#martell oc

[msmorningstaarr]

let me be yours. | part I

ao3 | masterlist | part II >

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x F!Martell!Reader

Word count: 3.1K

Summary: You, a Martell princess who was recently brought into Rhaenyra's courtyard as a sign of goodwill to ensure the unification of the Seven Kingdoms. With time passing on, you feel trapped under the enticing aura of the Dragon Queen and sees yourself desiring her more and more. However, in a delicate situation, is it worth the yearn for your Queen? Would you give in to your needs to have your way with her and find some indulgence?

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), afab reader, bisexual rhaenyra, canon divergence, longing, age gap (you early 20s rhae mid 30s), fingering, masturbation, oral sex, sub/dom dynamics (rhae dom you sub), overstimulation, scissoring, queen rhaenyra targaryen, nipple play, possessive rhaenyra

Ever since you left your homeland to be a ward in King’s Landing, life has become a journey of too many changes and mixed feelings. The sense of homesickness and fear of the unknown was present and huge within your heart.

You were a princess of Dorne, the second in line to inherit Sunspear after your brother. After the rise of Rhaenyra Targaryen as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, she successfully united the relations with Dorne and finally brought it into the feud and unifying the realm once and for all. You, after all, were presented at her courtyard as a sign of good will from the Martells and forge a prominent marital alliance between you and the heir to the Iron Throne, Prince Jacaerys, in order to legitimise the coming of the dornish to the courtyard.

You obviously missed the sultry dunes of sand, the sweeteness of Dornish Red, the incandescent sky, with a fiery burning sun crashing your skin and the sense of community amongst your siblings and the freedom your country provided. You felt less lonely in Dorne, for the life in King’s Landing could prove to be challenging under the judgemental and prejudicial nature of the rest of the Westerosi. Some became outraged by your presence, others just spoke in whispers around the corners of the Red Keep, yet, it was undeniable that as soon as you stepped into the city, you became the centre of attention, always remembered by the courtyard for your mysterious peek, luscious, long hair and exquisite beauty or your luxurious sense of fashion. It distanced yourself from the standard beauty of the other ladies in the realm, putting yourself easily as the fairest maiden of your time.

You had no idea if this title came over the fact that you hold a big status as future consort and people wanted to fuss around you or if you were indeed the most beautiful lady in Westeros. However, you knew well that ever since the Queen has met you, she had been enchanted by you and held you in high regard, always complimenting you and your astonishing beauty. Her Grace enjoys calling you by terms of endearment, being “sweet girl” her favourite name for you, showering you with jewellery and plenty of expensive gifts or simply having your company along the day, to have long walks throughout the royal gardens and even show you the Dragonpit became a regular routine when she arranged time between her royal duties. You barely had time to bond with Prince Jacaerys, given the fact you became her loyal companion.

Speaking from the back of your mind, you cared not much, once you found yourself drowning into the alluring beauty of Rhaenyra. The Westerosi average accent for you was dull and ugly on everyone else; on her, it was perfection. Her touch was gentle and her violet eyes were rather attentive, careful of you. You spent your nights having supper with her and her other sons or simply sharing a good conversation. She made you feel less lonely in that castle.

You questioned yourself if what you were feeling was no more than a delusion, a projection over your neediness for attention. But you could swear you caught yourself in a moment with her where your gazes locked on each other and she lightly pinched your chin, getting too close to your face. Queen Rhaenyra was a daydream. You never indulged in kissing or having any romantic interaction with other ladies but Rhaenyra lit a fire within you - a liability only Her Grace could solve.

And now there you were, another night where she requested your company for supper. You wore an orange dress with silky cuts giving a slight volume to the gown, although it was a more simplistic dress, more adequate to the occasion. Her Queensguard announced you at the door and she received you with a polite smile before you gave her a courtesy.

“Good evening, Your Grace.” You speak, bending your body on a polite greeting gesture to Rhaenyra.

“It has been a far cry since we are done with courtesies, sweet girl,” Rhaenyra said, silently commanding her servants and guards to leave her with you. Her peek examined your features and smiled softly at you.

“It is a costume I would rather not lose, Your Gra-… Rhaenyra.” You corrected yourself, remembering she wanted you to address her by her name only, as a sign of how much she enjoyed your presence. She giggled and guided you through her chambers, ever so caring and jolly.

“I should warn you,” Rhaenyra began, walking through her private apartments. “I commanded the cook to prepare you something special.” Her Grace spoke to you, graciously raising her eyebrows and excited, yet contained beam. Your eyes lit up, already knowing what she was talking about.

You sat after her on the small table fetched for the two of you and a set of plates strategically placed for the duo to have dinner. Even before you would open it, you already knew. “The dornish recipe of roasted lamb.”

Rhaenyra grinned and joined her hands once she realised how much you enjoyed the said surprise. “I had the cook searching for this recipe for days, sweet girl. I hope it is of your liking.”

And then, after waiting for Your Grace to start eating, you hummed in satisfaction eating your meal. The spicy flavour exploded in your mouth, invading your taste and drooling your mouth by the slightest of satisfaction. “I take for your expression that you enjoy it a great deal.” Rhaenyra told you, after taking a bite of her own dinner. You nodded eagerly tasting it and had to contain yourself to not lose your composure in front of the Queen.

“Thank you, Your Grace. It tastes delicious, I have missed this.” You reply to her and involuntarily touches her hand, squeezing it delicately. Once you tried to take it away, Rhaenyra held it tighter, forbidding you to take it away and stared at you, silently reassuring you it was acceptable. Her hands entangling on yours was almost electrifying, causing goosebumps on your skin just with a simple touch or an exchange of looks. Her face, however, was tender and calm, with a soft smile whilst looking at you.

Rhaenyra put her hand over the table once again and her fingertips traced patterns over your soft skin. “My pleasure, sweet girl.” She muttered at you and tension was thick in the air. “Do you miss Dorne, my dear?” Rhaenyra asked you and her other hand grasped the cold metal of her cup of wine, taking it to her mouth to drink it, but her gaze never left yours.

You craved her attention, thirsting for more of Rhaenyra. Her presence sparked questions in your mind about her prowess as a lover; with so many sons, it seemed plausible her husbands found her passionate and fulfilling in bed, particularly Daemon. Could she bring that same intensity and allure to you? As Rhaenyra doted on you in your future role as a daughter-in-law, you could not help but ponder how she might express her affection in a more intimate relationship. Her gestures and glances, filled with warmth and intrigue, hinted at depths of passion waiting to be explored. The thought of her as a lover stirred your curiosity and desire, wondering how her charm and grace would translate into romantic moments.

"I do," you replied, your voice tinged with anticipation and full of honesty, grappling with the allure and uncertainty of what lay ahead. Would she meet your expectations, exceed them, or perhaps offer something entirely unexpected? The prospect both thrilled and unsettled you, as you navigated the complex emotions and possibilities that Rhaenyra's presence brought into your life.

“Well, darling, this is your home now. Your Queen will make sure you feel enoughly accommodated in my court,” Rhaenyra replied, breaking the contact between them to cut the tension shortly after it. The Valyrian Queen cuts a piece of her meat and fidget her fingers on her cup, tracing the boards as her eyes rested on your features. You, on the other hand, smiled gently at her words, deeply touched by her kindness towards you. It was not supposed to feel right to yearn for a full desire of Rhaenyra, you had to get rid these ruminations from your mind and replace them with Jacaerys. But how could it ever be possible when she is just in front of you, cornering you to fully focus on you and your relationship with her?

“I should hope you’re preparing your cloak with your ladies-in-waiting.” Your marriage, however, was a sensitive subject. Jacaerys was a dutiful boy and the interactions you had with him were more than pleasant, still, he was not what you were looking for. His long, brown curls had its appeal, but his mother unveiled things she wished she felt for Prince Jace. “I was done with the embroidery yesterday. I can bring it and show you on our next encounter, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra lifted her eyebrows and lowered her eyes, smirking at her food as she ate it, seemingly thinking about something. You laughed, nervously drinking your wine. Your hands felt sweaty and heart beating just as it was about to rip open your chest out. “I would be most glad, sweet girl. Are you nervous about your wedding?”

You nodded, with your eyes sly and cautious while lingering on the Queen and she smiled at you again, on an attempted shared empathy. “I was a little thing like you when I married my first husband, Ser Laenor Velaryon, Jace’s father,” Rhaenyra began. “He was not my choice of husband, earnestly.” She giggled and drank a sip of her wine. “But we had a good marriage. Laenor was a good man and provided me with children and good company. We loved each other in our own ways. Jace will treat you well too, sweet girl.”

“Thank you, Your Gr-...” The Queen lifted an eyebrow, reminding you of her request. “Rhaenyra.” You corrected yourself again and she mumbled something as ‘much better’. You giggled alongside her as she shook her head in amusement.

“A marriage is just a piece of paper,” Rhaenyra began. “You and Jace will understand you both can perform a duty and still find your happiness.”

Her words sounded suggestive, was the Queen motivating you to commit treason before your marriage? Was Rhaenyra testing you? You raised your eyebrows and Rhaenyra smiled mischievously again, her eyes gazing at you intensely and in quietude. You rummined what was going on within her mind. Rhaenyra's violet eyes held a depth that made you feel seen and understood in ways that no one else ever had. The silence stretched between you, charged with unspoken words and possibilities. Rhaenyra's touch was a lifeline in the vast sea of desires you were feeling. Her thumb brushed gently over your knuckles, sending shivers down your spine. You wanted to ask her so many things, but the words seemed to fail you in the face of her overwhelming presence.

"Sweet girl," Rhaenyra began softly, her voice a soothing melody, "My first marriage was also born out of duty. I can relate to the worry in your eyes. I want you to know that your happiness means a great deal to me, equally as my son’s. Your marriage to Jacaerys is a duty, yes, but it does not have to be the entirety of your existence."

By this point, you both had finished your plates and no desire for dessert rose for any of you. Rhaenyra had her wine by a window, feeling the cold breeze blow on her face with you by her side. The moonlight casted a silver glow, contrasting with her fair skin and silvery locks. Her words were a lifeline, pulling you from the deep core of your anxiety. The way she looked at you, with such intensity and sincerity, made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered.

"Rhaenyra, I..." You hesitated, unsure of how to articulate the storm of emotions swirling inside you. She squeezed your hand reassuringly, her eyes never leaving yours. “Are you testing me?”

Rhaenyra stared at you, grinning and confused. “Why would I test you, sweet girl?”

The proximity of her and the warmth of her breath on your skin, was intoxicating. You found yourself leaning closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her nearness was both a comfort and a temptation, stirring feelings within you that you had never dared to acknowledge before.

“Rhaenyra, what are you asking of me?” You finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

A slow, knowing smile curved her lips. “I am asking you to trust me, to let me guide you through this. Do you trust me, sweet girl?”

“I trust you.” You simply replied, sighing heavily. You should not desire her this much. However, being this close made you want to touch her, kiss her perfect lips and beg for her to claim you as his. She smiled at you, relieved and her fingertips stroked your hair, pulling it behind your ear. Her scent was a blend of lavender and something uniquely her. You felt the pull towards her, a magnetic force that you couldn't resist. Tentatively, you leaned in, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure she could hear it.

“Good.” She mumbled against your skin as Rhaenyra came closer. You never had been this close to her before. Her fingers reached your chin, lifting it to bring it closer to her lips, but her kiss was redirected to your cheek, so gently and delicate, yet so intense and slightly lustful. “Will you visit me next evening, my sweet?” Her Grace asked you, whispering words softly and close to your ear. It was a dangerous game you two were engaging in and you knew it well. But what is duty compared to what you are feeling now? You nodded in silence, quietly responding to her question as her hands embraced you slowly, bringing you closer, like a viper defeats its prey.

“I shall leave you to rest now.” You whispered at her, trying not to look into her eyes. Rhaenyra did not deviate her eyes from you, caressing your hair and staying close enough to feel her breath close to your face. “If you excuse me, Your… Rhaenyra.” You corrected yourself for a last moment and she giggled briefly to your face and finally let you go.

You were right in front of a windy window and your body was catching fire after having that moment with Rhaenyra. The cold breeze contrasted sharply with the heat that had built up inside you. As you left her chambers, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

Making your way back to your quarters, the corridors felt longer, each step echoing with the memory of Rhaenyra’s touch and her whispered words. You couldn’t shake the feeling of her fingers against your skin, the promise and peril in her gaze. It was a heady mix of excitement and apprehension, knowing that you were treading a fine line between duty and desire.

Once in the privacy of your room, you closed the door behind you and leaned against it, taking a moment to catch your breath. The room felt different, almost foreign, as if it no longer fit the person you were becoming. You moved to the window, looking out into the night, the stars twinkling like a thousand silent witnesses to the secrets you now held.

You changed your clothing for a simple nightgown and decided it was time for your slumber, laying on the mattress and allowing you to rest. However, your mind recalled the way Rhaenyra was too close to you, the way her hands had touched you, her soothing voice in your ear felt as the prettiest of melodies, made just for you. It was by far, the most erotic encounter you ever had and you found yourself silently begging for more. Her words echoed in your ears, a constant reminder that your happiness was just as important as your duty. Your hands wandered throughout your body, pinching your nipples, squeezing your breasts and closing your eyes to imagine it is her touch on them. Your hand then passed down on your clothed belly and thighs, teasing yourself before actually going all the way to your pleasure. A soft moan left your lips as you played with your nipples, fantasising about Rhaenyra taking over that liability.

When her body was enoughly worked up and her cunt ached, your hand had encountered your centre over the thin fabric of your dress and when you could feel a small trace of wetness staining on the undergarment, you hummed slightly. Your hand was not a regular tool, you tried it a few times only, but her touch was so recent and her scent was well alive in your nostrils, it felt logical for your body to demeanour in that manner, begging to be touched. You moaned lightly when your fingers pressed against your swollen clit, causing your body to shudder under your own touch. You reminded her sweet talk so close to you, how soft her lips were kissing your cheek and your mind screamed, pleading for those lips to kiss your lips, your chest, your cunt…

As you moved your hand south, your fingers circled around your clit in a slow, tortuous motion and caused your body to arch your back, mumbling words of ‘please, Rhaenyra’ , begging to release for her. Alternating between circles and light taps on your sweet spot, you drove yourself to madness, humping your crotch in the air. Traces of sweat fell down your face as heat grew inside your body. Your breathing was quick to become erratic, just as the pace of your hand became more urgent on your sweet spot. Soon enough, your moans were a bit louder and the pleading became more insistent, desperate. When you least expect it, your body convulsed violently, and orgasm hits you, making your legs quiver, spread wider, hips bouncing against nothing and lungs breathing heavily, your entrance clenched around nothing. You never came this strongly before, and all thanks to your Queen. Trying to gain consciousness, you stared at the ceiling, reflecting about what you just did. Not even a single trace of guilt had reached your body and you considered doing it again if your eyes were insistent to be closed and put your body to sleep.

———

a/n: missed writing and hell yeah i got inspired by THAT scene. please consider leaving likes, comments and reblogs. it’s very important for the writer! <3

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody @pet1t3

[ashblooddragons]

In Ripe And Ruin

This was a request by @vavafaure1994 I'm so sorry this took me so long to make! I hope it was worth the wait!

also special thanks to @sugutoad for making this fics moonboard! I don't know what I would do without you girly!

Word Count: 2504

Warnings: semi public sex, dirty talk, oral f receiving, swearing, p in v sex, loss of Virginity, purity kink, blood kink, tell me if I missed anything

Summary: When Lady Elia Martell came to the Red Keep for her little sister's betrothal, she didn't expect to catch the attention of a certain Rouge Prince and most certainly didn't expect this visit to involve her being the one betrothed and not her little sister. also this is my first ever smut so do be kind, I tried my best!

I can’t believe my father agreed to come to the little Prince Jacaerys sixth nameday. Though I shouldn’t be surprised, not after seeing that letter from the heir asking if her son and my youngest sister could be betrothed.

I watch as the soon-to-be betrothed run around together. “She will be Queen one day if we agree to this match. Don’t you wish for Arianne to sit on a throne just as you will sit mine?” My father says as he smiles and waves to the heir to the iron throne. 

“But that is the thing, Father, she will not sit on the throne, only look pretty beside it with that boy's seed leaking down her legs as she clutches her swelled belly.” I fire back through clenched teeth as I smile at what seems to be a prancing lion turned human, and not in a good way. 

“Elia.” He chides

“I speak only the truth you seem to be blind to, Father. What you forget at every turn is that we are not like them, we do not see Bastards as sinful as they do. They will kill my dear sister the moment that diseased King falls from that throne. For they know what we all do, that boy, nor his brothers are true-born Velaryons. No matter how hard the Princess so direly tries to make everyone believe they are. And when the King dies, a war will break out, and I will not let little Arianne be in the middle of it.” I hiss back before walking away as my father calls for me.

I walk over to a food table and pick up a honey cake. “Those are my personal favorites as well.” I hear someone say behind me, his voice sent shivers of exhilaration down my spine. I turn and see none other than The Rouge Prince himself smirking at me.

“Well, that’s a shame for you as this is the last one.” I say as I take a bite with a smirk.

He chuckles and looks at my eyes inquisitively. I know why, though my black ringlets and olive skin say I am a  Martell, but my eyes of vibrant Lavender say I’m a Targaryen. “Viserra’s daughter, Elia Martell right?” He inquires as he reaches for a vine of grapes, popping one into his mouth.

My mother passed birthing me, I’m the only child of Princess Viserra. I’ve been told if it weren’t for my hair and skin tone I’d be her clone and anytime I see her portrait I can’t blame them as I at times think someone had ruined one pf mone own only to realize it is my mother’s. 

“What gave it away?” I tease smiling when he laughs fondly. His laugh a deep and sultry sound and the way he’s looking at me as if I’m a gazelle and he’s a lion about to pounce on its prey and have the most delectable feast, leaves me breathless trying to find my footing again.

“What brings a sand Queen to this shit-filled city? Surely there is more to your visit than just making men think most debauched thoughts.” He says as he reaches for two wine glasses from a servant passing by, handing me one with his signature smirk. 

“I had not meant to make men think such ways, though if they are that is their problem is it not?” I say looking down at my dress, in Dorne it would be seen as normal and lovely dresses fit for the heiress to her families seat. But the dress of the finest silks and chiffon only reserves me disgusted looks and the word ‘whore’ whispered behind me as I pass.

“Hmm, that doesn’t answer my question, why are you here? Dorne only comes here if it is of the utmost importance.” 

“My little sister, Arianne,” I say pointing to her talking to the little Prince Jacaerys. “There’s a possible betrothal between her and the little Prince. I do not think it is the right choice, there is a war to come, you know this just as well as I do there is no avoiding it. I do not want her to be in the middle of something she has no part in. She is too gentle and kind for your cruel and septic city and Kingdom filled with snakes and vultures reader to swallow her whole. I do not like that the Princess is now bringing house Martell into her mess because she can not clean it up on her own. Targaryen problems should stay with the Targaryens” I say seriously.

“Are you not also Targaryen?” He says amused looking me up and down trying to asses me after my little speech.

Underestimated me, you will learn to never do that my Prince. 

“Yes I am, I even claimed the she-dragon Sliverwing, but it is not I the Princess wishes to bring into her problems, it is my sister a girl with no Targaryen blood. If it were me that would be a different story, but it isn’t.” 

“Well, put.” He says as he holds out a hand to me. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?” He asks and I take his hand letting him lead me to the horde of dancing courtiers and ladies. 

“So tell me, I had heard you claimed Sliverwing, though not how you had done it.” He says gripping my waist holding me close enough I feel his breath against my ear sending a shiver of want down my spine.

“I kept seeing something in the clouds, it felt like it was pulling at my very soul, calling to me. One night I couldn’t handle it anymore I left the keep and followed that pull and when I finally felt the end of the string, felt it finally slacken, there she was, as if waiting for me to build the courage to face her. I climbed her back, I didn’t need to say a word she thrust herself into the air letting out a happy roar. I knew then with her wings beating under me what I had done, what every child, especially a Targaryen child dreams of, I claimed a dragon.” 

When I looked up at him again he seemed enthralled with my story. I gasp when I see how close we’ve gotten, our lips only an inch apart only needing one of us to bridge the gap and our lips would be locked. I look him in the eyes and see the lust filling his amethyst pools and I know he sees the same lust in my Lavender ones. 

“It’s interesting that our souls know where we belong before we do, don’t you think?” He asks in a tone that tells me there is a darker, more debauched reason behind this question.

When he turns me in time with the beat of the music I feel dizzy with lust, the only thing grounding me is him grabbing my hands so my arms are crossed against my chest and my back rests against his chest. when I look up at the royal table I see the Crowned Princess glaring at me and the Prince, I see the rage she feels towards me and the want she has for The Rouge Prince.

“And what is your soul telling you now, my Prince?” I ask turning my head to look up at him and when I do I feel his breath fan my lips. I feel a coil of need, of lust, form in my abdomen as I feel the large hardness of him against me.

“That it seems we need privacy.” He says as he grips my hand pulling me through the horde of dancers until he leaves the throne room. He continues to drag me until he finds a secluded corridor, he then turns and kisses me walking me back until my back hits the cool stone of the keep. 

I gasp when he dips his head down and starts to suck and bite at the soft skin of my neck. “How have I lived this long without tasting your sweet lips, sweet skin? Is that cunt of yours just as sweet?” He asks as he rucks up the skirt of my dress, I feel his hand grips my thigh as the other grips my hair keeping my head in place as he devourers my lips again swallowing any moans or whimpers that would escape me. 

I gasp when I feel his fingers graze against my wet core. “Gods you're already wet, I knew you wanted me just as much as I wanted you.” He says as he gets down on his knees in front of me lifting my leg onto his shoulder. 

When I realize what he is trying to do I grip his hair stopping his advancement. “I–I’ve never–.” I stutter out blushing as he gives me a wolfish grin.

“Your telling me this sweet cunt is unspoiled? That I am the first to taste it?” He asks as if in a trance.

“Yes, I still have my maidenhood.” I say breathlessly. 

I gasp at the way he looks up at me after learning of this, it’s the look of a madman, of a man given all he has desired on a silver platter and now it is time for him to feast. 

And with that thought in my mind, he delves forward between my legs to lick at my wet core. I slap my hand to my lips trying to muffle my moans. 

I can’t help but fear someone will hear us, more so me I suppose, as of course he couldn’t bring me to his chambers or even a storage closet, only a secluded corridor where anyone can hear or see us. For some reason the thought of someone catching us excites me, making me clench on nothing.

I feel his tongue inside my core and I move my skirts so I can see him better. When I do I see him smirking up at me as he sucks on my pearl, I throw my head back letting out a loud moan. 

“Seven hells, keep singing for me, love.” I hear him growl against me as he laves at my pearl and he sinks a finger inside me curling it just right to make me see stars. As he licks and sucks, pumps and curls I feel my legs tremble the only thing keeping me up is the Prince.

“Please! Please! Please!” I beg not fully sure for what though all I know is the coil in my gut is hot and tight and I need it to release.

“Not yet, love, you don’t get to peak without me.” He says as he rises back up keeping a grip on my thigh as he unties his trousers. 

When he pulls out what must be his cock I gasp and shack my head. “Th–there's no way that is going to fit.” 

I only hear him chuckle as he kisses my neck again gripping my other thigh so he can lift me and my legs wrap around his waist. “It’ll fit, it may be painful but I’ll make it fit.” 

I feel him tap the head of his cock to my pearl making me whimper before he positions himself to my core stretching me to the point of pain. I bite his shoulder fighting back my scream of pain as tears roll down my face. 

“Shh, it’s alright, love just relax.” He whispers as he hisses as he tries to push his way through. “Fuck your a vice, you weren’t lying about being a maiden.” He groans

I continue to cry and whimper as I bite his shoulder until he pushes his way through till he bottoms out, once he does I feel something snap.

He rests his brow to mine waiting for me to relax before he moves, he kisses my tears as they fall slower and slower now as the pain subsides to want and need. I try and move my hips silently imploring him to move, and when I look up at him again I see him smirking down at me. 

“Please.” I whimper out.

“Please what, love?” He teases and I look up at him pleadingly. “Tell me what you need.”

“Move, please move.” I say not knowing what else to say to convey my need.

He lets an animalistic growl as he starts to thrust into me, gripping my hips and plush thighs. I bite my lip trying to hold back my moans only letting the whimpers and whines of pleasure leave my throat.

“Fuck, look at that mess.” I hear him groan as he looks down at where we meet. When I pick my dress up more so I can see what he speaks of,  I see the smear of blood coating his cock and white hairs upon his pelvis. 

“I’m sorry.” I moan out gripping his shoulders tighter as he thrusts into me faster and harder. 

“Don’t be, love, it’s a welcome sight.” He says before capturing my lips in a searing kiss that leaves me breathless as he fucks me against the stone wall. 

I moan into his lips until he pulls back looking me in the eyes as he hits me where I see stars. “You won’t need to worry for your sister anymore, love. For she won’t be needed for an alliance anymore once I fuck my babe into you and wed you before the gods.” 

I can only moan and nod my head in response completely lost to the pleasure he is giving me. He continues to thrust into me hitting me each time in the spot that makes my mind go black. That is until he grips my hair and makes me look at him.

“Fucking say your mine, say you’re made for me.” He demands as he continues to thrust into me.

“I’m your, my Prince, all yours.” I gasp out feeling my peak on the precipice 

“Daemon.” He growls out.

“Wh–what?”

“Call me by my fucking name.” He says emphasizing each word with a sharp thrust. 

“Daemon! Daemon! Daemon!” I cry out as my peak crashes over me in sharp suffocating waves. I swear I hear him groan as he releases his spend in me but I can’t be sure as all I can hear is the pounding of my own heart in my ears.

Once we’ve both come down from our highs he sets me on my own two feet again steadying me as my legs still tremble. I try and ignore the feel of his sticky seed leaking from my core and roll down my legs.

“Did you mean it? Did you mean what you said of marrying me?” 

“Yes.” Is all he says in return.

I don’t know why I believe him, but when I look into his eyes I find nothing but conviction and honesty.

Seems my sister won’t be getting betrothed after all, but me instead. this is most definitely not how I thought this night would go. I think with a chuckle as I kiss the Pri-Daemon again saying in all but words I accept.

Taglist @sugutoad @ilikefelines @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @baybaybear1

[inkandarsenic]

Ok, so expanding on this post for @heartofmortis, meet my newest oc, Nymeria Targaryen

- youngest daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell, born in 283 AC, like a month or so before the sack of KL

- conceived as soon as possible after Aegon, just before the maesters declared Elia unable to have more children and Rhaegar subsequently ran off with Lyanna

- named Nymeria because Elia knew Rhaegar would’ve wanted her named Visenya, but Rhaegar ran off to have a third child with the Northern girl before he could even be informed of this pregnancy, so Elia decided to name her daughter after the legendary warrior Princess of Dorne (call it rebellion if you will — this pregnancy so soon after Aegon’s nearly killed her, and he decides he needs a daughter with the Stark girl? Fine. Elia will name her daughter from her culture, not his. Let him get his Visenya elsewhere.)

- Smuggled by her wetnurse through siege tunnels out to where Rhaella and Viserys were evacuating to Dragonstone. in the chaos after Rhaella’s death, only Viserys and Daenerys are smuggled off of Dragonstone. Stannis arrives to find a terrified nursemaid and a screaming infant less than a year old.

- Raised by Stannis Baratheon, who heard how his brother laughed at the two dead children of Elia, and refused to hand over Nymeria — Stannis is many things, but he isn’t a child-murderer yet

- She’s his ward, and technically also a hostage to keep Dorne from rising up over Elia and her children’s death — Nymeria is the last link to Elia Dorne has.

- Uses Martell name when introducing herself. Tries to distance herself from her Targaryen lineage — was raised on stories of all of the bad parts of the Targaryens as her bedtime stories and history lessons, and doesn’t like them at all.

- Oberyn and Doran work it out with Stannis so that Nymeria can be visited — under supervision, and mostly Oberyn as Doran is busier ruling Dorne — on Dragonstone by her mother’s family, and when she’s a bit older, she often spends a few months each year in Dorne. (You can pry reluctant friends Oberyn and Stannis out of my cold dead hands.)

- Robert tries HARD to get Nym betrothed to Jon — in his mind, Ned’s bastard son is more than deserving of a former princess, and what better way to keep the Targaryen spawn from rising against him than marrying her off to the son of his best friend? To his endless frustration, this goes nowhere — both Stannis and the Martells (who are actually responsible for Nym’s marriage prospects) refuse the idea — Stannis because Jon’s a bastard, the Martells because they very much do not like Robert — and Ned also refuses with no real explanation (“Jon is free to choose his own wife, Robert” when really it’s because Jon is Nym’s half brother through Rhaegar)

- Likes to help out Stannis’ maester and takes an interest in healing — both Stannis and Oberyn agree that this is a useful skill, and let her learn all she can.

- Rides out with Stannis when he goes to war; Melisandre keeps trying to convince Stannis to sacrifice her, and after Renly dies, Davos convinces Nymeria to leave, for her own safety.

- She originally intends to go south to Dorne, but comes across Catelyn and Brienne first. Upon hearing how Renly died and recognizing the account of Melisandre’s work, she realizes Dorne would be the first place Stannis would look for her — whatever Melisandre so desperately wanted Nym sacrificed for cannot be good — and she decides to go with Catelyn and Brienne to Robb’s camp instead. You can never have too many medics in a war.

- Our boy is WEAK to the pretty healers, weak I tell you, and this one is Westerosi, highborn (a princess, technically— rightful heir to the Iron Throne) and she’s a politically advantageous (the princes of Dorne would surely be on his side if he married their niece) match to boot??? He doesn’t stand a chance.

[sweetscarlettangel]

FIRE TESTS GOLD LIV

[blissfulphilospher]

Jaime wants to kill Robert.

Elia wants to kill Lyanna.

Eddard Stark dies like always.

And other poor Stark's because of poor choices except Sansa.

Purple Wedding and the king dies.

Aegon wants Shireen.

Stannis want Iron Throne.

Viserys wants Dragonstone.

Margaery and Sansa get Cersei's perfect twins.

Much short snippets of plot worth seven books because I wanted the story like that.

I could have write whole chapters but they didn't fell right.

[felixaussiegf]

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 └───❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚┘

❝𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐛 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐄𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥. 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠’𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.❞

- 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧

Okay, I know I haven't been active on here. But OMGGGG!!! recently I have been re-watching Game Of Thrones as of late, and well I think I am entering my GOT phrase once more! Just to shorten it, would y'all like a GOT fanfic on here???

[chaoticsealover]

A tale of serpents and dragons:Prologue

Aemond Targaryen x Martell OC

Hello everyone! Hope you all are doing fine :) I'm just passing by to drop the next part of this fic: the prologue. I hope you like it as much as I do, and again, feel free to comment whatever your feelings are while reading it and of course, I accept any kind of constructive criticism that you may have. Without further ado, I let you enjoy the prologue :) Enjoy your reading!

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Warnings: Curse words. Mention of ghosts. Mention of death.

Introduction |

King's Landing, 120 AC

The Red Keep silhouette towered over King’s Landing like a dragon, thought Nymeria, a big red dragon who has been converted into rock and forced to keep quiet and silent, with his roars and fire guarded into his stone heart. 

She has always dreamed of dragons: dragons that emerged from the sea, dragons whose wings were made of palms and flowers whose flight left a trace of jasmine scent, dragons whose throat threw out daggers of ice instead of fire, freezing everything around them when they passed by.  She didn’t remember when she started to dream about dragons, she just knew she did. It was something that has happened since she was a baby; at least it was something that happened since she can remember. Her father told her it was just a product of the stories her nana Sisi told her before sleeping, of dragons and gods, and of men who were closer to the realm of the gods than that of mankind.  But she didn’t agree with her father:  even if Sisi hadn’t told her those bed-time stories, she was sure her dragons were still going to come at her in dreams. It was inevitable. They were a part of her now. She didn’t tell her father that, of course, it would have just upset him, or worse, he would have called her childish. Although her father referred to her as child, affectionately by all means, she despised it. She was not a child. Well, maybe not an adult either, but she knew too much for being a child. She has devoured almost half of the library of the Old Palace. She now knew about flowers and plants, wild animals that lived beyond the wall, she knew about the philosophy of the great authors, and she even knew about how a woman came to be with children and the process of birthing (although that is something she preferred to store in the deepest corner of her mind and she vowed to never have children the first time she read about it).  Not only was she keen on learning the theoretical, but she was also versed in the art of the spear. Her father had initially wanted her to train with a sword, which she did for a time, but it bored her. Swords were harsh and cold, it didn’t feel like a companion to her. She knew how to handle it and how to use it, but it still didn’t feel like it was hers. But the spear, that was her calling. It was harsh too, but it was also graceful. The spear felt just like an elongation of her arm. The spear was hers as much as her own heart. 

She has convinced her father to let her bring her spear to King’s Landing with her after pleading to him for weeks and promising she would not cause any trouble with it. And there she was, sitting in her carriage, with Sisi to her left and her spear to the right.  Through the small windows she could see the streets crowded with people selling all kinds of products, from pigeon meat (which she hoped they would not serve for dinner) to wines imported from Dorne.  She knew they were closer to the Red Keep as Sisi was already combing her hair to look perfect and fixing her dress to “look like a western princess” she said. They have had arguments about this: why couldn’t she wear the dresses she wore at home? Or her fancy trousers she wore in the Old Palace when there was some important event? Her father had tried to explain to her how their customs were slightly different from theirs and that it would have been an offense for them if she would have appeared wearing those clothes there. Still Nymeria continued complaining about it with the hope to finally convince her father (as it always ended up happening) but this time it didn’t work as she was now wearing a not so comfortable pink toned dress with some intricate hair updo that was starting to give her headaches.   The narrow streets then opened to a square and they entered through the first doors of the Red Keep.  In her mind, when she entered the Red Keep there were going to be dragons flying around, dancing between them, spitting fire out of their mouths alongside their riders with silver hair and purple eyes who were almost gods. But what she found when they crossed the doors of the Red Keep wasn’t exactly as godly as she had imagined…

She stepped out of the carriage followed by her nana and stood next to her father just as she had been told. Her face must have been a mirror of her mind in that instant: there weren’t any semi-gods nor dragons, but in front of her stood an old man with blonde hair falling alongside the frames of his face and next to him a brunette woman with 3 silver-haired children. They definitely didn’t look like gods. The tall one looked like he has had 3 good nights of sleep in his entire life. Nymeria chuckled at her own thoughts. Next to him stood another boy, a little bit shorter than the other, with eyes that reminded her of the sea in Sunspear when her father let her go to the beach. But not a god, just a boy with pretty eyes she thought. The last one in line was a girl with long silver wavy hair. She had pretty hair, and a pretty face. But when Nymeria was to smile at her, she downed her eyes and left Nymeria with the impression she didn’t want to be her friend. How bored she was going to be if this was it. Maybe she could slip at night and go to the library to read. Or maybe she could convince her father to let her train with her spear and the other children.   Yes, she would do that. But when she was thinking about her spear, and the sea and the night getaways to the library, she was interrupted by her father.

“My daughter, Princess Nymeria Martell of Dorne”

This was the signal. She bowed as her father told her in front of, she supposed, was King Viserys. He looked old and tired, but had a warm smile on his face. He may not be the semi god she had wished to see, but he seemed nice at least and what one could hope for the gods to be kind at least? 

“My pleasure Princess Nymeria. I can still recall the first time I saw you when you were a baby” King Viserys' tone was tender and although his face was not the most pleasant to look at, his smile was kind and she found herself liking him more than she thought she would. 

“Well, I cannot quite remember it” the words flew out of her mouth without a second thought. She felt her father tense up next to her and it only took her a look at the Queen and the children's faces to see that her answer was not appropriate for the situation. After hesitating for a few seconds, she tried to fix her slight mistake by adding  “Your Grace”.

King Viserys burst out laughing and so his nervous father seemed to relax again and all of them let out little laughs “A fierce little one. I like this one”.

That same night Nymeria found herself in bed earlier than she was used to. Her nana Sisi has promised her that if she went to bed early, she could train with her spear the next day in the morning, otherwise, she would not have enough time for it. So, half happy and half resigned, she went to that big old wooden bed which made her feel like she was being swallowed by a whale. No matter how hard she tried to fall asleep, it was an impossible mission: she drank the glass of water on the nightstand, tried to focus on her sleep, and even tried to sleep with her head at the feet of the bed. But it proved to be a hopeless matter. Pissed at herself, she woke up and sat in a chair next to the window. King’s Landing was splashed with a million little lights in every corner and the noisy sounds of the capital were almost imperceptible. She kept looking through the window with the hope that one of the dragons came to greet her, and even maybe, he would let her touch him and then she would tell him about her dream dragons and how she waits for them every night to come back to her. But it never happened and she just kept looking at the infinite row of buildings and never-ending streets of the capital. How she wished that at least she could have a book right now… Well, maybe… maybe she could? She remembered how when talking with the king and telling him about her love of books, he had told her how her chamber was going to be next to the library, in the same part as the chambers of the rest of the royal family.

Nymeria quickly stood up and convinced about going on with this little adventure, she put on the silky robe that Sisi had packed from Dorne. It smelt like jasmine and orange blossom, and it reminded her of the long walks in the gardens of the Old Palace with her father. How she wished she was there now. But she wasn’t and she was in dire need of a book, any book, it didn’t even need to be a good one, just an entertaining one that would either keep her reading all night or otherwise, made her fall asleep in the first few pages. It would work anyway.  With this though in her mind, she cautiously opened the door of her room. To her surprise, the guard stationed there was peacefully sleeping like a baby, even a trickle of drool was falling from his mouth. Well, this was going to be as easy as stealing a lemon pie from Sisi’s tray. Carefully, she stepped out of the chamber and closed the door silently. Then, she walked down the hall following the vague instruction the king gave her.  According to his indications, the library was supposed to be at the start of the next hall, just a minute or so more walking. To her surprise, the halls were almost in complete darkness and although she prized herself to be brave, the truth was that all the haunting stories she had ever heard about the Red Keep were crossing her mind. Maegor the Cruel had killed every person who was working in the construction of the keep, so, maybe, their ghosts had stayed there forever to haunt the little girls who dared to escape their rooms at night. Her spear, she needed her spear. She would feel safe, if she had it with her, she could fight every enemy that she found in this gloomy hall. Suddenly, she heard a little crack behind her and she could swear she saw the shadow of a big man after her. Nymeria then found all the bravery and strength she could in her little body and ran till she was out of breath and could touch the doorknob of what King Viserys had told her it was the library. In an instant, she opened the door and closed it behind her. Nymeria could feel her heart in her chest; it was going so fast that she thought the entire keep could hear the pumping of blood through her veins. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath: she was at the library, she was just safe. It was in this instant when she heard a noise behind her and armed with all the courage she had left, turned ready to put up a fight with whatever was following her. She turned abruptly, and she was faced by the immensity of the sea of Dorne in those mornings after a storm. For a brief moment, she could swear she was at home looking at that same sea. 

But it was not the sea of Dorne which was in front of her, but the silver-haired boy with pretty eyes. His eyes were looking at her perplexed and Nymeria felt embarrassed about her attitude. She must have looked stupid. Like a lost little girl. She hated that. She was not a little girl anymore. They both keep looking at each other in silence, without speaking to each other. It’s awkward, though Nymeria, so she decided to speak up but before she could open her mouth to say anything, the boy pronounced some words.

“I didn’t know I was going to have company tonight” The boy hesitated for a few seconds before adding in a whisper “Are you okay… princess?” Nymeria felt her cheeks reddened and building up courage she answered as calmly and collected as she could.

“I’m sorry if I scared you, I was just looking for a book. They didn’t let me bring one from home” 

The boy looked at her, hummed and returned to the desk in which he was seated with a book. What was she going to do now? What was the correct thing to do? Stay and choose a book? Leave and do like anything has happened? Well, that would be even weirder than this. So Nymeria stayed and wandered about the library. The thing was that the library wasn’t even that big and even though she tried to disappear from the boy’s sight it was almost impossible. She tried to focus on looking at the titles of the books but all of them seemed to be pretty boring books about herbs or either way some old ragged books about laws. She didn’t know if it was better to have stayed at her chambers. At least she wouldn’t be in this situation with the boy with ocean eyes. 

“I don’t think you are going to like anything in that section. It’s pretty boring” The boy spoke up and Nymeria turned to face him “At least I don’t find anything there quite… entertaining”

Nymeria looked at him and his hair. It was frizzy, but the light of the candles made the silver of his hair look the same color as the sand of Dorne. He is pretty, she thought. How she has wished to look like that: silver-haired, blue deep ocean eyes. But no, she was there, with her common brown hair and her normal brown eyes. How boring she must look to him. How oddly ordinary she felt in that instant. But she was not going to show that to him. She may look ordinary, but she was a Martell with the blood of the Rhoynar and the first men.  Finding new and renovated confidence in her looks after all, she answered back.

 “Oh, then, what would you recommend Prince…? I’m sorry; I’m not quite good with names”

“Aemond, my name is Aemond” The little prince looked calm, as if he was not bothered at all by the fact that she didn’t know his name. Would she be mad if he didn’t know her name? Well, she couldn’t be, right? She didn’t remember his, but she felt like it would be nice if he at least remembered her name. She found herself wishing he remembered her name “I don’t know what you like, but I enjoy this one” He lifted up one of the books from the desk and Nymeria stood up next to him, she was so close she could almost touch him. 

“It’s about Old Valyria Princess Nymeria” He remembered her name. He knew who she was.  Not knowing why, Nymeria felt her cheeks heaten up again. What was happening that night to her? 

“Do you know about Old Valyria Princess?” She looked at his face, he looked thrilled, almost enchanted by those words. Of course she knew about Old Valyria, and about dragons, and about all the tragedies that have occurred there. She was fascinated by it. Sisi had told her everything about it, and even though she had the certainty the book couldn’t tell her anything she didn’t already knew about dragons and semi gods, she accepted the book in his hands.

“My nana Sisi told me about it. And about dragons and how their scales are even bigger than you and me” The little prince let out a little funny laugh.

“Well, some of them are not that big yet. Have you ever seen one?” 

“No” Her little eyes looked at him. She was lying to him: she has seen dragons. Her dream dragons. She knows their wings, and their eyes and she knows the smell of their burning hearts. Like blood. 

“My brother and my sister have one. And my nephews.  They are not that big” She could perceive a hint of resentment in his tone. Does he not have a dragon?

“And yours? How is your dragon?” The silence invaded the room for a few seconds. Nymeria was starting to think that maybe the question wasn't appropriate. Prince Aemond looked at her nervously.

“No, but I will have one”

His voice was clear but behind it a curtain of sadness veiled his face. She knew that sadness, that anger too. No one ever believed her about her dragons, which were all too real for her. She could touch them and fly with them, and they would answer to her voice. In that moment, she felt connected to that little boy who claimed himself to be a prince but inside he was just afraid of being little more than a kid. Just like her. He needed this future dragon, as well as she needed her dream dragons. They were just shadows of the tomorrow, of their own dreams and their own nightmares. They were children playing a game of chess they yet needed to understand. 

So she told him all about her dream dragons. Nymeria didn’t know why she trusted him, but she did. She knew he could have laughed at her, told her she was crazy, that it was just dreams. But he didn’t do that. He listened to her, like he cared about her dragons. His ocean eyes were staring directly at her, glistening with eagerness and hope and Nymeria felt the words fall out of her mouth, unable to stop. He understood her. That’s all she needed. 

That night, both kids sat there, in the middle of the library among books about love ballads, battles and wars telling each other stories about imagined dragons and unborn ones, unaware of their fates collapsing and intertwining together for the rest of eternity. They didn’t know at that moment, but Aemond Targaryen and Nymeria Martell would have many more nights together to talk about dragons and dreams. How they wished to have known at that instant years later. But isn’t that what always happens with time? It will always win the race.

TAGS: @blue-serendipity

[jaenaratargaryen]

Four generations of Targaryens post restoration (Jon and Daenerys are still alive)

[rennalaqotfm]

𖤓 DRAGONSPEAR | J.V (MASTERLIST)

Pairing: Prince Jacaerys Velaryon x Martell Princess! Reader

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

Content Warning: Smut (MDNI 18+), incest, canon-typical violence, blood and injury, alcohol consumption, slow burn, enemies to lovers, (more specific tags and TW on each individual chapter).

Chapters:

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 (TBC)

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

[xxnymeriatargaryenxx]

when your husband aemond wants physical affection, he comes to YOUR chambers.

sex is not the first or the only thing he asks for, aemond just really wants your full undivided attention. after an exhaustingly long day of managing affairs and telling people what to do, all he wants is for his sweet beloved wife to take care of him, starting with removing his clothes and taking a hot aromatic bath.

aemond always prefers it when you undress him, as you are gentle with your touch and you take extra precaution when removing his eye-patch. the prince regent finds a degree of comfort in you he hasn’t felt since he was a boy at driftmark.

when he is feeling extra needy, aemond will insist that you join him in the bathtub yourself, he loves to have you on his lap and chest-to-chest with him so close and intimate.

and when you eventually begin to ride him, he simply can’t stop gawking at how radiant you look under the flickering candlelights. he is completely mesmerized not only by your dornish beauty, but also by your affectionate nature and how well you understand him. it makes him cum that much faster when you ride him like this.

alternatively, when a bath is not involved, aemond will stand at your doorway with his hands clasped behind his back until you make the first move beckoning him over to your bed.

when the prince regent is feeling particularly sore after riding vhagar, you give him a deep tissue back massage, using some hot oil, usually eucalyptus and jasmine rubbed between your fingers to soften his tense muscles and relieve any back knots.

…..after that? it’s all fair game 😮‍💨💦🍆

[pigeon-princess]

When Oswick "Redtusk" Crakehall first kidnapped Tobiah Martell and Gwyndon Pyke, I don't think he realised what he'd be getting into. I'm finally compiling a bunch of my sketches from earlier in our ASOIAF TTRPG campaign!

🐗Oswick belongs to our GM @oneirotect ☀️Toby belongs to Nico Mclaughlan

[cheesy-cryptid]

Taking a moment to draw something out of my love for fantasy media by making some out of the blue House of the Dragon inspired oc art

[ashblooddragons]

Little Viper

this request was made by a Anon hence not being @.

Word count: 1348

Summary: a match was made between the Hightowers and the Martells soon after the prince Aegon's birth. And Neither party is happy with the match.

Warnings: Otto being Otto, People being racist to the Martells, tell me if i missed anything

Amaras pov

I stare at myself in the mirror, taking in my loose black waves, olive skin, full lips, but most of all my vibrant purple eyes. The only thing that shows I am not completely Martell, the only way to show who my Mother is.

The Princess Saera Targaryen, everyone says I look like her. I have her seductive beauty, though I have yet to see a portrait to see it for myself. 

“You'll make all the other ladies Jealous Princess. And all the Lords will be livid they didn't take you before your betrothed claimed you.” My Lady in waiting, Lady Alarra Wyl says. 

I only smile and nod, for how else am I to respond to such kind words when all I feel is bitterness? 

I could have any man I want, and yet I am going to be the second wife to a second son? I am to inherit Dorne, and yet I am matched so the crown can feel better about themselves. 

“I hope I look even half as beautiful as you do on my wedding day.” My other Lady in waiting, Lady Elia Santagar. 

“I'm sure you will.” I say to the dark skinned lady. 

And truly she is pretty, just not beautiful. She has plain features that all together are pleasing but nothing special. I'd say the only thing special about her is those wild black coils of hers. 

They rub some animal fat along my skin keeping them soft and smooth. The scent of rosemary wafts through the air with each swipe along my skin. 

They then help me dress in my dress. It's a white dress with rich orange sleeves and a plunging neckline and back. The sleeves reach the floor making me look tall and regal. 

They put a gold chain crown on my head, gold bangle bracelets on my wrists and ankles. I then chose golden earrings with white quartz dangling from my ears, they were carved to look like my house sigil. And finally I add a golden necklace with diamonds encrusted in every inch. 

I look in the mirror taking in everything, it's all gorgeous but I know it will scandalize those Andals. 

Good. I think with a smirk before leaving my chambers to find my father waiting outside the Spet.

With each step I take in the infamous Red Keep. Though it is lovely, the stench of the city below ruins it with each step in this vipers den. 

A smirk comes to my lips at that thought. 

They call us vipers in the sand, while they are the true vipers. 

“There you are, you look like the sun in the flesh. Radiant and bright.” Father says when he sees me from down that hall.

I smile a blush coming to my cheeks. He always called me his ‘little sun’ so I should be used to the compliments but I don't think I ever will. 

“Well you are the one who picked it all.” I tease moving forward to stand next to him as we stare at the Septs doors. 

“I never said it was the dress.” He responds with a sad smile.

I take his hands in mine, squeezing them knowing he hoped this day would never come. 

“How did the time pass so quickly? I swear you were a babe in my arms only a moment ago. And yet you are marrying more than likely having children of your own.” 

I feel tears come to my eyes and I shake my head fighting them off. “Don't, you will make me cry and ruin all the work my ladies did.” I demand which makes him chuckle before he kisses my cheek.

“Sorry, little sun, can't have Elia upset, that girl is scary when she's mad.” He says and we both laugh joyously.

But just as soon as the joy fills us does it become dread. 

“We need to do this. This will help us.” He says putting my hand in the crook of his arm. 

I know that he doesn't mean to be cold so suddenly, it is only the way he copes. But even though I may know this does not mean it doesn't hurt any less. 

The doors open once he nods to the guards. I know many say they felt like their life was beginning the moment they saw their husband to be. But I didn't, I refuse to, for this isn't my life, no this Hightower demanded me and now I will make him regret ever looking my way.

It all flies by a blur, me being handed to this man who though is handsome I refuse to admit it. Our hands being bonded by that blasted ribbon, oaths spoken with cold calculating tones. And then his lips are on mine, and for a moment I realize mayhaps this won't be so bad. But that thought is quickly destroyed when he glares down at me again as if I am the one shackling him against his will.

He guides me out of the Sept with a scowl as the court claps and cheers for the Hand of the King. 

“Well now that, that is done, all we need to do is make face at the feast and do our duty. Then we can act as if the other does not exist unless need be.” 

I can't help but scoff before a chuckle leaves me. “Well it's lovely to meet you as well, Ser Otto Hightower. I'm so sorry I forced you into a marriage.” 

And with that I walk off letting him try and keep up with me. We don't say a word when we enter nor as we eat. 

I feel his gaze on me as I eat. When I turn to meet his gaze with a questioning raise of my brow I find him eyeing my outfit with a disgusted scowl.  

“Is there something else you wish to speak of? Or will you give me reprieve from that foul attitude of yours?”  

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Did you have to show your body to the whole of the court the day of our wedding?” 

I grip my wine chalice feeling the glass stem dig into the soft skin of my palm. 

“I would have you know, this is much more modest than the one I originally wished to wear. Be happy I came in white like you all demanded.” 

But instead of showing any remorse only grumbles under his breath about how us Dornish wish to dress as whores. 

That is the final straw, I had taken every cruel look from the court, every whisper of whore behind mine and my ladies backs. But for my now husband to call me a whore when I am the heir to Dorne? Now that is just unacceptable. 

So I lean over to whisper in his ear, for the court I look like an excited wife wanting to know the ways of the marital bed. But he knows that is not the case as my nails dig into his arm until he flinches.

“I hope you don't mean those words, husband. I would hate to have all of court know how you are the one who ruined their reputation. Or perhaps how you sent your daughter to the King, alone in his chambers.” I hiss in his ear before looking him in the eyes again.

“I will do my duty, and you will do yours. But so we're clear, you asked for my hand in marriage. Not the other way around.” I say before standing and waving my ladies so I can prepare for the rest of this miserable marriage. 

Before I leave I turn and look up at him again from across the throne room. He seems shocked, but also impressed. But most of all, if the way his eyes down my frame is anything to go by, he wants me. He desires me. 

Mayhaps this marriage will be worth my while after all. I think before leaving him to his thoughts and desires with his courtier friends. 

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[theetherealbloom]

PEDRO PASCAL MAIN MASTERLIST

PEDRO PASCAL

JOEL MILLER

DIN DJARIN

OBERYN MARTELL

MARCUS ACACIUS

REED RICHARDS/ "MR FANTASTIC"

CLINT (FREAKY TALES) (coming soon!)

TIM ROCKFORD (coming soon!)

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[sweetscarlettangel]

Fire Tests Gold LV

[alaeyne-the-cruel]

Alaeyne Targaryen. Firstborn daughter of Viserys I and older half-sister of Rhaenyra.

Art by @archamion