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dreammfyre · 6 months ago

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wedding celebration ⋆ jacaerys velaryon

SUMMARY. You are the only Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter. Jacaerys is your brother, but is engaged to Baela Targaryen and this is the celebration of their wedding announcement.

WARNINGS. +18. Targaryen incest, rude Jacaerys, AU (no Dance of the Dragons, Rhaenyra is the Queen of Seven Kingdoms.)

The engagement celebration was overwhelming and exhausting for you. The queen did not skimp on the grandeur of the event, a dinner full of variety and fresh delicacies, fruits, desserts, large platters of roasted meats that they tore to shreds leaving only the bones. All to celebrate in grand style the marriage of her first son with the daughter of Daemon Targaryen.

For you it was being a bore, sitting next to your brother Lucerys Velaryon who was talking with Rhaena Targaryen. Everyone was enjoying the dragon riders, while you just wanted to escape from the hall where the music, the shouting and the applause made it impossible to have a conversation. Sitting down you played with the food left on your plate, moving your fork side to side without purpose in that place, no one spoke to you, and when they did it was to talk about the couple of the moment. You were trying to get your mother's attention sitting next to Daemon, but she was too busy attending to everyone, always smiling and raising her glass to Jacaerys and Baela to look at you. On your other side, your little brother, Joffrey, was trying to convince you to dance a piece, but you refused for shame of falling down in the attempt.

You watched your brother Jacaerys laugh whispering in his betrothed's ear. But when he looked at you you looked away immediately. You felt your face hot with embarrassment at being discovered, but deep down you didn't mind being unwelcome.

A knight of House Lannister approached the table you shared with your family to ask if you wished to dance with him. Distressed to answer, you looked at your mother pleading for help, but Rhaenyra forced you to stand up for the first time since the event began and do some socializing, something you find very difficult to do.

It was awkward throughout, he just showed you off like a trophy and never looked you in the eye you felt like the song went on for hours. You went round and round, when he touched you a little rejection won you over and you ended up taking a step back. Your smell of alcohol gave you away as did your clumsy and uncoordinated movements. A few meters away, Prince Jacaerys noticed the situation, attentive if his sister needed help. He didn't like to see you with other men, they didn't know how to treat you and that was further proof, he noticed you uncomfortable looking at the exit constantly touching your waist too long. He took the opportunity to get close to your face, he didn't listen to what you were saying but from your facial expression he didn't need to know.

"Is something wrong?" asked Baela noticing that her fiancé was too distracted. Jacaerys immediately denied without arousing suspicion, but without ceasing to be attentive to the situation assuming that he was just behaving like an older brother protecting his sister.

While you continued to dance the extensive choreography you exchanged glances with your brother. None of them looked down, Jacaerys' tense jaw reflected his annoyance.

"You look especially beautiful tonight, my princess," said the blond-haired gentleman, gaining your attention. "The red brings out your look."

Without realizing it, you smiled. It was the first time anyone had complimented your dress that you designed, until the wine glass your escort was holding spilled on you when another gentleman accidentally pushed it. You let out a small scream as you felt the liquid on your skin, the fabric absorbed all the alcohol ruining the golden color of the embroidery.

"Gods." You whispered annoyed looking at the mess you brought on yourself. You looked at the queen who stood attentive to you, Jacaerys stopped suddenly leaving Baela dancing alone by her side who in the happiness of her engagement was not attentive to her guests. "My dress…"

"My princess, I am sorry. I didn't mean to." Said the knight wiping a cloth across your torso, drying a few drops of wine.

"Don't touch me!" You exclaimed when his fingers brushed your chest, an unpleasant and invasive sensation. People turned at your shout and at all that attention you ran, finally escaping the room amidst malicious whispers that were sure to become controversial by tomorrow.

Locked yourself in your room staring at the reflection of the stain I had left on you, cursing yourself for agreeing to leave your safe place in the chair next to your mother and now your favorite dress was ruined. Your fingertips had also turned crimson and you reeked of alcohol.

Not even a minute passed when there was a loud knock on your door, startling you by the unexpected. You approached taking a deep breath so as not to sound distressed or upset.

"I'm fine, mother. I'd rather stay and rest." You said, complimenting yourself for sounding so convincing.

"Let me through." You opened your eyes when Jacaerys' voice was heard on the other side. You immediately opened the door and your brother entered your quarters, which he knew by heart, and hurriedly closed the door before a guard discovered them. You didn't reach to say anything when he rushed to ask. "Did he do something to you?"

"What are you doing here, idiot? You're the fucking groom."

"Did he touch you?" he kept asking, looking at you intently, scaring you. "Damn it. Answer me, did he dare offend you?"

"Balea must be worried about you, must go back." You raised your voice, annoyed by your brother's recklessness. "Her Majesty must be asking about you and I don't think Daemon would be amused if you left his daughter alone in the middle of the celebration."

"Let them ask whatever they want, you know I care little for them and they'll have a hard time finding me."

"Don't tell me lies. You're the heir, all eyes are on you now, it's only natural that you care about your reputation." You said turning your back on him, you weren't angry, you were just being realistic. You didn't want him to look at you. "You need to go back, Jace, your fiancée is probably looking for you around the castle and she's not going to want to find you here."

"You think I want this for myself?" his question sent chills down your spine, Jacaerys' tone sounded hurt. "You must understand what it means to do the duty of our position."

Damn. You thought. That conversation again.

"Do you really want to talk about this right now?"

You heard his footsteps, the right thing to do was for him to leave you alone, but his hands came to rest on your shoulders. An intense sensation ran up your neck as his breath hit your cold skin. His pointed nose touched your back awkwardly moving unsure of his decisions, hands shifted to your waist clinging tightly without letting go. You couldn't control yourself, Jacaerys was yours, you hated to see him with another lady.

"Jace." You whispered with your eyes closed. You wanted to say with all your might that it wasn't right, but the warmth of his breath and his fingers touching yours was so much better.

"Just shut up, can you?" He ordered plaintiff. "And don't call me a liar, that makes me mad, you know it."

Listening to him angry you loved it, he was always so correct but when they were alone you couldn't control it.

You could fall into his arms easily, he had the demanding tone you need to hear. You turned around looking for his mouth desperate to kiss him, to reaffirm that he has been yours forever. His wet lips with yours knew each other perfectly, you were not new to this nor had you spoken of leaving him. Jacaerys took your neck with his hand squeezing gently, but enough to know he didn't want you to move. His tongue entered your mouth invading your space, desperate for your touch he cupped your cheek. You ran your hand through his long hair, tangling your fingers in his curls pulling them pulling his body closer to yours.

"Do you want to do it now?" he growled between your lips without letting go of your waist. You nodded without hesitation forgetting the fear of being discovered, you were so needy and only he could help you. "Gods, you're such a good sister."

Between wet kisses and ragged breaths they reached your bed which was perfectly tidy. His suit with the symbol of House Targaryen stood out on his chest, he sat on the edge waiting for you to sit on it, when you did he kissed your bare neck leaving marks that he cared little if they showed later, he wanted to mark you, that no one would look at you, but the idea that you were desired by the knights he always liked because he could have you while the others only desired you.

"That idiot won't bother you again." He muttered with difficulty, but convinced to keep his word for you. "Vermax will turn it to ashes."

You were so wet that any touch was going to make you scream in orgasm. Jacaerys was your first man and you didn't want anyone to be your second. The first time Jacaerys was gentle and soft with you, but the more they repeated it, hidden from the eyes and ears of others, you experienced more things that pleased both. Your favorite place was the bed, you could do many things there and get into various positions that made you feel more of him.

"We don't have much time, darling." Said the boy tucking a strand of your long hair behind your ear. "We can save that for another day."

In a hurry and a little clumsy, you pulled up the long skirt of your dress just enough to be exposed above it, none of you were naked, you could imagine that the celebration had not stopped in the absence of the prince nor yours. Jacaerys also settled down below you without taking his eyes off you at any time, thinking that he did not want any maiden, however pure and elegant. That wasn't the first time time time had worked against them, but the adrenaline rush was unique, like riding dragons. The sex felt much better though.

"Come here." He commanded with dilated pupils, tired and anxious from so much waiting to feel you. His hot member brushed against your wet entrance unleashing an intense sensation that made you moan but without opening your mouth. Jacaerys' hands slipped under your dress while you didn't let go of his shoulders so you wouldn't lose your balance, your knees bent on the mattress giving you comfort and the prince sitting under you, watching your every expression.

"You don't know how much I was looking forward to having you again." You said panting, your skin beginning to flush from the heat emanating from your bodies. "Promise you won't leave me." You said taking her face in your hands, desperate for the rubbing between your legs. "Get fucking married, but you'll keep coming back to me."

When he entered you let out a sweet moan that you tried to hide by covering your mouth. Jacaerys threw his head back taking a moment to accommodate you, you were so wet he slid in easily reaching your bottom in a matter of seconds. You squeezed his shoulder reflexively and he smiled when he heard you moan.

"Look at me." He commanded taking in your hot face, you found it hard to concentrate feeling him so deep inside you, but you looked into his eyes. "I will always come back to you." Replied.

And that was what you needed to hear.

You moved up and down slowly, Jacaerys moans giving you more pleasure from the movements and the feeling between your legs. The prince closed his eyes tensing his jaw holding his cum so fast, you kissed him biting his thick lips at the same time moaning louder.

You were clothed but it felt so good to feel his member rubbing against your walls that you just wanted to increase the speed. Jace enjoyed feeling you, with your hands he pulled down the front of your stained dress to let your breasts out. He took one between his big hands to squeeze it mercilessly, making you moan, you were very sensitive to any touch and your brother knows how to take you to the max.

"Jace." You gasped without stopping.

"Go on." He challenged you.

You listened to him, obviously. You were convinced that if at that moment Baela Targaryen entered you would not mind if she found you riding her future husband.

You felt him hard and hot, you watched him writhe with pleasure under your body, you kept moving until you couldn't hold back the urge to speak.

"Do you know what that man told me?" You asked pausing for a second, Jacaerys eyes opened still inside you, you caressed his open, swollen lips. "If I married him I was never going to be short of a good fuck."

The prince's expression changed completely, you knew what you had just done and you didn't regret it. He grabbed you by the waist and turned you over on the bed leaving you exposed to his desire and discomfort. He quickly pulled your dress up again entering you, this time without softness or gentleness that characterized him, you screamed forgetting that you should keep quiet to guard his secret, but he grabbed you so tightly and kept moving behind you.

"Do you like it like this?" he asked agitated, moving back and forth constantly, you were clinging to the sheets. You nodded unable to modulate a statement. "No one can touch you." He kept up the accelerated pace. You stuck your cheek to the mattress in pain but the sensation in your legs was growing, the friction was getting more and more delicious and rough, it was something new that you liked. Your brother's hands were marked on your skin, there was less and less time left to feel the orgasm. You wanted him to know what he was going to miss out on by marrying another woman.

"Jaca-Jacaerys." You tried to speak.

"A little more." He begged.

You couldn't stand the pressure growing under her belly any longer, your legs faltered and your chest couldn't expand any more. You stood there for a few seconds recomposing yourself, trying to get the air back into your hot agitated lungs. You turned to look at him, he looked exhausted, his skin red and curls in disarray. You had never felt his anger or jealousy over you.

You sat on the edge of your bed while he quietly adjusted his pants. Jacaerys looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting her hair, her suit, trying to conceal it. You didn't know whether to speak or remain silent.

"I'll go back to the celebration." He said without looking at you.

"It's okay." You whispered tidying the long skirt of the frayed dress. "I think so do I."

The prince turned with an expression of unpleasant surprise. "Are you serious?"

"Sure. I'm going to change this fucking dress first." You affirmed with an innocent smile. Your hair messy, your lips swollen and wet were still warm. "Congratulations for your wedding; brother." You scoffed.

Jacaerys grabbed your jaw hard stealing a long kiss that you didn't manage to escape. He looked at you disapprovingly. "You’re wicked."

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 5 months ago

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Jace and betrothed unable to wait until their wedding night to have sex??

Request: Jacaerys and his future wife fooling around because they are horny and scared they will die before getting married. I don’t want my boy to die without tasting the greatness of sex

How did this smut piece get to 2.2k words? 😳

Warnings: 18+, smut, masturbating, fingering, p + v,

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

—

‘’I’m scared, Jace,’’ you confessed as you stood by the banister of Dragonstone castle, watching as Vermax and Silverwing flew together over the bay. Hopefully Silverwing will lay eggs when you and Jacaerys have children. ‘’The war is getting closer to us. Soon, we’ll have to get on our dragons and battle against the enemy. We…we might die.’’

Death was inevitable during a war. Especially one with dragons, as Rhaenys once said. Team Black had already suffered a couple of losses — Lucerys, Rhaenys, Ser Erryk —, but more would come.

‘’The thought of what’s coming is terrifying, but we can’t let ourself be paralyzed by the possibility of dying,’’ Jacaerys said, his hand securely on the handle of his sword. He had taken the habit from Daemon, whom he looked up to in certain aspects.

You looked down at your bare hands on the top of the banister. ‘’I’m not scared of death, I’m scared of dying without ever calling you husband.’’

A few weeks before the petition of Driftmark, you and Jacaerys had announced your betrothal. Rhaenyra had a feast in celebration, proud and happy that her eldest son would marry without any politics involved. The wedding should have happened in the summer, but the King fell to his illness and from there unraveled a series of unfortunate events that postponed the wedding.

‘’When the war ends and I sit on my throne, we’ll have a large celebration in the Red Keep,’’ the Queen had promised.

But you were tired of waiting.

‘’Every night, as I lay in bed, I think of you and our life if there hadn’t been a war of succession. I would call you husband, my prince husband, and we would not be sleeping in separate beds across the castle. No one would be chaperoning us from afar and we would not get scolded for sharing ‘too long’ kisses.’’

Jacaerys put his hand over yours on the bannister, sharing the same feelings. He wanted to call you his wife and glare at whoever dared speaking wrong to you. He wanted to spend the evening alone in your shared chambers, eating cakes and talking about your day until one of you fell asleep first. He wanted…he wanted to take you to his bed and have a family with you. Not whilst the war was going. He could not deal with the stress of his pregnant wife going to battle on her dragon.

A few days later, you were sitting in your settee, reading in your nightgown when you heard a light knock on the door. You raised your head from your book, and saw that a piece of parchment had been slipped beneath your door.

Meet me when the moon is bright. Careful when you take the stairs, Ser Godric is keeping guard.

The message was not signed, but you recognized the handwriting.

When you judged the moon was bright enough, you slipped a robe over your nightgown and quietly walked down the corridor to take the stairs to Jacaerys’ chambers. You listened carefully for any guards, not wishing to get caught sneaking to you betrothed’s chambers at the hour of the owl. It would make quite the scandal amongst the servants and the staff.

You knocked delicately on the door and bit your lip as you waited, your stomach bubbling with excitement. Within a few seconds, the door opened and Jacaerys pulled you inside.

The room was quite dark as the sun was asleep, only the fire of the hearth and a few candles on a table as sources of light. You noticed the small crumpled balls of parchment on the study, assumingly drafts of his message to you. It had to be not too suggestive, but also not too plain that you would not want to come.

‘’I didn't know if you were going to come,’’ Jacaerys said, his lips curved into a shy smile.

He was wearing just a tunic and wool trousers. It felt strange to see him without his doublet and riding gear. His dark brown hair was messy and his cheeks flushed from what you could make from the light. He looked so different from the usual picture-perfect prince.

‘’You asked to see me.’’

Jacaerys stepped closer. He raised his hand to stroke your cheek, then your hair, which he seemed taken by. ‘’I didn’t know your hair was so long. You always have them up in braids or pins,’’ he said, his tone soft with wonder.

A slight smile tugged at your lips. ‘’What is it that you wanted, Jace? I doubt you summoned me her to talk about my hair.’’

‘’I’ve been thinking. About us.’’ He paused for a moment, looking into your eyes. ‘’The Gods have been unfair to us. So let’s not wait for them to bless and unite us.’’

Your brows drew into a light frown. ‘’Jace, what do you—’’ you began, but he stepped closer, his forehead resting against yours.

He stepped closer, the fire in the hearth reflecting in his eyes. ‘’Do you love me?’’

‘’With all my heart,’’ you replied without hesitation, your eyes filled with sincerity.

‘’Let’s not wait, then. I…I don’t want to waste our time together waiting for this damn war to be over to take you to bed.’’

Jacaerys placed his hands on your hips and pulled you flush against him, his grip loose, giving you time to pull from his grasp if you wanted it. But you didn't.

Instead, you looked up at him and kissed him, closing the remaining space between you. You kissed him like you've done many times before, only this time you didn't have to pull away every twenty seconds to check if a maester, guard or the Queen was around. You’ll never forget the embarrassment you felt that day…

Jacaerys whimpered as you pulled his bottom lip with your teeth, and pressed you against him, desire spreading through his veins, hot like dragonfire. With less layers between your bodies, you could feel the warmth of his chest through your nightgown, and his...little friend stiffening in his trousers.

‘’Someone is excited,’’ you murmured with a giggle as you broke the kiss to plant a trail of kisses down his neck instead.

He let out a low moan, tightening his grip on your hips. ‘’I cannot control it when you’re around. Especially when you kiss me.’’ Jacaerys captured your lips into another kiss, and tingles caressed your spine and tickled your lower stomach.

His hands grabbed and pulled at the material of your robe and nightgown, and you rolled your hips, igniting more of his dragonfire. Jacaerys moaned at the contact, louder than he intended. Your own cheeks turned red, realizing you were starting to reach an intimacy you had never breached before.

‘’I’m nervous,’’ you whispered, biting your lip as you thought of getting intimate.

You placed your hands on Jacaerys’ chest, distracting yourself from your mind. His heart was beating fast, probably just as nervous.

‘’We don't have to do anything if you don’t feel ready to.’’

You shushed him with a finger to his lips. ‘’I want to.’’

To prove yourself, you untied your robe and placed it on the back of the settee, right next to Jacaerys’ sword. The prince's breathing quickened, his dark eyes fixated on your fingers as you unlaced the ties of your nightgown, slowly unraveling the knot. You sucked in a breath as you pulled it down your shoulders, letting it slip down your body until it reached the floor.

Silence greeted your naked body, and you felt shy suddenly. You almost reached for your robe to cover yourself, but your betrothed sensed your uneasiness and stroked your cheek before taking off his tunic and trousers. He found it unfair for you to be naked while he was still clothed.

Once you were even, he guided you backwards towards his bed. The headboard had a large dragon engraved in the stone and seemed a little bigger than yours. The sheets were pale, and over top was a deep red blanket made of velvet to keep warm from the winds coming from the bay.

Jacaerys sat on the edge and, with an expression of fascination, he reached for your breasts. He made sure to be gentle, sliding his thumbs gently over your rapidly hardening nipples. ‘’By the Sevens, you’re beautiful,’’ he marveled, stars in his eyes.

‘’I can say the same, my prince.’’ You pressed your palm over his chest, smooth and warm.

Jacaerys smiled, that one soft and genuine smile he reserved for you. ‘’I love you,’’ he said, his hands caressing your side in small, gentle circles.

‘’I love you to— Aah,’’ you whimpered as his hand reached between your legs, stroking your slit clumsily. He didn't know what he was doing, and lacked finesse as he bumped against your clit at random moments, but it still felt amazing.

He checked on you, wanting to please. ‘’Does that feel good?’’

‘’Yes.’’

His fingers were getting slippery from your arousal, making it easier to slide against your cunny. You’ve done it to yourself a few times, alone in your bed.

‘’Can you put one inside?’’

Jacaerys’ fingers were a bit thicker than yours, and longer.

He nodded.

A breathy moan left your lips instantly, pleasure sparkling as your walls clenched around his middle finger.

‘’Like that?’’ Jacaerys slid his finger out, then back in, repeating the motion as you grabbed his shoulder.

‘’Yes. Again.’’

He listened to your needs, almost forgetting his own as his cock remained untouched against his stomach. It was engorged and painful. While one hand was busy pleasuring you, he wrapped his second around his cock and jerked himself.

You noticed and thought of helping him, but Jacaerys added a second finger and your knees almost gave out. The feeling was overwhelming, but you craved more.

You pushed Jacaerys away, and clambered over his lap. His gaze met yours, equally filled with lust. With a nod from your lover, you reached down to grab his cock and lined it at your entrance, sinking down slowly, inch by inch.

The intensity of the sensation had you gripping at each other, needing to anchor yourself to something. It was unpleasant at first, feeling a pressure and a stinging inside your intimate tunnel. You felt full in a way that was impossible to describe.

Feeling your fingers dig into his skin, Jacaerys kissed your shoulders and neck to sooth you, trying his hardest not to move by fear to blow too soon or hurt you. It was overwhelming for him too — the feeling of your tight walls squeezing him.

You rose up slightly, and then sank back on with tenderness. Jacaerys moaned deeply with you, his head dropping against your collarbone. He closed his eyes, his hands squeezing your hips as you moved up and down again, the pressure around his cock heavenly.

Your bodies moved together in a rhythm, becoming one.

When your legs fatigued, you let Jacaerys know and he moved you on the bed and laid you down on the rich velvet. He adjusted himself to the new position, his dark curls falling like curtains around his face as he thrusted into you with long deep strokes.

‘’Kiss me,’’ he demanded.

You complied, winding your arms around his neck and rocking your hips to meet his thrusts until you reached your high with a broken cry.

Seconds later, Jacaerys pulled out and spilled onto your thighs, not wanting to deal with the consequences of having sex out of wedlock.

The bed creaked as he collapsed beside you, breathing heavy. As if an invisible string was pulling you to him, you rolled on your side and clung to him, needing to be close after sex. You stayed that way for a long time, relaxing with your head on Jacaerys' bare chest. Your legs felt like jelly, still dizzy from the intense emotions and the overwhelming pleasure.

You wished you could suspend time and stay there with him forever. But a soft yawn brought you back to reality.

‘’I must leave,’’ you said, feeling the tiredness catching you. It was difficult not to be lured to sleep when you were cuddling under the covers and Jacaerys’s hand was stroking your back gently.

His arms caged around you, protesting. ‘’Stay.’’ He nuzzled into your neck, his voice muffled. ‘’It’s a command from your prince.’’

His tone was unserious, but it still made you guilty and sad to leave him.

‘’I do not wish to leave and sleep in my bed alone, but I must be found in my own chamber when the maids come in the morn.’’

Jacaerys sighed, rubbing his face into your hair. ‘’I know,’’ he said, his voice a mixture of resignation and frustration.

Reluctantly, his arms slowly unwound from around you and you peeled yourself from him, releasing a small hiss when you sat up. The septa had warned you about the pain after breaking your maidenhead. It wasn’t unbearable, only sensitive when you moved.

‘’I didn't hurt you, didn't I?’’ Jacaerys immediately asked, his eyes filled with concern as he checked on you.

You shook your head and smiled, washing his guilt away. ‘’No. You were perfect, Jace.’’

He knew it was untrue. No one was perfect the first time.

You struggled dressing back into your nightgown and robe, having to fight with Jacaerys’ lips trying to kiss you and his arms pulling you against him. You gave him a last longing kiss before slipping out of his chambers, promising to see him to break fast.

—

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#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #prince jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #house of the dragon #hotd

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just-some-random-blogger · 3 months ago

Text

Tormented Spirit | 1

Part 2

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, eventual smut, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, mentions/depictions of death/suicidal ideation, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i nearly decided on nuking this because it feels so fucking bad and aimless guess in the end I'M really the tormented spirit huh anyway if I'm glad i didnt and decided to wait it out. if you enjoy this please think of leaving a comment and/or reblog because i need the reassurance. | cross posted on ao3

Tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat

"Father," Alicent pleads, "she needs to see you."

Otto's jaw clenches as he lifts his gaze from his desk. He looks upon his youngest child's features. You were one in the same, his first daughter and last. He thanks the gods that she did not inherit the curse you bear.

Alicent picks at her fingers while awaiting a response. Though she draws blood, no sound leaves her lips. She did not know it, but her father catches this anxious tick. He mentally corrects himself: at least she did not inherit it at equal intensity.

"A man has no place in the dressing room of a bride-to-be," the Lord Hand dismisses.

Alicent knew about as much would be said, yet she still tries, "please. She is having a-"

"And when has my presence ever soothed her?" Otto interrupts, raising his voice to make his point clear.

It was enough. Alicent understood.

He turns back to his papers. He reads them but none of the words register. He says, "I am sure your brother is already there, coddling her as he does."

Alicent does not respond.

Otto lifts his gaze, "go," he speaks as though his daughter missed the obvious, "if she needs someone so badly, coddle her with Gwayne."

Alicent returns to your chambers. Her heart pinched in every which way at the sight of you. Here you stood, clothed in one of the few precious dresses that belonged to your mother— a bride. Dark blue satin and gold jewelry embellished your form. Your brown hair was curled and plaited and pinned. Your face had a glow, only because it was stained with tears. It was terrible and magnificent all at once.

Rhaenyra goes to her best friend, and the two girls clutched hands before walking towards you. Gwayne spots them and gives your hands a tight squeeze. Because of this, you turn from your older brother to your younger sister. Your eyes are pink with melancholy.

"Lord Hand," Alicent mutters, "is deep in his work."

On his daughter's wedding day, thinks Gwayne.

Rhaenyra clenches her jaw, loathing your father more than normal in this moment.

More than your own, you cannot stomach your sister's duress. You stroke her cheek, "I am well now. Worry no more."

Alicent catches Gwayne's expression and knows that is a lie. Still, she smiles and nods, "I am glad," she looks you once over, "you are an exquisite bride, sister."

Rhaenyra offers a smile, "I agree, dear aunt."

Your face twists at the young princess's words, though you knew she meant well. You will away the dreadful sensation in your stomach and manage a smile, "thank you... sweet niece."

You relish their company for as long as you can in this moment. You gather strength from Rhaenyra's smile, from Alicent's touch, and Gwayne's words. Then, all at once, you were alone, walking towards Daemon Targaryen.

In truth, he was not curious of you. He despised you, for after all, you were the spawn of that Cunttower. But, gods, what could possibly be the reason you were taking so long to walk down the aisle? It was not like this room was that big. And so, he turns over his shoulder to inspect you. His hand remains on Dark Sister and his weight still rested mostly on one leg.

He squints at the sight of you, moving like a snail. He is about to roll his eyes, but then he catches a glimpse of your countenance.

Tis strange.

You were not nearly as repulsive as he remembered you, and not nearly as similar in likeness to your rotten twin. How could that be, when it was not only- what, a season since he had pummeled Ser Cuntface to the ground? He will never forget your screaming face in the audience, and how deliciously distressed your father had been from hauling you away.

Even now, as Daemon's lilac eyes appraised your distant silhouette, gliding towards him like a phantom intent on haunting, he second guessed if that weeping woman from the tourney was you. But then he turned to your brother and saw his jaw harden. It was unmistakable then you were the weeping woman, and now, you were his weeping bride.

Gwayne, could not help the way his hands tightened into a fist as he helplessly watched you inch towards his most ardent foe. Beside him, unmoving, stood the very man who allowed such madness to ensue: your father.

You pass the pew that seated your family. Your twin's expression softens. He nods, and you know he means take heart. Your sister does the same. But your father, who stood between his children, does not spare you a glance.

Daemon notices the coldness. He would feel bad, but then again, he has been proclaiming his ill-guided brother's Lord Hand was the biggest cunt in the realm for so long, so he doesn't. Oh, but then you look at him with those beady eyes, and he did not know why his thorax felt uneasy.

Twas strange indeed.

Soon you stood in front of your promised, and, finally, Otto lays his eyes upon you. He does not see you though. He does not see the woman dressed in the garments that once belonged to his wife. He does not see your trembling hand and glassy cheeks. He sees his timid, tremoring, little daughter that he had to leave a moon's length for work. He sees her frail body that shook on her tiny bed and found no comfort in the way he held her tiny hand when he returned.

As the septon begins this damning rite, all he could hear was the voice of the maester that promised the new medicine he procured would heal his girl. As tears rolled down your eyes, he remembers how he nearly killed the maester for feeding you herbs that caused you to retch the little food you had eaten.

Has my child not suffered enough?

ᴴⁱˢ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ ⁱˢ ᵐᵃʳʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳ

Daemon turns to the pew beside the Hightowers' and finds his brother's face. Viserys seemed pleased to witness this wretched affair, as did Aemma, who clutched her pregnant belly. Rhaenyra beside her seemed more interested in you however, or at least the dress that she and Alicent helped dressed you in.

The septon blabbers and tells you both to speak your vows. You do, one as reluctant as the other. Then, as instructed, Daemon cloaks you and presses a kiss on your salty lips.

Twas bittersweet. On one hand, as he takes your clammy one, the image of Otto's face when Daemon told the King that he wanted to marry you comes to mind.

Oh, how excited he was to see the old fool look as though he was a breath away from lunging at him across the table, and how utterly horrendous that he hadn't. He would have simply, and justifiably, killed him. Then all this bother would not have ensued. The look upon the said man's face this moment, now that he's sullied what he so dearly protected, made his stomach giddy.

As the same time, as he held that same clammy hand of yours and felt it tremble, he remembers that you and he were bound. Though not in the manner of his house, he knew he could escape only so much of his wretched duties. Otto's vexation would only last so long, and deep down the cunt must enjoy that his daughter was now a princess. He knew soon Viserys would also begin nagging him again.

But then out of nowhere, he laughs. It was so abrupt that a few guests looked at him in confusion.

How could he forget? There was the matter of your... affliction. Perhaps he can frighten you to death on your wedding bed.

He chuckles once more.

The idea is so delicious, he is in good spirits the whole wedding feast. He does nothing but embarrass and shame you by entertaining literally every other lady save yourself.

What makes matters worse, at least on your end, is that your father refuses to go to your side and forbids not only your brother but as well as your sister from leaving their spots to come to your aid. There was no need to make the matter bigger than it was. You are left alone at your seat at the table, looking nothing but pathetic and weepy.

You sustain such temperament until you're in your marriage chambers, but then you do a funny thing and down two glasses of wine. Daemon laughs at how it spills from your lips, down your neck.

He, who had already much more than a measly two cups, comes behind you and takes the one you loudly prop on the table. You squeak and bolt away when Daemon's arm sneaks up from underneath your own; it only further amuses him.

"V'you a change of heart?" he pours himself a glass, "ready for debauchery, yes?"

You turn unbelievably pale, and it merits the fondest of laughs from your sadistic groom. Daemon drinks and licks the wine off his lips.

You gulp, reaching out a trembling hand.

He raises a brow at it. Suddenly, he's annoyed— twice was much because he has absolutely no idea what the gesture means.

That is, until you speak, "may I have some more?"

One of his faint silver brows raises. Suddenly, he is greedy with the wine he thought tasted too sour on his tongue. However, a curiosity within him urged to hand over the cheap drink, for why did his shivering wife have the nerve for this to be her first words to him?

He watched you throw your head back as you down the wine just as quick as you did the previous ones. He chuckles and crosses his arms. When you turn to Daemon, he tilts his head, "thirsty?"

You inhale deeply, though it is strangled, "for my anxiousness."

It takes a moment for him to realize what you mean, and when he does, his nostrils flare. Had he breathed fire, surely smoke would have come out his nose at this moment. Daemon releases an airy, unamused chuckle and averts his gaze, "eager to bed me, harlot?"

Your throat tightens, for that was not what you meant at all.

You forcibly swallow a lump that forms when he comes to your side. Your throat only further constricts when he grabs and yanks you into his chest. You whimper as he presses his nose against your ear. Goosebumps form when his hot breath hits your ear, "on the bed then."

Your heart thunders as he shoves you towards the bed. You nearly miss it. Actually, only your head and arms touch the cushion, and the rest of your body collides with the floor and the hard bed frame. Your tailbone throbs at the impact, but it doesn't hurt nearly as much as your chest that tightened, and tightened, and tightened and—

You barely manage to gasp. You are hard of breathing when Daemon crouches and grabs your thighs, pulling your skirts up. He feels your flesh tremble beneath his palm. His fingers touch your skin, and it brings him to hiss; you are ice against his burning hands.

He looks up at you. A line forms between his brows. You gasped for air that seemed unwilling to enter your lungs. Not only was your face stained with tears, but as well as your neck now

He mutters, "nyke pendagon jaelā naejot sagon ipradāri," I thought you wanted to get eaten, "I do so find fear delectable."

You continue to slump into the floor until you're a melted mess. You can do nothing but clutch your chest, not that it helps one bit.

Daemon is satisfied at this point. He stands and dusts his hands off. He looks at the pitiful Hightower, your dark locks spilled on the ground as if blood from a crime scene.

"Is that your affliction then, wife?" he tilts his head, "do you seize up when you're nervous?"

You look at him, but do not respond.

"S'rather inconvenient, no?" he sighs, as though he actually cared.

You shut your eyes and curl into a ball.

"Mmm, well, I suppose I will have to claim the womanhood owed of me some other time," he said, uninterested. With that, he exits the room with a skip in his step, pleased to know he had such a tremendous effect on you.

You remain in this turmoil for what felt like hours.

By the time you peel yourself up from the floor, your body is encased in sweat. You command yourself to calm; you cannot afford to slip into another bout of insanity. Your tears cannot be contained as you struggle to undo the ties of your dress; at least tremendous relief comes after you do. You struggle to your feet and remove the pins in your hair while making for the vanity table.

You sit before yourself; your horrid face reflects on the mirror that was far too clear for your liking. As you free your hair from its bounds, you think, perhaps it was fortunate that your husband did not lay with you. At least not tonight.

But then, comes to mind, the argument you with your father. Your chest threatens to tighten again as the severity of his voice replays in your head.

It was no secret, Otto despised Daemon. How then could he be so shocked at your horror of learning he had approved your marriage to him. His raging voice still rings in your head: "you ungrateful fool!"

You fall apart in your palms and nearly succumb to yourself again. Thankfully, you manage to take deep breaths and pick yourself up before you fall apart.

You always knew you were the spare in your father's eyes, but you thought that merited indifference. You did not think he hated you so deeply. How could anyone hand their child to their enemy? Perhaps this was his way of finally having use of you.

A spare. A pawn. Will it ever end?

You go to bed and wrap yourself tightly under the sheets. You stare at the ceiling, praying the same prayer you've prayed since you were eight: Seven, let this be my final slumber.

You nearly choke when you are awoken by such violent shaking. You jolt up, or at least as much as you can from the blankets you were so tightly bound in.

Daemon grins and brings the hands he had shaken you with behind his back, "I would say good morn, but it is apparently opposite to you, wife."

The name makes your skin crawl. You push yourself out of the sheets and sit up. You wipe your face and tell yourself; you must get used to this, "good morrow, husband."

Your brown curls spill down your shoulder as you sigh to yourself. Daemon thinks you look much more palatable this way, unlike yesterday, when your hair was jailed so tightly. He motions with his head, "ta. We make haste to the dragon pit."

Your eyes are suddenly devoid of any trace of sleepiness as you look at him.

His lips remain curled, "it would only be proper to do so, no?" He does not let you retort, as he is already making his way out, "tis Caraxes' right to know who his master has been shackled to," he opens the door, "at least momentarily."

If he was self-satisfied with how you shook under his grasp last night, one can only imagine his exhilaration over your severe disinterest in meeting his mount this morning. What's more, Caraxes could smell your anxiety, and it made him chuff and snap his jaws.

Of course, Daemon chastised his dragon, telling him to obey, even though he very much did not want him to. He eagerly fantasizes: oh, a shame my bride died the day I introduced him to my ride.

A true shame.

"Calm yourself," Daemon sniggers as he forcefully pushes you towards the blood wyrm, "the harder you make this for yourself, the harder it will be."

You found no encouragement in that, for no part of it meant to encourage. You continue to writhe against him, pushing yourself back, only to be pressed against the prince's chest and urged forward. It didn't help that he shackled his hands on both of your wrists, preventing you from elbowing him away.

Though your hair was braided to the side, you still manage to whip it to Daemon's face in your attempt to free yourself, only causing him to be more impatient. You could not help the harrowing shriek that left you when he ultimately brought you to the beast's maw, and the said creature pressed himself against your chest to sniff you.

Caraxes rips away and shakes his head at your piercing reaction. He shrieks in like, as if disapproving, or showing offence. He must exact appropriate retaliation. He draws a deep breath, readying to set you ablaze. Daemon would have let him, had he not been a direct target of his mount's wrath, "keligon, Caraxes!"

Caraxes hisses.

"Keligon!" Stop!

He does not enjoy the order, exemplified by the way he licked his teeth, but obeys, nonetheless. He roars one last time, spit sputtering onto your face as he does. It's enough to make you finally lose your resolve.

You cease your wrangling and find yourself going limp in his arms. Daemon is pleased. He can finally drag you on dragon-back and torment you even more mid-air. What he did not know, however, was that your stomach was tingling; it was not that of the usual dread so familiar to you, but twas familiar still.

Daemon takes you by the arm and tries to make you climb up to the saddle, but then he stills when he hears the sound you make. He pulls away just before the acid from your stomach rushes out of your mouth. You retch so much it comes out of your nose, and you feel yourself grow lightheaded.

"Fucking gods," Daemon recoils in disgust. He turns to one of the dragon keepers and orders you away.

The dragon keeper, who looked far older than your father, spoke to you in a language you could not make out. You understand the part where he says maester as he leads you out of the pit. You manage to convey you no longer needed his assistance once you were out and walked off by yourself. You flinch and shriek when Daemon takes off on Caraxes.

You do not go to the maester's, instead, you have your servants draw you a warm bath and stay in it until it is cold. Only then do you scrub your skin until it is tender.

Once you were clean, you looked for the only person in the world that did not use your name interchangeably with hysteria: your twin.

"That uliginous blinkard," Gwayne slashes the dummy before him. You watch him pace from the bench you were sat upon. "He is incapable of procuring a morsel of dignity out of his wretched existence."

You clench you jaw when he chucks his sword to the ground.

"I should smother him in his sleep."

The thought chills you.

"But then I would be no better than he, would I not?" he seethes as he walks to your side, grabbing the towel beside you.

He wipes his face. You look up at him, a line forming between your brows, "remember you are my confidant, not my vindicator."

"If not I," he chucks his towel back beside you, "then who?" His forehead wrinkles, "an affront to my twin is worse than one to myself."

"Then you would know better than anyone that I share your sentiment," you grab his arm, hoping to calm him down.

His face is hard. He pushes your hand away.

You sigh, "and you know well that I suffer more in circumstances where you've acted on my behalf."

He clenches his jaw. He draws a deep breath and denies the thought with the shake of his head, "father will not hold it against-"

"Father holds everything against me," your eyes instantly water, "he would not be our father if he did not."

Your twin has never spoken your name any other way but in gentleness, yet it is precisely why it chips you apart. Gwayne continues, "be it as it may, but I do not believe that he gave to the prince— certainly not willingly."

You laugh and lift your countenance to the sky. Tears fall from the corner of your eyes, down your ears and neck, "does it matter?"

"It does," he urges, "he fought for you."

"He does not fight for me," you turn back to him, "allow yourself to come to terms with it as I have. It will hurt you less."

Gwayne does not manage a response as someone else speaks in that moment. The way you both tense at the sound is that of instinct.

"You vomited in the dragon pit?"

You turn over your shoulder and shoot up from where you sat. You watch as your father walks towards you. He places a hand on your neck and looks you up and down, "did the prince jostle you so on his ride?"

His touch is like a searing rod against your skin, his eyes, even worse. The raised hairs on your neck remain even as he pulls away. You quietly retort, "I did not even touch his saddle."

"Oh," Otto raises his brows, "then perhaps your affliction is that of you carrying."

Carrying?

Both you and Gwayne are mortified by the idea. You stutter, "s-surely it is not that quick."

"The blood of the dragon runs hot," he sighs, "as he would so boldly proclaim."

Your face burns upon hearing this.

Your father looks past you, "take your sister to the maester at once."

"No, I-"

"Make sure that she is good condition and take note of what will be instructed of her."

"That is not-"

"I am sure she will be required to take further precautions because of her affli-"

"We did not!" you blurt, finally regaining the attention of your father.

Your heart races as Otto looks at you. Suddenly, you are like a deer shot by an arrow, pained and powerless. He is annoyed that you interrupted him, only to say nothing. He presses, "we did not what?"

You take a strangled breath before reply, "we... did not consummate ou-"

"You what?!" he steps forward.

Gwayne immediately takes your arm, eager to get between you two, "father-"

But Otto does the same and pulls you toward him, "you did not consummate, or you did not want to consummate your marriage?"

Gwayne's hold on you falters. Your saliva lumps in your throat, "I-"

"You do understand the consequences if you do not bear your husband heirs, correct?"

You turn to your feet, unable to hold his heated glare, "I-"

"Look at me when I speak to you," he shakes you.

You lift your eyes, and hot tears begin to rush down your face.

"You've proven your point, father," Gwayne blurts, "release her."

"Release her?" Otto redirects his ire. Though he does just that, release you, it feels as though an iron clamp around your neck replaces your father's hold. "Even if I were to release her, boy, your dearest twin sister will not be free of the truth," he turns back to you, "nor my point. Your failure to do what is necessary will lead you straight into the dragon's belly."

You clench your jaw tighter than anyone should.

"Do you understand, girl?"

You nod before you allow yourself to breathe. You blurt, "yes, my lord."

Otto looks you once over before turning and walking away. The moment he is out of sight, you fold like a deck of cards, and Gwayne must keep you upright.

He hushes you and sits you back down. He kneels in front of you, observing if you were about to collapse into another episode. You do not, for he was with you, but you do weep until tears could no longer fall. He leads you to your room after this and urges you to rest.

You repeat the prayer you prayed on your wedding night before you sleep.

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nyrasvoid · 5 months ago

Text

A Knight’s Prize pt.3

Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: the princess Velaryon marries Gwayne Hightower and their wedding night is filled with passion and lust.

Warnings: smut, it’s all really fluffy but there is some teasing, also a little bit of teasing in public, morning sex, riding, and idk if there’s anything else 🤸🏽‍♂️

A/N: just two horny mfs on their wedding day 🎀🧸 btw I had so much trouble looking up how weddings were in westeros under the faith of the seven cs some ppl said they exchanged rings and others that they didn’t, so I just went with the cloak exchange cs it’s what we see in GOT

- Word count: ≈1.9k words

Part 1 Part 2

The tension in the Red Keep was noticeable.

The moment you stepped into your mother's chambers, you could feel the weight of their gazes on you.

"Mother, Uncle," you greeted them, knowing that this conversation was inevitable.

Rhaenyra stepped forward, her expression softening as she reached out to touch your arm. "My daughter," she began, her voice filled with worry, "we need to talk about Ser Gwayne."

"I know what you're going to say," you replied quietly, "but my mind is made up."

Daemon scoffed from his place by the window, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Made up? You've barely known him a fortnight, and you're ready to throw yourself to the Hightowers?"

Rhaenyra shot him a warning glance before turning her attention back to you. "It's not just about Ser Gwayne" she said gently. "It's about his family, their ambitions. Otto Hightower has never hidden his desire to see his blood on the throne, and now he's using you to accomplish his plans."

You stiffened at her words, "I overheard them, Mother. I know what they're planning. But I also know that Ser Gwayne is not like them. He's different."

Daemon's laughter was filled with sarcasm. "Different? They're all the same, playing their little games for power. And you-" he paused, stepping closer to you, "— you're the prize they're all reaching for. Do you want to be a pawn in their game, niece?"

"No, Uncle. But I refuse to be a pawn in anyone's game; not theirs, not even yours."

Rhaenyra sighed, her hand dropping from your arm. "We only want what's best for you," she said softly. "You're a dragon, my daughter. You deserve to be with someone who sees you as my than just a tool for power." she said softly

"And he does," you insisted, meeting her gaze. "Ser Gwayne is sincere. He will be a good husband, and I will make this marriage my own. I won't let them control me. We both want this to be more than a political arrangement.”

Daemon shook his head "You're making a mistake," he warned. "But it's your life to ruin."

"If this is truly what you want..." he continued.

"It is," you replied firmly.

Your mother sighed deeply, her shoulders sagging in defeat. "Then we won't stand in your way," she said quietly. "But know this, my daughter if you ever need us, we will be here. Always."

You nodded, “I know you are, you will still be my family, my blood.”

The evening of your wedding was a storm of emotions. The grand hall was filled with the lords and ladies of the realm.

At the entrance of the sept, you stood in your wedding gown, the gown itself was a delicate shade of white, adorned with gold embroidery.

Over this, you wore a blue cloak, the color of House Velaryon, a symbol of your heritage and the life you were leaving behind.

Since your father, Laenor, couldn’t walk you down the aisle, your uncle did it.

Daemon Targaryen, stood beside you, his gaze steady, filled with pride as he lead you towards the altar.

The guests rise to their feet as you approach. At the end of the aisle, Ser Gwayne awaits, his eyes locked on you. His dark green cloak, the colors of House Hightower, rests over his shoulders, symbolizing the new life you will be joining.

As you reach the altar, the septon, steps forward. The ceremony begins with a prayer, invoking the blessings of the Seven.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger,” the septon says, calling upon the Seven to witness this union. “We gather in your sight to bless this marriage, that it may be strong and enduring.”

You and Gwayne face each other, the moment arrived for you to recite your vows.

Gwayne begins, “I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

At the same time, you respond, “I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

The septon then instructs “You may now kiss the bride”.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Gwayne leans in, his gaze never leaving yours. His lips meet yours in a tender kiss.

The guests rise as you both turn to face them, their applause ringing through the sept.

When the ceremony was over, the feast began. The hall was filled with the sound of laughter and music.

Gwayne leaned in, his voice low. "You are radiant tonight, Princess," he murmured, his hand resting on yours.

He looks at you, his voice soft as he asks, “Would you honor me with a dance, my lovely wife?”

This time, you don’t hesitate. “Of course I will, my dear lord husband,” you reply, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor.

But just as you begin to relax, flowing to the rythm of the music, you hear a familiar voice.

“Such a lovely couple,” says Lord Otto Hightower. “It warms my heart to see you both so happy.”

You tense as you hold Gwayne tighter, as if he would run away if you didn’t.

“Thank you, Father,” he replies, his voice calm. “We are indeed fortunate to have found each other.”

Lord Otto smiles, “Indeed,” he says, his gaze lingering on you. “I trust that you will both make our house proud.”

After your dance with Gwayne, you return to your seat beside your husband. The hall is alive with the sounds of joy, but your attention is solely on the man next to you.

You lean closer, your voice a soft murmur. “You danced so well tonight, Gwayne. I almost forgot why I was avoiding you the other day.”

“Ah, so you admit to avoiding me? And here I thought you were just eager to dance with Ser Loras.” Gwayne said with a false indignation.

You smirk, your hand brushing against his thigh under the table. “Perhaps I was just trying to make you jealous.”

His gaze drops to where your hand lingers. “Is that so? And did it work?”

You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper teasingly, “I do not know. You tell me,” he looked back at you and smirked.

You continued “but I think you have more to offer than just jealousy. And now I can’t help but wonder what other talents you might be hiding.”

“Is that so? Perhaps you’d like to explore those talents further?” Gwayne whispered in your ear teasingly.

You leaned in, “Mayhaps I do.”

His eyes filled with desire at your words, and he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Shall we retire, my lady wife?" he asked.

You nodded, as he stood, offering you his hand.

Together, you left the grand hall, the eyes of the court following your every move as you made your way to your chambers

The moment the door to your chambers closed behind you, the atmosphere changed.

The formalities of the court were left outside, replaced by a fierce carnal desire for each other.

Gwayne turned to you, his eyes burning with a desire that mirrored your own.

"Princess," he began, "you've bewitched me. I've thought of nothing but this moment since I first laid eyes on you."

Your heart raced at his words, "And I you, Gwayne," you whispered, stepping closer to him. "I've wanted you from the very start."

He reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek. "You are the most beautiful woman l've ever seen," he breathed, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "And now you're mine."

You closed the distance between you, your lips crashing together in a kiss that was both desperate and sweet. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as his boner pressed against your crotch.

"Say it again," you murmured against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Tell me l'm yours.” You started kissing him down his jaw all the way to his neck.

"You're mine," he murmured, his voice filled with possessiveness. "All mine."

He obliged, pulling away just long enough to strip off his clothes, revealing his lean body.

You reached out, your hands trembling as they helped Gwayne take off his clothes. "Gods, Gwayne," you whispered, "You're magnificent."

His hands moved to your gown, untying the laces with a "Let me see you," he begged, his voice filled with desire. "I need to see you."

You stepped back, letting the gown fall to the floor, leaving you bare before him. The look in his eyes was one of pure adoration, as if he were looking at a goddess.

"Perfection," he breathed, stepping closer and pulling you against him. "You're perfect."

You gasped as his hands roamed over your bare chest, exploring every inch of your skin.

"Gwayne," you moaned, your head falling back as he kissed his way down your neck. "I need you, now."

He didn't hesitate, lifting you into his arms and carrying you to the bed, laying you down gently as if you were made of glass. "I've waited so long for this," he whispered. "But now that I have you, I want to savor every moment."

You reached out, your fingers wrapping around his wrist as you pulled his hand down between your legs. "Please," you begged, "Don't make me wait any longer."

He positioned himself over you, his body pressing against yours, as he rubbed your clit. “I'll give you everything," he promised. "Everything you want, everything you need.”

When he finally entered you, it was like everything else around you disappeared, leaving only the two of you in the heat of the moment.

The feeling of him inside you, filling you completely, was overwhelming, and you cried out his name, your nails digging into his back as you clung to him.

"Gods," he groaned, as he began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful. "You feel like heaven, my love."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you as he sped his thrusts.

"Gwayne," you moaned, your voice filled with need. "You're everything. You're all I've ever wanted.”

His pace quickened at your words, his breath against your ear as he whispered, "And you're mine. My love, my life, my everything."

Every touch, every kiss, was a promise, a declaration of love that needed no words.

"Tell me you're mine," his voice filled with desperation.

"I'm yours," you moaned, your body arching against his as you reached your climax. "Always yours."

When you finally came, it was like an explosion, it felt way better than when you did it yourself. He followed soon after, his seed filling you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the only sound in the room were your gasps for air. He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms and holding you close as if he never wanted to let you go.

“You’re mine” he whispered one last time.

“And you’re mine” you replied, as you curled up on his chest.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the politics of the realm, not the disapproval of your family, not the future that awaited you.

All that mattered was the man beside you.

The first first ray of light came through your chamber’s window. You turned beneath the silky sheets, the warmth of Gwayne’s body pressing against you, his arm resting over your waist.

The memories of the night before remained in your mind. How he had made you his, worshipped you, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

You turned slightly, feeling his jaw against your cheek, as he pressed a kiss to your neck.

“Good morning, my lady.” he said against the crook of your neck, while his eyes were still closed.

A smile played on your lips as you turned around to face him. “Good morning, husband” you replied, your voice teasing.

Gwayne’s eyes, bright with mischief, roamed over your face before settling on your lips. “I’m not sure if I told you enough last night how beautiful you are,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the line of your lips.

“You told me plenty,” you said, though your heart skipped a beat as his hand slipped lower, brushing over of your hip.

“Not enough,” he insisted, “I think I need to remind you.”

Before you could respond, Gwayne rolled you onto your back, hanging over you. His lips found yours in a kiss that started slow, deepening as you arched into him.

“I think you’re just looking for an excuse to delay our departure,” you teased between kisses.

“Can you blame me?” he asked, “Leaving this bed is the last thing I want to do right now.”

Without breaking the kiss, you pushed against his chest, gesturing him to lie back. His eyes widened in surprise, but a smirk appeard on his lips. “Taking control, are we?” he murmured.

“Someone has to,” you replied, positioning yourself on top of his hips. The feeling of him, hard and ready beneath you, made you wet. You took a moment to savor the sight of him, laid out beneath you, before leaning down to kiss him as he made his way inside you.

Gwayne groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you began to move, slow at first.

His eyes locked onto yours. “You’re incredible,” he breathed. “Gods, you’re perfect.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the praise, your movements quickening. Every touch, every word from him only elevated your desire, pushing you closer and closer to your climax. You rode him like your life depended on it, your bodies moving in perfect sync, the room filled with your moans and gasps.

“Gwayne,” you gasped, as you felt yourself close to your climax.

He captured your lips in a desperate, hungry kiss. “Come for me,” he murmured against your mouth. “Let me feel you.”

His words pushed you over the edge, your body collapsing on top is his. Gwayne didn’t last long before he joined you in your climax.

For a long moment, you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, eventually, you rolled off him, collapsing onto the bed right next to him.

“I could get used to waking up like this,” he said, with a soft smile.

You smiled back, reaching out to cup his cheek. “So could I,” you replied softly.

Gwayne seemed to sense your change in mood, his brow furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

You sighed, “I don’t want to leave. Or rather, I don’t want to say goodbye to my family.”

He nodded “It’s never easy, but you know they’ll be alright. And we’ll return soon enough.”

“I know,” you whispered, though the thought of leaving your mother and brothers behind still hurt you. “It’s just…we’ve always been together. And now…”

Gwayne leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re not losing them,” he murmured. “You’re just starting a new life. And I promise you, we’ll come back as often as we can.”

You nodded, “You’re right,” you said, forcing a small smile. “I’ll just miss them.”

“And they’ll miss you,” Gwayne replied, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “But they’re proud of you, and they know you’re where you need to be.”

With a sigh, you pushed yourself up, slipping out of bed and reaching for the clothes that had been laid out for you. Gwayne watched you for a moment before following, the two of you dressing in silence.

As you tied the laces on your gown, you glanced over at him. “Ready?” he asked, extending a hand to you.

You took his hand, squeezing it gently. “As I’ll ever be.”

Together, you left the chamber, to say your goodbyes. You and Gwayne make your way to the courtyard. You embrace your mother and brothers, your voice trembling as you promise to write often and visit as much as you can.

Gwayne takes your hand gently, guiding you towards the carriage. With one last look back, you wave towards your family and you set off for Oldtown, hoping to live a good life filled with love.

PS: Im pretty sure this will be the last part, maybeeeee I will write another one with a time jump where they have children or something with the dance and choosing sides but idk.

#gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne fanfic #gwayne x you #gwayne hightower fanfic #ser gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne x reader #gwayne imagine #gwayne hightower #hotd x reader #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd season 2 #fanfiction

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illyrianbrat · 6 months ago

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Queen's Envoy

Pairing: (fancast) Benjicot Blackwood & Velaryon female!reader

Plot: The Princess is sent as an envoy to get more allies. She is tasked with treating lords in the Riverlands. As she finds herself far from home, she discovers a certain Blackwood boy, who isn't as scary as she thought.

Warnings: typical westeros stuff, badly written panic attack, losing consciousness, being carried (no weight mention tho)

N/A: thanks to my friend and grammarly cause i had such a huge mess

“Prince Jacaerys will fly north. First to the Eyrie to see my mother's cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn, and then to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will fly south to Storm's End and treat with Lord Borros Baratheon. And Princess Name will fly west to Raventree Hall and treat with Lord Blackwood. We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore.”

Rhaenyra saw how her children talked in the distance, as they were getting ready to depart. Name held Luke's hand and chuckled softly at something he said. The Queen’s heart ached as they embraced, expressing good wishes and mentioning how they would eat by the beach when they all returned.

Flying to the Riverlands was not an issue. As they flew over forests, [Name] rehearsed what she would say out loud. She would speak of uniting the realm, strength, and the promise of a good queen. During his reign, Viserys Targaryen named Rhaenyra as his heir, but the Hightowers were now threatening her claim. The support of the Riverlords was crucial for the cause and [Name] knew this.

Goldwing descended on a small clearing of flowers, allowing [Name] to slide down his wing. She caressed the dragon's face, glad that they arrived safely.

She glanced around, seeing how a group of men were pointing at them in the distance. [Name] heart began to race as she clutched the dagger Daemon insisted she had to take. Goldwing stood tall, protecting his rider.

“We mean no harm,” one of the men said, now at a talking distance. They were all staring at Goldwing in awe, they had never seen a dragon.

“What do you want, girl?” The other asked with curiosity.

“I am here to see Lord Blackwood.”

Their expressions turned from amazement to worry as a guy walked towards her with a crazed, yet amused look. “And who is looking for him?” He eyed her shamelessly, not missing the intricate details in the riding leathers she wore.

“Princess [Name] Velaryon,” she revealed proudly, not allowing herself to feel intimidated.

The boys fell silent, shock evident on their faces. They never expected to see a princess in the Riverlands. The boy cleared his throat and lightly scratched his brow, uncomfortable with his crude behavior. "My name is Benjicot Blackwood," he said. "But I can guide you to Raventree Hall if you'd like to speak with my father."

“Thank you,” [Name] smiled kindly.

They walked quietly, [Name] was enjoying the smell of nature and the breeze. The air was crisp, as the sun had just risen not long ago. [Name] glanced at Ben from the corner of her eye, expecting him to speak about something, since he seemed like the type that would talk for hours. Ben, on the other hand, was very aware of [Name’s] presence beside him. She moved with grace and her eyes filled with wonder at her surroundings. He had never seen anyone like her, and her sudden appearance had sparked different emotions in him.

They eventually reached Raventree Hall. Everyone inside the walls stopped and stared, even murmured, about the unexpected visitor. As they approached the main hall, Ben finally broke the silence. "My father is a good man," he promised. "He will listen to you. No matter what you need, he can help you."

[Name] nodded, grateful for his reassurance. "Thank you, Ben," she replied softly. "I hope he listens. It's... it's important."

Ben gave a small, encouraging smile and pushed the door open, gesturing for [Name] to enter first. Perhaps this meeting would get a strong army to support her mother’s claim to the Iron Throne.

Raventree Hall was filled with laughter, clinking goblets, and loud chatter. Samwell Blackwood had reaffirmed his claim to support Rhaenyra Targaryen, the rightful heir.

Samwell sat on the high table, alongside his sister Alyssane and his son Benjicot. The boy, however, could not take his eyes off her. His admiration grew into a silent yearning.

As the evening grew late, Ben found himself drawn into conversations with the Princess. At first, he stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing. But [Name], sensing his nerves, engaged him in discussions about anything that crossed her mind.

Encouraged by her words, Ben found himself talking more freely. He recounted tales of his training, his support for her mother’s claim and of course, about fights he had with Bracken boys. Throughout the night, they shared stories and laughter. Others at the feast noted their conversation and exchanged glances, some smiling at the young boy’s naiveness.

As [Name] stood up to leave for the night, Ben grabbed her hand and spoke without thinking, “Princess, would you like a tour through the Riverlands?”

[Name’s] heart was pounding in her chest. “Of course, I would love that.”

Ben woke with the sun, excitement coursing through him.

After getting dressed, he hurried through the castle to the guest chambers. As he knocked on the door, he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling shy.

There was no response from inside. Did she leave without me? He wondered as he knocked again, but still no answer. Glancing down the hallway, he slowly opened the door.

[Name] was there, lying on the bed. "Princess?" Ben called out softly. She turned toward his voice, struggling to open her eyes. "Oh... I apologize for waking you," Ben said, now feeling like he had ruined everything. "We can speak later."

"No," [Name] protested, her voice groggy. Ben's heart fluttered, he thought that was adorable. "Let me get dressed. I will meet you by the gates."

Ben was talking a stroll through the gardens, waiting on [Name]. He was debating if he should give her a bouquet of wildflowers when the maester hurried towards him, a letter clutched in his hand. The urgency in his eyes made Ben’s heart drop. Accepting the letter, he noticed the seal of Dragonstone and felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He read the brief message: Prince Lucerys was dead.

He found her not far away, possibly on her way to meet him, lost in thought. Ben approached her slowly, the letter gripped tightly in his hand.

“[Name],” he called softly, trying to keep his voice calm.

She looked up, her face brightening before she saw his expression. “Ben, is something wrong?"

He stood in front of her, taking a deep breath. “I received a letter from Dragonstone,” he began, his voice heavy with pity. “It’s about your brother, Lucerys.”

[Name’s] eyes widened, a mix of fear and dread washing over her face. “What happened to Luke?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Ben handed her the letter, not trusting himself to tell her.

Her hands shook as she read it. She stared at him, her face draining of color. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, it can’t be true.” Her breathing grew rapid and shallow, her eyes wide with panic. “Luke...no...” she gasped, struggling to catch her breath. She stumbled, her movements frantic. “I need to get to him,” she cried, looking around desperately. “I need to go home.”

Ben reached out to steady her. “[Name], please,” he pleaded, but she was not hearing him. She broke free from his grasp, running towards Goldwing.

“No!” she shouted, her voice breaking. “I have to go to him!”

Goldwing lifted its head, sensing her distress. [Name] reached for the reins, her hands shaking uncontrollably. “We have to go,” she repeated, her voice frantic.

Before Ben could intervene, her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the ground. “[Name]!” he shouted, rushing to her side. Goldwing roared, eyes glowing with worry.

Ben cradled her in his arms, his heart pounding. Servants and guards came running after hearing the dragon, their faces filled with concern as Ben lifted her body and ran inside to the guest chambers.

Ben stayed by her bed after she was examined by the maester, holding her hand and watching over her. As he sat there, his heart ached, knowing that the pain of losing her brother was something no words could heal.

Hours later, a soft groan had alerted Ben that she had woken up. [Name] stared at the room, confused by her surroundings, before trying to stand up. “Easy,” he begged, pushing her back onto her pillow. “Please don’t stand up.

After some minutes of silence, [Name] rubbed her hands on her face. “I remember... my brother..."

“I know. I'm so sorry,” Ben grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently..

“I… what now?” She asked herself, starting to tear up.

“The maester said you can return to Dragonstone when you feel better,” Ben informed her.

[Name] nodded. “I do not think I can travel back alone,” she whispered to him, causing Ben to give her a reassuring smile.

“Then I can go with you,” Ben softly wiped the tears from her cheeks.

#benjicot blackwood imagine #benjicot blackwood x reader #fancast benjicot blackwood x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #davos blackwood imagine #davos blackwood x reader

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flowerandblood · 5 months ago

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The Price of Pride (1/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: the angst, kidnapping and imprisonment, abuse of power, violence, panic attack ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

It took him a long time to bring her to the Red Keep. Too long, to his frustration – while Aegon on his throne preferred to loudly announce to his subjects things he could not provide for them, he acted in silence, trying to ensure that he was always one step ahead of their sister-whore.

When Larys Strong's spies reported to them that Rhaenyra was seeking dragon seed among the bastards in King's Landing his brother laughed, but he, their mother and all the lords were horrified.

This meant that the slight advantage Vhagar had given them was going to be in vain, as she stood no chance in a confrontation with so many dragons.

Helaena was riding Dreamfyre, but at his words to move into battle with him she covered her ears and turned her head away, saying she would never burn anyone. Daeron's dragon was still too small, so that left him and Aegon, who was the King and could not die, on the battlefield.

That was not enough.

And then it dawned on him.

Rhea Royce must have been devastated after learning that her hated husband's seed had taken root in her womb. The whole kingdom knew that she and his uncle loathed each other sincerely, and while he stayed in King's Landing, she remained in Runestone.

He thought she certainly felt satisfaction when she gave him a daughter, although the Rough Prince wanted a son.

According to rumour, she was born accompanied by her mother's loud groans a few months apart after his own birth, and was supposed to be the reason Daemon waited with murdering her mother: he did not want the burden of caring for a newborn child to fall on him.

Though he would never admit it out loud, of the many lords or bastards born of dragon seed, his choice was guided not only by her close kinship to their family, but also by the fact that having her by his side could be a humiliation to his uncle, a show of his strength, prudence and sheer malice.

Of how dangerous he was not only because of Vhagar.

He had prepared an ambush for her with reverence, through Strong's spy network weaving servants close to her into his plan.

He had no idea what kind of woman she was, whether or not she resisted, whether or not she could wield a sword like her mother, but he received a letter weeks later that they had succeeded, and Daemon's daughter was heading for King's Landing against her will.

He felt a pleasant tingling in his fingertips at the thought of what he would be able to do with her: if he found her pretty and humble enough, if indeed she succeeded in taming a dragon, he could try to invalidate his betrothal to the Baratheon whore and allow her to receive the honour of bearing his heirs instead.

His own dragon inheritance.

When she finally arrived, she was, much to his mother's displeasure, placed in a dungeon – he wanted her to understand that her situation was serious and that any answer from her that did not satisfy him would end in one way.

Her death.

He went down to the underground with the guards and dismissed them when he stopped under her cell with the torch in his hand, its light exposed her face to him.

She was sitting on the ground with her knees tucked under her chin, her head raised towards him, the look of her eyes frustrated and grim, her dark brows arched in displeasure.

She was not afraid.

For now.

He looked at her figure from top to bottom, finding that he had imagined her differently: he had hoped to see any Targaryen features in her. However, her long hair was dark, her eyelashes long and black, like a fan surrounding her brown eyes, which were as big as those of a doe.

Clearly it was her mother's blood that prevailed, he thought with disappointment, however his face remained stony.

"Do you know who I am, woman?" He asked coldly, the corner of her mouth twitching, her gaze softening as if his words amused her, making him feel uneasy.

"It's hard not to guess." She replied without any pleasantries.

He licked his lower lip in a gesture of frustration, recognising that he would not allow himself to be verbally dominated by her.

He had to knock her off her guard.

"Do you understand why you're here?"

She sighed heavily, looking down at her fingers, suddenly tired and small, like a child who wanted to go to sleep already.

"Because of my father, I guess. You are wasting your time. I don't represent any value to him. He will not pact with you for my sake." She said, and he snorted, grinning broadly – she looked at him in surprise, as if she hadn't expected such a reaction from him.

"You are mistaken. We need your blood."

She shook her head, shocked by his words, raising her shoulders in a gesture as if trying to defend herself against what she just heard.

He liked the look of terror on her face, no doubt at the thought that they were about to cut her wrists open and drain her of blood like an animal.

"We will find one of the wild dragons hidden in the mountain caves and you will try to claim it. You will die, or you will succeed and join the war on our side." He said coldly, and she burst out laughing, as if she hadn't heard a greater foolishness in a long time, causing his jaw to clench in fury.

Stupid cunt.

"I know nothing about dragons or their riders and have no desire to learn about them. This, I think, is something that is destined for those endowed by the gods with white hair. I have no intention of sacrificing myself for your family. Behead me or burn me, but spare me this farce." She sneered, looking away, as if she thought she could get away with such impudent words.

She picked herself up and took a few steps back as he unlocked her cell and a moment later he was beside her, dropping the torch to the stone floor, grabbing her by the neck, her body and head hitting the wall hard.

He stared at her for a moment, listening to her heavy breath as if she was choking, panic in her big, brown eyes.

Fear suited her.

"Do you think I'm asking you for your opinion? You will serve me, and you will serve me well, or I will burn not you, but all of the fucking Vale. Only dust and ashes will be left of the people you knew. Is that what you want, my Lady?" He scoffed, and she shook her head quickly, her lower lip quivering all over, her small, soft hands clenched on his wrist.

He leaned over her, digging his fingers deeper into her delicate skin as if he wanted to break her neck.

"So we have an agreement, as I understand it?" He whispered, as if asking her a secret, something only he should hear.

Her eyebrows arched in pain, her plump lips parted in a deep, shuddering breath as she nodded, her warm gaze filled with pain and regret at the same time.

Was she now begging in her mind for her father to save her?

For him to come to her rescue?

The thought made him want to laugh.

"Mmm." He hummed, looking at her red eyes and full lips, feeling a strange kind of intimacy now that he could feel her veins, her blood, dragon's blood, pulsing under her bare skin.

Their shared heritage.

His seed was stronger than Daemon's, he thought with a confidence bordering on vanity.

Their children would have his white hair.

He felt arousal at that thought, his length pulsed softly in his breeches.

He let go of her, and she took a deep breath, sliding to the ground, clutching at her neck where he'd driven his fingers.

"You will be moved to one of the chambers. You will not lack anything. Serve me well and no more harm will befall you." He said in an offhand manner and simply left, satisfied with how childishly simple it was.

The women and their soft hearts, their despair at the thought that someone else might lose their life because of them, their eternal pondering and tenderness that made them so weak.

"I have heard of your success, brother. I was told we had a visitor in the Keep." Said Aegon, glancing at him, seated at the other end of the table, while his hand played with the marble green orb lying before him.

"Yes. She will obey us. I will personally prepare her." He said, resting his elbows on the table top.

The King laughed.

"You, brother? What does your beloved betrothed in Storm's End would say about it?" He sneered, glancing at the lords around them as if asking if his joke was in fact funny.

He grinned, trying to contain his anger and that familiar, unpleasant feeling of humiliation rippling through his chest.

"Who else would do this? You, with your superior knowledge of the language of Old Valyria will teach her commands and behaviour towards a wild dragon?" He asked, looking him straight in the eye.

His brother grew pale and swallowed hard, tense, feeling that he had lost this battle.

"Bring her in." He ordered.

Soon the door to the room opened, and she walked in, accompanied by the guards: she was wearing one of his mother's old brown gowns, its red sleeves reaching to the ground. Her hair was loose but not in disarray, falling gently down her back, as if she had not let any servant touch it and combed it herself.

"Come closer, cousin." Said Aegon with a smile, raising his hand and nodding, clearly wanting to encourage her.

She reluctantly took a few steps closer, looking around the assembled people anxiously, finally meeting his gaze – she stopped for a moment at his face, as if she was thinking hard about something, and then turned her head away, suddenly tired and resigned.

Good, he thought.

There was no need for her to stand up to him.

"We are overjoyed by your presence, even though you were brought here under not very pleasant circumstances. I hope you will quickly forget about these… discomforts and support us in our cause. My brother is extremely eager to prepare you for this." Aegon said, her lips twitching in a grimace that he didn't like when he mentioned him, but no words left her mouth.

"Are you not glad to face your father? Did he not forget you and abandon you for so many years?" Continued Aegon, their mother looked at him and shook her head, wanting him to stop.

She lifted her gaze to his brother-king and looked at him for a moment, her expression gentle and calm.

"I have nothing to say to you, cousin. Do with me what you wish."

A heavy, uncomfortable silence fell around them – he feared what Aegon would do with this insult – the fact that she had humiliated him by simply calling him her cousin, speaking to him without proper etiquette or manners.

Aegon pressed his lips together and leaned forward, as if thinking hard about something.

"Our family has forgotten you. Left you the fuck knows where, motherless and fatherless. And I am deeply sorry for it."

He looked at him shocked, not believing that he had said such a thing, apologised to her even though it was she who had offended him, and then looked at her face – her eyes turned red, her lips parted slightly, as if he had stuck a needle straight into her heart.

What was he doing?

Aegon spread himself comfortably in his chair with a loud creak of wood, smiling with satisfaction.

"You may leave."

He did not know why he had been furious all evening, why, bent over the maps of Westeros, planning his fucking war, he had been unable to focus or calm himself.

He knew why his brother had done it: he wanted to bond with her, to show him that he was the one she would obey, that he was in control of the situation, that he was the King.

"Bring our prisoner." He ordered loudly so that the servant who was just taking the tray from his table heard it.

"As you wish, Your Highness."

When she walked into his chamber she stopped immediately behind the door, which closed behind her with a loud clatter. He glanced up at her dispassionately and looked again at the books he had taken from his shelves, which he had often browsed through as a child.

This was his legacy, not hers.

But he had to do it.

"Come here. Sit down." He said dryly and after a moment he heard the rustling of her gown.

As she sat in the chair beside him he smelled her, some kind of oil that scented of field flowers, chamomile or daisies, and he thought that she had taken a bath.

Something in that thought, in the idea of her bare, soft body sunk in the warm water, made his manhood throb pleasantly, tingling heat spreading through his lower abdomen.

He moved one of the books towards her, open to the page on which was written what he wanted to discuss with her.

"Can you read?" He asked coldly, and she threw him a look from which he felt like grabbing her cheeks and shaking that little head of hers.

She didn't answer, which frustrated him even more, clutching the volume in her hands and leaning over it, following the text with her eyes.

So she could read, he thought mockingly.

"The dragons understand the language of Old Valyria, and this is how the dragon riders communicate with them. You have to learn to speak the commands properly." He sighed, running his hand over his face, feeling tired and discouraged.

"Dohaerās means serve. Rȳbās means listen. These are the most important words, right next to Lykirī, which commands a dragon to remain calm." He said, tilting his head back, closing his eyes. "Repeat."

Silence.

He pressed his lips together, opening his eyes, thinking he was about to kill her with his own hands.

He looked at her, wanting to hiss to her that he was going to slam her head against the table until she dutifully recited each of the words he was ordering her to repeat but his voice stuck in his throat when he saw the look on her face.

He had the impression that although she froze in stillness, her whole body was quivering, as if she was cold.

Her eyes were open wide in fear, and even though her lips were pressed into a thin line she was breathing heavily, as if she were suffocating, her fingers clenched on the back of the book.

Was it possible that she had heard these words before, had read a book similar to this?

Did Daemon try to teach her the language of Old Valyria when she was a child?

He didn't know what he should do, feeling that if he touched her she would just fall apart, so he merely looked at her, wondering how such a person was supposed to tame a dragon.

He rose from his seat as if burned, snapped out of his reverie when her eyes rolled back and she simply fainted, her body, numb and heavy slid to the floor beneath their feet.

He circled the table and knelt beside her, slapping his palm against her cheek in an attempt to revive her, but she did not wake up.

"Bring the Maester, quickly!" He called out and cursed loudly, restraining himself from screaming with rage.

"What have you done to her?" His mother hissed quietly, so that only he could hear it while the Maester examined her.

He turned his face away and shook his head, wondering if everyone in this damned fortress was against him.

After all, he was doing this for them.

For their family.

"Nothing. She was only supposed to read a few words. I didn't even touch her." He growled, his hands intertwined behind his back clenched into a fist.

Why didn't she trust him?

Why was she looking at him like this, as if she didn't recognise him?

Hadn't he always been faithful to her?

"What words? What did you say to her?"

"Words in Old Valyrian, nothing more. She must learn it if she is not to burn in the dragon fire, and our efforts are not to be in vain." He scoffed impatiently.

"We do not know what Daemon did to her. Whether she saw her mother die."

"I don't care what he did to her or what she saw." He said, throwing her a look from which she froze. "We have an agreement and she knows what will happen if she doesn't fulfill it."

"What will happen? You'll burn the Vale?" Alicent asked with a sneer, and he pressed his lips together, feeling a terrible, piercing shame.

"She will stay in my care tonight. Don't go near her until she recovers." She told him and stepped around him.

He felt as if she had slapped him in the face so he left, not wanting anyone to see the burning tears of disappointment that had gathered under his eyelids.

He didn't let them flow.

He was not weak.

He was not like her.

He was not like Aegon.

He was not like his father.

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year ago

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The Blood is Rare

Summary: Aemond has always loathed his niece, and the feeling is very much mutual | Words: 3.3k | Warnings below the cut!

Warnings: a lot of talk of illegitimacy, hatefucking, dubcon, choking, slight knife play, biting, bitta blood, incest (character is described with strong features), p in v sex, baby trapping?

There was no plate at his spot at the table. No knife to tempt him. He would not break bread with those he could not trust.

Like an animal atop high ground, he sits rigid at the head of the table, on the outside unnervingly calm. But he watches with a keen eye the prey that sits at the other end.

She shares many features with her mother. His whore-sister. Her stubbornness, her determined gaze and the nervous twisting of the rings on each of her fingers into the bargain.

Had she not the dark brown, near-black shade of waved hair atop her head and bright, clear blue eyes of the former Commander of the City Watch, his niece and his sister would look nearly identical.

Unfortunately, they both shared his hatred for them as well.

He loathed the idea of them all. The birth of one mere brown-haired bastard was enough, and yet there were three of them, sat together in unification, as if to put up defences against the opposite side of the table, dotted with the moonlight-silver of Alicent Hightower’s children.

He smirked at the thought that she came mere hours after Jace. That she was unplanned. Unwanted. And yet here she existed, sitting with her eyes fixed on a flickering candle, trying to drown out the laughs, smiles and the oddity that was all of them all gathered together, enjoying one another’s company.

He knew as well as she did. It was the only thing they had in common. That they could see through this charade.

Aemond wondered if she had always seen it. Understood it. The strife that would happen between them. Perhaps she was a dreamer and could envisage the future before it had even happened.

She was a melancholic, hateful little thing. Born with fire and fury.

He supposed if anything, she was still the daughter of a Targaryen.

Aemond swore she was a witch of sorts. For she must have felt his gaze on her, and her clear eyes were illuminated by the dancing flame as they met him. Her expression unchanged.

His smirk grew that they felt the same about each other.

He was the cunt son of Alicent Hightower.

And she was the Strong bastard of his whore-sister.

Not breaking eye contact, she raised her chin, looking down at him over her nose, huffing as she turned away to sip from the cup on her small, delicate fingers.

Stuck up cunt.

The atmosphere shifted considerably as Viserys groaned, a frail hand raised to the injured portion of his face, to which Aemond felt a sick sense of delight. The guards swiftly carried him away by each corner of his chair.

And the gap between Rhaenyra and Alicent seemed to push each side away further. Irreparably so.

His niece did not appreciate his tribute to her and her brothers.

Throughout the evening, she had said few words apart from mumbled whispers to Daemon on her right and Luke on her left. But when Aemond stood to speak, he revelled in her undivided attention. In those angry eyes, he saw not only a loathing for him, but a loathing at the truth of what she was.

A loathing that he was right, and she knew it.

She seemed almost as disappointed as her mother when Jace struck him weakly.

And before Daemon could place himself between the warring factions of their family, he watched the Strong Princess march angrily away, her skirts in her hands, flashing a stern glare before she left.

Her eyes were all he could think about, with her face anchored in the firm grip of his fingers.

He thought she was so small and fragile, that he could just squeeze and break her little jaw, her bones clattering between his fingers like pebbles. And yet she still looked at him with such fire, that only one of Targaryen blood would be able to throw.

She looked at him like he was the most loathsome creature she had ever seen.

The passageway Aemond had her cornered into was stifling and suffocating, forcing them to breathe the same humid air in anger. He saw her face redden where he had her in his grasp, her glossy lips slightly parted to breathe.

“I will extend you the courtesy of assuming there is a very good reason why you have your hands on me like this, Uncle.”

He almost wants to laugh right in her face, despite what she said not meaning to be funny. She is so frail, and yet roars so loudly.

“There is.”

Her jaw muscles tighten in frustration, shuffling backwards though there is nowhere to go.

“Then, I dare say your reason will not be good enough.”

Aemond allows his gaze to roam over her face. Up close, she really and truly is the picture of her mother, with her father's unfortunate features to her disadvantage in her colouring.

“I merely wished to see the colour of your eyes, mandianna.”

“To make some cruel jape no less, I am sure.”

He grins at the way she takes a sharp breath when he tugs her face towards him slightly. And he swears he sees the pupils within the clear blue of her eyes widen as he does, and wonders if he is having the same effect swelling at the forbidden place between her thighs.

“You wound me, sweet niece. A man cannot simply appreciate the beauty of a woman? Does there always have to be some cruel intent?”

“With you, there must be.”

He somewhat loosens his grip on her face, fingers trailing down her neck, the glint of her earrings catching his eye. She visibly shivers at his touch there.

The most venomous expression sits on her face, and she does not miss a beat. Too clever and witty for her own good.

“Do not insult my intelligence, Uncle. I know what depraved thoughts bat around inside your head, and they are not original. A family trait perhaps.”

He hums, more amused than curious, but perhaps with a smattering of both, “And what of you?”

Her perfect little lips part to speak before his thumb trails down the column of her throat, long fingers wrapped around her neck to her nape. The threat of what he could do making her go quiet.

“What depraved thoughts bat around in your head, sweet niece?”

Silence wraps around them like a rope, tightening with the fibres cracking against their skin. Hot and suffocating all at once. And all Aemond can hear is the steady rhythm of her breathing, his eye wandering down to the necklace perched on her chest as her lungs erratically suck in air.

“It is treason to question my virtue.”

She swallows as his thumb presses on the centre of her throat, as if testing if she is indeed real.

“It may be treason to question your virtue, but it is not treason to question your honesty,” he replies coolly. Aemond can feel her pulse fluttering beneath her skin, the barely-contained rage on her face hidden only by a blanket of courtesy, “a maiden does not allow herself to be alone like this with another man.”

Aemond found himself, a man who had sparred with Ser Criston Cole for a large portion of his life, a man who as a child had claimed the largest dragon in the world and a man who had dealt with the burning pain of losing his eye, and the shame that he carried alongside it, was shocked into brief silence when his niece’s small, delicate palm echoed off his cheek.

It was not the force of it that stunned him so, but rather the shock that she had chosen to do it, with his hand around her neck and his frame blocking her escape.

The little dragon had felt threatened and given him a warning clip.

Aemond felt the warmth bloom on his cheek and smirked. She had slapped him on his bad side, where she knew it would sting the most. For a split second, white, hot pain nipped at the temples of his head as he turned back to face her, and saw that look on her face.

That she knew she’d made a mistake, but was too angry or proud to admit it.

Or perhaps she was both.

Excitement wriggled and rolled in his stomach at the whimper that escaped her lips, using the force of his grip around her tiny throat to force her back, muscles and bones rolling against the stone walls where she was trapped, and those clear, curious eyes darting back at him with distaste. And he was pleased to see, a sprinkling of horror and panic.

“That was a mistake,” he mused, pressing himself closer to her, his hand firm around her throat despite her own attempting to pry them off him. His other hand reached down, shifting her up the cold wall, and gathered her heavy skirts in his palm, and rucked them frustratingly up towards her hip.

He revelled in the terror that crossed her face, a smirk winding its way to his sharp features.

“How exhilarating,” he pondered, “to take something that you are not willing to give.”

“I will scream”.

“Then scream. I will say it was you who seduced me,” he bit back, watching her face and expressions that crossed them, “And who will they believe? The King’s second son or the bastard daughter of a whore?”

He could feel her breath against his face, soothing the spot where she had struck him not a moment before. Aemond blinked slowly at the woman in his grip, apparently attempting to decide for herself whether it was worth the fight.

Or perhaps something else.

Aemond grinned, “like mother like daughter.”

And he enjoyed the fire it stoked in her eyes.

“You will let me go-”

He shook her neck in his grip, as if to make her be quiet. And it seemed to shock and scare her, for she closed her eyes to steel herself, “And then what will you do? Run? Scream? Or will you do something stupid enough to give me an excuse to make everything you’ve ever said about me, truth?”

Her jaw tightened looking at him, feeling cornered, but a strange ache between her thighs.

“You threaten me, Uncle?”

His dagger sliced the very air between them, pressing the tip to the column of her throat where his thumb had branded her not moments before, tracing the shape of her skin. His niece froze, her breath trembling and her head pressed to the wall, as if to try and pull herself feebly away from threat.

This very dagger was an extension of Aemond himself. As if his hand were still touching her but with a pointed edge. And he wondered if he sliced her skin, even just a little, would she bleed like him?

There was something there in her eyes as he looked between them. Her breath came in shallow gasps. And Aemond was willing to bet that deep down, beneath the demure veil she hides herself behind, peeking through, that she is wet and ready for him between her silky thighs.

“You are clever, dear niece,” he all but whispers, trailing the blade down to the neckline of her dress, the rich fabric yielding to it, “but not as clever as you think you are.”

She swallowed thickly as his blade teased the tied bindings to her dress, playing with the double-tied knots as if they were strings of a lute, and he was playing her easily. He plucked one, and then two, watching her face the entire time.

“You believe yourself a proper little Princess, do you not?” he asks, his voice low, almost feline in nature, his face so close to hers she can make out the stitchings of his eyepatch, “hair decorated with gold. Fingers adorned with rubies. Wrapped in lavish dresses.”

She flinched as he flicked his wrist, severing the second to last tie holding two sides of her gown together.

“But pull one little thread, and you unravel -” his tone deepens, forcing her to listen to every little syllable, his gaze boring into hers, “-and all you are…is a wanton, bastard, whore.”

She attempted to push his body away, but his dagger clattered to the floor, holding her easily by her wrists, near-painfully pressing them to the stone wall behind her. It happened so quickly. Lips, teeth and tongue fought as if in battle, and Aemond held her there for him, pressing his rapidly hardening length against her clothed womanhood, rolling his hips against hers to search for that delicious, forbidden friction.

It did not seem to him that she was fighting him, but rather fighting how he made her feel.

Her lips were velvety, moist and soft as his anchored hers apart to taste her, once having a split second’s worth it was never enough. Every little breath and whimper and he wanted to make them louder, make her submit, a part of him intoxicated by her when her teeth grazed his bottom lip, and bit on him, only for her tongue to soothe the area afterwards.

Aemond thought of what would happen, if he devoured her wholly, pressed so hard against her that it was difficult to fathom where either of them began and ended.

His lips moved along her jaw. She smelled of whatever oils were combed through her hair. Camomile and something sweet perhaps. Quickly his hand left her wrist to ruck her heavy skirts up to her waist, feeling her shiver at the touch he left behind with the brief touch of his fingertips where no man had touched before.

“Fight back,” Aemond dared, a mere whisper against her neck where he left his bruise-like mark.

He met her gaze, looking into her bright eyes and allowed his grip on her to slowly relax, waiting to see if she would push away. Scream and run, as she had previously promised. And while her jaw was still tense and eyes aflame with hostility, he swore he saw her pupils dilate.

“Just get on with it.”

The surging heat in his stomach distracted him briefly from acting cocky, his fingers fumbling to untie his breeches while keeping her elevated. And it felt as if his body was thinking before his mind when he looked between them to see her hefty skirts bunched at her hip, and one smooth leg on display, pulling his achingly hard cock free and tucking himself between the soft haven between her thighs.

She could pretend she desired him not all she liked, but when their gazes met in fire and fury, finding that in all of their fighting and struggling she was soaking wet, Aemond pushed against her entrance until she welcomed him, sliding within her tight, choking walls with a low groan batted against her neck.

She whined at both the intrusion and his tight grip on her thigh, one hand elevating it so that he could begin pushing up brutally into her. Shame rose to her cheeks as she closed her eyes tightly, finding the wet smack of their skin rousing that tightness in her belly.

It was both embarrassing and hateful that she found herself enjoying this, and that she let him first of all.

And all she could see above her when she opened her eyes was him, his lips parted to breath as if he was holding some beastly form of himself back, his hair spilling like rays of moonlight over his shoulders with every thrust into her weeping cunt and the way his lone eye never strayed from her expression, not for a second.

That is until Aemond felt as if not only he wanted to own her shame and her body, but wanted to show it too, and leaned forward to graze his teeth on the skin that was now exposed by the ever loosening shoulders of her dress, and sink his teeth in to mark her.

The sound that came from her was between a grunt and a moan, as his position changed the angle of his hips and the blunt head of his cock sparking pleasure deep inside her.

“Fucking…hate you…” is all she managed, feeling the top of his canine break the skin just slightly. Her voice clung to that flat, stoic hatred, and she hated that it sounded as if she were about to fall apart.

If it were possible, he increased the intensity of his movements, pushing up into her mercilessly and drawing feminine, soft whines from her mouth. Sounds he wasn't even sure before his niece was capable of making.

“I adore your fire, sweet niece,” he muses lowly, tracing her jaw with his lips, “I adore how much you think you hate me.”

She does hate him, she tries to think. But every thought that appears is swiftly batted away by the incessant rhythm of his cock pistoning in and out of her, the depraved sounds betraying how she truly feels. An internal war Aemond can clearly see.

“Do you like this? Do you like how much I hate you? How much I want to hurt you?”

Yes.

A thought rung in her mind that she wanted him to hurt her more, so that she could just feel something from him aside from the way he stretched her walls around him so deliciously.

The soreness of his girth is something she had not expected to be a problem, a lapse of thought that she will no doubt be paying for the next morning.

But this, this was a core lapse of morals, surely. Allowing him to do this to her.

His fingers dug into the flesh of her thigh, as if pulling her to meet his cock halfway, feeling the way his body shuddered at the closeness of completion evident on his face.

Aemond grinned wolfishly, “You like this. We both know it.”

He thrusted into her so forcefully that she had no choice but to hold onto him, clinging to his leather-clad shoulder tightly when he met her fleshy end, her insides involuntarily squeezing around him in both pain and pleasure.

His hand came to her neck, clamping down experimentally on her windpipe, and groaning deeply at the way her cunt sucked him in as he did. Forcing her chin up so those traitorous blue eyes met his, he grinned.

Hateful little cunt.

Her peak crept up her spine first, feeling as if the sensation was melting her muscles where they sat inside her body. And then her lips parted in a soundless scream, pitifully moving her hips towards his to encourage the feeling to crest until it rushed out of her with a feeble whine, “uncle…”

Not only was the feeling of her quivering, velvety walls enough to convince him, but the way she called him that while he was so deep inside her, threatening for relief, was so erotic it did not feel depraved in the slightest.

But nothing was better than that wide-eyed, colourful expression of panic, distaste, hate and anxiety when he deliberately planted his seed inside of her. Aemond was sure there was no better feeling, bad intentions or no, her blood felt good on him, his teeth and cock alike.

All he could imagine was what dynasty could be created from such a house of revulsion. To watch this hateful little creature swell with his child, a true Targaryen. Only to put on the same stoic, flat expression which he knew was untrue when he'd fuck her again, and again, and again.

What flame flickered under that expression of hers, he wondered. What stone was hidden in the centre of her peachy, soft exterior. A heart, perhaps.

She didn't have to like it, this dance between them. But when he put her down and watched his spend trickle down her thighs, he would have her come to love it.

She existed for this. Whatever it was. He was sure of that.

“Well, little dragon,” he whispered, “the bastard daughter of a whore, with another growing within her?”

She swallowed around his hand as he tugged her face closer to his.

“Or burn with me.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch@castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy

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missglaskin · 1 year ago

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Yan!HOTD Characters as Greek Gods

I want to thank @aphroditelovesu for giving me the inspiration, also side note do not take the gods canonical relationships literally

Viserys as Hades + God of the Underworld and the Dead

Viserys was a god who stood out from the gloomy darkness of his realm. The seat once shared by his beloved wife is now long dead with all the other souls. No temples were erected in his honor on the earthly soil, for the underworld served as his shrine. Still, Viserys lent many of his powers and crafts to help the other gods defeat their enemies, either it be a monster or a titan. When he needed to see his family, he would emerge to the earth itself. There a moral caught his eye.

Viserys spent a great deal of time observing your everyday life. He enjoyed catching on to all your little habits and tendencies. The god was prepared to wait until your life's string came to an end. In the mean time, all good things came your way. While he wouldn't be able to stop your death from happening, he can certainly make it as peaceful and painless as possible. Viserys will welcome you with the greatest warmth when you arrive in his realm, and you will be surrounded by servants who will carry out your every wish.

Just as he has done all those other times Viserys will give you the time and space you need to adjust to this new, strange world. Desiring your happiness, Viserys might let you visit Earth but only for a short time. The god can't go too long without you by his side. He detests the idea of using coercion to get what he wants, but Viserys must make sure you never leave him. It is a blessing that you are a mortal, completely unaware of the pomegranate seeds that are given to you.

Daemon as Ares + God of War and Courage

It was Daemon, out of all the gods, who was most frowned upon, the one with the endless list of foes. Many came to fear him and they had every reason to. For Daemon was a powerful god-quick to anger and raring for a fight regardless of the consequences. A jest spread among the gods was that Daemon's one and only true love was war itself. But what a shock it was to see the mortal in the god's arms. With his remarks and the severe violence he inflicted upon the mortals, Daemon, again and again demonstrated nothing but contempt and superiority over them.

Why you attracted the god of war's attention will forever remain a mystery. Could it be you had a fire inside of you that never went out or you had such a gentle soul that the god saw it as his duty to ruin you, or perhaps he saw you as a fair trade for one of his victories. Truthfully, Daemon himself is not fully sure what drew him to you. Still, the god comes to you, luring you in with lavish gifts and words sweet as honey. And if you aren’t compliant, the god sees no issue picking you up while you struggle to free yourself-screaming and clawing.

Daemon has no care for what other Olympian deities thought when he kept you near him. They were already not fond of him and he was amused to no end to see their frustration, even having you displayed seated on his lap. Your life with Daemon is strangely not as dull and miserable as one might anticipate. He will always be rough and harsh, but you are shown a rare side of gentleness. You may never know if the god truly loves you, but you can be sure that if someone takes what he views as his, he will go to war a hundred times over it.

Rhaenyra as Athena + Goddess of Wisdom and War

Rhaenyra is a goddess with pride. A great warrior. Rhaenyra does not, however, hold humankind in such low regard as the many gods who came before her. She saw herself as their protector and rewarded those who came to worship in her temple. But it's not as if she isn't dangerous. The goddess is unmerciful in her use of curses. Any offense or insult will result in a terrible fate. And what fate bestows upon you when the goddess herself watches you. Desiring you from the very moment she caught sight of you.

She is a master of disguise. Every word she spoke enticed you further and further into her grasp. There were the fleeting touches the goddess made to your skin to pique your desire. Her lips were painted with a smile that lowered your guard. You find yourself becoming a puppet as Rhaenyra hovers over you, pulling the strings to speak the words she wants you to hear, to touch her how she wants to be touched, and look at her how she wants to be gazed upon.

Rhaenyra never wants you to leave her realm. The goddess is ready to gift you whatever your heart desires, but the earth is no longer a place you can call home. Rhaenyra will never lay a hand on you; gentle and soft with you. The only times you no longer see your lover but the goddess of war is if you are foolish enough to believe you can get away from her. She won’t understand. Has she not dedicated herself to you. Has she not given you every ounce of her heart. Whatever the reason is, your place remains by her side and she will make sure you know of this.

Rhaenys as Hecate + Goddess of Magic and the Moon

Rhaenys, the goddess of sorcery and the moon, who her domain also extends to creatures of the night; particularly hounds and ghosts. She’s often seen accompanied by her black hounds, donning a long robe, holding burning torches. Neither was she evil, nor was she wholly benevolent, but she did reveal her nature through actions, rewarding loyalty among her followers. Captivated by your presence in her temple, the goddess of sorcery was drawn to your compassion and innocence. She found herself spending more time just observing you, enchanted by how your features glowed in the gentle embrace of moonlight.

Rhaenys has always been confident and assertive, when she’s certain that she desires you, she’ll do whatever it takes to have you by her side. However, she’ll stray away from using force. If she’ll seek your companionship, Rhaenys resolutes in waiting it be your choice, to love her the same rather than do it with instilling fear in you. Her introduction was gradual, allowing you to adapt in time to her presence. Much of this is involved in simple conversations, where she enjoys getting to know the little details of your life (even if she already knew most of it).

Instead of overwhelming you with extravagant gifts, she opted for small trinkets. And adding to the ease of your connection, Rhaenys’s mystical hounds display a fondness for you, allowing you to pet them. Even when you remain in her domain, Rhaenys remains steadfast in not forcing you to love her. She has all the patience as the goddess begins to slowly express her affection more openly with gentle caresses to your face as she presents you with more lavish gifts. Her patience was rewarded seeing how eager you are to spend every moment with her.

Corlys as Poseidon + God of the Sea and Waters

Not only was Corlys the god of the seas but also associated with earthquakes and horses. He stood out as a highly ambitious deity and known for his unwavering loyalty to Mount Olympus. Unlike some deities, Corlys is willing to engage with mortals, after all, they have a dependence on the seas for trade and travel. However, it’s also known that when dealing with the god of the sea, do not try to trick or cross him, for he has demonstrated a vengeful nature when felt insulted.

It was during your many ventures near the beach, having a profound love and fascination for the sea that you encountered the god of the sea. In your frequent visits, the shores yielded treasures ranging from the most beautiful seashells to even a literal pearl, a gift from the god. Upon making his presence known, Corlys takes matters into his own hands. Taking you to the temple beneath the sea as he cannot rely on chance encounters by the shore and it’ll save him all the trouble of finding you if you choose to never visit again.

Your place from now on remains with Corly’s temple. He has made promises to make you visit the shore from time to time once he’s confident you won’t attempt an escape. Eager to please, Corlys has an allure of lost treasures within his home, offering you any if you desire. He also takes great care to ensure your comfort, harboring no intention of causing harm or raising his voice. His desire is clear- to have you willingly at his side.

Laena as Aphrodite + Goddess of Love and Beauty

Laena was more than just being thegoddess of beauty and love; she was one of fertility, pleasure, and eternal youth. Occasionally she presided over marriage. Legends went so far as to attribute her beauty to being the cause of the Trojan War. Despite her being desired and adored by everyone, even capturing the affections of the infamous god of war himself, Laena's heart chose you; a mortal who didn’t seem all that extraordinary. But none of that mattered to the goddess of love, who found herself drawn to you, desiring nothing more than for you to share her boundless love and adoration.

When Laena first approached you, she displayed no hesitation in expressing her clear intentions of wanting to court you. Doves and sparrows seemed to fly around you. In the vicinity of your home, myrtles and roses bloomed abundantly and Laena took it upon herself to personally hand you the blossoms, alongside the most marvelous seashells. Whenever you expressed gratitude or attempted to deny her gifts out of politeness, Laena would firmly assure you that you deserved nothing but the best. As she would engage in conversations, Laena would hold your gaze, running her fingers on your cheek or shoulder with such tenderness.

Even after you became hers, Laena never stops showering you with praise and luscious gifts. The dresses she adorned you with were among the most lavish you had ever seen, and men would certainly go to war for the jewelry that adorned your skin. And for her home, which she claims is now your home too, she’s willing more than anything to accommodate any of your demands to make it all the more welcoming. Whether it’s placing all your favorite books or presenting you all your favorite foods. After all, you’re destined to spend the rest of your life with her.

Otto as Zeus + God of the Sky and Thunder

Otto stood as the god among gods, the force behind the establishment of order and justice in Olympus. It was his duty as king, to reign and ensure harmony throughout the divine realm. He had a number of children; it counted those that were outside of his marriage. Mortals and gods alike collectively averted their gaze, as the god of thunder desired to maintain an image of a prudent and a pious. And while like any god, he considered himself above mortal beings, he would observe them with keen interest.

Unfortunate for you, if you happened to catch his eye, resisting him was a futile endeavor. It began with him orchestrating ways to make your life more comfortable — discovering the lushest trees near your home, bearing the most delectable fruits you'd ever savor. An eagle, acting as his messenger, would shower you with all sorts of gifts, from fragrant olive oils to delicate silver coins and ivory trinkets. The weather seemed to dance to his whims, birds serenading under the radiant sun.

It was also his way to signal his presence, a silent acknowledgment a being beyond the mortal realms was watching. And when his presence becomes known, he vows to treasure you for eternity (hinting at what’ll become of your mortal life). It’s difficult to deny him with all the myriad blessings he bestowed upon you. Once you’re brought to his home, he will present you with a luxurious silk robe and servants who dutifully follow your every command. Even if you resist, his determination remains unswayed. As a god, time was his ally and he believed in due course, you would succumb to his temptations.

Alicent as Hera + Goddess of Marriage and Childhood

Alicent stood as the embodiment of matrimony and domestic life, a revered figure to whom women turned in prayer for the blessings of harmonious marriages, the safe return of their husbands, and in hopes of birthing a healthy child. Despite her attempts to project a demure demeanor, the goddess had a silent reputation for her jealousy and occasional vengefulness. Alicent had divine authority, navigating the intricate game of politics and perhaps that was why no one dared to question her decision to bring a mortal being along.

It was all under the reason of needing a servant though you were not yet married, still, no one dared to voice it. As her supposed servant, you were strangely exempt from menial tasks such as washing clothes or scrubbing the floor; such duties were deemed beneath you. Instead, the majority of your days were spent in the company of the goddess. You found yourself dressing and brushing Alicent’s hair as she shared her grievances about the perceived foolishness surrounding her court.

Your time was further consumed by tending to Hera’s children and grandchildren, and her strictures extended to where you were not permitted to eat meals with other servants. In truth, the goddess had little need for another servant. But you a mortal, had sought her prayer, coming to her temple wishing for a happy life for the arrangement your parents orchestrated for you. But Alicent had been watching you long before and you have become the object of her desire. She promised to find you a suitor but the intensity of her gaze and the uncanny resemblance between the necklace of hers and the one she gifted you hints at something beyond that.

Aegon II as Dionysus + God of Wine and Pleasure

Aegon is known for seemingly lazy nature and rarely being seen sober, he’s notorious for the wild parties and dramatic theaters he orchestrates. The many lovers he has are ones that no one bothers to learn their names, as they typically don’t linger beyond a day. The few bastards he fathered are not accounted for. When the god of wines comes upon you, there was an unmistakable eagerness to have you in his bed. While you and others are at no fault to assume that it was driven solely by lust, you soon find it unraveled beyond that.

As a mortal, the prospect of rejecting a god was not a reasonable one. His presence was suffocating with a possessive jealousy over your interactions with others and an incessant need for you to be near him. At times, he would pull you into his lap, craving for your affection and praise. Besides his constant need to have you share his bed at every turn, his lingering hands, and wanting your every attention, it’s not as terrible as one initially assumes.

The god of wine provided you with the sweetest food, accompanied of course by his signature wine. He adorned you in exquisite clothing, though in the privacy of his chambers, they were far more revealing and sheer. While it was somewhat accepted to have fleeting lovers for a day, appearing with you by his side on every occasion garnered disapproval from the other gods. However, Aegon was indifferent; no stranger to being considered a disappointment. You were the one thing he was sure of, even harboring a secret desire to make you immortal, hoping you don’t notice how different your wine tastes.

Helaena as Persephone + Goddess of Seasons and Vegetation

Helaena possessed a kind of gentleness that was unusual among the gods. She carried herself with such grace and consideration. Helaena grew up to be a lovely woman who caught the interest of gods and humans alike. With mortals, the goddess did not look down on them. If anything, Helaena seemed to see the goodness and beauty in them despite all of their flaws. It therefore comes as no great surprise when the goddess seems so enchanted by you-a simple mortal.

Helaena spent many days watching you. She possessed unending patience. What a fascinating sight you are. Deemed by the goddess to be the most beautiful being to ever walk this earth. Helaena cared nothing more than your happiness hence why you come home to a plethora of gifts and trinkets. It could be the most delicious fruit you've ever eaten or a dress the goddess sewed herself. And wherever you are, you found plants growing all around that never seem to wither-fruits and vegetables you never imagined would ever grow there.

Helaena was content as long as she could see you every day. Even if she couldn't speak or stand before you. All that mattered to her was to see your lovely smile as you open her gifts or to hear your joyful laughter. But shall you wish to meet her. Shall you seem unsatisfied with your life. Helaena will make her presence known. The goddess is nothing but a tender lover. Giving you all the time you need to adjust to her realm. Happy to watch from a distance and just speak with you.

Aemond as Apollo - God of Sun and Art

Aemond was also a god of music, truth, and healing, he was considered wise even at such a relatively young age. He enjoyed writing poems and believed in law and order. Unlike his brother, Aemond was recognized for his numerous contributions, particularly in the realms of medicine and prophecy. Aemond shows intense loyalty to his family and a great love for his mother but also is known for his jealousy and a wrathful nature; particularly when he perceives insults directed at his family or either himself.

Many of your actions could’ve caught his eye, your visits to his temple, your singing voice echoing through the fields, how you immersed yourself far away from everyone else with the books you read. He doesn’t wish to frighten you, guided by a gentle approach to engage you in conversations. You can feel his gaze follow you, a silent presence that seems to accompany your every move. In due time, Aemond would express his desire for you to be his lover, to not only give him your body, but your mind and soul. Even if you do not share his feelings, denying him is not advisable, Aemond is not one for rejections.

Even if you were to deny him, Aemond would still bring you to Mount Olympus, introducing you to the other gods, making sure you understood that your place belonged with him. And while he attempts to give you some space, the god of the sun cannot bring himself to stay away. Aemond sought to spend every moment of the day with you, from sharing the same bed, to waking together to sharing meals. He yearns to hear your every thought from the flowers you liked to your opinion on the poetry he’s dedicated to you.

Criston as Heracles + Demi- God of Strength and Heroes

Criston was born a mortal. Yet even as a child, Criston showed such strength and courage unmatched by any other. He has proven to be a fierce warrior over the years. While he was hailed as a hero, many of his rage-fueled actions beg to differ. It took Criston to die to be reborn as the Demi-god. Taken from the flames to Mount Olympus where he was granted eternal youth and the right to live among the gods. He was offered a goddess, but Criston had his eyes set somewhere else.

Criston believes he must protect you. That you need him far more than he needs you. You are just a mere mortal. One fall can be fatal. Doesn't matter that his involvement could be the very reason your life is at forfeit. Makes no difference the many times you struggle and try to escape him. Criston holds you in his arms, repeating the same mantra over and over. That you have a need for him. That he must shield you from all those who will harm you. He rarely leaves your side, and no amount of begging or insults will convince him to do so.

As your lover, you have a man capable of crushing a village to ruins, capable of winning against an army. You bring out the worst in him, the madness. A madness seen in the mere thought of you being in another’s arms. Criston won't accept the possibility of your death. He was blessed with the gift of immortality and will stop at nothing to grant you the same blessing. A wonderful thought to him, but a nightmare to you. Given the chaos that will be left behind, the gods may grant him his wish.

#yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #hotd x reader #House of the Dragon x reader #yandere x reader #yandere greek mythology #viserys targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #alicent hightower x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #laena velaryon x reader #corlys velaryon x reader #rhaenys targaryen x reader #criston cole x reader #yandere scenarios #asoiaf x reader #yandere asoiaf

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oneeyedlove · 7 months ago

Text

Ash heart.

summary | The blissful months you and Aemond shared after your secret marriage come to an abrupt end as the news of his kinslaying reach your ears.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x niece!oc

word count | 2.8 k

note | I am new to writing and very unsure about this tbh. Also, english is not my first language so bear with me. Any thoughts are appreciated!

Find part 2 here

---

Princess Aelora Velaryon, second born child to Rhaenyra Targaryen, was perfectly aware of the divide in her family for as long as she could remember. Her mother's claim to the iron throne questioned at any opportunity, the bastardy of her and her siblings birth constantly whispered about the realm, not to mention the animosity displayed between the queen consort and the queen to be. She wasn't blind to it in any shape or form.

Nevertheless, Aelora ignored her instincts when it came to Prince Aemond. The pair held a soft spot for each other ever since they were children, the brown haired girl defending the boy from her brother's and uncle's cruel jests and him opening himself up to her like he never had before, not even to his mother. But even their childish affections couldn't stand the test that the incident brought upon them. The loss of an eye molded Aemond into a resentful man and Aelora stood by her family. Their feelings turned to ash upon a dragon's ire.

Or so was thought.

Despite years that lacked contact betwixt the two sides of House Targaryen, the arrival of Aelora and her family at King's Landing shifted a previously undisturbed passion. Aemond's heart ached in her presence but the prince disguised himself through vile insults and meaningless threats. He could never hurt her, not like she hurt him. The brown haired princess did not feel guilt for choosing her own blood over him all those years ago, after all he had said and done monstrosities she never thought her once sweet uncle capable of. But she did feel sad for him, he lost the most that night. All the anger that resided in the surface could not stand the longing she felt.

After Rhaenyra and Daemon decided it was best to reside in the Red Keep due to her grandsire's deteriorating health, Aelora and Aemond grew closer in their twisted relationship, challenging each other and throwing insults was almost a synchronized dance for the pair. Although appearances showed disdain and anger between uncle and niece, none knew that secret encounters were also their routine. Stolen kisses in dark corridors, comforting looks in public, late night adventures through flea bottom and passionate sex in empty chambers immersed their strained relationship.

The prince and princess knew their love was either destined to mending the bonds their family broke or destroying them completely. And against their better judgment, they got married in secrecy, the only witness being Haelena. They shared their vows under the moonlight in a traditional Valyrian wedding ceremony, like their ancestors. Delusional as the King was due to his illness, he was the only other family member to approve of their union, their parents and siblings confirmed their fears and voiced their disapproval loudly. Aelora's side of the family went as far as demanding her move back to Dragonstone alongside them but she denied the request.

Aemond was now her husband, her moon, her prince.

She was sure she would make peace with her parents and siblings soon, for there was no way of breaking the couple apart.

But that was before the King's death.

Before Aegon was crowned.

Before she realized she needed to choose between green and black.

...

"Aemond, issa hūra (My moon), please listen." Her pleads echoed through their chambers as her husband refused to look at her.

"I must fly to Dragonstone. I need to see my mother and make things right."

"Issa vēzos (My sun), are you aware of what your status will become if you indeed fly to meet Rhaenyra? You would come to be a traitor to the Realm. You must understand it, you would be imprisoned and killed upon your return to King's Landing." Aemond finally spoke, turning his head towards her, his eyes glistening with the light emanating from the thunderstorm outside the window.

"I would lose you." His expression was a sorrowful one as he whispered the words, as if he would conjure them to reality if he spoke clearly.

Aelora let out a long breath and walked towards him, holding onto his arms that now stood at her waist. Her gaze flickered from his chest up to his eye, tiredness emanating from the woman's form as she continued to quarrel with her husband.

"Then what must I be? We cannot refrain from participating in this war, Aemond. You have already taken your place by your brother, making yourself into one of his trusted dragon riders and ally. I am not fit to be both wife of Prince Aemond of the Greens and daughter of The Black Queen."

He placed a strand of hair behind her ear as she spoke, her words were true but he could not bear to be of opposing sides with his one true love. All they had gone through to achieve this could not have been in vain, their marriage couldn't be just another tragedy in the midst of this war, he wouldn't let it.

"My mother must know I have not betrayed her." Aelora continued her sentence frantically.

"She will not be the first to spill blood, I am certain of it. You could convince Aegon not to do so either, we can try to stop the real war before its control slips from our fingers. There must be a way to mend things."

"You are optimistic, my darling. I only wished we hadn't got this far." He said as he got closer and touched her forehead with his.

"I will do my duty as commanded by the King. I shall fly to Storm's End tonight and secure the Baratheon's allegiance to the crown, it will be my last action before we discuss our plans. I promise you, we will find a way out of this."

As she opened her eyes to look at him, anguish poured out of her gaze. Aelora's heart held such love for Aemond that she could feel it tightening at the thought of losing him, as if two ropes were tugging at it from opposite directions.

"Issi īlon vēdros naejot jorrāelagon isse se midst hen vīlībāzma? (Are we mad to love in the midst of war?)" She asked.

"Lo ziry iksos, nyke'll sagon hakossiarzy ondoso aōha paktot. Syt sir se forever. (If it is, I'll be insane by your side. For now and forever.)" With his answer, he took the sides of her head with his hands and kissed her deeply.

It was a passionate kiss, both of them holding each other close as if they would vanish at any moment. Aemond was determined not to lose the thing he held dearest to anyone nor anything in the chaos about to engulf them. No, his sun was his light, she gave him purpose, she gave him devotion, she gave him life. He would fight his way through the Seven Hells for her. He would burn the world to ash.

Certain as her lover was, Aelora dreaded the future as he broke their embrace. He lingered at the link of their hands as he made his way towards the door, but left her even so. The sound of heavy wood clanking ringed in her head, unable to suppress the growing pit inside her.

"Gods be good."

They wouldn't.

...

Aemond's return was filled with misery. His temper, his damned temper, conquered his thoughts completely and the consequences would drown him. He had killed Prince Lucerys. Her favorite brother. He ensured catastrophe over them. He broke his promise.

The prince's mind raced as he sat in the coucil room, it had been almost two hours since he told them what had transpired. Otto and Alicent spent every breath of theirs berating him whilst Aegon congratulated and rejoiced at the news. He had no care for any of their words, but he deeply feared hers. He was sure all of the qualities she bestowed upon him vanished. He was a weak man. Pathetic and evil. He should have stayed away for he never deserved her. Aelora's reaction would destroy him.

"How are we to tell her?" His mother's despair could be seen in her eyes as she spoke.

"I will." That was the only phrase the one eyed prince uttered since he disclosed the events of what had happened.

Aemond stood from his seat and walked away, ignoring the pleads for him to stay and discuss what he was to do. He had no plan to disguise his actions to his wife, she deserved better and he wouldn't pretend to be worthy of sympathy. The promise he made was shattered. Tragedy was about to struck over their marriage and he had no one to blame but himself. As he made his way through Maegor's Holdfast he could hear parts of the whispers spoken about him.

"His dragon ate him."

"Revenge for his eye."

"Kinslayer."

Standing in front of the same doors that witnessed their love from the beginning, Aemond opened them ready for the end. And yet he wasn't prepared for the sight before him.

Their chambers were wrecked. The sheets that used to embrace the couple in their cherished nights were ripped to shreds at the foot of the bed. The dressing table where she readied herself as he watched was tumbled to the side, its mirror shattered into a million pieces. The matching set of chairs and table where they used to have their meals with laughter and love were scattered across the room. The candles that allowed him to study her figure during the countless times they shared intimacies were blown out, the only light being the one emanating from the fireplace.

And there she was, on her knees as she watched the fire. Her beautiful brown locks disheveled in the braids coming undone atop her head, her golden dress was crinkled and burned at the hem. The princess held a small paper on her right hand, the other one placed on the stone floor.

She already knew.

"Aelora..." Aemond tried to speak but his words were buried by guilt.

The woman before him turned her head in an ungodly slow speed, clutching the letter in her hand until her knuckles turned white. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, the tracks of dried tears still on her face. Yet, she displayed no sadness in her expression, only a dragon's rage.

"You." She growled, her tone making a shiver run down his spine.

"My love, ple-" He started.

Despite Aemond's efforts to plead with his beloved, he knew no words would be able to repair what he had destroyed. The once familiar pet name left a bittersweet taste in his mouth but it was nothing compared to the sourness it brought to her heart.

"Do not address me that way." Her words were low but stabbed him in the chest all the same. He watched as she got herself up from the floor, her fury burning like wildfire.

The princess could not believe what she had read in her stepfather's letter an hour ago, Daemon had to be mistaken. Her husband had promised to avoid the carnage of war, he wouldn't have been so disloyal. She knew Aemond had arrived, for she saw Vhagar flying over the Red Keep, and assumed he had been discussing Lord Borros' response with the council, but she had grown far too anxious as time passed. It had taken too long for it to be a mere coincidence. Lucerys had been killed by her husband. The man whom she loved with all her being, for whom she defied her own flesh and blood, had proven himself the beast all feared him to be. As the tears fell from her face and destruction noises flooded her senses, her love turned to ash.

"You killed him!" Aelora yelled as she strode up to him and pushed his chest back, he made no move to stop her.

"I did." He looked down at her as he spoke.

"You murdered an innocent child!" She mustered all her strength to slap him this time, her chin raising in a defying manner.

"I did."

"Have you no shame? No regret?" She pushed him to the side as she screamed, making him stumble.

Aelora could not believe him. He had broken his promise, broken her family, broken her heart and yet he found it beneath himself to explain anything to her? All the resentment and rage he harbored for Luke had been stronger than his love for her, betrayal falling upon the pair over a childish mistake. His stoic expression mirrored his soul, Aemond had no guilt to convey.

"Do your depraved actions give you pride? Do you relish in your revenge?" She shouted till her throat hurt. He couldn't do this to her, to wreck world and then leave her stranded. No, she would hurt him, she needed to.

"You disgust me. Murderer!" She spat those words as she hit his chest again, receiving no reaction from him other than his eye staring ah the darkess that consumed the chamber.

"Liar!" She pushed him again.

"Cunt" And again.

"Kinslayer!" And again.

Finally Aemond looked at her, the insult landing deeper than her other words. That was his title now. He was everything she claimed him to be and worse, a man to be hated and struck until the end of his days.

"Fight back you traitor!" She swung at him in all the ways she could to no avail, he only stared at her with his arms behind his back as they slowly moved across the room.

"Too righteous to hit a lady, are you Aemond?" Aelora stopped shouting but her voice remained as piercing as a spear.

"I could never hurt you." He answered, his breath shaking.

She could only stare at him in response, a twisted smirk and a scoff the only acknowledgment se could form. The princess scanned him with her eyes until she found his dagger at his waist. In one swift move, she grabbed the blade and threw him onto the wall, placing it on his throat.

"Hypocrisy runs deep in your blood, doesn't it? Worse than your mother, you murder Lucerys and yet claim not to maim me. You think yourself so pure, a true perfect prince of the realm. A Strong bastard's life is nothing compared to yours, is it? I should slice your neck from ear to ear and watch as life flees from your body, see if red stains your honor." She whispered whilst looking into his eye, he had no fear but sadness and regret in his expression.

The prince's death would be a mercy he longed for, the thought of life with only her hatred to call his wasn't worth living. Knowing her light was never to shine upon him again, Aemond was ready to be drowned by darkness once more. His lip trembled as he looked for words, any words, to ask her for his end.

"How could I ever had loved you?" Tears began to form in Aelora's eyes, she couldn't contain them anymore. The pain she felt in her core was almost tangible, how could a love like theirs have now become such a wound? A cut that would never heal, destined be with her forever.

"I was such a fool! To think a twisted soul like yourself would be capable of anything but wrath and violence!" She let the translucent pearls of water run down her face and threw his head against the stone wall as she ripped the side of his eyepatch with the dagger.

Aemond was in the verge of tears himself, watching as the woman he loves so deeply tear him to shreds. He could withstand any torture, suffer any injury and it would never compare to the torment of her loathing. His sapphire eye was exposed now, a drop of blood dripping from the side of his face where the blade touched his skin.

"There. Let everyone see the monster you truly are, inside and out." She backed away from him slowly, her voice trembling just as her legs did.

"Nyke jāhor va moriot jorrāelagon ao, issa vēzos. (I will always love you, my sun.)" The one eyed prince whispered as he leaned into the wall, a single teardrop fell from his eye as he accepted defeat.

With a loud thud, Aelora burst through the chamber's door, leaving Aemond behind. He fell to the ground as he cried, but he knew it wasn't over. As he heard the screech of her dragon echoing through the skies, he knew they would meet again on the battlefield, fighting for different sides. Yet there would be no need for war to ruin them, he already did.

Maybe fate had decided this would be their path all along.

For her blood was black and his was green.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #Aemond Targaryen imagines #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x you #angst

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wxstros · 6 months ago

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Bonds Forged in Fire

In a world where dragons did not dance and Rhaenyra reigns unchallenged on the Iron Throne, her legacy endures through her three valiant sons, with the Targaryens having bowed to their rightful queen. You, a traveller in this medieval tapestry, have at last discovered the opportune moment to seek solace in Essos, intending to live out your days unburdened and free. No longer are you compelled to mend the fragile bonds among feuding cousins, having already nurtured a brotherhood among the Velaryon and Targaryen youths. Freed from the duty of attending to Alicent, appeasing your father Daemon, or strategizing for the benefit of the realm and its beloved Rhaenyra, you stand on the cusp of true retirement... or do you?

warnings: typical targcest/inc*st. DARK CHARACTERS; controlling behavior, manipulation, gaslighting. cursing. reader is a modern human. dance of the dragons did not happen. canon typical violence. yandere behavior!

pairings: hotd x reader, daemon targaryen x daughter!reader (platonic)

CHAPTER TWO: NO LONGER A FREE WOMAN

Quiet and Commanding. Graceful and Bloodthirsty — you were both the calmness of the sea and it's tempest. In a desperate act of survival, you reshaped the fate of Westeros; a no ordinary feat by all means, and you bore the scars of fabricating this delicate peace.

You sought to end a war before it grew to become one. Tearing the heart of the dragon so it no longer bore heads, you suffered the consequences of your meddling, self-preserving nature, from the curse of Targaryens.

Madness. Delusions. Paranoia..

Paranoia is ever common among people of power, and in your whimsical rendition of the present, you found yourself ensnared in the very web you sought to untangle.

Your knowledge of the succession of events was vital in its formative years; you were the weaver of histories yet unwritten, the keeper of secrets that shaped destinies. In the quiet chambers of the Red Keep, where whispers carried more weight than steel, you stood as a sentinel of wisdom amidst the unfolding of ambition and intrigue.

Once, you navigated the tapestry of Westerosi politics with a sure hand, guiding alliances and decisions that now lay woven into the fabric of a new era. But the future you once knew, predictable as the turning of seasons, now unfolded with unpredictable swiftness.

The absence of war reshaped the contours of power, leaving uncertainties where once there were certainties... and you had become one of it's unfortunate casualties.

"If I may speak, my lady," she began, her voice a whisper that hung in the air like the fragrance of roses in bloom. You turned to face her, your expression calm yet attentive, silently inviting her to share the secrets that threaded through the underbelly of courtly life. A strategically placed informant, a madame you kept in your good graces, for her valuable informations.

With practiced ease, you gestured for her to continue as you returned to your preparations, the delicate clink of jewelry punctuating the quiet conversation between you. The madame hesitated, her words measured and cautious, betraying the weight of the information she carried.

"I've come upon certain... revelations," she finally ventured, her tone laden with the gravity of her disclosure. She recounted, with a waver in her countenance, the princes' preferences— their specific demands echoing through the chambers like whispers of scandal. Each word revealed a world hidden behind closed doors, where fantasies intertwined with the obligations of royalty and it's stifling constraints.

Your hands paused momentarily, the silver earrings poised between your fingers as you absorbed the implications of her words. You feared the unspoken consequences of such desires. One that transcended the boundaries of rank and decorum, casting shadows upon the noble facade that adorned the princes in public.

"They call for you," she had confessed in a hushed tone, her eyes troubled yet resolute. "Not just any women, but those with your likeness. They cry out your name in the throes of passion, seeking to recreate a semblance of what they know in the sanctity of their chambers."

With a nod of dismissal, the madame withdrew, leaving the chamber with a bow of deference. Alone once more, you resumed your preparations, the morning light seeming dimmer now as you contemplated the delicate balance between power and discretion within the heart of the Red Keep. Yet, the madame's parting words lingered, her voice tinged with an urgency that unsettled you.

"Forgive me, if you must call me insolent." she had said, her eyes wide with concern, "Leave this place once you get the chance. These princes... they are not what they seem. Their love is a dangerous thing."

The weight of her warning wasn't missed, nor unrewarded. Leave, she said. And you almost wept at your desire to do so. The thought of escape had always been present, but now it seemed more pressing, more necessary.

The Targaryen madness... a curse that had plagued their bloodline for generations, was not a mere myth. It was a living, breathing beast that lurked within the halls of the keep, a beast that had ensnared even the most unsuspecting hearts.

The tales of their ancestors, the whispers of dragons and fire, echoed in your thoughts.

You had seen the cracks in their facades, the fleeting moments when the mask slipped, revealing the turmoil beneath. It was in the soft utterance, in a mad whisper of devotion.

with me, no harm shall come your way; rhaenyra, whispers.

i would kill anyone who tries to take you from me; daemon, vows.

you must always have me in your heart. it must have only me; aegon pleads.

It was devotion that threatened to consume you. It was in the quiet plea for acceptance. It was in the vulnerable displays, where the attachment grew into something you could no longer control.

never leave me; jacaerys utters with conviction.

tell me you need me; aemond, grips you.

tell me you love me; heleana whispers.

tell me you're mine...

The madness was not just in their blood; it was in their very souls, a consuming fire that threatened to engulf all who drew too close.

As you finished your preparations, you pondered your next step. To outmaneuver the most powerful people in the realm; to extricate yourself from their grasp, required more than just cunning. It required a keen understanding of the intricate dance of power and madness that played out within these walls.

As you stepped into the corridor, the weight of the madame's warning heavy upon your shoulders, you knew that your journey was far from over. The road ahead was treacherous, but with each step, you inched closer to the freedom that lay beyond the reach of the dragon's fire.

The small council was filled with nobles loyal to Rhaenyra's claim. People who were wise, honest, and unbearably scheming. Aemond was among the council, a concession to allow for unity and to placate those who supported his family. Yet, his presence was more than strategic; Aemond had always been smart and decisive, qualities that made him a valuable asset in matters of governance and warfare. His sharp mind and keen insights often cut through the labyrinth of political machinations, bringing clarity and resolution to complex issues.

Jacaerys, the crown prince, also held a seat on the council. As Rhaenyra's eldest son, it was imperative that he learn the intricacies of rule and the delicate balance of power within the realm. His participation was both an educational experience and a symbol of continuity, showing that the future of the realm was in capable hands. Though Aemond and Jace had a fraught history, they had reached a tenuous truce, understanding the necessity of cooperation for a shared cause. Their interactions were civil, even if not genuinely friendly, a testament to their shared commitment to the greater good.

Aegon, noticeably absent from the meeting, was occupied with securing an allegiance with a rich noble visiting. His transformation from a reckless youth to a responsible leader was a surprising deviation from the expected path, proving that even the most unlikely individuals could rise to the occasion when the realm demanded it.

Where there was once dignified discussions had unravelled into a heated one...

"A marriage allegiance, to the North?" Daemon repeats incredulously, a frown marring his features at the absurd suggestion from one of the lords in the small council.

The man, while relatively small in stature, held his stance despite receiving hostile glares from multiple pairs of scathing gazes. He was certain they wished to command his head off, but the loyalty to your cause remains in him. "The princess is of the right age to marry; it would strengthen our ties with the North and ensure their loyalty," the lord persisted.

Aemond tensed, repressing the urge to draw his sword and cut the insolent bastard's tongue for his brazen suggestion. His dear, sweet cousin, would not debase herself to a mere wolf when she had the blood of a dragon coursing through her veins!

Jace had a similar, quiet indignation. You would not marry to distant mountains, let alone to a foreign man. It was one thing to share your affections among their family, an entirely different one, should it be directed to another entirely.

Rhaenyra, at the head of the council, was first to voice her dissent, her expression calm yet resolute. "The realm is at peace. What need have we for an alliance with the North? We do not need to complicate matters with alliances that may bring more harm than good."

"Peace reigns now, the future is uncertain. Strengthening our ties with the North ensures stability in times of unforeseen turmoil. The marriage alliance is a precautionary measure, one that could safeguard the realm," the lord insisted, gathering murmurs of support around the table.

Daemon slammed his fist on the table, his voice booming. "We have dragons! We should be the ones feared, not groveling for alliances like beggars. The North should be seeking our favor, not the other way around. This talk of marriage is a distraction, a needless concession."

"We do not need to rally more support. Our house is strong enough without resorting to such measures," Jacareys adds, stoic though his eyes blazed with unspoken fury.

The defiance in the room was palpable, a wall of resistance against the idea of your marriage to a northerner, the famed Cregan Stark warden of the North.

Every time the notion of marriage was presented, they always had an excuse, a reason to dismiss it. Their hatred for the idea was unmistakable, rooted in their desire to keep you close, to maintain the unity of the family within the confines of King's Landing.

You never much bothered to disagree. Marriage was never your priority; you were trying to stave off the extinction of the Targaryens, where could you find the energy and time to please a husband?

However, this time, you decided to break the pattern.

"I agree," you said, your voice steady and calm. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to you in shock.

"You what?" Daemon's voice was low, dangerous, a silent threat hung in the air as if begging you to repeat your agreement.

"I admire Cregan Stark," you continued, ignoring the rising tension. "He is known to be handsome, domineering, strong, and capable. Such a match would be beneficial for our house."

And he lives in the desolate cold. Far from King's Landing. Come winter, and no dragon, however mighty, could cross its threshold.

Rhaenyra was speechless, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find words. Daemon's face turned a deeper shade of red, his anger barely contained. Aemond and Jace looked as though they were on the verge of losing their composure, their fists clenched tightly.

"You would leave for the North?" While emotionless and composed, Aemond was anything but.

"This is absurd. You can't possibly mean this," Jace added, his tone equally tense.

You met their gazes with unwavering resolve. "This alliance is strategic. It ensures the realm's continued prosperity and stability. It is a decision made for the greater good."

Daemon's expression darkened, his frustration palpable as he struggled to reconcile his paternal instincts with sound reason, and not violent tendencies. He thiught it much easier to wield a sword and conquer cities.

"Whoever wove these tales, planting fairy-tale notions of a prince charming into my daughter's head, is a deceiver. They think they can trick her, make her believe in an idyllic fantasy. My daughter is naive and innocent in their eyes, easy to sway. But I will find this manipulator and have his head for daring to poison her mind with such nonsense!" He uttered, voice laced with venom, a final threat to whoever disagreed with his judgement— Daemon thought you naive, and gullible to suggestion, believing it was not your own will, but a treacherous cunt's ideas.

Afterall, you would never desire to leave him; your poor father... and the rest, whoever they may be. He still has no idea which was whom; he kept a tally of one or two silver haired kid, and the rest were lost to him.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, her composure returning as she placed a hand on the table, grounding herself.

"We must weigh all options, think of the ramifications. A marriage... it is not a decision to be taken lightly."

Despite her words, you knew her mind was already made up. She had always been fiercely protective, and the idea of you leaving King's Landing, leaving her side, was something she could not easily accept.

The path to freedom was fraught with peril, but you had come too far to falter now. Your nod to the Arryn lord, was subtle— indicating he back down from his duel of wits. It was an issue for another day. Rhaenyra had made it so.

With a determined breath, you resolved to tread carefully, to gather the strength and allies needed to break free from the chains that bound you.

The Targaryen curse was a formidable foe, but you were no stranger to battles fought in the shadows.

***

do comment if you want to get tagged! 💗☺️

#hotd x reader #yandere hotd #hotd x you #hotd fic #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #cregan stark x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #lucerys velaryon x reader #helaena targaryen x reader #alicent hightower x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #jace velaryon x reader #house of the dragon #yandere house of the dragon

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the20thangel · 6 months ago

Text

The Shocking Prize for the Raven Knight.

Summary: While attacking a Green camp, Benjicot finds the missing Targaryen!reader princess that the Greens managed to kidnap and frees her. As they return to Kingslanding, Rhaenyra surprises everyone with the choice of gratitude she wishes to bestow on the lord for saving her daughter.

Word Count: 2.1K

Masterlist

Benjicot led his men through the Lannister camp, going through the men like they were training dummies. Red and gold fell to his men, red and black proudly waving Queen Rhaenyra’s flag. Pathetic, he thought, these Lannister men were like their lord, a loin with no claws or bite.

As his men continued fighting through the Lannister, Benjicot focused on the second part of his mission. He was finding the lost princess. He received a raven about how Rhaenyra’s daughter was taken during the Battle of Gullet after Prince Jacaerys was killed. The princess's dragon died during the battle is killed, similar to Vermx, Prince Jacaerys’ mount. This forced the princess to be held captive and was going to be essentially sold as a prize to Prince Aemond. Luckily, the prince perished Under God’s Eye from Daemon. So the captive princess was held now as a war prisoner, trying to see how much they could get away before returning her to her mother, who grew more and more desperate to have her daughter back at her side.

As he weaved through the camp and tents, he got worried, not finding any Targaryen princess and trying to remember the appearance he described. Black hair with violet eyes. It should have been hard to find since Lannisters were known for their golden blond hair, not black, but no princess was still in sight. As he grew increasingly stressed about not finding a princess, he saw one more tent in a lone corner towards the end of the camp.

Quickly scanning his surroundings for any knight, Benjicot ran to the tent flap to see someone kneeing at the ground, their head covered by a veil. He knew from the structure that it was a woman kneeling. Walking towards the figure, he tried to be silent, not wanting to alert any knight outside. As he slowly reached her, he placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Excuse me, my lady-”

Benjicot was interrupted when suddenly the mysterious woman turned, reaching for his dagger. She tripped him as he tried to block her, making him fall to the ground. He felt a weight on his chest as he looked up. Seeing a beautiful maiden with black hair and violet hardened eyes glaring at him as she held his dagger to his throat. His breath was physically and metaphorically taken away from him. Queen Rhaenyra’s daughter was a force to be reckoned with.

Once the princess heard footsteps coming to her tent, she feared it was that awful Lannister lord or Aemond. She decided she would rather die trying to kill them and freeing herself than being taken by those dreadful men. As she attacked the knight and went to stab him, she was blocked, forcing herself to notice the red and black colors. Recognizing them as House Blackwood, the princess quickly stood up from his chest, allowing Benjicot to sit up as he stared at her with wonder.

“My apologies, my lord. I have wrongly mistaken you for a Lannister or Aemond.” She apologized, moving a hand to him and helping him stand off the ground.

Not releasing her hand, Benjicot assessed her for any damage to her body; seeing she looked healthy enough, he sighed. Queen Rhaenyra would be glad to hear her daughter was safe and sound.

Benjicot smiled, bowing and kissing her hand, “No, my princess. It should be I apologizing. Knowing that enemies are around this camp, I should not have sneaked behind you.”

The ebony-haired princess smiled at the lord, “Then, as long as we both accept our apologies, there should be no bad blood around us.”

As Benji was about to speak, they both heard a shout from the entrance, seeing Lord Jason staring at them red-faced. Huffing in anger, the Lannister lord yelled as he charged towards the young duo. Benjicot braced for him, raising his sword as the two began to duel with the dragon princess stalking around them. Benjicot grinned widely; this lord was clumsy in his sword fighting, quickly finding the upper hand as he slashed Jason Lanninser on his legs, causing the golden loin to yell in pain and sink to the floor. As Jason glared at Benjioct, he spat, claiming how his brother in Kingslanding would make House Blackwood pay for treason—going further in saying how he will have two beauties, Aly Blackwood and the princess. Making Benjicot stiffen in anger, but before the Lord of Casterly Rock could continue in his word rampage, he was cut off by a dagger slashing his throat. This caused the lord to choke on his blood, flopping down on the ground with a thud.

In shock and wonder, Benji raised his sight again as the princess sneered at the dead lord.

“He disgustedly talks too much; I have grown tired of his moronic speaking. The realm will be relieved to be rid of him.” stated the princess, using her trousers to wipe off the blood from the dagger as she returned it to Benji. The Raven lord grinned, shaking his head.

“Keep it, princess, you have a talent with the dagger; let it keep you safe on your journey home.” explained the lord, smiling at seeing the princess grin back at him.

As the lord and princess sneaked out of the tent, they saw that the Blackwood men were joined by the Stark men, leading to victory over the greens. Smiling, the princess greeted Cregan Stark, who clapped Benjicot for finding the princess and exclaimed that he was glad the princess was safe and sound. Aly Blackwood introduced herself to the princess, asking her to join her in her tent to refresh before they made their way to Kingslanding.

The princess furrowed her brows, “Kingslanding, why not Dragonstone?”

The trio paused, forgetting that the princess could not know how the war was transpiring.

Benjicot stared at the group before sighing as he turned to the princess, “Your mother, Queen Rhaenyra, has been able to take hold of Kingslanding from the greens. That is why Jason Lannister seemed desperate. He clings that his brother Tyland could lead a rebellion against your mother from the dark cells. He is wrong.” snorted Benjicot in the hilarious thought of the Lanniesters.

The Princess nodded, relieved her mother was well and finally able to reclaim her throne from Aegon and his green harpies. Grinning, she expressed her desire to travel as fast as possible to Kingslanding; she wanted to reunite with her mother quickly. As they planned, it was decided that Benjicot and the princess would ride together, seeing how battles still needed to be fought closer to the storm lands and crownlands. Traveling with a vast army would only cause a larger target on the princess.

The Princess changed her clothes to House Blackwood to try and become unrecognizable to any allies of Aegon. As she exited the tent, she greeted Benji, who once again had his breath taken away from her beauty, especially when she saw her in his house's colors.

“How do I look, my Lord?” questioned the princess teasingly as she spun around for him.

Gulping, Benji smiled at the princess, his cheeks heating up, “A true beauty, my princess, but may I ask for you to call me Ben.”

Laughing at his cheeks, the princess replied, “Very well, Ben, please call me by my name rather than my princess.”

The two leave in the cover of night, hoping to reach the red keep in a few days.

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

As Queen Rhaenyra walked with Aegon and Joffrey, a servant quickly came and handed her a raven. Pausing, she quickly opened it once she saw the House Blackwood sigil on it. Rhaenyra gasped in delight. Her daughter was found safely and was in due time to arrive in her arms. Her darling jewel, she raged for days after hearing that Jason Lannister had her captive. She would finally be back to her side, grinning. Rhaenyra shared the news with her boys, laughing as the two young princes rejoiced at being reunited with their beloved sister.

The day after, Rhaenyra was waiting by the steps of the Iron Throne; the court was buzzing in, seeing the Queen glowing with joy as they eagerly awaited the princess's arrival. As the throne room doors opened, people gasped, seeing the dragon princess walk in proudly wearing House Blackwood clothes with the lord of Raventree Hall grasping her arms and leading her to the Queen.

As the duo paused before the queen, Benjioct released his princess, moving back a step as he bowed to his queen. Rhaenyra grinned in gratitude at him as she embraced her daughter, whispering how much she missed her. The Princess nearly returned her mother’s embrace, finally letting herself relax. She was safe, and she was home, all thanks to Ben. As they separated, Rhaenyra called for the court's dismissal. She invited Benjicot for a luncheon but did not allow him to decline, so she walked away, dragging her daughter out. The princess rolled her eyes as she turned back to him.

“Come on, Ben, join us, please,” pleaded the princess, grinning as she saw him following.

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

“I wanted to thank you again, Lord Blackwood, for bringing my daughter back to me safe and sound,” the queen praised, grinning as she saw him flush red.

Benjicot could feel his cheeks heat up again, not used to being praised by a queen and princess.

“I would gladly do it again, my queen; it is my honor to serve you.” he shyly spoke, blushing more as both mother and daughter giggled at his shyness.

“Isn’t he the sweetest mother? Instead of puffing his chest in pride, he is humble in his actions, becoming nervous from praises.” teased the princess, laughing when Ben turned to her with mock betrayal, playfully glaring at her.

Rhaenyra smiled at the sight; it seemed her daughter and the raven lord had grown close to each other. As the Luncheon continued, she grew more intrigued seeing how easily they spoke, jested with each other, leaving to each other's company. Not only that, but she also saw how he treated her sons. Aegon and Joffrey took a liking to the lord, asking him questions about battles and his sword skills, which the lord happily indulged the young princes every time.

As the luncheon finished, the Queen stated she needed to think about specific events and that she would see everyone later at court. Bowing, the princess saw her mother leaving with her brothers. Turning to Ben, she grinned, enjoying that she would spend more time with him alone.

As the two walked around, joking and teasing each other, they did not notice a dragon queen staring. Seeing their ease in each other’s company, she grew confident in her decision, turning away from the window. Rhaneyra allowed herself to become excited about the news she would share later.

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

Once again, the court was gathered in the throne room. Rhaenyra noticed her daughter finally switched from Blackwood clothes to her Targaryen gowns. She grinned, seeing how Benjioct stared at her daughter with a particular look in his eyes. Facing back to her people, she greeted them.

“My good people, it is with great pleasure that we celebrate the return of my daughter, your crown princess, home safely.”

The crowd cheered and clapped joyfully as the princess bowed to her mother.

Rhaenyra raised her hand, asking for quietness as she continued to speak, “But if it were not for the hard works of Houses Stark and House Blackwood, our princess would have been still lost in the hands of the greens and their allies. Lord Blackwood, please step forward.”

The crowd again cheered as the young lord stood infront of his queen, kneeling respectfully.

“Lord Benjicot Blackwood, thank you for bringing my daughter home safely. House Targaryen will always be grateful to House Blackwood… to show my gratitude, I have decided to honor you in a great alliance.”

The crowd quietly gasped, wondering what alliance and prize would the queen bestow the young lord.

Smiling, she turned to her daughter for a second before returning her gaze to Benji, “I am proposing, my lord, to create a strong alliance between our two houses in the form of marriage. It is my greatest pleasure to propose my daughter’s hand in marriage to you and you to be her future prince consort.”

Both princess and lord snapped their eyes to the queen, widening in shock as the crowd gasped—marriage…. a marriage between the raven lord and the beautiful dragon princess.

Slowly, the princess smiled bashfully, turning her head to Ben, who turned to her, staring and smiling at each other… marriage, they wouldn’t mind marrying.

#benjicot blackwood #house of the dragon #fanfic #hotd fanfic #benjicot x reader

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 9 months ago

Note

i saw your prompt list and was hoping for number 6 with Aegon <3

‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’

Request: Aegon married Rhaenyra's daughter. When the king dies, Alicent lock her in the dungeons so she won't go to her mother and ruin the coronation. Aegon ask where his wife is and get you out himself. Tells the guard that his wife is not to be made prisoner

—

You always knew Alicent had madness running through her blood, but you never thought she would have you taken to the dungeons and imprisoned.

After dressing in your day dress, you were walking down the corridors, looking for Halaena when you heard voices coming from the small council chamber talking about sending men to Dragonstone to kill your mother and Daemon. Before you could get to your bed chamber and write her a message to send by crow, one of the guards saw you and brought you to the dungeons.

You tried to scream for help, but the sounds were killed by the stone walls. So you sank to the floor and curled on yourself, praying to the gods that someone would come get you out. Someone must have noticed your absence.

At his return from the dragonpit, Aegon walked into your chambers and called to you. He assumed you were with his sister, so he went to Halaena’s chambers, but she told him she had not seen you. On his way back from his sister’s chambers, Aegon heard the servants whispering about ‘the blacks’ daughter’ and stopped them.

With fury in his eyes, the prince stormed down to the dungeons. He didn’t have his sword on him — only Aemond wore it on the daily —, but he had his dagger. Whoever would try to oppose freeing you will end their day bleeding out. Aegon was not afraid of a fight.

His footsteps echoed off the stone walls and the torches flickered as he passed. As he reached the entrance to the dungeons, Aegon clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tight with determination. Without surprise, two guards were stationed at the entrance. They moved to block the way when the prince approached.

‘’We cannot let you go past, my prince. Orders of the Queen,’’ one of them said.

‘’The King’s dead, which no longer makes her Queen. And as the rightful heir to the throne, it is my command you obey.’’ Aegon tried to go past them, but the other guard pulled out his sword. ‘’I could have you removed from the kingsguard for pointing your sword at your future King.’’ His jaw clenched, his grip tightening on the hilt of his dagger as he stared the defiant guards.

The threat hung heavy in the air, a silent warning of the consequences should they continue to defy him. After a tense moment, the guard who had brandished his sword reluctantly stepped aside.

‘’My wife is not to be made a prisoner,’’ Aegon declared, his voice ringing with authority, holding his dagger at the guard’s throat.

The guard gulped. ‘’Yes, my Prince.’’

Aegon walked past them, wondering how his own mother could do this. A part of him was not surprised, though. Her determination often goes too far.

Finally, he reached the row of cells. All were empty, except one. His heart was pounding in his chest as he saw you sitting with your knees pulled to your chest on the cold stone floor. He said your name and you looked up, tears welling up in your eyes as you stood and reached out to him. You knew he would come for you.

‘’Aegon!’’ Your voice held relief.

He grabbed your hand through the bars, cold from being down here, holding it. ‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’ Aegon reached out to caress your tear-streaked face, his touch a tender reassurance in the midst of chaos.

Using the keys he stole from the guards, Aegon unlocked the door, a harsh creaking sound echoing in the silence of the dungeon when it opened. Without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if afraid to let you go.

‘’Are you alright?’’ he asked, stepping back to look at you.

You nodded. You were cold, and very thirsty, but not hurt. ‘’I heard your mother and her father speaking to the Lord Commander. They sent men to murder my mother,’’ you said, a tear slipping down your face. ‘’I was sent here so I wouldn’t write to her and risk ruining your coronation. I need to get to the dragonpit. I have to go to Dragonstone and save my mother.’’

—

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen imagine #hotd aegon #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #idk if i like this one

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drgnmnts · 6 months ago

Text

knuckles bruised (like violets) │ jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!OC

Title: knuckles bruised (like violets)

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen!OC (Daenys Targaryen, daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Alicent Hightower)

Summary: There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin, especially for those caught in between, longing only for peace as they're met with fire and blood.

_______________________________________________

Chapter 4 - Belonging

📢A/N: JACE HAS CURLY HAIR. LET'S FORGET THAT WIG EVER EXISTED, OKAY? IMAGINE THIS JACE WITH CURLY HAIR. I WOULD GO TO WAR FOR THOSE CURLS. 📢

Word count: 3.4k

SIX YEARS LATER

“Limbās, Silverwing.”

Slower.

The powerful beat of the she-dragon’s wings came to a stop as she let her enormous body glide steadily through the clouds, her iridescent scales glistening like precious jewels in the sun’s embrace.

As she circled around Bronzegate, right above Storm’s End, Daenys could descry King’s Landing on the other side of the Kingswood.

Despite Rhaenyra giving her full agency to visit the capital whenever she so desired, the truth was that Daenys had only flown back to see her family three times in the time she had spent living at Dragonstone.

The first time had been a couple of months after her departure, upon receiving a letter from her mother in which the queen told her she missed her. When she arrived, Alicent had stared at her in confusion, as if she hadn’t expected her daughter to interpret her words as an invitation.

The second time had been for Aegon and Helaena’s wedding, but she was back at Dragonstone before the bedding ceremony.

The third time was a year later, when Helaena had given birth to Jahaerys and Jahaera, and it had pained Daenys terribly to say goodbye to her dear niece and nephew.

After that, she had never returned.

Across the expanse of trees, Vhagar’s silhouette stood out, too big to be kept in the Dragonpit with the others. Daenys had encountered Aemond several times throughout the years, both siblings finding the coast of Tarth their preferred place to rest after a long ride. They had never spoken to each other, perhaps out of fear of not knowing what to say, or perhaps (and this Daenys would never admit out loud) because Aemond had grown up to become quite an intimidating young man, and Daenys wasn’t sure whether he would be up for a conversation or a shared meal. She didn’t really know him anymore, and a big part of that was her fault.

As she ordered Silverwing to head back to Dragonstone, the dragon’s sinuous movements beneath Daenys so familiar and a testament to its formidable strength, Daenys wondered if her brothers ever thought of her. She knew Helaena did, as the sisters often sent letters to each other to keep in touch and share whatever news they may have, but she hadn’t heard from the boys in years, not even from Daeron.

“Lantā mēre,” she commanded after a few hours in complete silence as Silverwing approached the Dragonmont and, as her rider requested, the dragon descended gently.

Daenys was sore after such a long ride, though this kind of pain she was happy to endure.

“We imagined you in Essos already,” welcomed her Daemon, covered in ash and dirt as a result of one of his expeditions to the volcanic tunnels searching for eggs.

“I am ten-and-seven, Uncle. How come you still worry about me as if I were a child?” she asked, smiling at him as she let the dragonkeepers tend to Silverwing.

“When did I say I was worried?” he wondered, feigning confusion, as he properly greeted his niece with a side hug. His other arm was occupied with a satchel, where she assumed he had placed Syrax’s eggs.

“How many?” she asked, pointing at the leather bag.

“Three,” he said, clearly overjoyed by the new addition to the Dragonmont collection. “We would have more if you let Silverwing rest for a bit, being able to coil with Vermax would have her producing eggs in no time.”

Daenys let out a small laugh. “You ask too much of me, Uncle,” she replied. “Speaking of Vermax, where is Jace?”

______________________________

After a quick bath and a change of clothes, Daenys followed Daemon's indications about Jace's whereabouts. His High Valyrian lessons always took place in the Great Hall, where he practiced with old texts and the invaluable help of Maester Gerardys.

"Vezhof, Maestur. Iā iāhor naejot ābrot ñuha lentys' tresys isse hāedrys," she said as she walked down the stairs. You may leave, Maester. I wish to instruct my sister's son this morning.

“Certainly, Princess.”

As Maester Gerardys left the room, Jace stood in his place, hands joined at his back, waiting for his aunt to take the maester’s place next to him. Daenys could feel his warm gaze on her, but she didn’t meet his eye; instead, she scanned the page they had been practicing with and continued the lesson where the maester had left it.

“Aegon mazverdagon lēkia rȳ ondoso lentor bē skoros,” she read.

Jace repeated the sentence a few times, and tried his luck at the translation:

“Aegon… built a small wooden fort… atop the hill”.

“Sȳrī jorrāelagon, ñuha dārilaros,” Daenys said. Well done, my prince. “Dāria voktys belmonda zūgusy issa nāpār lēkia.”

This one took a bit longer. It was a difficult text but she knew Jacaerys was eager to become fluent, which made this kind of practice necessary.

“The city expanded… fast?” he tried. He used to be ashamed of speaking High Valyrian in front of her, too embarrassed of his struggles when it clearly rolled so easily off her tongue, but he enjoyed her lessons way too much to miss them due to his own self-consciousness.

“Rapidly,” she corrected. “Zūgusy issa nāpār lēkia, under his descendants. It’s a tricky one.”

“Not for you, it seems,” he said, not an ounce of bitterness in his tone.

Daenys beamed at him and shrugged. “I guess growing up with Aemond being as competitive as I am had its perks. It motivated me to become better than him at everything.”

Jace nodded, chuckling at the memory of Daenys as a girl, all those times she would demand a rematch with tears in her eyes everytime she lost at something, tireless.

“Come on, one more,” she urged. “Ñuha jorrāelagon gevie issa bē sȳndesse.” A small smile tugged at her lips, and Jace grinned to himself as he approached her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“My betrothed looks… lovely this morning,” he replied, earning himself a pleased hum from Daenys, thus letting him know that he was, in fact, correct.

“Perfect,” Daenys said, placing the palms of her hands on his chest.

Neither of them could remember when their friendship had turned into something more, as the idea of marriage slowly shifted from a burden to something they both awaited with indescribable excitement.

Perhaps it had been a consequence of the hours they spent flying together on Vermax and Silverwing, or their walks along the coast of Dragonstone, sharing memories and secrets. Perhaps it had been Jace’s efforts to make her feel included and welcomed from the moment she set foot on Dragonstone all those years ago, despite her initial reluctance to get close to him and his family. Or maybe it had been the tenderness she exuded every time she spoke to Joffrey, or how easily she made Luke laugh, or the way Jace’s heartbeat quickened every time she met his gaze.

Jace brushed his nose against hers. “We can go for a walk later,” he offered.

“Or a ride,” she said, and the two of them smiled at her eagerness to be on dragonback again after having spent so long flying over the bay.

“A ride, then,” he agreed.

Daenys’ hands slid up his chest and shoulders until they reached his face, where she gently stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. Too absorbed in gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, neither of them noticed that someone else had entered the room.

“Is this how you expect to become fluent at High Valyrian?” Princess Rhaenyra asked as she made her way down the stairs. Her tone was of amusement and there was no intention of admonishment in her face, but her presence made the young couple separate immediately.

“Mother,” Jace greeted her bowing his head, partly to salute her, and partly to hide the bright red that now tinted his cheeks.

“My princess,” said Daenys, curtsying accordingly, equally embarrassed.

Rhaenyra walked up to them, her hands softly caressing her pregnant belly, which was now starting to round as she was almost halfway through her pregnancy.

“Maester Gerardys said I would find you here. I should've known you would be much more invested in your lessons with such a beautiful teacher.”

Jace smiled timidly, still unable to look at his mother. Amused, she continued.

“Perhaps you’d like to show me how the instruction is going?” she requested as she took a seat at the table, tired from the pregnancy.

Daenys quickly returned to the text, ignoring the pink in her cheeks. It took her a moment to find the right page.

“Dāria Āeksio daor lēkia Aegonforto,” she read.

Jace sighed. “Daria…”

“Dāria,” Rhaenyra corrected, watching her son intently.

“Dāria Āeksio daor… The Red Keep changed the Aegonfort.”

“Replaced,” the two women said at the same time, the occurrence making them chuckle.

Not wanting to make her son suffer any longer, Rhaenyra gestured for Daenys to close the book; there was no need for the lesson to continue.

“It pleases me that you two have found it in you to enjoy each other’s company so much,” she began, “but you have to be careful. We do not need rumors starting to spread around about the princess’ virtue.”

At the mere mention of his betrothed’s reputation being affected in any way by his lack of care, Jace’s expression changed into a serious one.

“Of course, Mother. I would never allow such a thing.”

“It won’t happen again, Princess. I promise,” added Daenys, fully aware of how terrible it would be if such slander was thrown her way.

Rhaenyra nodded, pleased with their attitude, while she caressed her belly. As she stood, both Jace and Daenys straightened their backs again, showcasing the respect they felt for the princess. Rhaenyra approached them, and placed her motherly hands on each of their cheeks.

“A raven arrived today from Driftmark,” she began, and both Jace and Daenys’ brows furrowed with worry almost simultaneously. “Baela wrote to Daemon to let us know that Vaemond Velaryon is attempting to challenge Luke’s claim to the Driftwood Throne.”

“But Lord Corlys already named Luke his heir, and Father agreed,” Daenys protested.

“Lord Corlys might not survive his injuries. We cannot count on him,” Rhaenyra said simply.

“What about Princess Rhaenys?” wondered Jace.

Rhaenyra sighed. “Let us hope she chooses to support us.”

“So we’re going to King’s Landing?” the young princess further asked.

“On the morrow,” Rhaenyra confirmed, and Daenys’ expression changed despite how much she was trying to hide her emotions. “Luke is upset, as you can imagine,” she added, speaking to Jace. “He needs his brother.”

Jace nodded, understanding, and gave Daenys a look of apology: their ride would need to wait.

After her son had left the room, Rhaenyra sat down again.

"I know that face," she said to Daenys.

Ever since welcoming her into her family, Rhaenyra had earned herself the role of mentor and confidante in Daenys’ life. She had taken the time to explain the politics of the realm to her, the importance of legacy, and the strength that Daenys would need to cultivate if she were to become queen consort one day. With time, the pair had found it in them to slowly build a bridge over the chasm that had once separated them.

Daenys sat across from her, and that perspective made them look like two different versions of the same person.

“How bad is it?” she asked.

Rhaenyra took a moment to answer as she stroked her belly.

“By putting into question Luke’s legitimacy, he’s also questioning Jace’s and my own claim to the Throne.”

Daenys lowered her gaze, worried. “Why now?” she asked.

“What did your mother say the last time she wrote to you? That Father was getting weaker and weaker by the day, could barely move or speak without overexerting himself,” she said, raising her brows slightly.

“So you think this is their doing? The queen and the Hand’s?” Daenys asked. My mother and my grandsire.

“Not entirely, but they are definitely supporting Vaemond’s claims.”

Daenys buried her face in her hands. She was tired. Exhausted. The fact that after so many years the matter was still being questioned despite King Viserys’ blessing for Luke to inherit the Driftwood Throne was senseless.

“There is something I wanted to talk to you about. Or ask of you, to be precise,” said Rhaenyra after a moment of silence.

When Daenys nodded, encouraging her to speak, Rhaenyra reached over the table and grabbed her hand.

“I need you to promise me that you will stay strong while we’re at King’s Landing. That you won’t falter when they spill their honey in your ear,” she said. Daenys’ brow furrowed, feeling confused and slightly insulted.

“Have I not proven my loyalty to you time and time again?” she asked.

“Of course,” Rhaenyra replied immediately. “Yes, always. But right now, the Red Keep is a venomous place. I wouldn’t want you to be put in a situation where you have to choose sides.”

“But I have chosen a side,” Daenys said, defensive. “Every single day, by not escaping, I am choosing a side. It is your cause that I believe in, your son the one I want to see sitting on the Driftwood Throne when the time comes.”

Rhaenyra let out a breath. When she spoke again, her eyes were honest.

“You are very important to me, Daenys. Not only as a sister but as an ally. Your support means a lot to this family and I fear that, by exposing you to them, I might be pushing you away from us.”

As she always did when she was stressed or worried, a habit she had unknowingly picked up from her mother, Daenys began nervously picking at her fingers. Rhaenyra noticed and held her hand again, making her stop.

“You took me in six years ago,” she began, “a girl you barely knew, who had been mean to your children, who had... taken part in the narrative that was told about them at court. I didn't make it easy for you at first, and yet you treated me as if you were my— as if I was your daughter. You offered me a seat at your table, a chair next to you by the hearth, a place in your council. Do you really think me so ungrateful?”

Rhaenyra lowered her gaze, ashamed for having even considered the possibility of betrayal, but also pleased with Daenys' contained outrage: it meant she truly cared.

“No. No, of course not.”

The tension between them eased as they shared a moment of silent solidarity, but the weight of the impending trip to King’s Landing still loomed over them.

Finally, Rhaenyra spoke again, her voice steady. “You should get some rest. There’s much to be done before we leave.”

_____________________

That night, as she sat at her desk with only the hearth and a single candle illuminating her chamber, Daenys decided to write to Helaena.

My dearest Helaena,

It has saddened me deeply to learn that Vaemond Velaryon means to call into question Lucerys’ legitimacy. I might err on the side of innocence, but I had hoped this matter was already settled. Perhaps this instance will finally put an end to such nonsense.

Despite this, I look forward to seeing you again, and your children. They must be so grown now… I will make sure to bring presents for them so they can remember their aunt.

We will arrive at King’s Landing within the week, as we must sail since Rhaenyra and Daemon want Father to meet little Aegon and little Viserys.

I do hope we can have a peaceful time together.

Your sister, who loves you,

Daenys

As she rolled the piece of parchment, the wax for the three-headed dragon seal already melted and ready to use, Ser Lorent knocked on her door.

“Forgive me, Princess. Prince Jacaerys requests a word,” he announced.

“Of course. Send him in.” It wasn’t uncommon for Jace to visit Daenys in her quarters, and Rhaenyra allowed it, so long as the door remained open.

Unlike Daenys, who was already clad in her sleeping clothes, a beautiful crimson robe covering her nightgown, Jace was still wearing his normal clothes, save for the cape. Once he was inside, she stood.

“How’s Luke?” she asked.

Jace made a face, shrugging. “Terrified, honestly. You know how he feels about this matter,” he explained.

Daenys hummed, cutting the distance between them. As soon as she was in front of him, Jace wrapped her in his arms.

After a few seconds of comfortable silence, drowning in each other’s familiar scents, with Jace’s face buried in her neck and her hands in his curls, Daenys spoke. “I don’t want to go,” she confessed, and she sounded just like she had all those years before, except this time it was the opposite situation. She had been holding her feelings in all day but now, in Jace’s arms, she felt safe enough to let them out.

“I know,” he murmured back. “I’m not too excited about it either.”

When Daenys spoke again, she was crying.

“Am I horrible?”

As soon as he heard her broken voice Jace broke the embrace, only to gently grab her face as his brow furrowed in worry.

“No! Of course not, why do you think that?”

He caught a tear with his thumb as it slid down her cheek.

“I don’t know, I— I haven’t seen them in years, and when the opportunity arises I would rather just not go. And I’m worried about Luke, and I don’t want your mother to get upset, and—.”

“Shh…” Jace soothed her gently, noticing the way her anxiety was starting to escalate. He put his forehead against hers, and Daenys closed her eyes. Outside, Ser Lorent peeked discreetly, just to check in on them. “Listen to me. Whatever Vaemond Velaryon has to say, it will be to no avail. My mother will defend Luke and put an end to all of this once and for all. And… I know it is difficult for you to see everybody again, but you will not be alone this time, hm? I will be with you. We will all be with you.”

Daenys had spent her entire life trying to feel like she belonged. Somewhere. Anywhere. Neither from here, nor from there. Always adjusting, fitting in, packing up, looking for a spot.

For many years, the only moment she was able to achieve that feeling was when riding Silverwing, hence her passion for spending her days on dragonback. Whenever she rode her dragon, she felt like a part of her that was never good enough for anyone was restored: bad daughter, bad sister, bad princess, good dragonrider. And so, she had decided that her place in the world was on her dragon’s back.

Jace had changed her mind.

He wasn’t just kind, or gentle, or good. He knew her; really knew her. And every new part of her she showed him, no matter how ugly, or embarrassing, or despicable, he embraced it. Loved it.

Daenys belonged on her dragon’s back, but she also belonged in Jace’s arms.

I love you, she thought.

“You are too good,” she said instead, still sniffling but much calmer.

Jace smiled before softly kissing her forehead. “And you worry too much. It isn’t so bad, actually. I think I’ll find enjoyment in showing off my betrothed around the court.”

This made Daenys smile, a beautiful shade of pink bringing her cheeks to life. “I’m sure all the girls will bat their eyelashes at you as soon as they see you,” she said. “And the women.”

Jace chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Let them. They can bat their eyelashes all they want. Besides, they’ll be too busy being envious of how beautiful you are.”

Daenys shook her head, but her beaming smile and the way she couldn’t hold Jace’s gaze for a second showed how much she loved his flattery.

She kissed his cheek, and Ser Lorent cleared his throat outside.

Jace sighed.

“I must go. I’ll come for you in the morning.”

“Sleep well,” she said as he softly kissed her hand.

Jace smiled at her once more before finally walking out the door, leaving her alone again in her chamber.

As she settled into bed, trying to find sleep quickly, she didn’t think of Vaemond Velaryon, her mother’s frown, or the politics of the realm. Instead, the only thing on her mind was kind brown eyes and the smell of leather and salt water.

_______________________________________________

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slaytheusurper · 10 months ago

Text

⭑ I am yours and you are mine, whatever may come ⭑

Masterlist

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x sister!wife!reader (characters are +18)

Summary: after your mother Rhaenyra ascended the iron throne you were finally able to wed your betrothed. But with a royal wedding comes a bedding ceremony.

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, smut, vaginal sex, making out, handjob, grinding, humping, creampie.

Word count: 2.2k

You anxiously played with your hair as one of your handmaidens braided it. Your other handmaiden standing in front of you, adding the accessories to your beautiful ivory gown. Today was your wedding day. It was a joyous day in King’s Landing, your mother, the queen, having ascended the iron throne and having slayed your traitorous uncle, she could finally rule. You were already betrothed to your brother Jacaerys before the war but the wedding was put on hold because of the events. But today was the day, you were nervous but also excited. After 7 days of celebrations the royal wedding would take place, in the very room the iron throne was in. After some time of preparing you were ready to head down to the doors that led to the throne room. As you stood there nervously waiting for the doors to open you felt a hand on your shoulder, your step father prince Daemon would walk you down the aisle. He offered his arm with a smile and when you took it the doors opened revealing the huge room decorated with candles, feathers and flowers. And not to mention the hundreds of people from court within. Your eyes immediately shot to the end of the aisle where your soon to be husband stood next to the high septon who would be officiating.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Daemon started walking, all the eyes in the room were on you, soft gasps all around at the sight of your beautiful dress and hair. You walked alongside Daemon down the aisle and when you reached the end, Jace took your hand so Daemon could join your mother and brothers at the base of the steps. Jace walked you up the few steps to where the high septon stood. Both of you taking each other's hands and giving each other a nervous smile. Then the high septon spoke. “The love of The Seven is holy and eternal. Source of life and love. We stand here today in thanks and praise to join two souls as one. Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger hear now their vows.” You kissed Jace’s cheek before he spoke. “I am yours and you are mine. Whatever may come.” Then you repeated the words. “I am yours and you are mine. Whatever may come.” You smiled, which was returned by Jace. The high septon continued. “Here in the presence of gods and men, I proclaim Jacaerys of house Velaryon, (Y/N) of house Velaryon to be man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” The septon ended. Jace gave you a light kiss on your lips and the room disrupted with applause. You both looked at your mother, brothers and Daemon, and they smiled. Then Jace took your hand and walked you down the steps, now the celebrations could begin.

After hours of dancing, feasting and entertaining your guests you started getting nervous for the next part of the wedding, the bedding ceremony. Even though the old tradition of people “making sure” the ceremony actually took place was dropped years ago, it still scared you. You knew the basics of it, of course. But still, you didn’t know what it would actually be like and it made you nervous. Obviously Jace was a sweetheart and would take care of you, so you expected it to still be a positive occurrence. What you didn’t know was if Jace had any experience already, of course as a man he was allowed to bed whomever, whenever he wanted but you always thought it didn’t fit his character, and he rarely left the Red Keep, so you decided you were both clueless, which made it a little less intimidating. Jace sat beside you at the large table in front of the guests. Your family all sitting next to you two. And alas the feast was declared over by the queen and you and your new husband left the room to his bedchamber.

His bedchamber was a place you have been to many times before but now it was different, you were going there with a completely different intention. An intention that made the heat pool in your belly. As if Jacaerys read your thoughts he asked “Are you alright? It’s okay to be nervous, I’m nervous too.” You were glad that even though wine was poured as water tonight, he didn’t overflow his cups. Wanting to be sober with just enough of a buzz for confidence. “I’m alright, yes, but I am nervous. Ha- have you had any...well experience?” You asked him anxiously, getting ever closer to his bedchamber. “No not really, I wanted to save myself for marriage too, it’s only fair. And I have to admit that I also didn’t want to uhm- father bastards, you know.” He explained, grabbing your hand and ordering the guards by his door to leave you, you both certainly did not want anyone listening in. As he led you inside your nervousness grew and you started to feel hot all over your body, and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

“Jace, do you know...well you know, how to do this?” You asked him, looking him in his beautiful chocolate eyes. “The basics, yes, don’t worry. I’ll make sure to never hurt you, and if you want to stop you can always just tell me, okay?” He told you sweetly, as he put his hands on your waist, taking in your beautiful figure. “Okay, I trust you.” You mumbled putting your hands on his chest. He looked in your eyes and brought his lips closer to yours. You could feel his warm breath on your lips and you slightly parted them, waiting for him to close the gap. At last his big soft lips were on yours, the moment heating by the second and you grabbed his brown hair slightly tugging at the roots, which earned you a groan from him. He then walked you back towards his bed pushing you down before confirming you were still okay with it.

After you told him it was okay he immediately had his lips on yours again, his tongue now asking for permission to enter. Something that you eagerly permitted, as his tongue came in touch with yours, you softly moaned in his mouth. You could feel your wetness between your thighs and you wanted him to touch you so badly. “Jace, please touch me, just touch me, anywhere.” You begged as you removed your lips from his for but a mere moment. “Anything for my wife.” He muttered. He kissed your cheek and started removing your dress and undergarments. After he undressed you he started removing his own clothes as well. And holy fuck did he look good, his toned abs, his biceps, you didn’t know your husband was this well gifted under his clothes. But as you observed him, your eyes landed on his already hard cock, glistening with precum at the tip. He was big, at least you assumed that he was bigger than other men, he sure looked like it.

Jace saw you observing him and smiled. “I hope I am not disappointing you my love.” You looked at his face again and a blush spread across your face. “No no, not at all. You are incredibly handsome Jace.” You admitted, he grabbed your face again and kissed you deeply. You moved your hands over his toned chest, which made Jace groan against your lips. “Let me touch you Jace, please.” You pleaded with him, you wanted nothing more than to wrap your hands around his slightly dripping cock. “Of course, please touch me.” He moaned at your touch and you started to move your hand experimentally. Gripping him sometimes harder and sometimes softer again to test how he would react and what he would like best. A firmer grip clearly got the best reaction so you firmly started jerking him off until he begged you to stop. “Why? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” You asked him nervously, had you grabbed him too hard and hurt him? “No no not at all, it’s just- if you had continued... I would’ve... finished too early.” He smiled awkwardly.

“Oh- of course, I’m sorry. I just wanted to make you feel good.” You smiled. “Ooh fuck.” He mumbled to himself, loving the way you said that. “And it did feel really good, I promise but I need to make you feel good now. So that I might prepare you for...the actual activity.” He expressed. You smiled at him and he pushed you to lay down, while trying to remember the words of the book he had read about sex he decided that he would be better off experimenting himself to see what made you tick. So he slid his hand up your thigh and touched the mound between your legs softly. He decided that that was the right move as you moaned at his touch. Again he touched you only this time he added a bit more pressure and moved to try and find the spot that made you moan the loudest. Then he found it, the nub that made you moan his name in pleasure. “Yes- please- right there Jace.” You moaned, grabbing his wrist out of want.

He smiled to himself and felt himself become even harder, unable to stop himself he began humping the bed softly while rubbing circles on your clit at the same time. He joined you in your moans and soon you trapped his hand between your legs when you closed your thighs shut as you came, feeling the wetness gushing out of you, almost screaming your husband's name. Jace stopped moving to avoid cumming and removed his hand when you had calmed down and opened your legs again. “That was amazing Jace, I think I’m...prepared enough now.” You smiled hazily at him. “Alright, as you wish.” He said before moving his hips close to yours, gripping is cock and sliding his tip across your slit, trying to find your entrance. When he slipped in, you both let out a moan. He stayed still for some time to let you get used to his size. After a while he moved deeper into your wet cunt making him moan again, never in his life could he have imagined the pleasure, finally understanding why men are so desperate for it.

“Are you alright? Can I start moving?” He asked you not sure if you had adjusted enough. “Yes I’m okay, it doesn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would.” You reassured him, it was indeed better than you thought. So he started moving his hips slowly, grinding against you while trying not to moan too loud, he was clearly in heaven. After a couple of thrusts he began moving faster not being able to help himself, you just felt too good. “Oh Jace, yes- you feel so good.” You moaned his thrusts starting to feel better each time he moved in and out of you. Jace then moved closer against you, pressing his chest against yours, burying his face in your neck, now absolutely pounding into you hard. He couldn’t help but moan your name over and over again against your neck.

But he really did it when he moved to be hitting you right against the spongy spot that made you scream for more. You begged him to finish inside you, all you could feel, see and smell was Jace. He was filling your every sense. The slapping of your skin and your moans surely to be heard in the halls, but you were too focused on Jace and chasing your own high to notice. Jace’s balls pounded against your ass and even that felt good. You could tell by his moaning, stuttering and heavy breathing that he was getting close to his release. Luckily you were dangerously close yourself, and this time it felt different somehow, like it was going to be more consuming. You moaned Jace’s name at every thrust and he started to get sloppier. Just as he was about to cum you felt yourself squirting hard, soaking the sheets underneath you, you arched your back and your hands gripped on to the mattress for dear life, screaming your husband's name. Your walls tightening around him made him fill you with his seed, as he moaned loudly. You gasped for air as you had apparently been holding your breath due to the intensity of your release. Confused as to what just happened.

Jace kissed your neck and moved to your side to hold you in his arms. “What just happened?” You asked him, slightly embarrassed at the soaked sheets. “It’s okay, I read that it can happen when women feel extremely good, so it’s quite the compliment I suppose.” He grinned. You smiled at him and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him close. “I love you Jace.” You said, kissing his cheek. “I love you too, my beautiful wife.” He said, stroking your hair. You definitely didn’t need to be nervous anymore and you knew for sure this would become a frequent activity.

#hotd #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #prince jacaerys #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon x fem reader smut #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader smut

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