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starogeorgina · 1 day ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬

Pairing: Criston Cole x reader

Warnings: Swearing, oral sex

1.07

You giggle as Raya reminisces about the time she and another handmaid walked in on a newly married lord and lady from a visiting house having sex in the gardens of Winterfell. You were more surprised that everything was working while being outside in the freezing snow . It was only of interest to the ladies because of how handsome the Lord was, but the scandal quickly became old news.

If that had taken place in the gardens of the keep, it would still be spoken about daily years later.

As you whispered to each other in hushed tones while Raya finished braiding your hair, the sound of shifting armour from across the room caught your ear.

“Is something wrong, princess?”

“No…no, no, of course not. I just hadn’t realised the Kingsguard was changing so early.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you realised that Ser Criston was on the other side of the door. You had yet to speak to him since returning to keep the night before. What you did… you didn’t regret it but were afraid he would. Your stomach is in knots, but you smile politely at the rest of her story, knowing you’ll need to speak with him shortly.

A few moments of silence pass before Raya finishes. Clearing your throat nervously, you stand up and start to smooth out your dress when there’s a knock at the door.

“Come.”

The door opens and Criston enters the room, his facial expression completely neutral. He bows his head, “Ser Gwayne, princess.”

Your lips part when the knight steps to the side, letting your husband walk into the room. You lock eyes with Criston’s, and it’s like looking into pools of darkness; a brief flash of irritation appears on his face as he leaves to resume his post outside. Raya excuses herself and pretends to fluff up pillows, but you know she’s listening in.

“I’m glad I caught you before you went dragon riding,” Gwayne says. “I was wondering if you’d join me for a walk in the gardens?”

A lump forms in your throat as you force a smile, “Yes, of course.”

Clicking your tongue, Storm grumbles, jumps down off the chair, and comes behind you. You clap behind his ear before moving towards the door.

Gwayne looks surprised. “You’re bringing the pup?”

“Direwolf,” you correct. “But yes, it’s not good for a wolf to be cooped up inside all day.”

“Much similar to a dragon then.”

—

You try not to sigh or roll your eyes while sitting down next to the shaded fountain in the garden, even though Gwayne was walking with his wife, a princess; it didn’t stop him from eye-fucking with other ladies at court.

It was embarrassing.

“I suppose the young princess won’t want to travel back home without her wolf,” Gwayne says, looking at Storm, who was now lying beneath a tree.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why the sudden invite to join you?”

The redhead shakes his head, chuckling. “I do admire how frank you are, princess. I simply wished to speak with you and thought, why not outside?”

“Oh.”

You skim your finger over the water, watching the colourful fish swimming. Stubbornness was a trait of a Targaryen, but you refuse to speak first when the other person is treating you like a fool. Gwayne had invited you to the gardens to put on a show.

After a few moments of silence, Gwayne clears his throat and, almost in a whisper, asks, “Did you think any more of what I suggested? Taking a lo—”

“Stop,” you hiss, glancing around to make sure nobody else was nearby, aside from your sword shield, who was standing with his back towards the fountain. “I know you weren’t a man marked with jealousy, but you mustn’t say that out loud. Saying such things in public is how rumours are spread.”

Taken aback, Gwayne looks genuinely remorseful. “Sorry, I wasn’t—“ he sighs. “I have been feeling the pressure from both my father and sister; every other day they are asking when I will be a father. It’s exhausting. I missed my family while I lived in OldTown but now it’s clear I took privacy for granted.”

Squeezing his hand, “You’ll learn to drown the noise out.”

“But did you think about it?”

“I have… I haven’t reached a decision yet.”

You felt bad for lying, but Gwayne was a Hightower, and it was still unclear how trustworthy he was even though it was his idea.

“There was something else I wanted to ask you,” he licks at his lips. “I know you have plans of returning to Winterfell, but the queen has informed me they are having a feast for Prince Daeron’s name-day, and all of House Hightower will be attending, and without you by my side, I will be bombarded with questions. It’s selfish, I know.”

Daeron wasn’t much older than Jacaerys, and you didn’t doubt how elaborate your brother's name-day would be to compensate for the attention the king would give his grandson soon after. You didn’t think it was possible for a handsome lord to be so unhappy at court, but now his usual mask of calmness was slipping.

“We will stay and go north afterwards.”

“Thank you.”

—

It doesn’t take the knight king to approach you in the gardens after Gwayne leaves.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you try to control your breathing. It was hard trying to focus on anything else with the memory of Criston's lips pressing against your own fresh in your mind.

His hands gripping tightly onto your thighs as he presses your back against the tree…

“Princess.”

“Ser Criston,” you swallow thickly. “Did you overhear?”

He nods. In a low voice he says, “I meant what I said, princess; my sword and shield are yours.”

“Nobody could ever know,” you whisper to yourself more than him. “Whatever we have, it will forever be hidden in the shadows of the castle.”

“I know.”

“You’ll need to watch another man claim a babe that you fathered.”

“Having the smallest parts of you will be enough,” he says softly.

Taking a deep breath, your eyes gloss over. You wanted to be a good wife and mother and do your duty, and because of the knight, it would be possible. You just hoped after having the smallest parts of Criston, you don’t become greedy and want more.

You throw your head back as Criston’s warm tongue laps between your sensitive folds; you feel a rush of pleasure coursing through your body and tightening in your stomach. Clutching at the soft linens, you bite down on your bottom lip, careful not to make a loud noise. Your hips begin to buck upward involuntarily, meeting his skilled tongue.

Just as your orgasm approaches, a sudden, sharp knock on the door pulls you apart from each other. Someone attempts to open the door, but it doesn’t budge.

Thank the gods Criston locked it.

“It’s Raya, princess.”

“Just a moment!”

“I’m just making sure you are feeling well since you haven’t been breaking fast at your usual times.” Raya wasn’t one to spontaneously appear; she never breaks from her routine unless asked to, which leads you to believe something else is going on. The knocking continues, more urgently this time. “Her grace is quite persistent that she sees for herself that you are feeling well.”

Alicent.

Panic flickers across Criston’s face, mirroring your own. He stares up at you and silently mouths, “What do we do?”

You share a look, both knowing the consequences of getting caught. Your heart races. Rushing to your feet, you sway slightly, getting a head rush from the sudden movement. You lift the frilly bed skirt and hold it up so Criston can crawl underneath it. Thankfully he wasn’t undressed yet, which meant he had no clothes discarded across the room. The knight had been using a door that was hidden by furniture to come in and out of your room, but there was no time.

Clearing your throat, you fix your nightgown and put on a robe and go to unlock the door. “Your grace, forgive me for taking so long—”

Alicent walks straight into your chambers, her eyes immediately landing on your unmade bed. Raya mouths sorry then leaves. You silently debated whether you should close the door or not with Alicent’s sworn shield and another knight from the king's guard posted outside the room.

“Are you ill, stepdaughter?” She asks in a sickly sweet tone.

“No, your grace, I just haven’t been sleeping well.”

Alicent scrunches her nose up. “The king did mention that Meera was still sharing a room with you most nights. What does your husband think about that?”

“As Ser Gwayne doesn’t visit my chambers during the night, I imagine he cares very little about it.”

“Hmm,” she gives you a sarcastic smile. “I will admit I was hoping you were having symptoms of morning sickness.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m just sleep deprived.”

“Yes, perhaps a bath might help you not look so stressed. As the king’s daughter, it is important that you look presentable during such a celebrated occasion.”

You bite down on your tongue; her bitterness towards you was blatantly obvious. Part of you did pity Alicent since Daeron’s name day was on the morrow and your father didn’t seem interested. “Of course, your grace.”

As soon as she leaves, you close the door and wait a few beats before locking it.

While chewing on your lower lip, you go back towards your bed; before you reach it, Criston sneaks up behind you and plants a kiss on your cheek.

Your mind goes into overdrive with the fear of not being able to do your duty. As if he can tell what you’re thinking. Criston places his hand over his stomach. “It’s only been three weeks; give it time.”

“I know,” your noses brush together as you turn to face him. “Unfortunately, I think it’s best that you go. She could come back.”

Criston nods and backs away from you slowly; the feeling of his hand holding yours still lingers long after he’s let go. Minutes later you are left standing alone in your chambers processing how close you just were to being caught.

—

Holding his head in his hands, Criston inhales and exhales deeply. In the privacy of his own room, he sits completely nude, trying to cool down, but his efforts are in vain since sweat still trickles down his brow. His body was coated in sweat by the time he returned to the White Sword Tower.

The Targaryen princess's beauty could be to blame, but whatever the reason, Criston was completely infatuated with her.

Even now, after almost being caught by the queen, he still felt a yearning for her. It was sickening; Criston was so ashamed of breaking his vows. The moment he heard Alicent’s voice, he began to tremble like a scared child, but one glance at the princess's teary eyes and the knight knew he needed to hold himself together. So he tried his best not to seem so fazed while being terrified on the inside.

If anyone discovers their secret, the knight's head would be taken, and he would bring disgrace to his family’s name… yet, he knew he’d risk again and again for the princess.

#house of the dragon #ser criston cole x you #ser criston cole smut #criston cole x you #criston cole x reader #ser criston cole x reader #criston cole #ser criston cole/reader #criston cole fanfic #criston cole smut #criston cole/reader #ser criston cole #the blood between us #the blood between us 1.06 #house of the dragon fanfiction

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patheticdarling · 7 months ago

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Her Sacrifice

Summary: The assassins had no such luck finding Prince Aemond but what were they to do when they stumbled upon the beloved wife of King Aegon instead? Her belly swollen with his heir.

Warnings: Blood & Cheese/murder/gore & blood/cursing/threats/blades/pregnancy/kidnapping/funeral/incest (reader is helaena's older twin)

Word Count: 2236

"The other lords will be accompanying me for a drink in the Throne Room. Shall you join us, Wife?" Aegon asked, a slightly eager smile on his face, anticipating your agreement.

You sighed as you began to undo the braids in your hair, "The hour is late, Husband. I must rest."

Aegon pouted, "Just a cup! We've attended to our royal duties all day, have we not earned a bit of respite?"

"Respite is what I shall get with a good night's sleep. Not drinking until sunrise with you and your comrades," you teased. You stood from seat at your vanity, walking over and placing Aegon's hand on your growing bump, "Besides, do you not wish for our babe to be born healthy? So that they may grow into formidable dragon riders like their parents."

He smiled softly at your belly before kissing it sweetly, "You make a good point, my dear. Mayhaps I should stay in with you."

You shook your head, smiling down at him, "Do not let me stop your fun. You are right. The King deserves his respite. Besides there may not be many more nights where we get to enjoy ourselves," motioning to your bump.

"You are going to make a wonderful mother," Aegon stood from his seat, "I shall allow you to enjoy your last moments of rest then." He planted a soft kiss on your lips, "I love you, Y/N."

You stroked his hair, "I love you, Aegon."

Aegon kissed you once more before giving your belly a playful squeeze and disappearing from your chambers. You summoned one of your ladies to help you finish getting ready for bed. Thanking her as you got yourself comfortable between the silk sheets of you and Aegon's bed. Finally bidding her good night as she blew out most of the candles, leaving a few on for Aegon's drunken return.

You could not be sure of the hour when you heard your chamber doors creak open followed by the shuffling of feet. You did not even bother opening your eyes, assuming you'd feel the bed indent as Aegon stumbled towards it.

"Back so soon?" you teased, "I was only being half serious about the sunset-"

Suddenly, a large hand clamped over your mouth. Your eyes shot open as two men loomed over you. You screamed and panicked as the larger man used his other arm to keep you pinned to the bed.

"Quiet!" the smaller man pulled a blade out, pressing it to your throat, "Unless you want me to bleed you like a pig."

You nodded, terrified of what these men could do, "W-Who are you? What do you want?"

"Its not our wants you should be concerned with, Your Grace."

"Who sent you? What do y-you want from me?" your voice shook.

"A life is owed. It wasn't supposed to be you. A son for a son we were told," the smaller man shrugged, "But it seems Prince Aemond isn't in the castle tonight."

Of course, you thought. This was about Lucerys. Your younger brother had taken the boy's life and that was a deed that could not go unpunished. You knew how deeply your eldest sister loved all of her children. The loss of one would be devastating. Taking Aemond's life made sense. But taking yours? And the life of your unborn child? That was not in Rhaenyra's nature. This was plotted by someone far more sinister and dark.

"My uncle sent you, didn't he?" you spoke up. They both sent stares to the other, "Daemon Targaryen. He sent you to kill one of us."

The large man scoffed, "Aren't you a smart one?"

"Shame those smarts won't do you any good now, will they?" the smaller one mocked.

"Please," you tried to beg, "Do not do this. No good will-" The large hand came down on your mouth again.

"That's enough," he grunted before turning back to the smaller man, "I'll hold her down and you cut."

Your blood ran cold at his words. Not only were they going to kill you but they were going to tortuously cut out your unborn child. They both yanked you further down the bed until you were flat on your back. You tried to kick, scream, bite, thrash as much as you could but the man proved to have almost inhuman strength. The smaller man raised his blade, that same sadistic grin plastered on his face before he began to dig it into the lower part of your abdomen.

White hot pain seared through your body as he continued to slice into you. Your vision was blurred with tears and you could have sworn your throat was raw from your cries. Though the pain was so intense that you could not process the sounds that might have been leaving you. Warm blood pooled all around you, the once ivory sheets now a deep crimson. One last gasp left you as they pulled your child from your body.

Suddenly you had remembered your mother telling you about the pains of childbirth when you first married Aegon and all anyone could talk about was you producing his heirs. She had a rather negative approach that utterly terrified you. So, you decided to find comfort in Rhaenyra's advice instead.

"I will not withhold the truth from you, it truly is the most excruciating pain a woman must go through."

You groaned, "That is not what I had wished to hear, Sister."

"You did not let me finish. The process is hard, yes. And you will feel the urge to curse the Gods or even your husband and swear to never bear anymore children," you both laughed, "But the moment you hear those sweet cries and your babe is placed upon your chest, the pain is forgotten. And nothing has ever seemed so worth it. Then you will know, right then and there, that you would do it all over again if it meant you could finally find that purest form of love."

And yet, you would never discover that beautiful feeling your sister had painted so clearly. The room was almost eerily silent besides the dripping of blood onto the stone floor.

"What do you know?" the man panted as he held your lifeless infant, "A son. Congratulations, my Queen."

You could not speak as you felt your body numb itself. Tears falling with no cries as they stuffed your son's body into a sack. It was as if you could feel your heart shatter. The men finished their sinister act before fleeing through a secret passageway. You tried little to fight the heaviness in your eyes. Perhaps this was all a horrible dream and if you shut your eyes, you'd open them to find yourself in bed with Aegon's arms wrapped securely around your belly. The last thing you could muster was a small smile at the sentimental image as your vision faded out completely.

"Sister?" Helaena called out into your bed chamber, "I did not wish to wake you but Aegon is being so loud and I cannot sleep with him-" Her voice caught in her throat at the sight of your mangled body lying on the bed. Your figure lifeless and your eyes vacant as you stared at the canopy. She approached your body, a shaky hand reaching out to touch your face to be met with utter stillness. Helaena backed out of the room slowly, tears flowing down her cheeks before sprinting to find some sort of help. As if anyone could undo what had already been done.

"I-I don't know what happened. I came in and she...she was..." Helaena's voice cracked with sobs as various people filed into the royal bed chamber; the Kingsguard, the Dowager Queen, the Hand, and lastly, your husband.

They all stopped at the sight before them, their eyes welling with tears and their stomachs churning. The Dowager Queen let out a heavy sob as all their attention turned to the King. Aegon approached your body cautiously.

He fell to his knees, his hands cradling your bloodied face as he sobbed, "My wife, my dearest-"

Nobody dared say a word as Aegon mourned over you. His sobs heavy with grief as he called out your name over and over again. The Queen Mother clutching Helaena's arm as they cried with him. The Kingsguard hanging their heads low in shame at their failure to protect their Queen. Otto Hightower, known to be quick with his word, said nothing.

The council meeting that followed was one full of dread and grief. Most of the council mourned, the Hand schemed, and the King could do not but curse the Gods and swear revenge.

"Your Grace, perhaps we should speak of the funeral arrangements for the Queen-"

"No," Aegon was quick to stop the Hand, who raised a brow at his grandson's denial, "I will not have my wife's body dragged through the streets like a dog!"

"Not dragged, honored!" Otto corrected him before lowering his tone as he spoke to the King, "Y/N was my granddaughter and I loved her. She deserves the funeral of a Targaryen princess, a Targaryen queen. The small folk wish to mourn their Queen and the heir she carried. And they need to know who is responsible for this."

Aegon's face twisted in disbelief, "How could they not already know?! Who else would do this save the bitch queen of bastards?!"

"We must know for certain, Your Grace," Lord Jasper suggested, "If it was not your sister, this may prove to be an even bigger threat to the crown, to you, my King."

Aegon scoffed, "I do not care what threatens me. My wife is dead. And my child," he stifled a sob, "That cunt did this, I know it. Her and her kingdom of traitorous bastards will burn for it."

Before anyone could speak, the doors of the council chamber opened as Lord Larys entered. He bowed meekly as all eyes turned to him.

"My lords, Your Grace," he greeted the council.

All stood still, "State your purpose, Lord Larys," the Hand spoke.

"We have apprehended one of the assailants. A gold cloak, known for his brutal nature. The guards caught him fleeing the Gate of Gods. He carried the child's body in a sack."

The King hardly wasted any time, stomping over to the doors, "I shall kill him myself."

"We might retrieve further information about who is to blame for this tragedy after questioning," Ser Criston stopped Aegon from leaving as Otto spoke, "I trust in your skill set, Lord Larys."

The Strong Lord bowed before exiting the room. All eyes turned once again to the King and his Hand.

"We will hold the service for both the child and mother-"

"I said no," Aegon grunted, "My wife and child will not be put on display for the Realm."

"Your Grace, we might use this to our advantage in the war you wish to march into. Your people need to know the depravity that Rhaenyra is capable of. The great houses of Westeros will see that she is not fit to rule given her cruel nature. They will flock to your side and with them, their armies and bannermen."

Aegon continued to shake his head. He could not just let them see you or your child like that. They did not deserve it.

"Mother," he turned to the Dowager Queen for support.

Alicent approached Aegon's chair, "The Hand sets on a difficult path, my darling, but it might be the right one."

The King could not muster anymore fight, "Have the Silent Sisters prepare the Queen and child for their journey. Behind them will be Princess Helaena and the Queen Mother."

"No, I do not wish to be a spectacle," Alicent argued but her father would not hear it.

Your husband visited your body as the Silent Sisters began to prepare it. They had cleaned the mess and dressed you in one of your favorite dresses, the emerald color complimenting your skin and hair.

"Your Grace, it is ill-fated to look upon the face of death," Maester Orwyle warned.

"That is not the face of death, Maester. That is my wife," Aegon spoke, "Leave me with her."

Maester Orwyle and the Silent Sisters bowed before leaving the King with your body. He softly stroked the hair from your face as he broke into sobs once again.

"I am so sorry, my love," he cried, "I-I should have been there to protect you. And our son." Maester Orwyle had informed His Grace that the child you carried was a prince, a perfect heir, "You truly would have been the most wonderful mother. You were already a perfect wife and Queen. Motherhood would have come naturally."

Aegon recounted how well you did with Rhaenyra's last two babies, the ones she had with his uncle Daemon. As much as he did not care for his half-sister, he knew you did. Always quick to defend her, even against your own family. So, he was forced to ask himself, how could she do this to you? To your child?

"They will pay for what they have done," your husband muttered to you, "I will win this war. I will win it for our child. I will win it for you. With fire and blood. Your sacrifice will not be for naught, my Queen."

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