with happiness. He was the most precious thing she ever saw. “My darling boy” she whispered holding him close.

When she stepped out of the wheelhouse Maegor was not waiting for her but Ceryse. Ceryse wary expression made y/n uncomfortable. When Ceryse walked closer to the girl and her new born son, her heart clenched with jealousy and sadness. “He’s beautiful ” Ceryse’s lip twitch into a sad smile, she fought back tears her throat tightening and itching. She held Aegon in her arms, The boy was healthy, a pure Targaryen. Silver hair and purple eyes. The child was not hers. It was in her faith to crave always something that was given to another.

“Thank you, your grace” y/n said as she watched how Ceryse looked at Aegon. Her finger carefully caressing his small delicate face. “He awaits for you in the great hall” she said slowly tearing her gaze away from the boy. “You should rest, y/n, I shall take him” Ceryse said her grip on the small bundle slightly tightened.

“The mother of the child will take him” Visenya declared behind y/n. She was no fool, she would not allow Ceryse to present her grandson to Maegor. There was a brief silence between the three women before Ceryse slowly handed Aegon back to his mother.

The throne room was packed and eerie silent, not a single noble dared to make a sound. Every noble in the Red keep stood waiting for the arrival of the new born prince. Their eyes fixed on Maegor as his tall regal figure sat on the large iron throne. He wore his crown with pride, and bore an unreadable expression,Black fyre tightly clutched on his hand. He fixed his eyes on the door waiting and listing.

The doors slowly opened to reveal queen y/n holding a small babe wrapped in a black and red blanket with an embroidered dragon. Dowager queen Visenya stood proudly behind her guarding her with a smile on her face. Everyone in the hall turned their attention to the young queen, their eyes scanning her and fixed strongly on what was in her arms.

She slowly walked into throne room. Her steps measured and quiet, her heels clicking on the stone. She felt the stares of the court on her, lords of major houses had been summoned at once to pled their fidelity to the new born heir.

Maegor slowly rose from his seat, his tall figure over looking the crowded hall. His expression impassive as his young wife stopped at the bottom of the iron throne. He crept down to where she was, with a small curtsy she handed him his son. “Aegon Targaryen, your grace” she told him softly. Maegor hummed softly and took his son into his arms. The babe look unusually small in his arms. He moved the blanket away from Aegon’s face, his large thumb moving slightly over the wisps of hair. The true embodiment of a Valyrian. “Aegon” he repeated looking at his son “A name fit for a king” he declared loudly, the hall soon erupted into claps and voices filled with happiness and excitement.

Ceryse stood alone in the arched corridors, away from the crowd watching Maegor parade his son with pride. She felt Tyanna’s presence behind her sending an uncomfortable feeling down her neck. “Do keep trying Lady Ceryse” Tyanna maliciously whispered “Sooner or later your barren womb will produce an heir” she mocked.

Ceryse stiffen and glanced to her side “If you allow it ” she whispered to Tyanna. A mischievous smile appeared on her face as she looked at Ceryse’s dress “I let this one live, didn’t I” she said gently touching Ceryse’s dress “Though, it was more of your doing.” The green l fabric felt delicate under her finger tips. “Caring for the girl is admirable” she continued, Ceryse’s eye fell on Tyanna’s fingers. “So is leaving Maegor’s chamber early in the morrow” she snickered.

“It is my duty as his wife. ” Ceryse hissed quietly looking away from Tyanna. “His true wife”

“The beacon on the Hightower… it glows green when Oldtown calls it’s banners to war” Tyanna smirked her finger tips leaving the green dress.

Ceryse remained quiet silently seething with frustration. She had worn the green dress out of spite, she disliked the color green,she disliked war. An impulsive decision she regretted. Unfortunately for her it would a war she would fight alone as it was clear, Maegor had gotten what he longed for. An heir. : End

Y/n held her precious babe in her arms, softly humming to him as her finger traced his small nose. He was growing fast, it was clear he would be strong like his father “You will be king one day” she told her son “but for now…you’re all mine” she smile kissing her son’s head.His small finger wrapping around hers tightly. He nibbled on it slightly cooing as he looked up, his beautiful purple eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Every time she kissed his cheek Aegon would laugh. Giggles that brought a smile to her face. The laughter would soon fade and replace itself with the sounds of her son’s muffled cries, filling her ears with dread. as her dream began to change her precious babe slowly faded away from her arms, a cruel reminder that he had been taken from her.

She hated the dream, it was the same recurring dream, that would soon turn into a nightmare. Every night and every day. She sat up on her bed wiping away the tears that formed in her sleep. She glanced at her daughter who slept peacefully, her darling girl. Her only daughter. She looked at Rheanor who slept on his bed clutching his toy dragon. He was two summers old yet bore a resemblance to Baelon. She had been allowed to named her four children She named Rhaenor and Rhaella after her sister Rhaena. She named Baelon after her husband’s dragon, although her first choice was to name him after her younger brother Viserys. Nonetheless Maegor did not protest, but did raise an eyebrow at the names of his two young children.

Even after the death of Aegon she kept her children close. Perhaps even closer than before. The paranoia she once felt still lingered, specially in the night. Guards were to now stand outside her door at all times. She had very few maids and no ladies in waiting except for Kiara. She had replaced the maids with only a few that were recommended Maester Benifer. Kiara being the main one of all of them. There was an unspoken agreement between the two, where ever she went ;Kiara followed.

- - - - - - - - -

She was the last to enter the small council meeting, unlike Tyanna who was always the first. Maegor was at the very head of the table, the hand of the king Lord Edwell Celtigar sat on his right . Her seat had been moved, from sitting next to lord Daemon Valeryon to sitting next to Maegor himself. “Where is Baelon” Maegor asked her when she sat down next to him. She watched as the new cup barrer began to fill their wine. Her stomach twisted as she looked at the young boy, picturing her poor brother Viserys. “The Library “ she replied looking back at him.

“Why?” Maegor questioned as he took a sip of his wine. “Because I send him there” she replied placing her hand over her cup, it was too early for wine. Maegor paused his drinking, the attention of the small council now focused on the two of them. Maegor had strictly instructed for Baelon to attend the small council meetings since he was named heir. A demand y/n found ridiculous since the boy was barely four.

“Fetch for the boy” Maegor ordered the cup barrer. As the cup barrer was about to put the flagon down the young queen spoke. “Stay” she opposed firmly. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room until Maegor spoke “I will not be defied!“ he snapped at his wife.

She bit the inside of her cheek fighting the urge to snap back “Neither will I” she said calmly. “If you wish for him to king then he must learn Valyrian” she added not tearing her eyes from him.

Maegor scoffed knowing his wife was right and waved his cup at the young squire “Fetch for more wine then”.

The small council members relaxed seeing the tension between the king and queen wash away. The first to speak was Queen Tyanna who served as mistress of whispers “Your grace, you will be pleased to know that Alyssa Velaryon has been taken refuge under Lord Rogar Baratheon “ she said eyeing Daemon.

The rest of the council turned to Daemon, y/n among them. He was her uncle, yet to her he felt more of stranger. Having only spoken few times, she wondered how he would reply. He was loyal to crown and she had been cautious enough to avoid asking him about her mother.

Maegor’s sharp gaze was on Daemon waiting for him to speak. It was clear that his pride had been hurt after hearing his sister’s whereabouts. He could not risk standing with his sister, it would put his house at risk.

“I was unaware of this your grace” Daemon clarified “I had send word to Driftmark, if a Raven from Alyssa arrived, I would be let known”

Tyanna scoffed taking a sip of her wine “Only a fool would expect a raven”. Daemon swallowed his pride but was tempted to reply to Tyanna’s comment.

“What about Princess Rhaena?” Maegor asked Tyanna. A smile appeared on her face as she looked at the queen. Y/n’s hand clenched under the table at the mention of the her sister. The look on Tyanna made her nails dig into her palm. Her attention was entirely on Tyanna. It had been years since she had last seen her sister. In the nights she would stand by window, silently pleading her sister to come back. “She has taken residence in Volantis” Tyanna smirked

“Mayhaps she has taken work in a pleasure garden as well ” The maester of coin Lord Alton Butterwell snickered. His comment provoked a laughter among the rest of the men in the small council. Only Ser Olyver Bracken the new appointment Lord commander of the kings guards kept a stale expression. Having served the royal family for many years, he had see the princess’s Rhaena and y/n in their early years. He found the comment to be humorless and insulting to both the Queen and her sister. The first thing most men thought of when they heard Volantis, was its famous pleasure houses. Lord Alton was among the men that paid large amounts of gold to sleep with the most famous whores. He was the type of men to fill his mouth with finest foods and the most expensive wines. He will never know the hardships of women and their need for survival. The insinuation that her sister had taken work as a whore made her blood boil. She knew her sister would never do such thing. Yet, the mere thought of her picturing her sister in a city filled men that prayed on young girls and women infuriated her.

Queen Y/n said nothing, she only stared at Lord Alton who indulged his wine whilst he laughed. Her nails digging into her palm so tightly it had began to bleed. His fat cheeks blushed from the laughter, his large chain around his neck suffocating his fat neck. He was disgusting. Her thoughts were filled with a desirable urge to see his face be smashed into the glass orb. One swift movement she thought. Only one movement it would take for him to stop laughing.

She had the absolute power to see it happen. Ser Olyver would follow her order, the guards would come into the room and drag Lord Alton way. She was unsure about Maegor’s reaction, would he be angry she took order and abused her position? Did Maegor wish for her to show the same cruelty as him?. In her years as one of the queens she never once commanded or ordered anyone. It was Tyanna and Ceryse that used that power. Had she not wasted her youthful years giving birth to children. Mayhaps she would’ve learned to be decent queen. A good queen. It was her fault she thought. That they had forgotten to fear her. She was the queen, her name added more importance to the tittle than anything else . She was a Targaryen, her sister was a Targaryen. To insult a Targaryen princess was an act of treason. So long as she is the queen, treason shall never go unpunished.

“Ser Olyver” She spoke as the laughter was dying down. Ser Olyver’s attention turned to her at once . “Bring me his head” she commanded.

The command took Ser Olyver by surprise, the once cheerful room fell into a deep silence. The faces of the members became appalled and confused. The command was unexpected, as they had never heard her utter such cruel words. After a long awkward silence Maegor spoke waving his hand for the cup barer “You heard your queen” he said as he drank his wine “She wants his head”. Without another word Maegor rose from his seat and with cup in hand he left the small council room.

Tyanna smirked at the girl before she too left the room. It was clear the meeting had been cut short, one by one the rest of the lords left the room. By the time every one had left it was just Lord Alton and Queen y/n and a few white cloaks.

“Your Grace” Lord Alton pleaded as he rose from his seat. He was quickly pushed back down by Ser Olyver “I-it was never my intention to insult you in any way-“ his voice trembling as he watched her walk to the flagon of wine. “It was merely a joke “ he excused , his fat face releasing a large amount of sweat. His eyes darting to the king’s guards and back to the queen. She held the flagon and walked to where he was. She ignored his pleading.The once prideful fat man was now at her mercy. She stood behind him and slowly dumped the entire thing on his head. He gasped as he drowned in the berry taste of grapes. The same way he drowned in his cups.

“Joke?” She said placing the flagon on the table “a mere joke?” She repeated her fingers drumming on the table.

“My apologies, M-my deepest apologies your grace” he begged. His expensive lavish clothes soaked , unleashing a strong smoky smell of a well aged wine.

“Call for Lord Tymond Lannister “ she told Ser Olyver. “He will be the new master of coin”. She left the room leaving the guards to deal with a screaming pig. Her first demand had been as cruel as her husband. The court would remember and so would be the people. The queen’s first action was to punish a man for insulting her sister. Some would call it unfair and cruel, others would say it was well deserved.

One thing was clear, the brothels in the street of silk had lost a value costumer. But the women working them had one less man to worry about. A woman was a woman, no matter her position.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

The following days all the court could talk about was the incident in the small council. The story had changed in various ways. Some said that Lord Alton had insulted the queen . Other’s said the queens first command was a reaction to her madness after the death of her first born. But the version many clanged to was that queen y/n had gone mad in the hands of Maegor. Causing her to take such drastic measures. After years in his capacity she had developed the same habits as him. Some even went as far to say that had the queen been allowed to ride her dragon Skyfyre she would’ve already fled with her children.

The sad truth of it all, was the princess missed her Dragon dearly. She would stand by the window holding Rhaella in her arms while she watched her dragon. It was clear Skyfyre missed her rider deeply. She grew restless and would be seen soaring above the Redkeep. Maegor had forbidden her from riding her dragon. He didn’t trust her and even when did began to trust her, something told him that allowing her to ride her dragon would allow her to run away.

But for the first time Queen y/n did not feel trapped. She had a few friends and little to no allies at court. However she paid no attention it. She was never a pleaser of the court. Those she needed to befriend were distributed in the seven kingdoms. She had a close bond with House Lannister and House Redwyne. Even exchanged letters with the Lady of Winterfell Lysa Stark.

She had Rhaella in her arms while Rhaenor played with his wooden soldiers. Baelon sat quietly scribbling on a piece of Parchment. There were rare moments where the queen could be away from Maegor. His attention had solely focused on his oldest sons. There were a few occasions where he could stop in the room to see his two youngest. But he never step foot in the room.

Before: Maegor had cared for things, a something some considered rare. Among those things was his son, whom he adored. There was not a day that Aegon was not in his arms. Constantly showing him off at court, it was clear Maegor was proud of his boy. He insisted on bringing Aegon to the small council meetings.In his arms slept Aegon whilst the lords discussed the politics of the realm. Although it was clear Maegor’s attention was never focused on the meetings. Some nights Maegor crept into the room where Aegon and his mother slept, stealing his son away he would make his way to Balerion. He often sat on Balerion’s saddle simply holding his son. His cruel heart warming up every time he saw his son’s purple eyes. Aegon was loved, oh so loved

Maegor had been completely attached to Aegon. He had been vulnerable and let his guard down. He would not repeat the same mistake again. But one something was different. He came into the room unannounced. Taking in the view his eyes landed on his eldest son. Queen y/n did not bother to look up as she thought it would be like his other visits. Before she knew it Maegor had walked to where she was, his voice low and serious he asked “Might I?”. The question took her by surprise , he never held his sons, let alone his daughter. “Of course” she replied gently placing Rhaella in his arms. He carefully held his daughter, his big arms gently holding her. She was a quiet child, a peaceful child. He adjusted her small dress. She had her mother’s soft purple eyes. It was clear she would be the very image of queen y/n.

She nuzzled her small head into his chest while his hand caressed her back. Maegor knew his children were by loved by their mother. He admired her for it, she loved their children the way his mother loved him. He stayed like that for a while, the room’s atmosphere had shifted. Baelon played with his brother. His mother sitting near by. Maegor held his daughter in his arms whilst he watched his sons play. She was unsure why he had a change of heart. Why he had chosen this particular day. A passer by would’ve assumed they had a close bond. A father who loved his children and wife , spending the noon together as a family.

Sometimes our eyes deceive us. We see things that aren’t there. Simple illusions our brains create. But to Queen Tyanna the image was clear. It was real and well made. She stood outside the door watching king Maegor and y/n spend the evening with their children. They were completely unaware of her cloud lurking outside the threshold. She watched closely as the cruel king held his daughter. Her eyes had seen plenty of the queen, should the king know his young wife was getting rid of potential babes. He would never hold his daughter again.

- - - - - - - - - - -

“Queen Ceryse has requested to see you, your grace” Kiara bowed her head to her queen. The hour was quite late and the y/n was busy getting her children to bed. She looked up from Rheanor confused “Now?” She asked Kiara.

Kiara nodded “Yes your grace”. Y/n planted a kiss on Rhaenor and left his side. Ceryse’s call had been completely unexpected, she was already in her sleeping gown. If Ceryse had asked for her then it was urgent. Their relationship was nothing but civil. They weren’t bonded like sisters but being the oldest Ceryse did provide her with protection from Tyanna. Although their relationship had been strained over the past year, she held no grudges for her. She did not blame Ceryse nor Tyanna. But at times she did wonder if Ceryse had told truth. Had Ceryse purposely left her door unattended? She would never know.

Still the young princess instructed Kiara to remain with the children until she returned. Two guards stood outside her door their attention ever so vigilant. As she began to walk away one of the guards left his post, she looked back bewildered “The hour is late hour grace” the white cloak told her. “We are to keep you and the children safe” the other guard added.

She had completely forgotten about the rule Maegor had placed. “Of course” she nodded. The white cloak followed her keeping his distance but still close enough to protect her. The castle was silent and empty. It’s darks long halls illuminated by the torches on the wall. The shining moon above illuminated some parts of the now finished castle. Ironically if queen y/n had gone to her left she would’ve taken the same route she took the night her son was murdered.

The only who seemed to noticed was the white cloak who looked back before he continued his steps. He had heard the tale many times. Each version more twisted than the last. He tried to picture the young girl carrying two babes in her arms while she made sure her other son was safe. But to him the situation was too unsettling to picture it. As a believer of the faith he was among the many that felt pity for the girl.

She stopped outside Ceryse’s door “It won’t take long” she told the white cloak. She entered the room to see Ceryse sat on her bed. Her back against the bed frame. Her hand resting on her stomach. Her long blonde hair down to her shoulders. There no candles lit, the only light being the moonlight that shone through the window.

Ceryse smile slightly when she saw y/n “Sickness does put one in it’s weakest state” she joked. Y/n smiled a bit before she took a seat on the bed “It’s better than childbirth” she joked back

Ceryse chuckled and took her hand “Some of us would rather take that pain”. Y/n place her hand on overs here’s as well. Her gaze moved to the an opened window. The air tangling itself with the curtains. “Were you standing ?” She asked looking back at Ceryse.

Ceryse sighed a small smile forming on her face “I stood to watch Skyfyre” she told y/n “it seems she’s restless and misses you”.

Y/n looked back at the window, it was clear she missed her dragon as well but she said nothing. “I was told what you did in the small council “ Ceryse smirked at girl.

Y/n looked back at Ceryse “It was necessary “ she said. There was a brief silence between the two of them. Ceryse looked at the girl, her youthfulness had not been tampered with. Her silver hair and purple eyes sparkled in the dim moonlight. Her eternal beauty was a reminder that Targaryens were closer to gods than men. She did not blame Maegor for marrying her, any man with a cock could only dream about marrying a Targaryen princess. Her words stuck a cord on Ceryse, she had never heard the young girl say such words. She was the youngest and most gentle out the three. At least that was what she believed.

“Do not let Maegor corrupt you, you are a good person. I believe your heart is pure and the love you hold for your children will serve as a shield” Ceryse whispered gently. Y/n kept quiet, even in her death bed Ceryse still saw her a naive weak minded girl.

“I wasted my years I was filled with hatred and jealousy” Ceryse voice was sincere and filled with regret. “I resented you..for being unaware of the feelings I heartily hid”. After all years of pretending Ceryse finally revealed her feelings towards the girl. “We reconciled in old town” she said. “I forgave him, I accepted Alys and promised to make the effort with Tyanna” Ceryse’s words were soft .It was clear she fought tears as she spoke “On the third day of the feast…. He rose up and held his cup…. the doors opened “ she spat with sadness “There you stood, a Targaryen princess barely ten and five”. Ceryse paused and wiped off her tears. She scoffed quietly and spoke again “He took as your wife in front of me…. And I hated you “ she said her words filled with sorrow and anger . “A child” she said letting out a humorless laugh “A child had taken my husband” her breathing hitched and angry tears swelled up in her eyes. “You fell pregnant faster than expect, I could’ve let you stay. Allowed Tyanna to get rid of the child” she confessed “But what used would’ve that done”.

“I tried getting pregnant, lots of times….it was useless” Ceryse swallowed “But you became pregnant without complications. Locked away squishing child after child. I resented you more and more ”.

“I prayed for the Stranger to take you. For death to wrap it’s s arms around you. So I could raise your children as my own…I believed I was owed that”

The curtains blew in the windows tangling themselves together as the air gushed in the room. “How grand it must have been.. to a mother”

“I prayed for the gods to hurt you” she confessed. “So they took Aegon” Her gaze finally met hers, Ceryse’s eyes were filled with remorse and tears. “Forgive me” she begged “p-please” her voice cracking and her tears cascading

Y/n face was blanked and pensive “I knew….” She said her voice soft . “ I always knew” she told Ceryse. Unlike Ceryse, she had not tears in her eyes.

“You knew?” Ceryse repeated her tone betraying her shock. She spend years secretly hating a child. A child who always knew and did not care.

“I didn’t want to be his queen “ Y/n said “I wanted to go home”. She knew Ceryse hated her, but she did not expect for her to hate so much. To wish death upon her. Ceryse wanted y/n’s children, she wanted y/n gone.

“He took our home, and he took my brother’s throne ….…he killed Aegon beneath the Gods eye and he called that mercy.” Y/n said. Ceryse was aware of the cruelty y/n had endured in the hands of Maegor. Someone the girl was still sane, at least in her eyes.

“I did not love him…I hated him…” Queen y/n spoke distantly. “Many times I wished to jump from one the towers. I could’ve done it..it would been fast.. a quick death in the hands of Maegor”

“But I had my children…they saved me” she said rising from Ceryse’s side.

“I love none but my children “ she said “On that font a mother has no choice “ her voice strangely low. She stood by Ceryse’s night stand where a flask of milk of the poppy rested. Ceryse had been taken it to sooth her illness that slowly ate her away. A sudden illness Maester Benifer had no cure for.

“For Aegon” she said coldly as she dropped the flask onto the cold stone floor. The liquid flowing away into the dirty cracks. Ceryse could only watch as the only thing that kept her alive was taken from her. The Queen had not forgiven her, in fact had she not confessed mayhaps she wouldn’t have blamed her for the death of her son.

Queen y/n left the Ceryse’s chamber without another word. She closed the door behind her knowing Ceryse would be dead come the morrow. Her cold body to be found by the maids. But tonight no one would come to aid her, no one would save Ceryse the way no one saved y/n.

A mother’s wrath is stronger than the wrath of the gods. For there was a debt to be paid, and only death could pay it.

#a song of ice and fire #asoif/got #house of the dragon #maegor targaryen #king maegor #maegor the cruel #maegor x reader #house targaryen #game of thrones

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iamyourdailydoseofbi · 7 months ago

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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 that 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 fate 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..

#house of the dragon #house of dragons #house of dragons x reader #house of the dragon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #hotd x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #hotd aegon #king aegon #hotd imagine #hotd imagines

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vanilleandclove · 8 months ago

Text

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!

"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

#hotd #house of the dragon #game of thrones #ser erryk #ser arryk #ser erryk cargyll #ser arryk cargyll #rhaenyra #rhaenrya targaryen #alicent hightower #house of the dragon fanfiction #ser erryk cargyll x reader #erryk cargyll #erryk cargyll x reader #angst #smut

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novaursa · 6 months ago

Text

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.

- Pairing: 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.

#fire and blood #game of thrones #house of the dragon #hotd #got #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf x reader #maegor x y/n #maegor x you #maegor x reader #maegor targaryen #maegor the cruel #maegor i targaryen #house targaryen

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connorsui · 1 year ago

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LAAAAURAAAA I can't with you- …. . You end one beautiful series of our bby daddy maegor just like that and I don't know whether to cry or stand up and cheer cuz this has to be one of the few series I actually be consistent with than anything else in my life 💔💔😭

And I'll admit in my pathetic little soul that …it hurts 🤡

THO ONE THING I KNOW IS GONNA HURT IS GETTING THIS 3RD CHILD OUT OF HERE 🧍🏻‍♀️…cuz we be with a pair of twins and carrying another and yet this manz maegor already thinking of a 4TH CHILD!?!!?... . .my manz …my terrifying and psychotic barbaric man …imma make sure u feel every once of fucking pain in ur balls to feel THE OUNCE OF PRESSURE I FEEL 💀💀

But not even a couple paragraphs later …. ...I folded 🤡🤡 CUZ LAUUURAAAA U HAD ME BY THE THROAT WITH MAEGOR HAVING ME DOWN AND CLAIMING HE WILL HAVE ME DRY !?!!? “I shall fuck you full of my seed, and bed you until your womb runs dry”

LIKE EXCUSE ME HELLOOO!?!?

Screw the fucking courts and everybody else that's waiting down stairs .... we waiting this one out until these ✨️ legs of mine can't function to walk anymore✨️🩷💅🏻

The maids gonna find me bent and used ⏫️⏫️🧍🏻‍♀️🤡

SEMPITERNAL.

Part 5 of Precious Delights

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

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lynette-m-roses · 1 year ago

Text

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.

#x reader #reader insert #daemon targaryen x reader #pregnant reader #Daemon Targaryen x pregnant reader #Daemon Targaryen x niece reader #HOTD #one shot #imagine #Jealousy #rhaenyra targaryen #Jealous Rhaenyra Targaryen

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fairysluna · 1 year ago

Note

“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.

#house of the dragon #maegor targaryen fanfic #maegor targaryen smut #maegor targaryen x reader #maegor x reader #maegor i #maegor targaryen #maegor the cruel #maegor targaryen x you #maegor targaryen x y/n

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seancekitsch · 3 months ago

Text

The Sword and the Quill: Chapter Six

Pairing: Gwayne Hightower x Reader

In the weeks leading up to little Daeron's departure to Oldtown, Queen Alicent finds herself trying to entertain the unmarried ladies of court. As one of her ladies in waiting, you agree to an anonymous penpal in one of the men at court, and end up spilling your heart to him. He is your perfect match, your equal. The only issue? The Queen's brother Gwayne Hightower will not stop teasing you as you try to uncover who responds to your letters.

****tw/ this chapter only for an attempted mugging ****

Dearest Y/N,

I apologize for any harm or shame I’ve caused you. I know that as you were corresponding with these letters, you most likely did not want it to be me. I admit, a part of me did not want it to be you. But that is not the truth of the matter, and the entire time we were communicating with each other. Without being presumptuous, we fell for each other. Even without knowing that you were the one with the pen, I picked those flowers for your Love and Beauty crown with you in mind. Searching for my writer was not at the front of my mind when your smile graced a room. Now, I understand very much that you and I have differing opinions on where to go from here.

I would still wish to court you, as your words have moved me and while yes I have mocked you I never mocked your looks. I was never joking when I called you pretty.

I feel like you would rather not have me. Which, I will respect. If it would please you, I will go back to Oldtown early, as to not cause more unneeded harm to you. I do not wish for you to leave my sister because of my presence. She and the children clearly need and love you.

I have said many things over the ages, but especially the past few months that I wish I could take back. Even more, there are words I haven’t said yet wish I had.

Unfortunately yours,

Gwayne Hightower

So he does not hide his name anymore, or yours? Has he not thought of the implications of that? What people could assume might have transpired between the two of you if these were to be found? Love and beauty, the coin with the naked woman on it, these letters, the dance you shared; it is all too much. Evidence of a love affair that has not happened. These letters would shame you, you think. Enough to ruin any marriage prospect, enough to tear you from pious Alicent’s side. What would she think if rumors of an illicit affair out of wedlock with her brother of all people surfaced? You do not even consider the fact that these rumors would be completely untrue. People talk, and hearsay is often more powerful than the truth. There is probably already talk of a bastard Flowers in your belly.

And for a moment, you consider burning the parchment in the flame of the candle before you. Instead you place it to the side, the ring on your pinky clinking against the pewter cup to sip your beer. You sip long and hard on the beer, watching the amber liquid swish in the bottom of the cup as you gulp. The castle had felt all too stuffy and uncomfortable tonight, the same as it had felt every night since the feast.

You have spent the last week embroidering and dining with Alicent, walking her children to and from their lessons, and walking Maegor’s tunnels the moment the little royals were put to bed. Each night, you come to this tavern with the letter, and each night you agonize on how- or if- to respond. Tonight you are determined to respond, to have some way to save dignity or appearance in this. Often Helaena was the child that gave you odd riddles, but tonight it was little Aemond.

“Did you know that some of these walls are hollow?” he had asked you, and you had to wonder if he knew about the tunnels from a history book, or if the six year old was warning you. You decided not to take it as a warning, and told the little prince that the walls were stone and stone could not be hollow.

Your ring glitters in the candle light as you sit there and with your own blank parchment and your quill. The barkeep keeps the beer flowing and you think of what to write. You drink and read and drink and read. You place your pewter down as your eyes scan the letter again.

What he has written vexes you, angers you, saddens you. You aren’t exactly sure if his leave would grant you peace, as you know it would discontent Alicent and take Daeron from you. And what of you? To say that his presence is an issue is just as equal to his absence being an issue. Part of you wants to believe him, as it did feel nice to be in his arms; it felt nice when barbs were traded for more gentle jokes.

But even so, this is Gwayne Hightower. This is a man who has so often worked to make you look and sound like a fool; a man who has said horribly nasty things without caring that you were near, begets pleasure from making your temper rise. Surely, this is just another joke of his.

A well thought out, time consuming joke at your expense. Another embarrassment at his hand. To write these letters, to make the crown of flowers, to dance with you; it is all to fuel the rumor mill of court, one he understands well and understands the consequences within. It is a farce to make you look like some simpering maiden following around a knight, to make Alicent’s closest companion seem capable of scandal.

And surely, scandal is already spreading after you all but took flight from the feast. Certainly, he has made you a topic of discussion.

With a hand raised for another round, you finally know what to write to him.

You use the flame from the little candle upon the table to heat the wax before you seal your parchment. There is no need or use to disguise your parchment anymore, you think, now that he and you are unmasked. You settle up with the barkeep as it hardens, a sad smile on your face after you drain the pewter cup for the last time this evening and press the silver coins into his hand. You press your finger to the wax, testing its seal, before pulling the cloak up around you again and going back out into the night.

Your feet are unsteady under you as you travel the alley ways back towards the keep. Just three city blocks from here is a small door which looks like an average cellar, which in truth conceals one of the entrances to Maegor’s tunnels. This is a path you know well, a path you have trod every night this week alone. Your parchment clutched in hand, you tipsily make your way back so that you may collapse into bed for another dreamless sleep. Your boots clack against cobblestone, echoing as the wind blows at your cloak. The parchment in your hand flutters and flaps like a bird against the cage of your hand.

You turn a corner, and another corner, the alleys crowded with patrons of taverns and pleasure houses and dance halls raucous and crying and cheering in the night. It seems, you think to yourself, that despite all of the jewels and privilege of your station that the common people seem to have more fun. At least, they have since Viserys’ coronation. You’d heard from your Lord Father of the strife that had taken Prince Aemon and how it had been ended many times. Viserys inherited peace from his father’s bravery. Alicent though, had never met Viserys’ father. As a child, Otto had her read stories to old and dying King Jahaerys, and then her father had her comfort Viserys similarly when Queen Aemma died. Perhaps more royals live their life in servitude than one would think, you ponder, your eyes feeling wet with sympathy for your friend.

“Oh, excuse me,” you mumble as your shoulder accidentally clips someone’s arm, and you turn a corner.

You turn another corner, more wobbly now than before as the warmth from the beer settles into your bones. Maybe, tipsy optimism tells you, everything will be okay if you can just get back to your bed without stumbling too hard. Maybe somehow the Gwayne problem as you have been calling it would go away if you could just get back to your warm and soft bed. He could just stop being himself or stop tormenting you somehow? Some sorcery or potion could be invented to stop tongues from wagging? Silly thoughts, really. No use in continuing them. You stumble over the toe of your boot as you put the thoughts to rest. The cobblestones seem to come up to meet your feet as your boots push you forward, the worn leather of them no longer shiny in the streetlamp lights from years of use.

“A Lady shouldn’t walk out here alone,” a man’s voice calls to you, and you pull your cloak closer to yourself. You figure if you ignore the voice and keep walking you can put enough space between yourself and the man. This is, admittedly, not the safest part of town. The nearby pleasure houses attract terrible men, but the hired guards positioned at the entrances tend to watch out for women on the street. There is a letter opener in your bag, so you are not exactly unarmed, but you would rather reach the nearest entrance to Maegor’s tunnels without having to use it. You move a little faster, now eager to reach the next corner to turn.

“Did you hear me, M’lady?” The voice calls again, and your blood runs cold. How did he know? Footsteps pick up behind you, and you pick up your pace to try to out walk him. If you can make it to the next street, certainly he wouldn’t try to grab you with so many witnesses.

You reach just a few mere meters from the opening of the alleyway before hands grasp at your arms. Defensively, you put your forearms up over your chest, clutching the letter tight and wrinkling the parchment.

“Been followin’ you,” Rancid breath wafts over your face, “No common whore wears rings like that.”

Fuck. Now you finally remember. Before leaving your chambers, you always remove all jewelry. You always put on your plainest clothes. A simple garnet on your pinky finger has given you away. Fear courses through your bloodstream, but so does a steady mourning. This too now, you can never have again.

“All this trouble for a ring?” you ask, beer making you bolder. Anger, sadness, fear, all rolled into one as you hold your defensive stance. If only you can reach into your bag for the letter opener.

“All this trouble for whatever else you’ve got,” He sneers, and something in you tells you now is the time to fight. You kick your leg back, boot connecting with what you think is his knee as you wriggle out of his grasp, tearing your cloak and knocking yourself down to the ground in the process. You gasp as your knees land hard on the stones, trying your hardest not to cry out in pain. The man recovers a lot quicker than you expected, stumbling back to his feet and muttering curses at you. You hold your hands up weakly, as if the crumpled letter in your hand is a shield.

“Bitch! I should cut off your finger for that,” he tells you, and a dagger now glitters just as brightly as your garnet.

But no blade makes contact with your skin. Instead, you look up to see the man grabbed by the collar by none other than Gwayne Hightower. He, too, is dressed much more civilian than you are used to seeing. He wears a simple brown cloak and tunic. Only, his boots are fancy thick riding boots. Gwayne slams the man against the wall of the alley, a sickening crack as the back of his head hits stone.

“Do not touch her again!” Gwayne more or less roars, anger you have never seen before radiating from him. You scramble to stand as he presses the man further, his free hand now resting on his sword.

“I should have your hands for this,” Gwayne bares his teeth, animalistic in his rage towards the man, and the man seems well and terrified.

“No trouble,” the man chokes out under the hand on his throat, “I’ll be no trouble.”

It’s only then that Gwayne relents and releases the man.

“Be gone, and do not ever let me see you again,” he warns, and the man gathers himself to leave immediately.

“Keep your bitch on a leash next time,” the man mutters, and it’s the last you hear from him as he departs. Gwayne’s arms come around you immediately, snaking around your form and pulling you close into his chest. He smells of sweat and wine and now coppery blood as well.

You feel pressure on the top of your head, and for a moment you think it may be his lips. But no, you write it off, you are tipsy and imagining things.

“You stupid woman, do not scare me like that again,” he sighs, breathless and still on high.

“I had that handled!” You nearly shriek, and then falter, “I mean, there is a letter opener in my bag. I could have stabbed him myself, I could have put out his eyes or jabbed between his-“

“Handled? You fool, he was ready to dispatch you over a ring,” Gwayne cringes at his own words, as if his fear for your safety even scares himself.

His hand cradling your head is warm, holding you close to his chest as if you are his. You lean into the embrace, not quite holding him back, but because the comfort outweighs the desire to stand straight. This is twice now, that he has insulted your intellect, but you bury annoyance for the moment. He did, in fact, make sure you were to go home with all of your fingers tonight.

“Fine,” you pout, looking up at him, “I guess some thanks are in order.”

His face immediately softens as you gaze up at him, a faint smile on his lips as he takes in your appearance.

“I appreciate that, My Lady.”

“Do not think this puts you back in my good graces, Ser Gwayne.”

“My heroism is not enough? Might you believe it is me now?”

Not you. Not you. The words swirl in your head. Not him.

“I believe you are out of the Keep late at night, nothing more.”

His arms do not leave you, but his embrace of you loosens.

“And what are you doing here? A noble lady, this close to the Streets of Silk? You might as well be on them.” His voice is strained with anger and worry, his hair out of place and sweat evident on his brow. For a moment, you almost feel bad he is in such a state. He is clearly distressed, maybe harmed, because of you. A part of you wants to reach out to him and check for any sore or tender spots, but equally, you want him to just stop making that face.

But then it cuts through your tipsy haze what he has truly said, what he himself has revealed.

You scoff, incredulous and seeing red. You push him off of you as if he had been the one to cause your injury tonight.

“Good Ser,” the title spits like venom from a serpent, “I think I need not ask what you are doing near the Streets of Silk.”

He is silent for a moment, a damning silence as he looks to the shine of a puddle settling between the cobblestones.

“You are lucky I spotted you when I did, Y/n.”

Hot, humiliated tears threaten to spill from your eyes, nevermind that Gwane will not meet your eye and looks just as wounded as you feel. He was on the Streets of Silk, he all but admitted, no doubt chasing women with the crown’s coin and roughing up with his men. The smell of sweat on his tunic is not from defending you from that man, you realize. Truthfully you always knew where your tavern was located, but it had not been an issue until tonight. Until Gwayne Fucking Hightower had to play hero and humiliate you even further as some silly chivalrous interlude in a knight’s evening of debauchery. After everything he had written, the apology he had given you, he has proven he is still just the knight you always thought he was. He could not possibly be genuine in his affections for you if he could so easily come here, you tell yourself. Surely, this is only more fuel to the fiery cavern burning distance between you. He will not see you cry, he mustn’t.

“My hero,” you mutter, and shove the crumpled parchment to his chest as you walk past him.

You hold your tears until you reach the tunnel.

#gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne x reader

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aemondapologistfrfr · 7 months ago

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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 🔌

#maegor targaryen #maegor the cruel #maegor x reader #maegor smut #x reader smut #hotd smut #x reader #fire and blood smut #visenya targaryen #aenys targaryen #got smut #hotd imagine #hotd fic

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blueberrypancakesworld · 8 months ago

Text

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

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

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.

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#hotd #hotd fanfic #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #rhaenys targaryen #daemon x reader #rhaenyra x reader #jacaerys x reader #rhaenys x reader #house of the dragon #male x female #female x female

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