#x Dornish!reader

[lady-phasma]

In the fading light

Daemon Targaryen x fem Dornish!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, but I was going for soft!Daemon so I don't think there are that many warnings this time.

Summary: Daemon comes to visit you at Godsgrace, the seat of House Allyrion, in Dorne. Kind of an AU in the sense that Rhaenyra isn't the object of his love, nor his motivation for "ending his marriage" to Rhea. 2.6k words

From the request here - romantic Daemon inspired by the song "kalam eineh" (Words of his eyes) by Sherine. I was able to work in a few lyrics as well ("the one whose eyes the moon envied" and "get lost in his beauty").

a/n: Dorne is a very big place and all of the houses are as different as the Northern houses. So as I write more Dornish!reader fics I start to see them uniquely in my headcanon. Godgrace is on a river from what my research tells me, so I think it worked out perfectly that Sherine is Egyptian. I've dropped some Egyptian elements into Godsgrace and that's how it is in my head now. (If there was a face claim for a location think Thebes/Luxor landscape.)

A warm breeze wafted onto the balcony where you and Daemon sat. The sun sank low against the horizon. The river in the distance shone with golds and pinks. A falcon screeched nearby. You turned from the gorgeous view of the Godsgrace river oasis to look at your Prince. He sat, reclined, opposite you. You slid your toes up the inside of his leg, teasing him. He stroked the top of your foot, your ankle, up your shin. Your smooth skin reflected the light of the setting sun much as the river did. Daemon slipped his fingertips under the hem of your thin skirt. The contrast of his pale hand under the bronze fabric was delightful to you. This Northern prince, so accustomed to clouds and darkness. Such a dreary land he came from.

You watched him as he looked out over the Greenblood river. It would be so easy to get lost in his beauty. His hair, his eyes, his mouth, everything about him was entrancing to you. You glanced back out at the river, the people going about their evening paying no attention to the lords and ladies so high above them. Birds circled above fishing boats as the nets were pulled in. Lights began to flicker in windows across the city. You smelled roasted meat and fresh baked bread on the warm air. You would have to dress for the evening meal, if you didn’t request it in your quarters.

“Did you come only because the fool Prince Martell forbade it?” You were genuinely curious. “Or because of your brother?”

“You know that is not the reason,” he spoke softly and continued to stroke your leg. “Their approval means less to me than you think.”

“You risk much coming to Godsgrace.” You wiggled your toes against his thigh.

“It is a fair price,” Daemon replied.

“Surely you are quite rested now, my love,” you goaded. “It is a long journey up the Greenblood, but not so tiring that you would ignore me.” You flashed your eyes at him. They were nearly the color of burnt umber in the fading light. Soon your maids would light torches and candles in your chambers. You would hear them through the diaphanous curtains that hung in the entry of the balcony. Though they would never dare to disturb you, even if you had your Targaryen on the floor in front of them.

Daemon turned his violet eyes toward you, finally pulled from his thoughts. Gods, you thought, even the moon could envy those eyes! The last pink of the sunset caught on his silver hair as it swung freely about his face, tendrils caught in the breeze.

“Quite rested,” he smirked as he spoke. He slipped his hand behind your knee and, reaching forward, grabbed your other leg and pulled you, bodily, to him. Your chair legs screeched against the stone floor as you threw your head back and laughed. When he had you where he wanted you, he smoothed his palms up the inside of your thighs. You rested your bare feet on the seat of his chair on either side of his legs. He pushed your skirt all the way up to your waist as he stared into your eyes. His thumbs grazed the creases of your thighs and you sighed.

“The journey was too long, but certain hindrances are now resolved,” his voice was low and quiet. “I am no longer married.”

You raised an eyebrow at these words. You trailed your fingertips down one of his forearms.

“I hope that it was painless, my prince,” you both knew the mocking of his title was not malicious. He was not your prince and you enjoyed reminding him of that. “You know, you could have stayed in Godsgrace and I could have sent one of my women to dispatch the issue quickly.” Your grin was knowing, yet seductive. Daemon’s response to Northern morality was curious to you. He didn’t want his wife, but could not bring himself to have another while she lived.

“I did not say I did the deed,” he tried not to smile. “Only that it was resolved.” Oh, he was deliciously vile when it suited him. You chuckled at this.

“Well, I had no trouble with the situation,” you grazed his thigh with one foot. “I needed only your devotion, not your marriage.”

“That you will always have, my lady,” he replied as he sank to his knees in front of you. You moved your foot to his shoulder, the other still in his chair, as you languidly spread your legs to make room for him. He looked up at you again, catching your eyes with his as he kissed your thigh, then your belly. You stroked one hand over his silky head as he lowered it and kissed the dark hair between your legs. You heard him inhale, smelling you, and you became even wetter.

Daemon licked the full length of your slit and paused at your pearl. He circled it with the tip of his tongue and you gripped the arms of your chair. He slid an arm around one thigh to steady you. Then he grazed a finger through your folds, finding your entrance quickly, as if he knew your geography by heart. He teased and didn’t slide inside you yet. He used two fingers to circle your opening, almost matching the rhythm of his tongue on your clit. Your hips rocked. You tried, and failed, to get his fingers inside. He stilled you as much as he could and continued for a moment that felt like an eternity.

When he finally slipped his fingers into your wet heat he sucked on your clit and your hands flew to the back of his head. You moaned and pushed against his mouth. You thought you felt him chuckle. You didn’t care. You ground your hips on his mouth and fingers.

“Daemon,” you whispered, as that was as loud as you could manage. “That’s it, just there. Please.”

He rubbed his fingertips against the spot that drove you wild, fighting against your clenching muscles. His tongue resumed its circling movements, but with a slightly quicker pace. Your breathing was becoming shallow and the sounds you made came deep from your chest. He pumped his fingers harder into you, knowing the pressure you needed to reach your climax. Your toes curled on his shoulder. You let go of his head, gripped the arms of your chair again, and your body curled forward as your climax overwhelmed you. You yelled his name, moaned incoherently, and then laughed. He hadn’t stopped, tongue still lapping causing your thighs to twitch. You playfully pushed at his forehead to give you peace.

You leaned forward and cupped his face in your hands. His expression wasn’t playful, as yours was. The look was full of something akin to admiration. You kissed him, roughly. You licked yourself from his lips, his tongue, and moaned into his mouth. He reached up and tangled his fingers into your hair at the nape of your neck, letting some of it loose from the pins that held it in place. Without much grace, he blindly began to release your hair from its confines.

Daemon broke your kiss and began to stand up. You let your fingers trail down his body as he did. You grazed your fingers over his pants, deliberately avoiding the hardness straining the fabric. He pulled pins and a comb from your hair, tossing them on the floor with abandon. You looked up at him, a playfully displeased look on your face for the carelessness he showed for your jewelry, and shook out your hair. It fell in near-black waves down your shoulders and back.

“I need you,” Daemon breathed. His eyes were dark with lust. Still looking up at him from your chair, you pressed your palm over his erection. His eyes nearly closed. His chest rose and fell, trying to maintain his composure. You pressed just a little harder. He grabbed your wrists. It didn’t hurt but made it evident that he couldn’t be teased this evening. You stood, your wrists still in his hands. You raised to tiptoes and pulled at his bottom lip with your teeth. Your eyes narrowed in defiance against being so restrained.

“That’s enough!” He threw you over his shoulder. You squealed and laughed, kicking your feet and pounding your fists lightly against his back. Your laughter bounced off the stone walls as he carried you through the curtains into your chambers. You pushed against him, raising your head to look at the two startled maids, and laughed harder.

“Let me go!” You giggled and kicked your feet but he only held your ankles as he walked you to the bed. You heard the two girls scamper from the room, giggling and twittering.

Daemon dropped you lightly on the bed. You were breathless from laughing. He smiled down at you, but that look was back. What had changed since he had gone North? Your laughter faded into giggles, which in turn faded into quick breaths as he knelt on the bed and kissed his way up your feet, calves, and thighs. He began to unfasten the ties of your skirt at your waist and you helped him with the small buttons of your delicate top.

He licked and kissed the curves of your exposed belly. He nuzzled his nose between your breasts, then kissed each of your nipples. You played with his silky hair, enjoying watching him worship you. When he reached your neck and jaw you began tugging on his shirt, pulling it toward his shoulders. He straightened long enough pull it over his head, then bent down to your mouth again. You kissed him back, hands gripping his neck, stroking his shoulders, down his biceps.

Daemon moved with you, still kissing, as you began to sit up. You gently pressed his shoulders back and guided him to lay down. You straddled his thighs and began pulling at the laces of his pants. He groaned at the pressure of your fingers. You stroked his freed cock, watching your hands move slowly. You enjoyed making him wait but you couldn’t wait any longer. You released him and begin to remove his breeches. Once you had both struggled with that for a moment, you trying not to giggle during the endeavor, you climbed up him and placed yourself on his belly. You could feel his cock pressing against your buttocks. You leaned forward and kissed him and he cupped both of your breasts in his hands.

You lifted your hips enough to reach between you and guide him into your wetness. He growled and squeezed your breasts a bit harder. Slowly, you took him inside you. You raised up, allowing him to keep his hands on you, and pressed your hands against his stomach as you rocked your hips. You took his cock as deep as you could. Gradually, at first, then setting a gentle pace that brought sweet sounds from Daemon’s lips. You leaned forward slightly, finding the angle you needed. He moved his hands, one to your neck, one to your hip. As you settled on a rhythm, he began to match you, thrusting upward slightly each time you rocked back on his cock.

You let your head fall forward, you hair sweeping forward, framing your face and his. Your fingers curled against his chest. You kept this pace as long as you could before your cunt began to ache with the beginnings of your climax. You slowed and Daemon took over. Gripping both of your hips, he fucked up into you, harder than you had been able to manage. His grunts made you squeeze around his cock. They were wonderful sounds that only increased your need for him.

You rested your face against his, pressing your cheeks together. Neither of you could stay quiet. Your name fell from his lips as fluidly as the curses he uttered. His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you down onto each of his upward thrusts. The sound of flesh against flesh, lewd and satisfying. Your bodies glistened with sweat in the torch light. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him but the pleasure was too great.

“Yes, please, Daemon,” you whined in his ear. Your lips drug across his cheek as you searched for his mouth. You tried to kiss him. Instead you panted and moaned against his mouth. As your climax began the wave that would drown you, you heard his voice, much calmer than yours could have been in that moment.

“Look at me.” You did. He didn’t stop fucking you, but he held your gaze with those perfect eyes. “I love you. I would kill for you. I would kill anyone who kept us apart.”

Something in his eyes, not just his words, was your undoing. Your climax spread over you at the same time as it curled up inside you. You squeezed your thighs against his hips, almost stopping his movements entirely. You bent to him and kissed him, moaning and sighing, as you came.

Suddenly Daemon’s large arms encircled you and in your delirium you could hardly notice that he was moving you. You clung to his shoulders as he somehow, and gracefully, managed to lay you on your back. He had not pulled out. You wrapped your legs around his hips and ran your hands into his hair.

Daemon fucked you without restraint. You were coming down from your climax but your cunt gripped him tight and he grunted with each deep thrust. He shifted his weight to one hand and deftly scooped one of your legs into the crook of his arm. You bit your lower lip and looked up at him. He was watching you.

“Touch yourself,” he panted. “Come on my cock again.” His smile was enough to convince you, if his words hadn’t been.

So you did. You rubbed your fingers quickly, and in time with his strokes. When you were close again, you arched under him, head thrown back, Daemon’s mouth on your exposed neck. Then he pressed his hips against you as hard as he could. His cock buried completely inside you as he came. Your cunt spasmed around him and you both felt his seed fill you as your climax peaked. He cursed and tried to gently lower your leg. Your body shook and you were unable to help him. He chuckled and kissed your forehead.

As he slowly pulled out and away from you, you mewled and groaned, closing your thighs and squeezing them together. Daemon lowered himself down next to you, on his side. He rested his head on your chest. You smoothed his hair away from his forehead in a long stroke down to his back and sighed. You let your hand rest on his shoulder. He held you close to him.

The cool night breeze wicked the sweat off your skin. The torches guttered slightly. You wrapped one leg over Daemon’s. You wanted every part of your body touching his. You breathed in his smell mixed with your own and the dusty sweetness of Godsgrace coming in through the curtains.

“No one will come between us,” Daemon whispered against you.

“I know, my love, my dragon” you replied, lips brushing against the top of his head.

The sun had set and, perhaps, the dark was what he needed. In the light of day The Rogue Prince was rakish and disreputable. But at night, with you, he could shed that facade.

Masterlist

Tags: @black-dread

[xxnymeriatargaryenxx]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[afro-hispwriter]

My Dornish Love

Aemond Targaryen x Martell!reader

Warnings- arranged marriages, heavy implications of masturbation

Wc- 2.3k

I don’t intend for this to be the only part, but we’ll see.

part 2

-

A marriage proposal between Martells and Targaryens isn’t unheard of. But the Martells always refuse in the end. They were far too stubborn and prideful the council members would think. 

There was a war coming, and everyone knew. The greens need all the support they can get. And having Dorne on their side can turn things around heavily. Dorne may not have large numbers of fighters, but their skills make up for it. 

When Qoren Martell received a letter from Queen Alicent in hopes that he would accept a marriage between his eldest daughter and her second son. Everyone expected the prince to decline, but he surprised everyone by agreeing. It was a tour for her to get to know the Prince but it was clear the decision had already been made regardless.

When you, the princess, found out. You were furious.

“I don’t understand, we have never accepted anything that would mean having Dorne become part of the kingdoms.” You paced in front of your father.

“And it is time to change that.” He says and you huff. 

“You know why they’re doing this, the Targaryens are on the brink of yet another war and they are making sure to bring everyone into it.” 

“We don’t know that.” 

“Yes we do, and you’re putting me in it.” When he didn’t respond you turned away to start walking away.

“Its simply a tour to see if you are compatible, Y/n. You and your brothers will be sailing for Kings Landing in two days, be ready.” 

-

Those two days came by quickly. Your handmaidens had some of your things packed for those three weeks and the ship loaders were finishing up. 

“What if I don’t like him?” You ask your father as both of you wait on the docks.

“Then you don’t marry him.”

“Im sure the decision is already made. This tour is just a formality.” You cross your arms. “You won’t even be there.”

“Your brothers will be there in my place.”

“What if he is cruel? Targaryen men are said to be cruel.” 

“Then I'm sure his death will be deemed a mere accident.” His voice almost had an amusing tone. A shipmaster called out that everything was ready. Qoren grabbed you by your arms and turned you to face him. “Write to me.”

“I will.” Your lip quivered and he kissed your forehead before grabbing your hand to guide you to a boat. Your brothers, Ryon and Deziel jumped in after you.

“Don’t miss us too much,” Deziel says waving at the man and Ryon rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t destroy Kings Landing,” Qoren says and walks away with his hands behind his back.

-

Aemond knew this conversation would come. This is what he was waiting for. He would do his duty, and he hoped the Dornish woman would agree. 

“I'm sure you hear how unprincipled the women of Dorne are, brother.” Aegon laughed next to Aemond. “They are wild in the brothels now imagine the princess herself.” Aemond continued to ignore him and paid attention to his book. “But I'm sure you know enough thanks to me.” Aemond tightened his hand on the book. “But I never see you have fun so you might have to rely on your betrothed.” 

Aemond slammed the book shut and stood up. 

“They will be here soon.” He says and starts walking out of the library. 

“The ship was only recently spotted and even then they are still a few days out. Don’t get your cock in a bunch.” Aegon mumbled the last bit into his cup. “Or maybe you can’t wait to stick-.” He was cut off by the library door slamming shut. 

-

Once the ship flying the flag of House Martell was seen on the Blackwater. The people of King's Landing were eager to see the Princes’ and the Princess themselves as most of them had only seen Dornish merchants.

The royal family went by carriage. Alicent gave her children one of her talks about being on their best behavior. It was mostly pointed at Aegon who sat there bored, Helaena sat fiddling with a bracelet, while Aemond looked out the windows. The carriage stopped just a few feet from the docks and a queen's guard member opened the door. Alicent stepped out first, followed by Helaena, then Aemond, and finally Aegon. 

A few ships had already docked. Mostly merchants were eager to set up their shops or make deliveries. The ship said to be carrying the princess and the princes docked and a plank was lowered. A herald of Dorne stepped out first and looked at the family. 

“Prince Ryon, Prince Deziel, and Princess Y/n Martell of Dorne!” People cheered loudly and clapped as they watched the three of you step off the boat. 

You grab Deziel’s hand and he helps you step off. The guards stepped off after and cleared a path. Ryon and Deziel kept their hands on the hilds of their swords as they began walking.

“I see the Queen and her children,” Ryon says and juts his chin over the hill. You looked over and saw the red-headed woman and the three silver-headed princes and princess. 

You looped yours and Deziel’s arms together and Ryon led you up the steps. You instantly saw the man who is your betrothed. He stood tall by his family, hands behind his back and a stoic look on his face. 

“The terrible, Prince Aemond,” Deziel whispers in your ear and you roll your eyes.

“Stop, I'm sure they are just rumors.” 

“Sure.” 

Ryon opened his arms with a smile.

“Your grace, how well it is to see you.” He says and grabs Alicents hands with care and brings them up to his plump lips. 

“Prince Ryon, the last time I saw you, you were a child.” She says with a slight blush. 

“Yes, well as you see. I have grown quite a bit.” If you knew your brother, you were sure he gave the queen a wink and his charming smile that makes so many women and men fall at his feet. Alicents face went redder and Ryon squeezed her hands before releasing them. “As much as I enjoy your presence, your grace, I was hoping to see the Hand. Speak to him about my sister and your second son.” Ryon flashed a look at Aemond.

“My father has other matters but I assure you, the Princess will be taken care of.” Ryon looked around before nodding.

“My brother will ride with all of you to the Keep as well. I still have other matters to deal with for my father.” 

“Of course.” The Queen says then looks at Aemond. “Aemond.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile and he knew what that meant. He stepped forward, his long legs had him in front of you. 

“Princess, I'm glad you are here.” His voice was cold but his face was neutral. He grabbed your hand and kissed it softly. You squint your eyes at him before smiling brightly.

“Prince Aemond, it is lovely to meet you.” 

“Hmm.” He dropped your hand and held his own back behind him. He stared at you, mostly taking you in while trying not to linger on your cleavage. Did you have a belly piercing? 

“Oh darling you should cover up a bit, someone brings the princess something to cover up.” Alicent urged and you instantly frowned.

“No it's alright your grace, I wear clothes like this all the time.” She gave you a tight-lipped smile before nodding.

“Well we best get back, you must be exhausted.” Alicent walked back to the carriage and Aemond stayed by you.

“Apologies about her, she is very modest.” He says and you shrug.

“Well, she is going to have to get used to it.” You say to him softly so nobody can hear. You received no response making you roll your eyes. 

“Let's get you home Princess.” You frowned.

Home?

-

When you sat next to Aemond in the carriage, your perfume hit his nostrils. You smelled heavenly, like fruit with a twinge of the salty sea. Nobody spoke on the road back to the Keep. 

But you and Deziel admired the outside. You had never been to Kings Landing so it was all new territory for you. It made you nervous. 

The horses stopped in front of the Keep and the door popped open. The Queen and Helaena left first, then Aegon, followed by Deziel, and finally you and Aemond. The castle was huge, you and Deziel started at it in awe. 

“It's quite ugly.” He says quietly you gasp and slapped his arm. 

“Deziel! Don’t say things like that.” Everyone looked at you in confusion so you just smiled reassuringly.  

“Our handmaiden, Thea.” Alicent beckoned over one of the servants. She was a pretty girl, with brown hair, fair skin, and green eyes. “I have assigned her to your service, she will lead you to your temporary chambers until a decision is made. Your brother as well will be shown his way.”

“Thank you, your grace.” She squeezes your bicep before leaving to go inside.

“Princess, would you like me to show you your room? I'm sure you are tired.” Thea asks and you nod.

“Lead the way.” She gives you a big smile before turning around. You start to follow her and you see Deziel had already been led away. You locked eyes with Aemond who stood by the horses now, watching you. “I will see you later, Prince Aemond.” 

-

“Your things will be brought up shortly princess, would you like me to draw you a bath in the meantime?” Thea asks and points to the small tub in your new room. 

“Yes and if you have any salts that would be greatly appreciated.” They did a small bow before leaving. You were finally alone, even if it were for a couple of minutes. Your new room was only a bit bigger than the one back in Dorne but extremely boring. 

You took the liberty of stepping onto the balcony to see where you would be living. The view was beautiful. Birds flew and you could see how tiny the small folk looked. 

It all still looked so sad, maybe it was the time of day but it made you miss Dorne all the same. They came in with some help to fill up the tub with warm water. She then dumped some soothing salts into the water.  

“Would you like help in undressing princess?” She asks and you shake your head. 

“No, that's quite alright, I will send for you once I'm ready.” She bowed and left. You hovered your hand over the water, letting the steam hit it. You slipped the material of your dress down your shoulder and it pooled at your feet. You kicked your flats off so they clattered on the floor. You grabbed the edges of the tub and slowly settled into the water. 

The warm water was welcoming after being at sea for over a week. You could have slept in it if it weren’t for a knock on the door. 

“Come in!” You yelled out and the door creaked open and you heard footsteps.

“Princess?” It was none other than your betrothed.

“Over here, Aemond.” You say and turn your head to face the panels that cover the tub from sight. 

“I wondered-.” Aemond rounded the corner and the second he locked eyes on your state, his long legs had him behind the panels again. 

“My apologies, I will leave you to your business.” He said and there was a slight shake to his voice.

“Cut the shit Aemond.” You say and he freezes. “Come back, I want to talk to you.” He didn’t move but you could see the top of his head. “I want to see the face of a man I might marry when I talk to him.”

“You’re not decent princess.”

“Oh stop being so honorable for 5 minutes please.” He heard the water move around. Aemond sighed before rounding the corner and revealing himself again. His breath hitched when he saw your figure, you sat facing him and the lack of bubbles gave him a clear view of your breasts. “Soak it in my prince, who knows how long it will be before you see me like this again.” 

Aemonds face turned pink at your words and suddenly his boots were the most interesting thing in the world.

“You stand strong but standing in the presence of a naked woman you shrink.” His fists squeezed. “Would you like to feel the touch of a woman?”

“What did you want to talk about my lady?” He says harshly, making you smirk. 

“I want to talk about our potential betrothal. Regardless of our choice, its clear this is dire enough that we need to get married but I will ask you , Aemond.” He looked up, this time his eye solely on your face. “Will you sleep with anyone else?”

“No, I will remain faithful to you during this as long as I receive the same from you. This isn’t Dorne.”

“I am aware, Aemond.” You frown. “I would like to get to know you though, maybe something good can come out of this.” His jaw tightened but it then relaxed.

“Of course, my lady.” 

“Y/n.” You say. “Call me by my name Aemond, we are going to get very close.”

“As you wish.” Aemonds hands went behind his back. 

“As much as I enjoy having you here, I'm sure they are close to bringing my things, so I can either make room in this tub for you or you best be on your way.” You say and grab the bar of soap and washcloth. “Or you can watch and just hide.” There was an amusing look on your face. 

He let out a ‘Hmm’ and gave you a small smile. 

“Another time, Y/n.” Your name rolled off his tongue so fluently. Aemond walked away until he made it to the door and shut it behind him. 

“You will be the death of me Aemond Targaryen.” And your hand dips into the water to find a home in between your legs.

-

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated, they help me keep going!

[bumblesimagines]

The Cold Stars

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Daenerys encounters a lonesome stranger in Meereen who shares a bitter history with Ser Barriston

Pronouns: He/Him/His

TW/CW: Suicide mention

~~~

"I cannot hide behind walls forever, Ser Barriston," Dany spoke gently, dragging her eyes over the small marketplace in the city. She knew the dangers of being out in public but she had trust in Ser Barriston and Grey Worm, her loyal subordinates. They'd never allow harm to come to her, she knew that very well. Besides, she needed to show the people of Meereen that she cared and valued them. Trust had to be earned, not given freely. So, despite the worries expressed to her by Ser Barriston and Daario, she marched forth into the marketplace, eager to see what her people were selling. 

"I know, Your Grace," Ser Barriston sighed quietly, his eyes just as diligent and alert as Grey Worm's, bouncing around from cart to face in search of anyone with less-than-innocent motives. Most of the people watched them silently, the caution on their faces making Dany frown. She needed their loyalty, not their fear. She couldn't comprehend it well. She freed them from their masters, breaking the chains that made them slaves and they'd seemingly loved her for it. But the hesitation and unhappiness on some of their faces made her heart twist. 

"Do you think King's Landing will receive me like this?" Dany asked the older, more experienced man as they rounded a corner, slipping out of the market into an alleyway, her head angled over her shoulder to peer back at the two. Ser Barriston's lips parted to respond but his eyes flickered away and Dany noticed Grey Worm reaching for his sword. Her head snapped forward, preparing herself for the worst only to notice the young man leaning against the wall with an apple in hand, his eyes-

His eyes...

Cold and displeased and undeniably violet. Her mind flickered back to Viserys, to the mentions of her parents and Rhaegar, to all the portraits she'd seen of her ancestors and all the stories told about them. She felt as if the air had been knocked out of her, and she suddenly yearned for her family, for the mother that died moments after having her, and the father that earned the title of Mad King. For Rhaegar and even cruel Viserys. But the man before them lacked the notable silver hair and appeared more... Dornish.

"(Y/N) Dayne," Ser Barriston gaped, eyes large and pale skin as if he'd seen a ghost. "You... are a long ways from home, child."

"As are you, Selmy." His bitter voice seemed to jolt Ser Barriston, his mouth clamping shut and bushy brows knitting together. (Y/N) raised the apple to his lips and dug his teeth into the crunchy fruit, a trickle of juice dripping down his chin. He chewed slowly as he studied each of them, his hardened gaze only momentarily growing indifferent when he turned his attention to the perplexed Grey Worm. "You are far from King's Landing, Ser. As are you, Targaryen."

"You are in the presence of Queen Daenerys Stormborn, child, you will refer to her as such. Your brother fought fiercely for the Targaryens during the rebellion."

"And he died." (Y/N) licked his lips, the apple beginning to crack and drip with juices under his grasp. The bitterness, near hatred in his eyes sent a chill down Dany's spine, yet she found herself unable to tear her own eyes away from his face. "You claim to have loved and respected Arthur and Ashara but where were you when they died? Where were you when Stark slaughtered my brother and my sister threw herself into the sea?" 

"I would've given my life for either of them, you know that." Ser Barriston responded sharply, almost bristling at the silent accusation. 

"You would've given your life for the Prince." Her trance broke immediately at the mention of her brother, of the man Ser Barriston always recalled fondly. Her lips pulled back into a deep frown and (Y/N) turned his attention onto her. "You should've been willing to give your life for Elia and her children. That Targaryen-" The sneer when he spoke said plenty of his opinions on her family. "-abandoned them to die like a coward."

"Mind your tongue!" 

"My siblings are dead because of him!" (Y/N) snapped back at the knight, the apple finally breaking under his hold, different parts flying around while some of it turned to mush in his palm. Dany flinched and stepped back, one piece sliding right up to her feet and almost disappearing beneath the skirt of her dress. (Y/N) shook his hand and scoffed, pushing himself off the wall and barely sparing Grey Worm a glance when he stepped in front of Dany defensively. Ser Barriston's shoulders sagged, the fury dying immediately. "If he'd done his duty as a husband, Allryia, Aran, and I wouldn't be mourning them, Ser."

Dany raised her hand and placed it over Grey Worm's shoulder, meeting his questioning gaze with a reassuring nod. He stepped aside, allowing Dany to step forward, her shoe kicking aside the apple piece before she lifted her head to look at him once more. "Why have you come here, Lord (Y/N)? If not to ally yourself with me, why?"

"To see if the rumors were true. They say you have dragons and you'll use them to take back the Iron Throne. Ashara told me stories of dragons when I was a child. Elia, too. Dorne fought back against them during your ancestor's conquest."

"I have no qualms with Dorne," Daenerys told him softly. "And I am sorry for your losses. I am not my father nor my brothers. I wish to do things differently. The Lannisters, a common enemy between us, rule Kings Landing, do they not? We can ensure they will not bring harm to anyone else, not under my rule. House Dayne of Starfall is a noble house in Dorne with... close ties to the Martells of Sunspear. As I know it, the Martells despise Lannisters as well."

"Why would we fight for you? Justice is a mere action when you'd be getting the Iron Throne. Dorne has been at peace for many years."

"Perhaps..." Dany paused and glanced toward Ser Barriston. The older man met her gaze with an arched brow and a curious, almost concerned glint in his eye. She pursed her lips. She needed stronger allies, she needed angry allies... and even queens require heirs. "Perhaps House Dayne would be more pleased if one of their own became King Consort of Westeros." 

(Y/N)'s eyes only narrowed in response. The crown would be tempting to any man, especially one of noble birth, but he only appeared annoyed by the offer. "I'm afraid my brother, Lord Aran Dayne, is content with his wife, and Edric is far too young to marry. I've had the freedom of being the youngest all my life. Why would I give it up to become a king when I can do whatever I please?"

"Kings do whatever they please, do they not?"

"Kings like Robert Baratheon and Aerys Targaryen, sure. Your brother did whatever he pleased as prince and plunged the kingdom into war. Rulers do what the people want, what they need. You haven't exactly been keeping your people happy, Daenerys. Dorne will only ally themselves if we know we'll win. You may have your army but Tywin Lannister and his dog have been commanding far longer than you and I have been alive. Prince Doran will never allow a child parading themselves as ruler of a city anywhere near Dorne's army. You'll have better luck asking for Prince Oberyn's hand in marriage."

"It almost sounds as if you believe you can do a better job than me... if so, join my council. You'll have your freedom and when the time comes, you'll have your justice. Perhaps then, you'll feel more inclined to accept my proposal. I know Dorne is known for its... queer customs. You view bastards as equal, women are seen as fine rulers, and having multiple lovers is common. Many have their opinions of Dorne but... I'd be rather happy with a Dornishman. I will grant you the freedom of doing as you please, if you become my consort, as long as we have a-" Her voice nearly broke, forcing her to pause again and clear her throat. "A healthy heir. What do you say now, Dayne?"

[missswritesalot]

can i request another robb stark x reader? Something where theyre in an arranged marriage but reader has a bit of an attitude towards him at first? maybe a bit of smut if its ok?

A/N: Requests open! sorry! No smut in this but I swear I have a spicy part two in the works. Reblog/Comment for more!

Robb hesitated before he knocked on the door to Y/N’s chamber. The Stark direwolf handles confirmed that the doors lead to the chambers of the Lady of Winterfell.

“I’ve no desire to dine in your presence,” he heard her say even before he raised his hand to knock. The door opened shortly afterwards. He had to peer down to meet her dark eyes. His beautiful wife. Beautiful, but cruel wife.

“Always on the hour, husband.” She said, words dripping with sweet venom. “It’s unfortunate but understandable that I wish to dine in my chambers.”

“Y/N, I need you there. We have important guests this eventide and I must appear strong with my lady by my side.”

“I must apologize, my Lord, I have a headache. I hope you find your meal most satisfactory.” She said, her curtesy was the most performative thing. Bile rose the back of Robb’s throat. He was still looking into her glossy eyes when she shut the doors on him.

It had all been his fault, really. He’d wanted to continue the tradition set by his late Lord father, that a peasant man may dine at the high table every evening.

He did not anticipate, but he should have, that one day a northman might offend his Dornish wife. And when she turned to Robb for justice, he turned her away. He scarcely saw the hurt in her eyes before she picked up her skirts and deserted the hall.

The meal today was as drab as every other without her. Her prolonged absence did not go unnoticed and Robb’s mother offered to pay her a visit, to check on her health. He refused her kindly, but his concern was evident to all those there.

That night, Robb broke protocol and went into her chambers after the castle had gone to sleep. The candles in her room were still burning, and the fireplace overpowered the room with heat.

Robb felt a twinge of affection in his heart for his Dornish wife, maybe her coldness was borne from how cold she must feel in the North.

“A lot of my- our, subjects, remarked on your poor health these days. Perhaps you will quell their fears tomorrow evening?” Robb said to her. She was reading and half lying down under heavy furs, he could only see the top of her dressing gown.

“I can no longer pretend to enjoy your gatherings. Perhaps you will find someone more suited to these demands,” she said cooly, closing her dusty book and placing it on the bed beside her.

Robb was weary, in his cups, and crushed by her words. Yet she was the most gorgeous woman he had laid eyes on. Her hair, long and dark as the night, hung loose and tumbled over her shoulders onto the sheets. He had never seen it unstyled, not even their wedding night.

Robb walked over to her and stroked the side of her head gingerly.

“Whatever I have done to offend you, wife, it was not my intention. The serf has been punished, and my subjects know to hold their tongue.” Robb said. He didn’t expect her to snap back from his touch, but the movement crushed his heart.

“It must be comforting to never face a different perspective.” She spat out.

“That is not true,” he said.

“I wish to return to Dorne. My father is dead, and he sent me here to this marriage. My eldest brother has written to me assuring me I would be received as per my station.” She said haughtily.

“That is not possible.” Robb said darkly. “Not without a war, dearest. You became my wife the moment you wore my cloak.”

“Hardly. You find me so vile you slept on the ground the night of our wedding.” She said, her anger made her forget her courtesy.

Robb hesitated. She had entirely the wrong idea.

Her disdain of him was obvious from the moment they met. She thought of him as a barbarous northman and herself a lamb to the slaughter. He could not imagine she could ever come to love him, if he had agreed to a bedding ceremony nor bedded her by force. There were some fractures that never healed.

He would have to correct her silly notions. But the fire in her eyes told him it would be a long time before she could accept that she wanted him.

“You will dine with me, I will hear no protest. If it is my men that bother you, then we will eat breakfast and dinner together, alone in the corridor between our chambers.” He said.

She opened her mouth, words threatening to spill out. He placed a finger to hush her. Blood rushed out of Robb’s head when he felt her warm and soft lips against his skin.

“Un huh,” Robb said, shaking his head. “No more, wife.” He leaned down and kissed her, not shyly but not too rough. Her soft gasp made him harden in his breeches.

Robb tore himself away from her and made a hasty exit to his chambers, congratulating himself on not turning around to catch one final glimpse.

[dreamlandcreations]

He has lost his memory...

You found him on the shore, with the remains of a ship washed up near him, it seemed he was the only survivor.

From his appearance you were fairly certain who he was, and that you probably should have left him there to die, but for some reason you just couldn't talk yourself out of saving him.

He was seriously injured and remained unconscious for an entire day, and only half-awake for a few minutes at the time for a while after that while you tended to him until he recovered.

When he regained more of his strength, and after convincing him not to kill you, it was revealed that he lost his memories and he had no idea who he was or what happened to him...

[bucknastysbabe]

Cruel Summer - Jace Velaryon x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Virgin!Jace, Nerdy!Fratty!Jace, 80’s AU, frottage, male m4stürb4t10n, pining, Jace’s huge mf schlong, babysitter reader, Dornish!Reader, fluffy, awk first times, Jace working that thang, horny ass mofo, multiple o’s, pnv!sex, so much lube, wet n messy yeah

Taglist: @godrakin @lovelykhaleesiii @fairysluna @ilikeitbetterangsty @xfancyuu @borikenlove @aemondsversion

Jacaerys Velaryon was fucked. Sincerely fucked. He was home from his freshman year of college and there she was. Playing with little Aeg and Vis in the pool. Olive skin gleaming with droplets, a one piece fiery red and high cut. Revealing those thighs for days.

She could put Jamie Lee Curtis in Perfect to shame. Fucking Dornish babysitter that was unimaginably hot. She was back from her study abroad in Essos apparently. Luke laughed from behind, “Don’t bust the window out with that wood, Jacey.”

“Shut the fuck up Luke,” Jace barked and turned away to stomp to his room. His younger brother’s laugh echoed from downstairs. The brunette flopped down on his bed, staring up at all the old posters in his room. God, he was still such a nerd.

Joined a frat and everything, met his best friend Cregan. Cregan could pull any girl he wanted, like many others in the fraternity. Jace got a tentative handy and many attempts for pussy actually. Apparently he had a horse cock. That’s how that crazy Greyjoy bastard put it anyways.

But he still didn’t lose his v-card. Not because of an embarrassingly small prick of course, no, he ran the normal chicks off and the real sleazy ones made him wilt faster than a dying plant. A nerdy Virgin who still stuttered around chicks unless he had a couple drinks in his system.

And for the the love of the seven he was still hard as nails from baby’s perky tits. Baby. That’s what the Velaryon clan called her since little Viserys pointed at the girl and called her, “Baby! Mah babysidder!” So it stuck. Drove him fucking nuts.

The other side of the family came over for dinner and Aegon was all over Baby. But she smirked and ate it up. Why would she even want that idiotic slimeball? He’d gained, like, so much weight at college.

Aegon didn’t give a fuck though. He had that confidence border lining delusion. Jace stuttered and grinned like a fool in front of their long-time neighbor. He palmed at his cock, shifting to slide down his track pants and get his cock out, imagining himself chatting her up.

She’d giggle and press her pretty tits closer to him, purring in that Dornish lilt, “Mhm baby, want that big cock of yours so bad, kiss those pretty lips while you split me open, mmm.” Jace was stroking himself rough and quick, other hand tugging heavy balls. Biting his plump lower lip the brunette moaned, “Yeah, yeah, gonna fuck you so ha-ah-ard! Suck on those tits of yours-oh fuck!”

Jacaerys gasped as his thick cock spurted on his hand and chest, whining through his nose as he tugged his balls one good last time. He flopped back, heavy cock slapping luridly against his exposed thigh. It wasn’t long until he dozed off into sleep. Just to wake up with more cum on his belly, dreams of her dark lips enveloping the blunt tip of his cock.

Jace grumbled, “Seven forgive me, I’m like a fucking middle schooler.” He stripped his ruined clothes off and hopped into a long, hot shame shower, scrubbing the residual embarrassment off. His mom would be home soon and Uncle Daemon was probably cooking dinner now.

No one dwelled on Uncle Daemon. Targaryens are weird. Baela and Rhaena were awesome though. Half of his clothes were unpacked so Jace put on a polo button-up, jeans, and loafers. How fratty of him. He may have spent too long trying to manage his hair mullet in the mirror.

He trudged downstairs, Joff arguing with Luke over the Nintendo. Jace hollered, “It’s a stupid game you idiots!” Baela and Rhaena were curled on the couch while they ogled over a magazine with Motley Crüe or something on the cover.

Daemon was cooking, chatting with her. She turned and flashed a shining smile, Viserys in her lap. Baby cooed, “Jacey, you look all grown up! College looks good on you, when did you get home?”

Jace’s cheeks reddened and he mumbled, “Uh, a couple hours ago but I was wiped, my bad. How was Essos?”

Daemon snorted at his lame response, working on stir fry. She launched into a spiel about the culture in Braavos, chatting in that warm way of hers. He needed a drink of water. Badly. The moment was interrupted when his mom came into the kitchen, unloading her briefcase and opening her arms for little Aegon and Viserys.

She grinned at him, “Jacaerys, my sweet boy, you look so handsome. We’re all back together!” Daemon lamented, “What a joy!” She shushed the blonde and cooed at the boys, grinning. Jace looked up to make eye contact with Baby, her dark eyes hooded and intense. She sipped her orange juice, pink tongue coming out to lick away a stray drop.

Jace darted to the cabinets to get a glass for water. Ice fucking cold. He mingled a bit, answering questions about grades, the frat, making new friends. Daemon was intrigued about Cregan, his best friend. “A Northman! I guess you need a frigid bastard.” Jace rolled his eyes and sat down at the table.

Across from Baby. Who was wearing a pretty green blouse tucked into sinfully tight shorts. The blouse in question was showing off her tits, making his cheeks redden again. Everyone milled in, filling the huge table while Daemon passed out the plates of food.

He remained quiet as Rhaena talked about her tennis matches. He almost threw his fork when a bare foot nudged his own. Baby was smiling around her drink, eyes on Daemon’s girl. The eldest son chewed on some chicken slowly so he wouldn’t start choking. Because Baby’s foot was traveling up his thigh, stroking along, then toeing at his thighs. Jace whimpered, covering it poorly up with a cough.

Rhaenyra’s thin brows furrowed as she asked, “You okay sweetheart?” He nodded, making an excuse about ‘the wrong windpipe’. Baby smirked and scooched her chair forward, ball of her foot rubbing Jace’s erection.

He stood up abruptly, croaking, “Ah- I- I don’t feel well. I think it was the fast food earlier. I’m going to retire early.” His mom told him to stay in touch if anything got worse, the rest, including her, gave well wishes.

Half waddling up the stairs Jace slumped on the ground, propped up on his bed. He stared at the Star Wars poster, wondering why he couldn’t have super self-control powers like Luke Skywalker or something. But she was obviously flirting with him, sultry eyes and teasing toes evidence of that.

Jace’s heart beat rapidly, unsure of what to do. Baby was actually a very sweet girl, never a bad word spoken about her in highschool. She’d see his cock and run away screeching. He held his head in his hands, groaning in displeasure.

“Man up and fuck the girl!,” Dalton’s voice echoed.

“Obviously she’s into ya’ just give it a try,” was Cregan’s deeper tone.

Jace would just do what he did best— brood until further notice. His cock had already died down some from his anxiety. And brood he did, turning up the radio to Bananarama’s cruel summer. How fucking apt.

He laid back on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

The door cracked slightly, a thin light of illumination coming through. Jace groaned, “M’fine mom.” Her sultry accent came back, “No silly, it’s me.” He bolted upright and opened his mouth to get a manicured finger pressed to them. Baby whispered, “Hush, they think I’m gone for the night. You ran off on me?”

Jace stuttered, “I-I was going to cum at the table.”

She cocked her head and climbed onto the bed next to him, hand rubbing his chest tenderly. Baby murmured, “You never played a little footsie? Look at you, I know you were beating the girls off with a stick.” Jace miserably laughed, “Yeah, that didn’t go as planned.”

“What do you mean?”

Jace flushed and whined, “Oh god, I’ve messed around and stuff. It’s embarrassing.”

“You’re a virgin.”

The Velaryon turned away from Baby and murmured, “Yes, big whoop, Jace is still a stuttering virgin bitch.” She laughed and climbed onto his lap, grinning. He moaned, “It’s horrid, not funny Baby.” The girl played with his hair, scratching as she sought his dark eyes.

“I don’t think it’s funny because you’re a virgin. I think it’s funny because you’re so handsome. What is it? Anxiety, I get that. I was nervous too at first,” she pressed closer to whisper, “But I’ve had an awakening in college.” Jace couldn’t help but moan softly at her warm breath and soft tits.

He stammered, “Y-yeah?”

She purred, “Mhm. Found out I like em’ big. Bigger the better. Gods it feels amazing.” She shifted on his lap, his cock already back in full form. She gasped, “Oh- seems like you’re just my type too. Not every girl can take something like you’re packing. Not a girl that cares about you Jacaerys Velaryon.”

His eyes boggled. She? The most gorgeous girl who has tormented his wet dreams since puberty, cared about him. He grew serious, eyes narrowing, “Are you joking?”

“Why would I lie? I’ve been trying to get your damn attention for ages Jacey,” she turned to look down, Jacaerys pushing back her thick locks as she admitted, “I kinda, hah, would accidentally say your name in the height of passions.”

“So, do you want me? I shared my embarrassing moment and feelings.” She stared in earnest, breathtakingly gorgeous.

He nodded vicariously, “I’ve always wanted you Baby, fuck, like so bad.” He carelessly moved forward, cradling her head as he kissed the darker girl. She titled her head so they didn’t collide noses, rutting further on his cock, rough denim against his briefs. She moaned into the kiss, keeping one hand in his hair, the other trailing down to the slit in his underwear.

Jacaerys lapped at her warm tongue, lips sensually moving against her own. He softly whined through his nose when she pulled him out, getting a feel for the heft and length. She hummed, “Big boyyy, gods, stupid girls don’t know what they’re missing.”

The brunette blurted dumbly, “I don’t want those stupid girls. Like. At all.”

“Good. I get jealous. Dornish blood runs hot.”

“So does Targaryen.”

They returned to desperately sharing kisses, the girl unbuttoning her shorts desperately, Jace yanking them off and tossing the denim. She remained in a scrap of clothing desperately humping her wet pussy against him. Jace groaned, “Baby, baby, god, need you?”

She tied her thick hair back in a flurry of movement, unbuttoning and slinging off the blouse, heavy tits on display. Jacaerys instinctively covered them with his calloused hands, squeezing at flesh and thumbing at pebbled nipples, relishing in her soft whining,

She rasped, “Lube?”

“Lube?”

“Do you have lube Jacey? You have a monster cock, remember?” She began to snicker as Jace rifled around his bed and side drawer, eventually finding the tube of KY. Jacaerys stuttered, “Oh-ah, how do you want me?” While she yanked down his underwear Baby responded, “Missionary, can fit you better that way, just need a pillow under my back. You can, fuck, move my legs up for more.”

Jace flipped them around, panting with excitement. He grabbed a condom too, about to tear it open but she stopped and hummed, “M’on the pill, you’re good sweetie.” He was going to combust. But he liberally squirted lube on his fingers first, he’d done that before. “Good boy,” she rasped as Jace slid the substance around.

He dove two thick fingers into her slick cunt, stretching and rubbing at that spot making Baby call his name and squirm. He added more KY just for the hell of it, enjoying the slick and lurid noises. Then a third finger fit and he was vigorously fingering the Dornish, leaning over to suck and bite at those huge tits. She whined and clawed at his biceps, but Jace was lost in the pleasure.

He couldn’t stop, this was like crack, every sweet noise and her sloppy cunt driving him further into the need to send her into an orgasm. She did after he managed to stuff his pinky in, abusing her g-spot. Baby slapped a hand over her mouth and gushed on him, howling behind her hand, squirming and shaking.

Jace’s eyes rolled back at the wonderful sight; tear streaked face, swollen lips, heaving breasts. Baby rasped, “You fucking monster, hah, c’mere and kiss me. I know you’re excited but I want that cock more than a couple o’ pumps.”

In a sensual, lazy embrace, they twisted in the oldest dance, laughing, whining, moaning. Baby nipped his plush lips, murmuring, “Such pretty fucking lips, want them on my pussy next time.”

He kissed her harder, tucking that idea away for later.

Their make-out had turned into sloppy humping again, the eldest Velaryon gasping, “Oh, m’ready, lemme have you please!” Baby goaded him on, “Yeah, yeah, lube it up ‘kay?” Jace did so with expediency, liberally coating the heavy member.

When his blunt cockhead began to breach her entrance his mouth fell open, eyes rolling around. Baby purred, “Mmm, yeah Jacey, gonna feel s’good, slow slow, ease into it.” The brunette did his best to take it slow but the tight, wet grip around his cock had him sucking in breath and whining on every other breath.

He was about halfway now, sweating from holding back, maneuvering those perfect legs of hers to over his elbows. She arched her back and moaned, “Yes, yes, stuffing me all up baby boy.” Jace could only garble nonsense as he bottomed out, cock sleeved in her cunt. He was in heaved, Baby’s pussy so hot and ridged, pulsing around him.

“Cuh-can I?,” he wheezed.

“Mhmmmm,” she sighed with dreamy eyes.

Jacaerys tentatively pulled back and slapped back in with a wet noise. He cried out helplessly, tucking his mouth onto a perky nipple. Then instinct took over. Fuck. Breed. Fill. Jace could get very one-track minded and focused it all on fucking his Baby silly, trying to keep that need of blowing in the future.

The bed shook, she cried out, Jace keened her name, pounding her roughly. So much for keeping it quiet. “Oh gods, you feel s’good, fuck, it’s s’good,” he repeated.

“I- mm! Know!,” she whimpered.

He moved her legs over his shoulders, living in the moment, all the noises and heavenly feelings. She had bit down on a pillow to keep from screaming, shaking from head to toe. Baby was milking him like a vice now, pussy just dripping and messy. Messier when he came in her poor slit.

That thought felt like a gut punch and she bit harder, squirting on his cock. He must’ve spoken that thought out loud, desperately panting her name as he emptied his heavy balls into her cunt, stuffing it with load after load, Jace shaking and whimpering at the intensity.

They stayed locked together, both too oversensitive to move. Jace had dropped her pretty thighs, rubbing them as he laid on her chest. Her shaky hand played with his hair. Baby hoarsely muttered, “You’re mine forever. I mean it.”

“Guh- uh- yes Baby.”

They needed a shower. Then maybe Jace could try that whole pussy eating thing. Clean her up good and well, make her cry from the third orgasm. Fuck. He sure had some stories to tell Cregan when he got back.

[deepwoodmotte2]

ok me again many thoughts this evening!formal investigation into cregan x dornish reader if you write dorne as a generic combination of South American/Latinx cultures below!! (inspired by me, who is Latinx. super super promise i am not being weird i was making salchipapas while I thought about this the first time.) (reader is referred to as a princess, she/her pronouns. her appearance isn’t referred to besides long hair. i can also write a GN version of this if people want it!!)

ok so in my mind cregan would only be likely to end up with a dornish reader if the war necessitated it, OR, in my favorite rendition, she was his third wife. I love Alysanne blackwood too much to write her out entirely. so cregan, single dad again at, say, 35, attends a council at King’s Landing. Why? Not Important! maybe a grain deal?? but reader, who is a dornish princess, is there as an envoy (think when oberyn attended the wedding!) in place of her parent, the current ruler of dorne. reader is mid or late-twenties, married once before and widowed. she has one unnamed son, who’s 10.)

the council pair off, and somehow, a deal gets struck between the north, dorne, and king’s landing. maybe for spices? and so suddenly you, reader, are having to work very closely with this imposingly tall, broad northerner with a thick beard and long hair and a nose that’s clearly been broken a couple times and apparently a crop of children and you cannot look away. i like to imagine the north as scotland when Scotland was heavily populated by the danish - cregan has a unplaceable accent to you, but his voice is so rich and gently firm that you can’t help but swoon a little. he’s stormy - he’s dour, and he gets a little tiny mischievous smirk when he’s talking sometimes that you think you want to see in your child’s face someday. he’s a bit older than you but in an appealing way, he’s a lord, he looks like that, and you, who have always been independent, strategic, and witty, are suddenly at a LOSS. i always like to imagine my readers with happy families so i’m imagining reader speaking furiously to a bastard sister she’s brought with her in spanish like “¡¡¡si si si !!!!! y es MUY alto y…. tienes que jurarme que guardarás silencio… pero es tan guapo….” and the whole time reader is completely unaware that cregan stark is having a moral crisis in the corner because he doesn’t really just WANT to be like “this is the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen” he wants to grieve and sit with that for longer for the sake of his children. and so he finds himself at odds. and not about to do anything about it at all!!! dornish princess is ruining his life and she doesn’t even know it!!

and then maybe one day a Lannister or someone else we can guarantee wolf-man would loathe says they intend to ask for your hand. and suddenly cregan realizes he might lose something he never even had - and he never loses. he makes a vow to himself to try, and seeks you out. maybe reader likes to hunt or walk or swim; either way, you’re in the godswood, on a blustery evening, and it’s you and a couple of personal guards. cregan stark rides into the godswood with his own guard, ice on his back, in a light grey tunic with a divet in the middle and riding pants. his boots are black leather, cut high and to his calf. they frame his thighs, which are are as wide as a barrel; the muscle in them ripples when his horse gallops. you are thinking nothing the faith or your septa would approve of. his clavicle peeks through the top of his shirt, the enormous sinewy muscle of his neck visible. you think, for a half second, that he would look ravishing in martell yellow.

you clear your throat. and try not to stare as he comes off his horse and his back muscles peek through the thin material of his shirt. even in this weather, which is not warm, he’s a little sweaty. you don’t realize what he knows - it’s not weather, it’s nerves. you’re exactly what he wants and what he is most terrified of. you’re widowed, too - you know his pain. you’re of high - incredibly so - rank, and you’re beautiful, intelligent, and while he’s unfamiliar with your culture, he wants to know everything he can about it and you. he wants you. he barely knows you and the idea of not getting to further feels like it’s eating him alive. his shirt sticks to his back some more. he turns to face you.

“lord stark-“ he cuts you off, accidentally, but confidently. “Princess, i had hoped to speak to you alone.” you jolt, surprised. had your sister repeated what you’d told her? was he here for council business? had you offended him somehow? you look at him, studying his eyes as best you can as the distance between you slowly closes and he walks forward, and you see, for the first time, an unsureity. he looks afraid. you dismiss your guards as he does.

“what is it you need, lord stark?” his Adam’s apple flexes as he swallows, his neck muscles twitching as his jaw tenses in worry. you’re almost worried - he looks pained. had something happened?

“I thought we might walk while we speak.” you take his arm, gently, trying to look him in the eye. his beard seems unkempt, unlike him. his hair needs to be shorn. he looks wild. you walk, and out of the silence, he says ���my first wife, who i married at six and ten, proposed to me. my second wife did the same.” before you can respond, he continues, “as it stands, i have never arranged my own marriage - i… have wandered into them without set intention. it leaves me at a loss then, of knowledge of how to ask.” you swallow, expecting the worst - is he asking you how to propose to someone else? but you’re both too recently widowed, grieving, and then he takes a deep breath in, and says “Princess, i understand that you may not agree to it, and i respect that. i also understand that lannister intends to ask you the same.” you breathe in in shock at that - lannister? - and then go “agree to what, lord stark?” he takes an unconfident stride, turning his face quickly away and then back. you stop walking. you need to look him in the eye.

“i wondered, princess, if you would be willing to be my wife.”

a moment passes. you realize you’ve just been staring at him. he takes a breath in and goes “i have caused-“ you hold a hand up. “you have caused no offense, lord stark. i merely had no expectation of this.” you’re red in the face, but not in a bad way. it’s certainly not warm out right now, for what you’re used to. “i… i would. i would very much like to. i took pause because i did not expect you to ask.”

there’s a long pause before cregan stark asks if he can kiss you. you need him, in every way. your hands grip his shirt collar, his neck, his beard, and eventually, into his hair - one of his hands has encircled your waist, pulling you into him. you are not fragile, nor particularly petite, but you still disappear behind his figure with ease. his beard burns against your skin, but the friction does nothing to cool your fires - he bites at your lip, hard, wolfish, and you gasp, taking in air. he does it again a moment later, and you realize you will end up in this man’s bed, lest it kill you. it goes on for a while before either of you formally come up for air, and it’s only because a raindrop hits you in the forehead.

“i am glad of your offer,” you say, placing a hand on his chest, “and glad of you.” cregan stark, lips red, beard tangled from your hands, hair askew, looks at you like you know a secret. he doesn’t smile, not ever, that you’ve seen. you like to imagine he does for his children. you want to ask about them. (you’ve met his only son, an equally stormy and dour teenager, who you suspect your own son, a boy of ten, all chubby-cheeked and spritey, would find terrifying. cregan and his son, however, seem to share a kindness - an earnest one - and you are not blind to that. you wonder what else there is to cregan you can’t see.) a brevity graces his stern brows, and there is a warmth to his voice previously unheard to you when he says “and i of you, princess.” you smile then, lightly and truly.

[love-fictional-ppl]

Tyrion Lannister who marries you out of duty. He knew he’s not the most promising husband, but he knows how to treat a woman and that’s something.

Tyrion Lannister who didn’t expect his bride to be so beautiful. You were a highborn lady of Dorne, you had the tell tale sun kissed skin of the Dornish as well as dark brown/black hair.

Tyrion Lannister who in the two weeks he had to get to know you before the two of you were bound by marriage, did not expect you to get along so well. He half expected you to be some stuck up dimwit, to lord Tyrion’s surprise, you knew how to engage in an actual intellectual conversation and you challenged him which he enjoyed.

Tyrion Lannister who expressed to you that you would bed on your terms and if you so wanted you could engage with other men, which you dismissed. Once your wedding arrived and it was time for your bedding ceremony, Tyrion once again was surprised. You shed your dress quickly, which he promised you did not have to do so, and mounted the smaller man. The two of you wound up having earth shattering sex, and decided to actually build a relationship and perform your marital duties.

Tyrion Lannister who knock you up two different times and is gifted with a son and a daughter, neither of which were affected with dwarfism.

[ficsbyuzi]

i fOuNd YoU

Part - 1

Characters: Aegon, Aemond and Alyna Martell (Dornish OFC) in Modern Westeros (Modern AU)

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: +18, drinking, swearing, some groping and touching, Aegon being Aegon, Aemond is all 🙄 here.

My darling Zae @ladystarksneedle beta read this when I first posted this on my previous account. I miss you Zae :(

A/N -

can't believe I wrote this in October last year. I hope I find enough motivation and time to continue writing this series until the end

I imagine Katrina Kaif as Alyna Martell in my head

The leaves of the deciduous trees flanking an urban avenue whirled sporadically, in the eddies of a pleasant zephyr. A soothing, mellow petrichor celebrated the inaugural shower of the season by infusing the atmosphere with a sweet freshness. Dense clouds masked the dusk sun, ushering in the darkness earlier than its usual hour.

 A few pedestrians strolled past a row of posh apartments in one such affluent neighborhood in the heart of the King's Landing city, savoring the serenity of the agreeable evening. They startled upon hearing an enraged female voice that pierced through the damp air; its shrillness, a stark contrast to the large sophisticated French window it was coming from.

Their gazes were momentarily drawn to the source of the commotion, and as they continued walking along their path, they spotted a man beside that window, shutting its panes.

"You forgot our anniversary dinner, Aegon! I had invited my parents and you didn't even show up!"

Her raised voice remained within the walls this time, the words reaching Aegon's ears with full momentum and though he could hear his girlfriend's tirade, his dissociated mind was barely registering it.

Responding to her always seemed futile to him, his words ruined whatever he wished to convey, anyway. Why bother?

He sank on the nearest couch, wishing her to shut up and let him sit and silently revel in his solitude, in the shadows, resembling the ones that lurked beneath his eyes, telling the tales of all the sleepless nights he spent.

Drowning himself and his poignant thoughts in his cups was the only respite he sought; escaping situations came easier to him than facing them.

 Why socialize, am I not trying hard already? To be a good boyfriend? 

Over time, he had become rather comfortable in keeping his burdens unspoken and unshared, staying unaffected by the strain of despondence they cast on his countenance.

Fine lines  marred his pallid face displaying an accelerated aging, as if he were experiencing life at a pace twice as fast as everyone around him.

His eyes, twin iridescent violet orbs, rivaled the regality of precious amethysts. Yet those very eyes, devoid of color that a fulfilling life imbues, exuded impoverishment.

She loved his hair, an amalgamation of gold and silver, the conspicuous emblem of his royal Targaryen heritage, but hated how he usually left it unkempt and greasy - resembling that of a destitute person, truly unbefitting a descendant of a powerful, ancient bloodline.

"I was sitting there and dying of embarrassment!" Cassey shouted. 

Embarrassment. The word broke into his brain.

 I am Embarrassment in flesh and blood, a living and breathing Embarrassment. 

“I changed for you, made every effort to be with you..I even fought with my family to live with you, but you are hell-bent on spending your life like a wastrel.”

Wastrel. A faint, lopsided smile graced his face.

"Are you even listening to me?" 

Has she spoken to Aemond recently?

His eyes narrowed instinctively, eyebrows knitting together as he imagined a scenario in his mind, amusing yet almost impossible- Aemond speaking to Cassey, addressing him as a ‘wastrel.’

He pursed his lips before the faint smile ghosting his lips turned into a full blown smirk. However the slight glint to his eyes gave him away, their amethyst now hued with twilight. 

"AEGON!"

He shifted his weary attention from the street to the living room and saw Cassey storming towards the bedroom.

Her enraged gait stirred his awareness, and he instantly knew that her fury was going to find a sorry target, entirely unrelated to the reason of their quarrel.

 "No, no, not the TV! Please, Cassey! Cassandra! Nooooo!!" 

A loud, shattering thud followed his pleading scream, as his large LED TV screen plummeted to the floor. His beloved PS5 console hung precariously by its cords, mirroring the fragile bond they both shared, on the brink of snapping completely.

"Are you out of your fucking mind, this was on instalments!" 

Aegon could have afforded thousands of such televisions, even better ones, but he had grown accustomed to that particular one, its easy availability being its primary boon. His attachment to it mirrored his relationship with Cassandra Baratheon - a convenient choice, yet not one his heart truly desired.

He was a man accustomed to indulgence and boundless options available to him at his beck and call, but when he met Cassey, he believed, albeit half-heartedly, that he could finally find contentment.

However, just like his spoken words, his convictions ultimately betrayed him too. 

Words like 'commitment', 'promise' never really found their way into becoming a part of his mental lexicon.

"The instalments I pay, Aegon Targaryen, unwilling heir to the Iron Throne industries!" The mocking cadence of her voice masked every bit of frustration within her.

Her ridiculing statement touched his Achilles' heel. His features hardened, shoulders tensed; his gaze shifted from her to the wrecked television set and his PS5 console. He wanted to save it from crashing to the floor, but was skeptical of getting an electric shock or being pierced by the broken pieces of the flat screen.

“Get out! Get out of my house and my life! I don't fucking need you. It's over!" She yelled and flopped down onto the bed, burying her head in her palms.

It's over. 

Over.

Why did the word not have the desired effect on him?

It should have evoked at least something in him - anguish, frustration, disappointment, regret.

Any emotion.

He tried tapping inwards, nudging his brain, but the answer didn’t even flicker.

A tumbleweed rolled off on the desolate, barren landscape of his consciousness. 

And that's when he realized it was truly over. 

As he was on his way out, his PS5 console fell onto the floor with a resounding thud. A fleeting sadness seeped into the impenetrable vacuum inside him, surprising him. 

He finally felt something.

-

The break-up gave him the final shove, toppling him over the fence he stood on for months, as he landed right on to the side where his past awaited him.

The past that he had been trying so hard to snap out of, yet failing miserably. 

Thus began his series of trips to the strip clubs, with all the relentless bar hopping, and reckless one night stands with random women.

-

"Yeah I would like that," an attractive woman in a skimpy, crimson dress murmured, giggling and facing him as he whispered something dirty in her ear to which she readily agreed. Chuckling at  her response, he grabbed the swell of her bottom. Spanking her lightly, he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into a kiss.

The summer warmth was adding to the exuberance of the bustling Street of Silk, the part of the city that never slept- perpetually aglow with a kaleidoscope of neon signs and strobe lights slicing through the dark. They stood inebriated, on a pavement outside one of the nightclubs, waiting for a cab, lips locked and arms snaking each other. The low, thumping sound of electronic dance music playing inside got louder momentarily, when a group of people came out of the door, chattering and howling.

"I can't believe a Targaryen doesn't have a car!" the woman stuttered, pulling away and noticing some of her Ruby woo now smeared on his lips.

"Of course I have a car!" he slurred in his low, husky voice, rolling his eyes playfully. Emphasizing on the last word, he reiterated its plural form,"cars-" he grinned- "but I like to roam around freely, you know..don't like to drive or bother my driver at three in the morning when I can pay for an Uber." He shrugged and pulled her closer again by her waist, burying his face in her blonde hair.

That was partly true; he did dislike driving; neither did he want to get caught drunk-driving, but his main concern was their family drivers reporting his whereabouts to his mother or worse- tipping her off about his late night shenanigans. The GPS monitors of the cabs driven by unknown faces were far safer.

The things he intended to do with her at her apartment, began right in the cab itself. They were trying to mask their sultry escapade and hushed moans with intermittent, non-erotic chatter, all while his hand glided over her body, playing and squeezing wherever he desired. In the heat of the moment, as his lips fanned the skin of her neck, he groaned her name in response to one of her needy moans.

Her body tensed instantaneously.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" Her voice snapped like a whip as she pushed him away.

"What happened?' Aegon asked her, utterly confused. This was an uncharted territory for him; he had always assumed women appreciated hearing their names when touched.

"My name is Dyana!" 

His eyebrows knitted together; he was not certain of the name that slipped out of his lips in the throes of the fervent moment.

“Yeah, that's what I said.."

"No, you called me Lia!"

He chuckled sheepishly in a futile attempt to distract her, trying to downplay his drunken blunder. "Well both of them end with the same letter," he said as he leaned in to kiss her, not noticing her eyes narrowing in exasperation.

Irritated, she backed away from him and shoved him forcefully.

"Stop the car," she told the driver firmly.

"wha..why?" Aegon asked, all muddled and exasperated.

She stormed out of the cab, while Aegon pleaded and called out after her from the partially rolled down window, "Lia!, I mean Cassey!" he flinched and swore, "Dyana, hey! please don't leave, come back baby!" 

Dyana’s hand flew in the air in an obscene hand gesture, as she kept walking away from the car. 

He dropped back on the seat, blowing out a deep breath. A headache had begun to encroach on his senses, augmenting the dizziness caused by all the booze in his system.

His fingers combed through his hair and trailed down to pinch the bridge of his nose as he tried to stave off the pulsating headache and the discomfort of having been blown off. He tutted in helplessness at his inability to alleviate the throbbing sensation below, in his jeans. 

Realising that the destination was set to Dyana's place and not his,an exasperated mumble left him, "What's in a fucking name?"

"That's the most beautiful sound to a human being."

A sweet female voice laced with confidence, answered him straight from the driver's seat.

"Uh..I am sorry?" The voice completely caught him by surprise.

“That, you should have said to Dyana,” The driver said, turning in her seat and smiling at him.

“You are a girl? Driving an Uber? This late?” 

“I am a person-” she scoffed, rolling her eyes at his surprise, “- a four-limbed creature isn't driving this cab in case you are wondering.” Turning her focus back to the road, she asked, “Where do you want to go, now that you are not invited at Dyana’s anymore? Or do you want to end the ride, Targaryen?” 

“Do I know you?” He asked, growing increasingly bewildered with each passing moment.

She tittered, shaking her head subtly and said, “You Valyrians come into this world having won a genetic lottery and then expect people not to recognise you-” she gestured at her own head and went on- “hair.”

It wasn't just that; the way she said “Targaryen'' sounded oddly familiar to him.

Her face, though not fully discernible in the low illumination, held a glimmer of recognition.

A part of him believed that he knew her, but he also didn't not wish to believe his stupid, befuddled mind which had misidentified a woman just moments ago.

“The gas is on,” she reminded him, her tone now tinged with impatience.

Aegon shut his eyes, sighing and dropping his head back on the seat.

He weighed his options and contemplated going home but didn't wish to be roused early on a Sunday by his mother, for their weekly visit to the Sept. The alternative was equally uninviting, but he could at least sleep in late there.

“Where are we right now?” He asked, blinking hard to clear the visual daze, peering out of the car window and trying to recognise the spot.

“Rose road.” 

“Take a U-turn and head to Southern Street, near Blackwater Bay.”

-

This painting needs to be realigned.

"And then Ellyn suggested that I should check out the Dior store once before giving up my search.." a thin, excited voice coming from the phone told Aemond and he hummed in response.

It isn't in symmetry with the lamp lights above. 

"..and she was right! I found the pair of shoes I needed to match my dress, the colour is the exact nude pink I was looking for, Pantone rose cloud..although they are sling backs and I wanted pumps.."

I should take Helaena to that insectarium she has been asking me to visit with her.

It was one of the rare occasions, in fact, the only time when Aemond's typically unwavering attention dared to wander off - the time when his girlfriend Floris Baratheon called.

The only instance, when his razor-sharp focus and attention to detail- remarkably astute for one functional eye, would surrender to an intense bout of distraction

Of late, he had been seeking ways to elude her calls during the day, by staying engrossed in his work as he juggled writing his PhD thesis and a travel guidebook, all while maintaining his late father’s cherished travel and tour company- Valyrian Voyages.

Floris was aware that he usually woke up before the sun, prompting her to call, which forced him to begin his day with the conversations he was utterly disinterested in.

They had been dating for almost six months; they were introduced to each other by her elder sister, Cassey, at a family dinner.

Even though Cassey and Aegon had split up a couple of weeks ago, Aemond and Floris remained together; they purposefully avoided discussions about their breakup, unwilling to address the elephant in the room. Aemond often contemplated if Cassey bore any behavioral similarities with Floris, and if she did, then Aegon deserved commendation for sustaining the relationship for a year.

"..I will miss you Aemond, I wish I could come along..”

His attention snapped back to the yearning in her voice when he heard his name.

"It's only a matter of two weeks, Floris. It's more of an excursion than a business trip, you will get bored." 

Floris Bartheon, a recent graduate from a top business school in Westeros, was a decent, comely woman of twenty-three, hailing from a family that matched the status of his own.

 But what had initially drawn him to her was now driving him up the wall. They were poles apart, and the gap between them seemed to widen with each passing day.

Lately, he had begun to wonder whether time truly mattered when it came to forging genuine, heartfelt connections with a person.

-

The cab came to a stop in front of a two-storeyed, effortlessly luxurious house on Southern Street that eventually wound its way down to the riviera of the city. The rosy hues of the early dawn were beginning to break through the lingering grays of the night. The distant squawking of seagulls reached Aegon's ears as he was roused from his sloshed stupor.

“Rise and shine,” the driver announced, “Your fare comes to fifteen westerbills and twenty cents. I prefer cash."

“Huh? Oh yeah..sure..” Aegon mumbled, struggling to open his eyes wide and shake off the last vestiges of the nap, “Umm, I don't carry cash, could you wait, I will go and get some from my brother.”

She peered outside her window, a smile dancing on her lips as she realised where she parked her cab

“This your brother’s place?” She inquired, as her eyes dreamily trailed from the balcony adorned with swaying ferns, to the sleek oakwood entrance.

“Yeah.”

Suits him. She thought, admiring the sophisticated design of the flat-roofed, box-shaped building, painted in the shades of earthy grays. The house perfectly matched Aemond's placid yet debonair personality.

“Just give me a minute and I will be right back,” Aegon said, undoing his seat belts and unlocking the car door.

“That’s ok, the ride's on the house,” she responded and shrugged, “You are my last passenger, I am quitting this job.” 

“Last passenger? No, no, I will pay you, you have been working late, you deserve your payment.” Aegon protested, yawning and rubbing his eyes, “Please wait.” He stepped out of the car and began walking towards the front door. 

“That’s ok Targaryen,” She called after him when he reached the front door and rang the doorbell.

“Really, I mean it, the ride's on me.” She was unable to contain her smiles that now seeped into the tone of her voice.

Targaryen

Her accent tugged at his memories again - her drawl, the lilt in her voice, the distinctive roll of her 'Rs.'

He pivoted at his spot to see her; earlier in the dim light and now with the distance between them, he still couldn't see her clearly. Trying to piece together his disintegrated memory, he waited for his brother. 

He definitely knew her.

-

Aemond glanced at his wristband - 4:45 am, and mentally thanked his milkman for coming half an hour earlier today.

“I will call you later Floris, there is someone at the door.” He disconnected the call hastily. 

Good riddance

Aemond was more surprised to see Aegon awake that early, than his unexpected arrival at his doorstep; it took him seconds to connect the dots and he sighed, rolling his eye at Aegon.

“Best brother in the whole world! I knew you would be awake.” Aegon grinned as Aemond scowled at him.

“Did you jump into a barrel of booze? Weren’t the glasses enough?” Aemond turned to go back inside, leaving the door open.

Ignoring his brother's usual taunts, he said, "I need some cash, gotta pay the driver.” 

Aemond paused and noticed the cab parked in front of the porch on Aegon’s mention.

His gaze shifted to the woman sitting inside - a Cheshire cat grin on her face, arm resting on the driver’s seat window, chin cradling in her hand as she observed both of them.

His good eye widened in astonishment, and an amused, subtle smile crept across his lips. He arched an eyebrow, acknowledging her with a slight, knowing nod.

“That’s the cab you came in?” He asked Aegon, jerking his chin to point at the car, as he saw her shift to face the steering wheel.

She turned the keys and the cranking sound of the engine firing to ignition reverberated through the tranquil atmosphere of the street.

“Yeah, she asked me not to pay but..hey, wait!” Aegon shouted after her as she drove away, “Take your money!” He yelled, but it was too late.

“Weird girl.” Aegon tutted, facing Aemond whose gaze stayed on the car until it disappeared with the first turn of the road, lips quirked up in a subdued, nostalgic smile and mind flipping through the pages of the past.

"How in the seven hells did you end up in an Uber with Alyna Martell at the wheel?" 

-x-

Part 2

[lya-dustin]

The Dornish Princess

Aemond x fem! Dornish!reader

Cw: mentions of murder, false identity, theft

Tag list: @valeskafics @queen--kenobi

You arrive in King’s Landing as a poor survivor of a shipwreck. All your nice things and clothes and servants and knights gone when the Wyldes found you on their lands.

The only proof of your identity was a waterlogged scroll naming you Coryanne Nymerios Martell, Princess of Dorne.

You looked the part, tan skin, dark hair and the haunting purple eyes of your Dayne mother and the manner of a gentlewoman. By the time you arrived at Court, you had been given all a woman of your station needed and letters were sent home to your sister to tell her of your rescue and invitation to court.

No one knew why your dead handmaid looked so much like you until you quietly explained she was your bastard sister and companion. But you didn’t really cry for her, she was just a bastard after all.

The bastard of Qoren Martell and a dragonseed from Lys.

“My congratulations on your betrothal, may the gods bless you and your intended, your highness.” You say quietly when you encounter the Prince Regent avoid his three and ten year old betrothed.

Little Floris Baratheon had been picked because it would be a good three years until she was old enough to be bedded, a smart move to prevent Baratheon from having too much power over the Greens and keep one’s freedom for as long as one needs it.

You were in a similar boat, your hand merited more than a vassal lord so your sister decided to sell you to the Prince of Pentos because she refused to wed. You were Aliandra’s heir; you were older than Qyle and next in line to be Princess of Dorne, you were everything Floris Baratheon and the rest of the ladies in Westeros were not.

Now it was all a matter of seducing the infamous kinslayer beside you.

His mother distrusted you, a smart decision, no one should trust you. If anyone looked too closely, they’d see it was not snake scales you wore.

“I am engaged to a child, and you are engaged to a man older than my dead father.” He said bluntly and you agreed. Both matches were bad, especially if you were a romantic at heart. It seemed the prince despite his appearance and cold exterior was one.

It wouldn’t be difficult to convince him you love him, or to make him love you. Everyone you met had that misfortune of loving you and becoming blind to your true nature.

It wasn’t the shipwreck that killed your sister, you had held her under the water until she stopped thrashing and came up with the story you fed to Lady Wylde and her company.

Aemond believed himself to be the exception to the faults of men, but he was only a man even if he rode the largest dragon since Balerion.

“A betrothed is not a spouse; the Prince of Pentos is not the first of my suitors to propose and die before the negotiations begin in earnest, you know.” You admit, hinting at the tragic and sudden deaths of all the men ---young and old--- who courted you since you first bled.

You sampled some of them when you grew older, those who didn’t satisfy you usually had hanger-ons who did, and tradition dictated that no bride prices cannot be returned should the groom die before the wedding takes place.

You had amassed quite a fortune in Essos, that was where you were heading. To find more unsuspecting men after your sister was forced to toss you out of Dorne after you slipped up and was almost caught.

Perhaps you could stay here instead. All signs pointed to the Prince Regent becoming King before the first chill came south.

If Prince Aemond was as good with his cock as he was with his sword, he’d be worth staying in Westeros.

Queen Coryanne, now that had a better ring to it than Queen Floris.

“And Lady Floris is not the first of mine to seek greener pastures.” His lips quirk slightly in amusement. He was notorious for evading matchmaking mamas and their daughters, Borros Baratheon may think a war would prevent Prince Aemond from going back on his word, but he’d never played against you.

“Shall we put it to the test?” you ask in a whisper knowing little Floris will be shuffled off to the youngest boy like an old shirt before the sun even sets.

You like him, despite it all, you cannot help but like him.

You are betrothed now, a small feast thrown in your honor as the Baratheon contingent leave and wage war against the Vulture King to spite both the Greens and Dorne at the same time.

But House Targaryen does not care, they got the better deal in you.

Gifts of money and finery and jewels were given to you by your soon to be husband, his mother and the nobles currying favor with the woman who is queen in all but name.

Your dowry would be partially paid in gold and in men. While Dorne was far less backwards than the rest of Westeros and women held equal rights like men, and end to the hostility between the realms.

“We can wed as soon as your dowry comes, my love.” he says as you lounge in your bed after a particularly trying morning. Aegon was growing weaker, Helaena and Jaehaera doing so terribly they had to be taken to the motherhouse in Oldtown to heal away from prying eyes and the need for men and heirs was as important as breathing.

Letters from Dorne had come, mainly thanking your prince and his mother for their hospitality and the promise of sending a proper envoy to negotiate the wedding. You pray the envoy comes by land instead of sea.

Who knows, perhaps Dorne would join the six kingdoms without bloodshed.

But it won’t happen.

The moment the envoy comes, you are fucked.

He won’t want you if he knew the truth. Loathes bastards, killed one even if the little fucker had his blood. Worse, you made a fool of him as you rob them all blind as you plan your escape before Aliandra exposes you as the fraud you are.

What would he do to you when he knows you are Y/N Sand and not your dead sister, Coryanne?

“Why wait, my love?” you kiss him to show how much you care for him, how little it bothers you to see him without his eye as he fucks a bastard into you as he calls you by a name you spit like a curse.

And like the lovesick fool he’s become, the two of you elope in the night. Two strangers stand witness, and you give your real name as a jape as a drunken septon names you man and wife.

Aemond will hate you and hunt you down, you know this you spend your wedding night in his rooms and see how happy you’ve made him.

“I love you, Y/N.” he breathes out and your heart catches in your throat. The boy he was under it all didn’t deserve it, but you can’t have him and no matter how much you pray for the envoy to drown, you know your past will catch up to you.

You are gone when he wakes.

Nothing, not even the furniture, is left in your rooms, nor is there a speck of gold left in the royal treasury except a valid marriage certificate signed and dated with your true name.

He will hate you, but you’d rather he hate you than ever forget you.

Part ii

[lady-phasma]

A willing pawn

Daemon Targaryen x fem! Dornish!reader

A huge thank you to @zaldritzosrose for this amazing board. You read my mind and I don't know how you did it! An equal thank you to @black-dread for providing the missing puzzle piece to make this fic work.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, hurt/comfort if you squint, little bit of size kink, use of an infantilizing pet name (because Uncle Daddy Daemon), flimsy plot, creampie (and I truly did not plan what was going to happen there, Daemon just does whatever he wants in my brain, cheeky bastard)

Summary: You had a mission in the Stepstones, but he wasn’t as fearsome, this prince, as you had been led to believe. I’m not sure about my soft!Daemon but here he is. 4k words

The encampment was dark, lit only by dying fires. This night had been chosen because it would be moonless. Your soft-soled shoes were silent on the rocky earth as you crept between tents. You had planned your path at sunset, marking in your memory where the prince’s tent stood. As the orange light had faded from the sky, your stomach had begun to knot and twist with anxiety.

Could you really follow through with this? You knew you were able but were you capable of such a thing. The circumstances didn’t offer you any choice in the matter. Prince Qoren Martell wanted to avoid the costs of war, in gold and lives. His war counsel thought of every possible measure they could take to win this war, including involving House Yronwood. You were a cog in a larger plan and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

You ducked around another tent and tiptoed to the edge of the large royal tent. This is as far as you had gotten in your strategy. From this point forward you could only hope for luck, as stealth wouldn’t matter when faced with the prince’s guards. You were sent here with the barest of plans and what little plan there was, was foolish. You listened for movement inside the tent and heard none. As you neared the front you expected a half-dozen guards but saw only two. You held your breath.

You couldn’t walk right up to the tent and demand to be let in. Sneaking in seemed to be impossible, but if you could, what next. Your heart pounded in your ears. Godsdamn it, you thought. You let out a shaky breath and slunk back into the shadows. When you turned around you almost walked face-first into a giant wall of armor.

The guard almost threw you into the tent but did not relinquish his grip on your elbow. You grunted and jerked your arm away from him as you stumbled into the large room. You caught your balance and stood up straight. The ground was covered in rugs. A table laden with maps and documents stood in the center. Next to it sat the Prince.

“We found this creeping about outside, your highness,” the guard grumbled.

Prince Daemon lounged in his chair, legs outstretched, crossed at the ankles. He was peeling a pear, paused mid-knife-stroke, and looked up from under his brows. They raised slightly, seemingly amused, but he didn’t bother to lift his head. He resumed his peeling.

“Leave us,” he commanded without looking up. You heard the guard’s armor as he left but didn’t take your eyes from the prince.

“What terrible deed have you been sent to do child?” He didn’t look at you, only sliced a bit of pear and popped it in his mouth. When you didn’t respond he brushed aside papers to make space on the table and laid down the knife and pear. He wiped his hands on a napkin, dropped it next to them, and stood up. Finally, he looked at you. He finished chewing, swallowed, and wiped one corner of his mouth with his thumb.

He strode toward you, sucking the pear juice off his thumb and assessing you. Much of your face was covered by your hood, stay strands of dark hair were visible but your features were cast in shadow. He dipped his head slightly and looked closely, standing only a few paces in front of you. His silver hair swung loose from his shoulder. The violet of his eyes was unnerving. You squared your shoulders.

“I am no child,” you replied, leaving off the honorific. He was no prince of yours.

“Is that so?” Daemon reached for your hood and flicked it back from your head. The only hint of surprise he allowed to show was a brief widening of his eyes. You were well aware the effect your father’s blue eyes had when set against the sienna skin you got from your mother. You narrowed your icy eyes at him.

“I’m gown enough to make it this far into your camp, am I not?” Daemon chuckled and flipped his hair back over his shoulder. He clasped his hands behind his back and smiled at you.

“I suppose so… but you did get caught, little one.”

Your cheeks flamed and you wanted to strike him but the smile on his face caught you off guard. Had he just winked at you? You were too frustrated to think and that wink made your blood boil. This was not going at all how you had expected when the guard snatched you up. Daemon didn’t so much as blink when you moved your hands from inside your cloak to push your hood back further. He was amused with you. The handle of your dagger glinted in the candlelight and caught his eye.

“So you were sent here to assassinate me?” He smiled that infernal smile. “Would you say it is going well?”

“Time will tell,” you answered through gritted teeth. Then he laughed at you, actually laughed. You clenched your hands into fists at your sides.

He took a step toward you and you tensed. You hadn’t the faintest idea what this man would do. You had only heard the rumors and propaganda in Dorne. When he reached out, you tried to take a step back from him.

“Uh-uh,” he commanded quietly. Then his hand dipped into your cloak and before you could move to stop him, he snatched your dagger out of your belt. He spun it lazily around, watching it dance in the light.

“This might have done the trick,” he spoke to the blade, not to you. “But I imagine someone with more experience should have been entrusted with it.” His eyes flicked back to your face. “Though, perhaps there were none as fierce as you.”

With absolutely no thought in your mind, you lunged forward and tried to grab the weapon from him. He deftly moved it out of your reach and grabbed your wrist with his other hand.

“As I said: fierce,” he quipped. You tugged your arm against his grasp to no avail.

“But I must!” You almost snarled at him. His expression wasn’t surprise but interest. He let you go and turned to lay your weapon on the table. When he faced you again a small smile was set on his mouth.

“Must you?” He raised an eyebrow. “If a child assassin has been sent to slay me, Dorne must be desperate indeed.”

“I am not a child! I am a woman grown, of 20 years!” You had no idea why this infuriated you but the prince knew that it did. He grinned again.

“Pardon me, my Lady. I should have said a ‘small’ assassin,” he mocked you. It was somehow kind. You were taken aback by his jest, by his demeanor. You hadn’t taken the time to pause and evaluate Prince Daemon. You had only been concerned with the ramifications of your failure.

Now that you looked, you saw a man not much older than yourself. A man who moved with experience in battle, with an ease not unlike your own. Graceful, even. Then he did the most unexpected thing. He extended his hand, offering you to sit in the chair opposite his. You had come here to threaten his life and now he was treating you like a guest! You gawped.

Before you could decide what to make of the situation, Daemon slid down into his chair and stretched his legs out again, completely unwary of you. He glanced at you one more time as he reached for his unfinished pear. You were too shocked to do anything other than sit. You closed your mouth and sat down across from him. You slipped your cloak off of your shoulders as you sat. Your common clothes weren’t uncomfortable but you weren’t used to them. You tried to adjust them as you sat but instantly became more frustrated. Daemon’s eyes on you didn’t help to easy your new-found insecurity. You were meant to have been unseen.

“Who sent you?” The blunt nature of his question startled you.

“And why should I tell you?” you retorted. You were behaving as if you were at home entertaining men you had grown up with. This was madness.

“I believe I am owed an explanation as it was my life you were planning to take. Also, what else is there to do?” He popped a slice of pear in his mouth. His eyes didn’t leave yours. “Let’s start with your name, shall we?”

You hesitated, but he was right: what else was there to do. You could sit in silence until he decided to have you executed. You could try to run from the tent only to be caught and executed sooner. So you told him your name and your house name.

“Very good,” he tossed the knife and pear back on the table. “What did Martell threaten? What predicament did he put you in?”

Your eyes widened. Was Prince Martell’s reputation so tainted, so sullied, outside Dorne?

“Not him,” you spoke quietly. “Though I suppose, ultimately, he knows. We are not a political house but we have wealth that is necessary for Dorne to succeed.” Your eyes flicked down from his at the last word. You weren’t sure why but you felt ashamed for being in this position, had all along if you thought about it.

“So if not the prince himself…” Daemon paused, waiting for your answer.

“His war counsel,” you replied. “They have many strategies in play, I’m sure, but one is to ‘motivate’ certain houses to bring the war to an early end. I have no knowledge of the other plans. I only know that my father was threatened. Whatever that threat was, it was powerful enough for him to send his youngest daughter to the Stepstones.”

There it was. You had spilled it out to the enemy in a gush and felt like vomiting or crying or fleeing. You looked up from your lap. Daemon was studying you. Once again he surprised you. Perhaps you expected him to mock you but the kindness on his face somehow made your situation more real. You bit your lip to stop the tears. You would not cry. You were angry and frightened and when the prince had called you a child it made those feelings more real.

“What choice did you have?” He sounded almost compassionate. This couldn’t be the petty tyrant you were warned against, who would rape, or torture, or kill you if you were caught. “You came all this way on an errand not of your choosing and meant to go through with it. That’s more than a little honorable, don’t you agree?”

You had no idea. You were confused and overwhelmed and angry. You had never been a zealot, but you had been more sure of your mission when the target was evil or cruel. Perhaps he was at times, but not now.

“I suppose so,” you muttered, trying to look anywhere but at him.

“Well what do I do with you now?” He leaned forward in his chair. “I can’t set you free. Yet I don’t want another prisoner. And you don’t want to return home as a failure. I can see that. I could keep you as a hostage and demand gold for your safe return. Would that keep your honor intact?”

You blushed, not just from his nearness but from the fact that he could see your thoughts so clearly on your face. You and your family would be dishonored if you returned unsuccessful. It would also be unfavorable to the prince to appear compassionate to would-be assassins.

“It would,” you answered. “But I do not think the ransom would be paid.”

“No? Not for a young woman as fierce and cunning as yourself? Not for someone so precious?”

Your eyes flicked up to his at this curious word. You watched him, suspicious, as he slid out of his chair and knelt in front of you.

“I think you’re quite frightened of either choice: being sent home or being held here. I don’t want you to be frightened. Maybe the Crone had a purpose for bringing you here.”

You felt your breath catch. He looked so sincere. He was intoxicating but you believed him. You didn’t want to feel relief at the prospect of no longer sneaking, hiding, being a stowaway, but you did. Almost instantly, you imagined a hot bath, a dress and not these rags, and food that wasn’t brown. Then something else flashed in your mind and the heat returned to your face.

Daemon slowly reached out to you and stroked the side of your face. He skimmed a lock of your hair with his fingers, watching it catch the light. Its deep brown shown with hints of gold. You studied him closely. When he turned his gaze back to you, your heart pounded in your chest. His eyes searched yours as he cupped your cheek in his palm.

“Gevie,” he whispered. You thought it was High Valyrian but you weren’t sure. Your lips parted almost involuntarily as you looked up at him. He leaned toward you, silver hair cascading off his shoulders. You felt his lips on yours and closed your eyes.

His hand holding your face felt safe. His lips were warm and tasted of pear. You dared not move. You were overwhelmed and confused. However, there twisted in your belly some need, some desire for him. Your chest ached with the delicious feeling of being safe. You didn’t question how this was possible so far away from home and with your “enemy” no less. So you kissed him back.

Daemon slid his other hand to frame your face. His kiss wasn’t rough, but it was deep. You had kissed men before, you were experienced in the most basic of ways. You realized now that all the men before had not kissed you, they didn’t see you. They saw a Yronwood daughter or practice for their marriage beds. You had made those choices willingly. You weren’t concerned with being married for political reasons and had enjoyed your freedom. Until now. In this moment, you felt… precious.

Tentatively, you raised a hand to him, your fingertips grazed his jaw and neck, and came to rest on his chest. He slid his hands from your cheeks as he broke the kiss. As if waiting for your permission, Daemon rested his hands on your upper arms. You kissed him in answer. His arms swept around you and scooped you up as he stood. Your head spun but you steadied yourself by putting your hands on the back of his neck.

Daemon sat you on his bed and smoothed your hair back from your face. He stepped back and pulled his shirt over his head. He dropped it on the floor as he leaned down to kiss you. You made room for him on the bed, drawing him toward you with your kisses. He knelt between your legs, kissed your neck, and slid a hand under your shirt. You arched your back, pressing into his palm.

He brushed the underside of your breasts with the tips of his fingers and his other hand glided up your ribs. He pushed your shirt up above your breasts, fixated on your hardened nipples. His hair slid over your chest as he took one nipple in his mouth. He propped himself up on one hand and cupped your breast with the other. You moaned and writhed under him. You instinctively ran your fingers through his hair and held him against you. Daemon groaned and the sound vibrated from your chest to your core. When he pulled away you realized you had been grinding against his leg and flushed. He smiled down at you.

Wordlessly, he guided you to raise your arms so he could remove your shirt. Then he began to unlace your breeches. You watched his muscles move as he slid your pants off. You lifted your hips and giggled a little when you plopped back down on the bed as he tugged them off your legs. You weren’t shy but the action was awkward and you were quite exposed now. He tossed the breeches on the floor and smoothed a hand up your thigh. He stared, rapt, at the dark hair between your legs, so different from the silver of his own.

You bit your lip as you looked from his face, down his chest, and to the evidence of his arousal. His breeches looked uncomfortably tight now. His hands absently stroked your legs and your lower belly but paused as you sat up. You held him between your legs. When you kissed his stomach he hissed in air through his teeth. Your hands grazed over his hips and to the laces in the front of his pants. You let your fingertips glide over the shape of his erection before undoing the knot. You kissed seemingly every inch of his stomach then looked up at him as your hand dipped inside. His face was curtained by his hair as he looked down at you. You smiled as you stroked him.

Daemon moved his hands from your legs, smoothed over your hair, and then gently pressed your shoulders back. You laid down, already missing the feeling of him in your hands, but the sight of him between your legs was almost as pleasant. He leaned over you, kissing your forehead gently, then your lips, and pressed his forehead against yours.

You gasped as his fingers slid between the lips of your cunt. He licked his lips and continued to explore your wetness. Stroking, searching, learning. He circled your opening, your clit, and back again. One finger slid in easily and he grinned. You lifted your mouth to his as you lifted your hips to his hand. He slid in a second finger.

“You are so tight, little one,” he grinned down at you. You rocked your hips against his hand and moaned in reply. You placed one hand on his arm, pulling him deeper into you. With the other you smoothed his hair behind his ear and trailed your fingers down his jaw. You drug your fingertips over his lips. His eyes were dark as he watched you pleasure yourself on his hand.

“More, Daemon, please,” you moaned, saying his name for the first time. Hearing his name come from your lips pleased him immensely.

“Say it again,” he breathed as he curled his fingers inside you.

“Daemon, please.”

Slowly and with a tinge of disappointment on his face, he pulled his fingers from you. He was enjoying the sight of you but couldn’t wait any longer. He freed his cock from his breeches. Then he slid his hands up your thighs to your lower back. As he sat back he guided you onto his lap. The transition was clumsy at first, legs bumping and twisting. You both smiled as you held onto his shoulders. When you knelt over him you rubbed your clit against his cock. You rested your lips against his forehead as you rocked your lips. You moved your mouth nearer to his ear and murmured his name.

Daemon lifted your ass and placed you above his cock. With one hand between you, he guided himself into you. You sank down onto him slowly, watching his face. He clenched his jaw tight. You felt his hand move back to your ass. He let you set the pace, let you move against him. You pulled up and then sank down again, taking all of him. The moan that came from your lips was lewd and deep. You clutched at his neck, the back of his head, fingers entwined in his hair. He groaned but did not move to meet your hips. You rocked back, then forward, finding your rhythm.

He kissed your chest and breasts. His hands stroked your ass and lower back, constantly moving. You leaned forward slightly and pressed yourself against him. At this angle he wasn’t as deep in you, but you found friction against his stomach. You ground your hips into him, almost, but not quite able to get what you needed.

“Seven hells,” he panted against you. His hips had begun to move in time with yours. Your fingers twisted tighter in his hair and you tried to find that much-needed angle again. When he realized what you needed he slid a hand between you. You threw your head back as his fingers circled your clit. You sped up, fucking him hard. He kept pace with you, circling and pressing his fingers against you. You couldn’t keep a steady rhythm. You felt him brace your lower back with his hand and pull you closer to him, steadying you, supporting you. You felt your climax tug at your core and sank further onto his cock with each stroke.

“Come for me,” Daemon whispered into your neck. You did. You cried his name, clinched your fists in his hair, and buried your face against his head. You sank all the way down onto him, thighs resting on his as you shook. Your cunt spasmed around his cock but he didn’t stop moving his fingers. He pressed into you with his hips, rocking under you, and bringing forth tiny gasps from you. You lips found his and you panted into his mouth. Tiny sounds mingled with his name flew out of your mouth with every movement of his fingers.

When you thought the overstimulation might be too much he moved his hand from between you. He slid his hand under your arm and pulled you down onto him by your shoulder. A new wave of pleasure crashed into you as he spilled into you. His hips stilled, holding his cock deep inside you. He came panting and moaning your name.

You wanted to sink all of your weight onto him. It took too much effort to support yourself on your aching knees. Neither of you wanted to move yet, though both of you needed to. You released your hands from his hair. You kissed him and smoothed his hair back from his face.

You smiled at him as you rose shakily from his lap. He helped you as much as he could, but your legs were numb and your head was empty. You all but fell back onto the pillows. He watched you grind your hips against the air as the last of your climax left you. His eyes were locked on his seed sliding out of you. He leaned forward, his legs shaking as well. You watched him through half-closed eyes and settled yourself on the bed. His fingers slid through his cum and you twitched as he grazed your throbbing clit. He looked into your blue eyes as he gathered more of it on his fingers. You smiled seductively as he leaned over you and raised his fingers to your lips.

You opened your mouth, your eyes never leaving his, and he painted your tongue with his seed. You closed your lips around his fingers and let him feel you swallow. He slid his fingers out and surprised you by kissing you deeply, tasting himself in your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss and wrapped your legs around his waist. You playfully pulled his weight on top of you. He let you but also guided you both to lay on your sides. Your legs intertwined and you were a tangle of limbs for a moment. Then you buried your face into his chest and breathed in deeply. You sighed as he smoothed your hair and rested his chin on the top of your head. You were quite small in his arms. Daemon breathed deeply as he stroked down your back, your buttocks, and up again. You curled against him, one hand between you, the other resting on his hip.

“I have you now, little one,” he murmured against the top of your head.

Masterlist

[chic-beyond-the-wall]

What Quaithe would wear

(Alexander Mcqueen)

[afro-hispwriter]

My Dornish Love(2)

Aemond Targaryen x Martell!reader

Summary- Aemond might be smart, but he has no idea what to do with women

Warnings- the reader is sort of like Margeary, sort of simp Aemond, injuries, protective! Aemond

wc- 2k+

1 3

-

Aemond didn’t see you for the rest of the day after that moment in your chambers. His mother said you were just settling in and to leave you be for the day. But that did not stop the Queen from pestering her son the next day to take you around Kings Landing. 

Aemond stood in front of your door, just staring at it. He was nervous, too nervous. The encounter from the previous day was locked in his brain. There were voices on the other side, yours and two males who Aemond hopes are just your brothers.

 He held a bouquet of roses from the garden. He knocked three times and the voices stopped. Then there was a clatter and shuffling, the door was ripped open and Deziel leaned against the frame.

“Oh, Prince Aemond.” He looked down at the flowers in his hands and Deziel put a hand on his heart. “Oh I'm flattered my Prince but red isn’t really my color.” Aemond opened his mouth to say something but the man in front of him got shoved.

“Leave him alone you idiot. Aemond come in.” You opened the door for him. Aemond stepped through and held out the flowers. 

“For you.” You grabbed the flowers and gave him a bright smile.

“Thank you, they’re beautiful.” You walk over to your side table where an empty vase was and you put them in there. Then grabbed the pitcher of water that was given for breakfast and poured some into the vase.

“What are your intentions with my sister today Prince Aemond?” Ryon asked as he snacked on a biscuit. 

“If she accepts, I would like to take her into the city.” 

“And-.”

“I think that is an amazing idea.” You grabbed Aemonds arm and he tensed but you didn’t realize as you started dragging him to the door. “Let's go now.” 

“With a chaperone I assume?” Ryon asks and raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, my mother has arranged it all.” You slammed the door shut and you let Aemond go.

“Are we actually going into the city?” You asked with amusement.

“Yes, my lady.” He puts his hands behind his back and starts walking.

“And what are we going to do?” You start walking next to him.

“Anything you want, no matter the time or cost.” You smirked.

“No matter the cost? Be careful, it's only my second day here. Don’t put the crown in debt already.” Aemond gave a small nod to your joke. 

-

The smell of manure got stronger and stronger the farther you went in. 

“You’ll get used to it,” Aemomd says from the other side. The chaperone sat at the head of the carriage reading a book. Your face grimaced but you kept looking out the window. You could hear a baby crying over the noises from the carriage rolling and the hooves of the horses against the floor. You tried to look for the baby but all you could hear was the cries. 

“What is done with the less fortunate here?”

“Enough to keep them from rioting.” You nodded and sighed.

“Can we stop here?” 

“The market-.”

“Please.” You cut him off and he sighed.

“Stop here.” He calls out and the horses come to a stop. You opened the door and stepped out, Aemond following close by. 

“Y/n what are you doing?” 

“I want to see the people.” You stepped over a flipped bucket. Aemond grabbed your arms and pulled you back once you approached an alleyway. The guards had gotten off their horses and were building a perimeter. 

“It's not safe.” You grabbed his hand that was wrapped around your arm making him tense.

“You and the guards will be here to keep me safe.” His jaw tensed but nodded. He dropped his hand but you didn’t let it go. You pulled the man with you through the alleyway. 

The people stared at you two and the guards. They were clearly nervous. A small child let out a cry and your head whipped around to the source. 

A little boy sat against the wall whimpering holding his bleeding knee. You dropped Aemonds hands and slowly approached the boy. You crouched down with your hands on your thighs.

“What happened to your knee?” You ask softly and the boy sniffles and looks up.

“I fell.” He whimpered and removed his hand. There was a nasty cut on it.

“Oh I'm so sorry, let's make sure that doesn’t get infected.” You look up at Aemond who stands silently behind you. “Do you have a water canteen?” He shook his head. “Do any of you men have one?” You turn to the knights. None of them responded until one fumbled with a strap.

“Here you are, Princess.” He hands his canteen to you and you smile.

“Thank you, Ser?”

“Arryk.”

“Thank you Ser Arryk, I will be sure to have a new canteen brought to you.” 

“No need.” He says. 

“Nonsense.” You smile brightly at the man then turn to the boy. “What is your name?” 

“Kenton.” He says and you smile. 

“Hello Kenton, I'm Y/n and that's Aemond behind me.” You point your thumb at Aemond and the man kept a stern face. “Can I take a look at your knee?” He nodded and lowered his leg. You gently grabbed it and inspected it. “I'm going to wash it okay, you can hold my hand if you need to.” You held out your non-dominant hand, Kenton hesitated but took your hand and squeezed it. 

Aemond watched carefully, you were so gentle with the boy. Caring just like a mother. He’s only known you for two days and he already knew you would be the perfect mother to his children. 

You poured the water over Kenton's knee and he squeezed your hand.

“It's okay.” You whisper and watch the dirt fall away from the wound. It only took less than half to clean off the wound, now you just needed a cloth to cover it with. You looked around, Aemond most likely had nothing, and the knights couldn’t rip their cloaks so you settled on your dress. 

You grabbed the bottom of your dress and ripped it. Others who were watching close by gasped.

“Why did you do that?” Aemond asks but you don’t answer. The long strip went up to your hip, revealing the under of the dress. You ripped it off then saw the mud at the bottom of it and tore that part off with ease. 

“I'm going to wrap this around your knee, keep that on for a bit.” You say as you wrap it around his knee. Kenton now sported a deep yellow piece of fabric on his knee. 

Aemond spotted two men approaching, they had hardened faces on. Aemond bent over to your ear.

“Time to go.” You looked over and noticed the two men, by then Arryk and another guard had noticed them and blocked them off. You turn back to Kenton and hand him the canteen.

“Keep this, stay hydrated Kenton.” 

“Thank you, Princess.” Kenton gave you a big smile through the tears, it warmed your heart. You stood up and Aemond placed a hand on your lower back. His hand has found itself stuck to the hilt of his sword since the two men approached. They were blocking the way to get back to the carriage. 

“I'm going to have to ask you to stay back so the Prince and Princess can pass,” Arryk says.

“And you have not told me of your business here.” The man says.

“I was helping the boy.” You pointed at Kenton. “He was hurt.” The man peered over.

“It's true, father. Princess Y/n helped me.” Kenton says. “She even gave me water!” He held the canteen high to show the man who is his father. He shot a glare at you and his fists tightened. You smiled at him but you couldn’t deny he made you nervous, even with the protection you had. Aemond gently put an arm across your body and moved you behind him.

The man sighed then he and the other with him stepped to the side. The knights in front of you looked back and nodded at Aemond and he nodded back. 

“With us,” Arryk says and Aemonds arm is behind you again. He gently pushed you forward to start walking. Once you were in front of it, Aemond stopped you. 

“Your dress is ruined.” You both looked down. It was torn, and muddy, and your shoes were destroyed.

“Oh that's alright, I have others.”

The door to the carriage opened and just as you stepped up a loud meow came from above. You looked up and saw a beautiful cat. Large cat. It was brown but the tufts of white shown said the cat was white. 

“Hello there.” You reach up slowly to scratch its head. It purred instantly and closed its eyes. Aemond slammed his hand against the sides and the cat jumped up and scurried off. “Aemond!” You hit his arm.

“Now is not the time for the creature princess.” You pouted and Aemonds nose twitched.

“But it was cute.”

-

Aemond did eventually get you to the markets. On the way there he pointed out places as you passed them. At the markets, he followed close behind you as you went to each merchant.

“Look at this Aemond, isn’t it wonderful?” You showed him a painting of a herd of horses. 

“Hmm.” You huffed and set it down. You went through the other options until one with black bordering caught your eye. You looked back at Aemond to see if he was looking but he was standing at another shop just next to the painters.

The contents of the painting made you smile.

“This one.” You tell the painter and they grab it.

“Good choice, your grace.” They say and take it back. “4 gold.” 

“Aemond.” You grabbed his sleeve and he looked over. “4.” You smile brightly at him. He sighed and reached into his little pouch and took out 4 coins and placed them in the painter's hand.

“Have it brought to the Red Keep,” Aemond says and the painter nods. You grab Aemonds arm and he once again tenses.

“You don’t like me touching you, do you?” You pulled him away and let his arm go.

“I don’t care.” You sigh.

“I want you to be comfortable around me, I want this to work. I appreciate you taking me into the city, I appreciate you getting me these things I do. But we’re supposed to get to know each other and doing this doesn’t do that. I want you to know me, and I want to know you. The real you.”

Aemonds breath hitched and his jaw tensed. He didn’t know how to react to your words. He’s never had to do this with any woman, this is his first solid potential betrothal. All other women take one look at him and scurry off in fear or look at him in pure disgust. 

Not you though.

You’ve been nothing but kind to him. Maybe you could be a tad bit forward but in all honesty, Aemond enjoyed it. You could have fun, but you also understood the prospect of duty. 

“I'm not asking for a heart-to-heart, but like I said yesterday. Equality. And not just in duty, this relationship.” 

Aemond mouth quirked up to a wide smile. He held his hand out to you and you looked down at it. Your hand joined his and he squeezed it.

“Tomorrow you will break fast with me in the library after my training.” You nodded in acknowledgment. “I'm taking you back to the Keep before you drain me.” 

-

Nightfall came and now Aemond and Arryk were back in the streets.

“Are you sure it will still be in the area, my prince?” Arryk asks as he carries the cage usually meant for a bunch of rats and a wrapped fish on top.

“We will only know if we try,” Aemond says and they stood in the section where the cat from earlier was spotted. Arryk set the cage down and unwrapped the fish. Aemond grabbed the slimy aquatic animal and started walking around and shook the fish slightly.

“Maybe you should call for it,” Arryk suggests.

“How?” The knight then started clapping and snapping his fingers, and kissing noises? 

“Ser Arryk what-.”

‘Meow’ 

The two men looked over to the large cat coming out from the shadows, already interested in the fish. Aemond tossed it into the cage and the cat stopped. But the poor thing was too hungry to care and dove right into the cage. Arryk shut it and the cat snarled but went back to the fish. 

“Now what?” Arryk asks.

“Another gift for the princess.”

-

Aemond and Arryk stood in front of the door and Aemond knocked. He heard nothing so he knocked again. This time he heard a groan and your voice slightly. Shuffling was heard and the door opened.

“Aemond? Ser Arryk? Is everything alright?” You asked and tightened the robe around you. 

“Sorry to disturb you, but one final gift.”

“Aemond-.”

‘Meow’ 

Arryk brought the cage into your view and you saw the cat from earlier.

“You went back for it?” You broke out into a smile. “Open the cage!” Arryk set the cage down so it opened towards your room and he lifted the door. The cat backed out and ran into the room with half the fish in its mouth. 

“So you don’t feel lonely,” Aemond says softly, making your heart flutter. 

“Thank you.” You reached up on your toes and kissed his cheek. “You’re nothing like they say you are.” You whisper into his ear and kiss the corner of his lips. 

Aemonds face turned pink and his eye closed.

“Have a good night my lady.” He says and starts walking away. Arryk simply bows and follows after Aemond.

If one thing was certain that Arryk noticed was that Aemond was smitten already.

-

A/n- I wanted to rewrite this part so many times, I hate this one. Butt anyways. Comments, reblogs, and likes are greatly appreciated!!! 

Comment or send what name the kitty should have!!!

[sa3losa]

Can someone please write something about dorne 🗿

Im dieing to see a dornish strong ass woman leading on all the targaryens cus I think shit like that would be so entertaining to read.

[maidmerrymint]

I'd love someone to write a dornish oc who dabbles in witchcraft. She fall in love with aemond and witchy stuff ensues. Including having a vision of aemonds death.

@lya-dustin This is starting to sound alot like Eva