#his husband killed their firstborn son | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

misguidedasgardian · 1 month

Text

The Hour of the Wolf (XI)

XI. A ray of sunlight

MASTERLIST

Summary: You never thought you could feel like this

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats,arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, might miss some warnings, brestfeeding on this chapter

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3,4 k

Notes: Alright… sorry for the confusion… There were three ravens, Reader first wrote to Cregan to confess to him that she was pregnant and she wanted him back and whatnot… that raven GOT LOST, got eaten by a snake… idk… she then received a raven from Cregan, who, as he never received anything, he wrote to her telling her he was fine and he would like her to visit him up North, reader thought he received the letter, and didn’t care, and it was answering to it, so she just wrote a letter telling him she couldn’t make the journey, that’s it!

“Look at him”, you whispered, “he is perfect”, you admired his beautiful round face, his perfect little nose, his long eyelashes, his round squishy cheeks

“He is”, Cregan whispered, kissing your temple, “you had done so beautifully, my sweet Queen”, you looked into his eyes and you found content, and pride

But your eyes returned to your baby, your dragonling.

He had silver hair, beautiful silver hair, just like yours, and then when he barely open his eyes, he revealed them to be icy gray, like his father

He was so perfect, a perfect Targaryen Prince

The blood of Old Valyria and the blood of the first men run through his little veins.

You were so, so proud of him, of yourself, you had every maester check his health, and they all agreed, that the New Prince of Dragonstone was healthy, strong, and, as he had proven to you, had a strong set of lungs in him.

“My love”, called Cregan, but you only hummed, not letting your eyes wander from your newborn son, “there is people wanting to meet him”, he said softly, it was the middle of the next day, and you wanted to savor your alone time with him a little longer.

“Later”, you said simply

“They had been waiting since yesterday”, he said, kissing the top of your head again, “and we need a name”

“I just gave birth, can’t they please leave me alone for a bit?”, you asked, softly but angrily

“This baby is the next ruler of the seven Kingdoms”, he said softly, “there are protocols…”, you looked at him severely

“Bring in my brother and Jahaera”, you conceded, he barely nodded, and went away, giving you a breath of relief. You didn’t want anyone else but your family in here

The children entered with big, curious, scared eyes, when they landed on you, they came to your side quickly, Aegon was sure to be right there next to you, to catch the closest and first look at his baby nephew

“He is a bit red”, it’s the first thing he mumbled, making you giggle

“He was just born”, you whispered, “it’s normal”, you explained softly, Jahaera didn’t say anything, but looked at the baby with big ghostly eyes, and for the very first time, you thought you catched a glimpse of a smile

“Jahaera? want to hold him?”, she seemed truly surprised, you just patted the bed right next to you, and she climbed to your side, when she was settled, you placed your baby in her arms, she seemed content, only watching him in her frail arms

“He is small”, she murmured, you only smiled, he was a bit small, and… “made of ice and fire”, she whispered

“What?”, you asked, but you were interrupted when Cregan opened the door, he stood there, with a warm smile on his face.

You didn’t even know how you were going to name him, I mean, you had some ideas, and you were not even going to ask your husband, he, your firstborn, was of the realm, of the Iron Throne, he had to have a name of Old Valyria

Jahaera excuse herself, she had a lesson with her septa, but Aegon stayed, sitting there in the bed by your side, Cregan had left to gather the court

“Can I ask you something?”, your baby brother asked

“Anything”, you answered truthfully

“Now that you have a son… will you… will you still love me the same?”, he asked, and his big eyes told you he was extremely worried. That truly surprised you, but you smiled softly nonetheless.

“Of course!”, you said with a big smile, “you are my baby brother, I will never stop loving you, and I will never stop caring for you, you heard me? you are stuck with me, and your little nephew for life”, you giggled

“Really?”, he asked, hopefully

“I promise”, you assured him.

Cregan came back, thinking he had given you enough time, Aegon as he saw him, he excused himself from the room, and left

“A name, wife”, he demanded. He was the father, but he is letting you name your child, the prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne

“Aerion”, you said with your son back in your arms, “of House Stark, until he ascends the Throne, as Aerion Targaryen”, you said firmly

“Good”, he said, “the small council is waiting”, he said, and again, he did not expect a no for an answer

“Very well”, he received your son, as you stood from the bed, the maids had placed you the “looser” dress you had, but not less impressive than any others, it was soft red velvet, with black and gold details. Your hair is barely arranged by two small braids arranging it off your face.

You barely let the maids touch your child, but they had dressed him too, in a simple golden attire. He was sleeping in his father’s arms, and you held onto him too, as you walked the hallways.

You had to present your son to the court

Not letting them see him, would awaken all sorts of gossip, that maybe there was something wrong with him, or he was weak, or any nonsense like that, this was going to make it clear to everyone…

The House of the Dragon stood strong, with you, your son, your brother, and your niece.

Especially with the silver hair on his head.

“You have done beautifully, wife”, Your husband said, as he saw you pondering, with your eyes lost in front of you

“Thank you husband”, you answered simply

You were already tired as you reached the huge doors, you hoped you didn’t have to sit on the throne today, you didn’t think you could handle it. You were still really sensitive.

“Lady (y/n) of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, the Roynar and the first Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and protector of the Realm, and her Lord Husband Cregan, of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, and Hand to the Queen, would like to present to the court, Aerion, of House Targaryen and Stark, Prince of Dragonstone!”, you might as well announce it now, the shocked faces appeared before you, your son was the heir, and next King of the Seven Kingdoms.

The huge doors of the entrance of the throne room opened in front of you, you tried to smile as the entire court, your court, tried their best they could to catch a glimpse of the sleeping Prince in Cregan’s arms

You walked slowly to the front, smiling and nodding to everyone on their way

All the Lords and Ladies nodded at you, muttering words of kindness

“Congratulations my Queen”

“What a fine Prince your grace!”

“You had been blessed, and you had blessed us all”

And more

So much more

Your council had been waiting for your approval, to start the celebrations, feasts, tournaments, parties, the first ones since the end of the war

“Behold! Prince Aerion of House Targaryen and Stark!”, chanted Arryk, you faithful Queen’s guard.

It was a tiring affair, you should be resting, and Cregan thought so as well, but you you a Queen, and if you wished to prove those who wouldn’t see your mother on the throne wrong, you have to stand there, with your newborn son, in front of the court as you barely gave birth the day before as the sun was setting

“In the celebrations of the birth of my son, I announce a big tournament, to join all countries as one, and also, a big feast to go with it!”, you said loudly, and the entire room bursted in cheers and applause, making Aerion cry angrily, as he was startled by the loud noise

Cregan smiled grabbing him carefully with his strong hands and showed him to the entire room, shortly, then he cuddled him into his strong chest, he looked so proud

The tournament was going to be held in two months time

This was a new era, you constantly had to be remained of

The kingdoms were still healing, you were still healing… you need this, you did

You were finally “allowed” to go back to your rooms, you dismissed the nannies who had offered to take your baby.

It was normal and customary, that you had a small army of women ready to take care of your child, but you didn’t want to let him out of your sight

Is not that you didn't trust them, it was just…

It felt odd

To be apart from him

You had them bring a crib by the side of your bed, as you watched him asleep tears fell down your eyes… oh how you wished your mother was there with you

You had cried for her in the middle of labor, how you needed her warmth, her maternity, her advice, all of her. She was an excellent mother, she adored each and every one of you, and you didn’t know how you were going to do this without her

You were so lonely

You had dismissed your ladies, and the nurses were unfamiliar to you

Because Aegon the Usurper killed your mother’s nurses when he took Dragonstone

You felt so lonely.

The all familiar pain that had installed on your chest came flourishing back again, and you realized it had never left, you just grown accustomed to it

Would she be proud of you?

You imagined your brothers coming to see your son, Jacaerys picking him up from his crib and raising him in his strong arms, you imagined Luke grabbing onto Aerion with gentle hands, accommodating him on his chest with his beautiful smile looking down at his nephew

The guards outside your room presented Cregan who entered the room with scrolls on his hands

“Letters, from your cousins Baela and Rhaena, and one from Lord Co…”

“Dispose of them”, you demanded, you didn’t care

“But…”

“I don’t care what those traitors have to say”, you said bluntly, he had caught you in a wrong moment

“Wife…”, he started carefully, “may I ask why…?”, he asked simply, you guessed he wanted to hear your version of the facts

“Corlys Velaryon served my mother, until it suited him, when the ship was sinking, in the moment my mother needed him the most, he betrayed her, then served the usurper!”, you said bluntly

“He probably was the one who poisoned the usurper”, he said softly

“I guess, it didn’t suit him to keep serving him, I don’t care”, you said angrily, “if he had stayed at my mother’s side like he promised perhaps she would still be here”, you said, you could not forgive him, you wouldn’t allow yourself to

And Baela and Rhaena?

It just hurt too much

At one point they were like your sisters, like real sisters, you had lived together since your mother married Daemon, and… now it just hurts too much. They say Rhaena managed to hatch a dragon, a pink little thing

Good for her

But it just… it hurts… of all the people that could have survived…

You felt guilty for only thinking about it

They were more Corlys Velaryon’s granddaughters that they were your sisters

“Can I read them?”, he asked, you looked at him

You wanted to say no, you did, but you were also terribly curious

Of what they might want or say… What if was indeed something important? and really, it was Cregan, he was the only one you trusted fully

“Yes”, you said shortly, “let me know if there is something important”. He sat by the window, to read the letter by the sunlight, Aerion began to get fuzzy, so you grabbed him gently and started to feed him

Something very frowned upon

Not even your mother had breastfeed her babies

But to your understanding… who better to feed a future King… than a Queen? his mother? You paid it no more mind as he latched onto you, Cregan didn’t even batted an eye

He was frowning a he read the missives

“Is there something they need?”, you asked dismissively, “a threat to our Kingdom?”

“No”, he said simply, “just a call for you, their sister”, he said, he folded the letters and put them away, then he opened the one of Lord Corlys

“They wish you the best regarding the birth of your child and Prince of Dragonstone, and they wish to know that if there is anything they can do for you”

“No requests… that’s a new one”, you said sadly

“Please, help me understand”, he pleaded once again, “what are you thinking?”

“They just keep wanting the fucking throne”, you said bitterly, “that is all this whole thing had been about, the Hightowers and Velaryons alike, each for their own side, sunk their teeth into the targaryen of their choice and bit, ripped and tear them apart for their own convenience, for the fucking throne, killing my entire family in the process, I am done with them”, you sentenced.

“Very well”, he said, “I will stand by you”

“Thanks”, you said smiling softly, not wanting to discuss the issue further

Even if they were true, that they only were calling for you, their “granddaughter” and sister, how could you ever trust that? if you were not seated on the throne, would they still care for you?

You were convinced they only wanting to fall back into your good graces, the graces of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and everything that meant

And the very fact that they knew about the birth of your son so soon unnerved you.

Of course they had spies inside the castle

Perhaps you should burn the letters publicly so words get to them

But it was of no consequence, because that very day, Cregan received important news

His son was arriving

He was in the Crossroads Inn, and he was dying to go and meet him

You allowed him to go with a small force, you had never seen him so happy and excited. He was on his way to meet his son

And taking advantage of that fact, that was going to take him a few days… You realized, thinking about Rhaena…

Your son needed his egg

You had felt Vhaelar restless, and you needed to know if she had laid her clutch of eggs, or, egg

Singular

The very thought frightened you, what if it didn’t hatch? She as well could be the last Dragon, a grown, fertile dragon. You called in a Dragon keeper immediately, and he presented in front of you, the one that went inside the cave with you, the only one who could get close to your Dragon

“This is long overdue, your Grace”, he said with a soft smile

“I cannot go down there myself”, you explained softly, his face then changed. “What's the matter?”, you asked him

“Vhaelar laid eggs, we didn’t know how many, when the prince was born we adventure into the cave to find… one is gone”, it seemed like everything froze around you

“What?”, you asked

“One of the nests was… broken into”, he said

“Why wasn't I informed of this!?”, you asked angrily

“We found it this very morning”, he said quickly

“Raised alarms!”, you said

“The one that stole it… didn’t realize, she laid two eggs”, he gave a signal to Erryk who was at the door and he opened them to reveal two more Dragon Keeper, that brought with them the heating chamber

A sight you never thought you’d see again

They revealed the egg to you, and tears were brought to your eyes, it was golden, golden like the sun

Was it an Omen? Golden like Syrax… Golden like Sunfyre

Who could have possibly stolen my dragon’s egg?”, you asked him

We don’t know your grace, it must have been someone who knows the area, that its been heavily guarded, even though its against the sea, you had maintain guards around it, and over it, so we can’t understand…”, you kept quiet, you could barely go up stairs, you couldn’t go personally.

That is why she was so restless

Somebody stole her egg

“What if it hatches?”, you asked him, fright in your eyes, he didn’t know what to answer

“A dragon will only answer to a Targaryen your grace, in the worst case, it will grow wild, until we can finally know where it is”

“And in the best case?”

“It’s not normal for two eggs to hatch in the same clutch”, he said softly, “if the Prince’s egg hatches… then… someone still had a treasure in their hands but at least, it will not be a dragon”

It did not settle your nerves

You saw the beautiful egg, it seemed to move, you could feel it, the life within it

“Thank you”, you said finally, and they left you alone.

It wasn’t until a week later, as you fixed the skirt on your dress, that you finally realized how important this was.

Rickon Stark, Cregan’s son, was entering the city

Your husband’s child

Your own child, by marriage

A sweet boy of eight

Soldiers entered in front of the comitive, mounted men with the Stark sigil, and then, right after them, Cregan in all his glory, and at his side, on his own horse, a young boy, that even from afar, you could tell he looked exactly like Cregan, same shade of hair, and as they dismounted and walked towards you, you realized, he had his eyes

“Your Grace, my I present to you, my son and heir, Rickon Stark”, presented Cregan

“Your grace”, the boy greeted politely, his big eyes looking at you widely, even though he bowed. Cregan was by his side, looking at his son proudly

“My Lord, you are most welcomed to King’s landing, and to the Red Keep”, you greeted, amused, he smiled shyly.

“Thank you, your grace”, he looked at you with mistrust, and you could understand him, all of this was new for him.

You of course invited them in, the entire household he had brought with him was large, but, the more the merrier, and if having more of his people with him was going to make Cregan and RIckon feel more comfortable, they were most welcomed.

“There is someone I want you to meet”, you said happily, he only nodded, you looked at Cregan as you walked back to your chambers, and he seemed content, “Can I call you Rickon?”, you asked him softly

“Yes your Grace, of course”, he said simply

“Are you my new mommy?”, he asked bluntly, and you looked at Cregan, alarmed, he was amused, but didn’t say anything, you then looked back at the boy who was looking up at you with his big ghostly eyes

“I don’t have to be if you don’t want me to”, you said gently, and that seemed to relax him a bit, “but there is a place I’d like you to fill”, you said with a solemn voice, like you were requesting of him, you opened yourself the double doors to your room

“Which one, your grace?”, he asked solemnly

“How about.. big brother?”, you asked, inviting him to look inside the cradle where his baby brother was sleeping peacefully

“I’d like that”, he said, pleased, but frowned at further inspection of your baby, “why is his hair white?”, he asked, you giggled

“Because he got it from me”, you said softly

“I thought you had white hair because you were old”, he said simply, and you laughed, hard

The sound of your own laugh seemed so foreign to you

You haven't laughed in…

In…

In a long time

“No, no my dear, I was born with my hair like this”, you explained softly, he only nodded, understanding clearly, “so… are you going to be Aerion’s big brother?”, you asked, and he looked at you with a true smile for the very first time, and nodded excitedly

taglist!

@lyannesworld @tremendouswolfsaladranch @unlesshouse @mimsie95 @ostricx @amelia262006 @marihoneywk @ahristata @happinessinthebeing @dd122004dd@lyannesworld @aestmilky @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @stargaryenx @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @good-night-starlight @yentroucnagol @beebeechaos @brakingboundaries @duds31 @@persophonekarter @missusnora @aleemendoza2425-blog @aesthetic0cherryblossom @arrozyfrijoles23 @sacredmachine @wintfleur @kitkat-writes-stuff @green-lxght

#misguidedhour #targaryen!reader #targaryen!oc #house of the dragon fanfiction #hbo house of the dragon #house targaryen #cregan stark #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x oc #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader

221 notes · View notes

calisources · 2 months

Text

𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒.

All sentences in this meme are taken from all of the house of the dragon season two teasers and new trailers so far up to date. Change names, locations, pronouns as you see fit.

Errors were made in the hours following King Viserys' death.

The war will be fought,many will die,and the victor will eventually ascend the throne.

There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin, and no war so bloody as a war between dragons.

We fight for our queen!

My father chose me, his firstborn child, to succeed him. He held to his decision until death.

And yet, Alicent's son sits on my throne.

I mean to fight this war, and win it.

The realm will soon tear itself apart if men do not remember the oaths sworn to King Viserys, and to his rightful heir.

The Hightowers are marching. You must crush this beast at its head.

Our terms are very simple: renounce the false king, and bend the knee to the queen, or your house burns.

When the desire to kill and burn takes hold and reason is forgotten, we will not even remember what began the war in the first place

I fear what I have begun.

There are two sides of a story.

Choose your side.

For the one true king, Aegon!

Only weeks ago, my lord husband was alive and the realm was at peace.

On his death bed, he knew the realm would never accept a queen.

Rhaenyra's supporters will believe what they wish, but Viserys wanted Aegon to succeed him.

They wish now not for the good of the realm, but for the satisfaction of vengeance.

Plot against the king, and I will pay it back a hundred times over.

I'm as fearsome as any of them.

You have no idea the sacrifices that were made to put you on that throne.

My uncle is a challenge I welcome, if he dares face me.

We will prevail and bring forth peace.

You must accept that the path to victory now is one of violence.

Good....to war then.

All my life, I've endeavored to serve both my house and the realm.

Whose side are you on?

When the desire to kill and burn takes hold and reason is forgotten, we will not even remember what began the war in the first place.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #hotd meme #house of the dragon meme

106 notes · View notes

justinalovee · 1 year

Text

𝑩𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Reader x Rhaenyra Targaryen

Word Count: 1246

Warnings: Incest, oral sex

Summary: Daella Targaryen, wife of Aegon and lover of Rhaenyra, does her best to try to help her husband adjust to life in Dragonstone

A/N: All characters are 18+! minors DNI. Aegon is a good guy in this universe

Your heart hurts.

It hurt to know your husband was in physical and emotional pain.

It hurt to hear him cry.

“Hush now, sweet boy; I’m more than happy to be married to you. Our life might not look like how we imagined it, but I wouldn’t change it or change you for anything in the world.” You say it softly while rubbing circles onto his back, soothing him as if he were a child. “We will be happy here, I promise. It will just take some adjusting.”

You desperately hoped that was true.

Aegon rests his head on your shoulder. You kiss his crown gently before running your fingers through his thick, wavy hair, careful not to touch the sensitive welt on his cheek. When Aegon announced you were moving to Dragonstone, his mother slapped him hard across the face, not only hurting him but humiliating him as well.

Alicent had never hidden her disgust at your unconventional relationship with Rhaenyra. She thought it was disgusting, and when the king declared you, his niece, were to marry his firstborn son, Alicent did everything she could to stop the wedding, but the Queen never got her wish, and your betrothal went ahead.

As the only child of Orys Targaryen, the younger brother of King Viserys and Prince Daemon, you had been doted on your whole life, but unlike Rhaenyra, you didn’t have the pressure of ruling one day hanging over you. Your mother, Dana, died on the birthing bed while bringing you into the world, so you grew up extremely close to your father until he died during the battle of the stepstones. He died while riding dragon back; he’d suffered many blows, but an arrow through his neck killed him instantly. The only things that helped you get through such a loss were Rhaenyra and your dragon Meraxes; that was until Aegon came into your life.

“Daella?” He says this, gaining your attention. “You seemed so lost in thought; what were you thinking of?”

“My father. I think he would have liked you; you enjoy a lot of the same things.”

Aegon wipes his nose with the back of his hand, shuffling back slightly so he can look up at you through his swollen eyes. Unconvinced, he asks, “Like what?”

“He enjoyed watching plays, sword fighting, dragon riding, and learning about other cultures.” To most people, Aegon was lazy and uninterested in anything other than drinking, but that wasn’t true. He just preferred to learn about things on his own rather than being taught. You smile at him and say, “And you both love me.”

He kisses your cheek and says, “That I can agree with, although I imagine it’s different types of love.” Aegon’s hand travels to your lower abdomen, drawing soft circles over it with the pad of his fingers. “One day, when the time is right, I’ll put a baby in there, a child that will know nothing but unconditional love.”

—

“Rhaenyra?”

You watched as Rhaenyra silently rose from the chair she sat in, leaving you momentarily confused in a crouching position. Rhaenyra had felt neglected the past few weeks with you spending so much time with Aegon, helping him adjust to life in Dragonstone. This was the first time you’ve had time alone together since arriving. The moment you got her to yourself, you practically latched your mouth to her nipples, making sure to give equal attention to each of her soft breasts, leaving a trail of purple marks scattered behind.

Bending forward across the table, Rhaenyra pulls her gown up to her waist, revealing her bare ass and pussy while her breasts press against the cool wood underneath. You smirk, noticing she had no small cloth on, and you move so you are now behind her. You grip her thighs while waiting to get the heads up to start pleasing her, flicking her silver hair over her shoulder. Rhaenyra gives you a small smile, then nods.

Gently, you scrape your fingers over her cheeks down to her perfect cunny. You spread her pussy lips and plunge your tongue deep inside her, tasting the sweetness of her arousal, your thumb rubbing circles on her clit. Her soft moans of pleasure fill the room while you continue with the same actions as before, occasionally smacking her ass, leaving a faint red mark.

“Oh fuck,” Rhaenyra moans as her legs begin to tremble. “I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

You continue lapping at her folds, delighted as her fluids cover your mouth and drip down your chin. You shuffle back as Rhaenyra straightens her dress, dropping her gown back into place. Taking your hand, she helps you stand, tasting herself by kissing you on the lips.

“I have missed you, Daella. It's not just us being intimate,” she says, handing you a napkin to wipe your mouth with. “But just us spending time together. We haven’t been dragon riding together in some time.”

“I know,” you say, kissing the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, Nyra; I promise I will make it.”

She smiled and said, “Don’t apologize; you are just looking out for your husband. How is Aegon settling in?”

“He’s… adjusting. He wants to start a family soon.”

“I’m delighted for you. Motherhood is a wonderful thing; the love you experience is unlike any other,” she says brightly. “If there’s anything I can do to help make my brother feel more comfortable, please let me know.”

“Of course, thank you.” You thought it would be a good idea for you and Aegon to do more things together to slowly bring him out of his shell. He attended most family meals but remained silent throughout them. He found it difficult to be around loud children and laughing adults when he was used to small talk or silence.

The flapping of wings outside caught your attention, alerting you that your uncle Daemon had returned. Rhaenyra’s face lit up with excitement. Her relationship with your uncle was special; the love they shared was something out of a storybook, however unconventional it may be. “I will leave you to your greetings and see you tomorrow.”

—

You rest your head on Aegon’s lap while he reads to you in high Valyrian from The Volcanic Doom of Valyria, “flames shot sir eglie se bane bona sesir zaldrizoti zaltan.”

You repeat his words. “Flames shot so high and hot that even dragons burned.”

Aegon places the book down on the sheets beside him, careful not to lose his place. The fingers in his free hand brush your hair behind your ear. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking.” You sit up to face him. “Why don’t we do something fun tomorrow? I was thinking we could go see a play during the day then visit the street or will at night if you like.”

Aegon raises his brows, surprised by your suggestion; he seemed to be torn thinking about it. It saddens you how nervous he appeared. “I would like that, but... I don’t want my mother to know we are there.”

“I understand your love.”

“We could wear disguises,” he suggests. “With our silver hair hidden, we’ll blend in.”

“What an excellent idea.”

“So…” A mischievous glint appears in his eyes. “If we go to the street of silk, does that mean I get to fuck you in a brothel?”

Nodding, you pull him in for a kiss. “I want you to fuck me in all the brothels.”

#house of the dragon #Aegon Targaryen #aegon targaryen x you #Aegon Targaryen x fem reader #aegon targaryen x reader #Rhaenyra Targaryen #Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem reader #rhaenyra targaryen smut #rhaenyra targaryen x you #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #Rhaenyra Targaryen/you #Rhaenyra Targaryen/reader #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen

344 notes · View notes

tobitofunction · 9 months

Text

A Pact of Fire and Ice Part 1

Recently became obsessed with Cregan Stark but I still love the Targaryen's. So here I go.

No skin tone was mentioned only the mentions of hair colour. Also some differences from the books to this

part2 part 3 part 4

Everything went so fast just a few days ago you were eating dinner in Kings Landing with your family. Now the same family was finally severed after years of hanging by a string, your mother Princess Rhaenyra was supplanted by your Uncle Aegon, and your younger brother was killed by your Uncle Aemond on a diplomatic trip. You meanwhile are being prepped to your journey to Winterfell where you meet your betrothed Lord Cregan Stark. Your brother Jaceryer's offered your hand in marriage to the young wolf. After discussing with his council he accepted." My sweet girl why that face" your mother's voice made you turn around," I'm just preparing myself to leave my home and get married to someone I don't know" You shrugged, Rhaenyra sighed," I felt the same when I married your father Laenor, both of us weren't keen on it. Still, we made it work" she said touching your silver hair gently, unlike your brothers you have inherited the traditional Valerian features of purple eyes and silver hair much to your mother delight as it got suspicions of her firstborn son's parentage of her back for a while."But it mostly it will help us gain a great ally as if House Stark is on our side so will the rest of the north" Daemon said showing up out of nowhere, you sighed," I love being a political pawn" you said to him with an eye roll," Princess since you became off age your mother and I have been drowning in papers of houses asking for your hand in marriage but we haven't accepted any of them as your mother wanted you to make your own choices, but circumstances changed. You should be lucky it's Lord Cregan Stark who will be your husband and not someone else" Daemon said making you squint your eyes at him," Cregan Stark is an honourable man my sweet girl" Rhaenyra said trying to defuse the situation," I'm doing this only for you mother" you said after a minute of silence, she smiled at you and kissed your temple," You remind me of your father" she said," I wish he could have been here" Rhaenyra gave you a tight-lipped smile,"So do I, now say your goodbye's your dragon is being prepared as we speak".

Joffrey was holding tight onto you his face buried in your stomach, "Please don't leave. Don't leave me" he whimpered, tears falling down his chubby cheeks," I will be back before you know it Jof. Take care of Dragonstone and Mother for me. My brave little brother, I know you can do it" You said while touching his hair gently, he slowly backed away from you, wiping tears away. You turned to Corlys and Rhaenys," You be safe in Winterfell, Lord Cregan is one of the finest swordsmen the seven kingdoms have ever seen. He will take good care of you" Corlys said placing a hand on your shoulder," That's not the reason I don't want to go Grandsire" Corlys nodded," I know but duty is important. Both your father and mother didn't want to get married but they did as it was there duty to the realm", you didn't answer but just bowed your head, Coryls grabbed your chin and made you look up at him,"And you being in the north will also stop you taking up arms to ride into battle to fight your Kinslayer Uncle. I already lost one grandchild to the Greens, I don't want to lose another" he said sincerely, you smiled sadly at him before moving towards Rhaenys who took you by the hands," I wish Laenor would see you right now. He would have loved the woman you have turned to. I still remember how happy he was the day you were born, his first and only girl. Take care of yourself, take the long route to the north in case the greens try to attack. This alliance is a turning point in this war, with the north-","I know, with the North my mother's throne can secured back, they have the biggest army in the North" she nodded, she gave you a hug gently caressing your hair before letting you go. You smiled at her before turning to your dragon Tyraxes, a beautiful Snow White dragon whose scales glittered in a purple hue when the sun shone and green eyes,"issi ao ready syt se journey bē jelmor? (are you ready for the journey up north?)".

Meanwhile Cregan Stark was taking Jacaerys out for a hunting trip wanting to know everything about his future wife and Jace was happy to give him the info," She is a bit of a handful at times so good luck with that. People say she is like mother when she was younger. But her beauty is something from out of this world. Her hair shines like diamonds in the sun, her eyes a purple like never seen before and her skin as soft as silk" Jace said in a way which made Cregan wonder if he was in love with his sister, everyone in the realm knew about the Royal Families queer customs," She loves the colour red and always wears jewellery doesn't matter what the situation is rings, necklaces and earrings are always on her" Jace continued," I had this in mind for her do you think she will like it?" Cregan said reaching into his pelt pulling out a small necklace and handing it to Jace who gently took it,"Is this made out of Dragon glass and Valyrian steel?" Jace asked surprised," I found it within my family Heirlooms, I don't know the history of it but I knew it was Valeyrian steel because of the feel of steel it's just like Ice," he said patting the sword which was attached to his hip,"Valeyrian piece of Jewellery should be worn by a Valeyrian Princess" Jace looked at the necklace more in detail it was a dragon which wrapped around a dragon glass sphere, "She will love it. I'm sure of it" he said handing back the necklace. Cregan tugged back under his pelt,"Let's try to hunt for something, your sister will be here by nightfall"

Just like Cregan said you arrived at Nightfall, Tyraxes landed on the snowy ground, the snow jumped into the air from the impact of the large beast,"I'm Princess Y/N, I'm here for Cregan Stark" you said to an approaching knight,"Follow me your highness" he said trying to avoid eye contact with Tyraxes, you patted her nose before following the guard into the castle. You pulled your cloak closer to your body, as the clothes you are wearing aren't doing much to protect you from the cold,"It be warmer once you get inside Princess" the guard said noticing you shivering.

Cregan was waiting in the main hall, Jace was with him excited to see his sister again."Princess Y/N of House Targaryen has arrived Lord Cregan" the guard said. The older man moved towards you,"Your Grace, I'm Lord Cregan Stark, Warden of the North" he said bowing his head to you," I assumed so as the guard called you Lord Cregan and you are the only other person here beside my brother" you said while brushing snow of your shoulders," I have a room prepared for you my Princess. It's close to your brothers, tomorrow I want to show you around Winterfell" he said ignoring the tone of your voice, he did study you from head to toe, Jace wasn't lying when he said your beauty is from out of this world. Your hair looked indeed diamonds when the warm lights of the candles hit them and your eyes took his breath away, "What are you waiting for my Lord? I want to change and I'm in need of rest" Cregan nodded,"Follow me Princess".

You followed Cregan towards your room,"I hope it's to your liking Princess" he said opening the door, It was smaller than your room in King Landing and Dragonstone but it felt homier, the furs and many wooden objects with the warm candlelight, you removed your cape and placed it onto a chair,"It's surprisingly warm in here" you said as Cregan moved towards the Fire place where he threw in more wood,"It's because of the hot springs, you need to see them sister. They are amazing" Jace said excitedly,"I leave the two of you be. You probably have a lot to talk about. My Prince, Princess" he said leaving the two of you alone.

You sat down on the couch making Jace follow he grabbed your hands,"Luce...-","We never found a body, well never his full one. We gave him a dragon rider funeral it was nice, only you were missing" you said sadly making Jace squeeze your hand,"I wish I could have been there. I wish it was me who went to Stormsend. Since I heard about his death, I have been dreaming about our last interaction. It wasn't positive, he was scared and worried and I just yelled at him. It's not what a brother does, it's not what a King is supposed to do" Jace said getting emotional," It's not your fault, you were worried as well and emotions can run high during those moments. The only ones to blame are the greens, our Uncle especially" you said kissing his cheek, making him sigh,"I'm glad you are here my sweet sister" he said touching your cheek gently,"I should be mad at you, selling me off like I'm some cattle" Jace grimaced," I did what was needed, he recently lost his heir and second wife. He needs a new one, his council was encouraging him. He's a great man, he will treat you right" he said while gently caressing your cheek, you leaned into his touch and sighed,"If it will help us get back the Iron Throne then so be it. At least he isn't ancient like some of the other Lords" you said making Jace chuckle," Only the best for my beloved sister" he said,"I let you get some rest. Lord Cregan has the day planned out for you".

The next day you were awoken by a knock on the door, "Princess" a servant girl appeared from between the doors, "Lord Cregan asked me to assist you in getting ready" she said with a soft smile, you nodded and stepped out of the bed,"Did you sleep well Princess","Yes, the beds are softer than I imagined, so are the furs I thought they would be scratchy" you chuckled," Lord Cregan made sure we gave you the best furs" she said placing down a gown on the bed before she began working on your hair, "Is this for me?", "Yes, it's more suited for the weather than the gown you arrived in yesterday. Even though stunning it's ill-suited for the weather" she said,"Very well" you said looking down at the gown, It was a deep red gown made out of a think velvet, and it had embroidery in the form of flowers and leaves on it, "It's beautiful" you said," It belonged to Lords first wife, she wore it often" she said making you frown,"It must mean a lot to him than?" you said as the servant picked the dress up again and back unlacing the back,"She was his first love, gave birth to his heir, so yes the dress means a lot to him" she said as you stepped into the gown,"Why would he give to me than?", "Cause Prince Jacaerys told him red is your favourite colour and you need more suiting clothes," she said,"That's very sweet of him," you said,"Your hair is truly beautiful Princess. We in Winterfell heard of your beauty often, so often that it seemed exaggerated but now seeing you" she smiled,"I'm sorry, it's just here in Winterfell we don't see many variations in peoples looks. Your brother fits right in but you not so much....looks wise of course Princess," she said quickly finishing lacing you up,"Lord Cregan will meet you in the great hall for breakfast".

Cregan was drumming his fingers on the wood, the food in front of him slowly becoming cold,"More wine?" a cupbearer asked, but Cregan only answered by waving him away." So nervous, it's not like you" a female voice said making turn around,"Sarah what are you doing here?" he asked with a smile," I want to see my brother embarrass himself in front of the Princess of this realm" she smiled cheekily," I forgot how long woman take to get ready" he said making Sarah roll her eyes at him," Ironic as there are best clothes. Someone likes to make an impression" she continued to tease, Cregan playfully rolled his eyes, like you tried to make an impression with the young Prince. This is your best dress" he said making her blush," I just want to look good, we don't have royalty here often and besides he is engaged to another and why would a Prince like a bastard like me anyway" She shrugged. Cregan patted her hair gently,"You are my sister which makes you a Stark, it doesn't matter what the others say". Sarah smiled and was about to say something when the door opened revealing you, in the red dress which made Cregan get up from his seat,"My Lord sorry for the wait" you said folding your hands together,"The dress..." Sarah began,"It looks stunning you Princess" Cregan said, he wasn't lying, you indeed look ethereal with it but the emotions of seeing another woman in his dead love dress made him feel emotional, A bit of regret began filling him but also something else started to bubble inside him. He didn't know what yet,"Let's eat, you must be starving," he said,"This is Sarah Snow...my.." Cregan didn't know how to word it,"I'm his Bastard sister," she said bluntly,"It's an honour to have you here in Winterfell your Highness," she said bowing,"It's an honour to be here," you said with a tight-lipped smile,"Is my brother joining us?" you asked sitting down," No your grace, he's breaking his fast in his room. Today is for us to get to know each other and for you to know Winterfell" Cregan said taking a sip of his wine, and looking at Sarah mentally telling her to leave,"I be on my way, have a lovely day" you smiled at her,"She seems lovely" you said cutting into the food," She is, I love her dearly doesn't matter if she is a bastard" he said making you smile." I have another gift for you" he said,"Bring it to me" he said making a servant nod and leave the room before re-entering it,"Here you will need it for the outside" he said as the servant handed you the bundle, it was white with some black and grey thrown in it, it was soft,"It's made of Wolf fur, your brother and I hunted it. We are going eat the meet for dinner tonight" he said,"The craftsmanship id amazing" you said as," I will send them your regards. I thought white would suit you well" he said with a smile,"Thank you Lord Cregan" he smiled,"Let's go, winter is close which means it will get darker sooner and I have a lot to show you" he said while you pulled the jacket on.

"These are the Godswood," Cregan said as you looked around in awe, "It's stunning, it's like those woods from fairytales," you said as the snow crunched underneath your boots,"It's so much larger than the one in the red keep," you said while looking snow covered trees, Cregan hummed in response,"The heart tree is just this way" he said placing his hand on your back and led you to the centre of the Godswood. Soon you were met with the large white tree, the white branches expand in a longer fashion than the one within the Red Keep. The red leaves stood out on its white surroundings,"You believe in the old gods instead of the faith of the seven?" you said,"Yes, don't try to convert me, Princess, your brother tried and failed ","Do not worry, I don't follow the seventh anymore. I find comfort within the Gods of Old Valyria" you said gently touching the leaves of the heart tree."Tell me more about those gods than" Cregan said making you turn around to face him,"Maybe another time my Lord, I want you to continue showing me around Winterfell" you said crossing your arms behind your back.

Cregan continued to show you around Winterfell," The last thing I want to show you is this" he said, he led you to a large door that was made from unfamiliar material, it looked heavy, Cregan seemed to struggle a little bit to open it. Once open only darkness was can be seen," Those are the crypts of Winterfell, all the tombs of my ancestors are kept here" he said grabbing a torch before walking into the darkness,"A bit inappropriate for a first date, he could at least wait for our third before showing me where all his dead relatives are being shoved in" you mumbled before following him. It was dark and chilly and the air was wet which made you wrinkle your nose as you walked down the spiral staircase. "These are statues of the Lords before me," he said shining his torch on the statues, "This one is of my father," Cregan said, he said looking up at the large stone statue,"Do you remember much of your father?", he shook his head," I just remember bits and pieces, I wish I remembered more and I wish I could forget the day he died" you said, Cregan looked at you,"You where there?" you hummed," I hear commission in the throne room of Driftmark, it was only days after my aunt's funeral. I couldn't sleep because of the events from the last few days, so I decided to see what was happening. I found my Grandmother crying over some shard remains, Grandsire Coryl's was yelling at the guards so I knew it must have been my father" you said making Cregan look at you sadly,"No child should have witnessed something like that. I'm sorry Princess for your loss, for all of your losses" he said," Let's leave, this place is giving me the creeps" you said.

Jace was talking to Sarah when you arrived back,"Hello sweet sister how was your trip" he asked,"I know Winterfell now, which was the purpose of this trip" You shrugged making Jace give you a look,"It went well brother. I want to take a bath however" you said,"I will tell the maids to draw you one" Sarah said which made you nod,"Thank you. Until then I will go back to my dragon" you said walking off with Jace following behind. "Now sister, tell the truth about your trip" he said,"I said everything that needed to be said Jace. I won't fall in love with him after one trip," you said before breaking off into a sprint when you saw Tyraxes in the distance, "I missed you girl," you said hugging her neck,"So you saying there is a possibility in you falling in love with him," Jace said making you roll your eyes, "I didn't say that"," but you also didn't deny it," he said,"Don't you have a fiancé to return too and annoy?" you huffed,"Not until you and Cregan are wedded, he wants to marry in the way of the old gods" he said making you look at him with a lifted brow,"It's a very intimate ceremony similar to a traditional Valeryian one" Jace explained making you nod.

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan stark x targaryen!reader #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x you #Cregan Stark x fem!reader

390 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 9 months

Text

The Impossible Choice (48)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, angst, smut, violence ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

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

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

In accordance with the king's wishes, they began preparations to return to King's Landing. Neither she nor her husband were convinced it was a good idea to return now, Aegon, however, wanted to return to the capital as soon as possible as the victor, fearing at the same time that their sister would attack the Red Keep in an act of revenge in their absence.

Neither she nor her husband spoke much to each other, absorbed in their own thoughts and grief. She felt warmth in her heart, however, when he grasped her hand in his as she sat beside him, like him trying to escape his thoughts into the world of books, when his arms embraced her and drew her to his chest as he lay down beside her in bed.

She returned to King's Landing with her husband on the dragon's back – Aegon also flew most of the way on his dragon, but before King's Landing itself he decided to ride on horseback at the head of the army, knowing that he would encounter crowds cheering in his honour.

They had no intention of looking at it.

Nor did her husband want to be considered a hero knowing that the one who killed Daemon was her father.

She tried not to think about it, but she feared that Rhaenyra's revenge for the death of her husband and firstborn son would be cruel.

That in an act of madness she would simply burn down the entire Red Keep.

Aegon, however, was too busy drawing on the love of the crowds to consider this.

Royce was furious and did not speak to her. They were forced to send a letter to their sisters for them to come and take their father's body from King's Landing to Storm's End. Royce did not agree to his burial in the fire, and she conveyed his wishes to her husband. He accepted this without surprise.

"He is his first-born son. He has the right to decide."

When the two of them walked into the Red Keep, they noticed with surprise that it was almost empty. They stepped into his chamber, where they had lived together before he left for Harrenhal, and it was only through the window that they noticed that Alicent and the entire court were waiting for Aegon in the courtyard.

The Queen, however, did not run up to hug and congratulate her eldest son – she ran to the carriage behind him, covered in a shroud bearing the crest of a green three-headed dragon and bent over it, her sobs echoing across the square in a flurry of cheers.

Her husband pressed his lips together and walked away from the window, sitting down in a chair. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and sighed heavily.

She wondered if she should wear black as a sign of mourning, but decided that her father would not have wanted her to, and the colour itself was associated with the party they fought against.

She decided that she would still wear the Baratheon colours.

She walked over to her husband and stepped down beside him, sighing quietly. She knew he heard her, but he did not look at her, his gaze fixed on the extinguished fireplace.

She moved closer to him and took his hand in hers, placing it on her womb. She felt him flinch as he looked up at her face and then at her stomach. His fingers massaged the fabric of her gown involuntarily.

"– it's already slowly showing –" He whispered blankly more to himself than to her.

"Hm?" She asked, stroking his hand with hers.

"– that you are carrying my child –" He said lowly, a note of pride and warmth sounding in this sentence from which she felt a pleasant tingling in her fingers. She managed a slight, sad smile.

"Only six more months, my beloved." She said softly, and he hummed under his breath, looking thoughtfully at her abdomen.

She knew that the child inside her was the only reason they both give in to utter despair.

They had a purpose, something they both looked forward to, something that filled them with hope.

Their shared heritage.

They both flinched when a servant entered their chamber informing them that the King had summoned her husband to the Small Council Chamber. He stood up with a face completely emotionless and told her dryly to go with him. She moved after him without a word.

As they both walked into the room and the door closed behind them, she noticed the confused glances of the council members and the King directed at them. Aegon grunted, trying not to look at her, turning his gaze and words to his brother.

"I called upon you, my brave brother." He said softly with emphasis on the information that he wanted him to come alone. Her husband, to everyone's surprise, made nothing of these words.

He moved ahead with a slow, lazy step and grabbed in his hands a large black wooden chair standing on the other side of the room. He moved it to the large table where the assembled people were sitting, placing it next to his own, forcing the maester to move over. He nodded at her to sit next to him.

She swallowed loudly, feeling the uncomfortable silence and anticipation around her. She approached her husband with docile eyes and sat beside him, his hand immediately on her womb, his gesture of owning her. She stroked his palm with her fingers, her confirmation of his desire.

Aegon stared at the spot where their hands touched, his gaze blank, as if his thoughts were somewhere far away.

"In six months, a new Prince or Princess will be born in the Red Keep." Her husband communicated coolly and proudly. She felt a shudder and the rapid beating of her own heart, ashamed and frightened. All eyes turned towards her.

He had made the announcement official.

She was expecting his child.

The Queen looked at her with a dreamy, sad smile, the only gesture she could afford while still feeling such pain – her father put his hand on her shoulder, clearly pleased with the news.

"Won't you congratulate me, brother?" She heard her husband's mocking voice and involuntarily clenched her fingers tighter on his hand, frightened, wishing he would stop, looking uncertainly at the look on Aegon's face.

The King pressed his lips together at his question and looked away, staring ahead. His lips left words with a quiet congratulations and wishes for an easy labor – she let out a quiet breath, feeling her whole body tense up.

Their grandfather, impatient, changed the subject, informing them that Lord Greyjoy was not happy with the changes in their pact and demanded more gold.

She listened in silence to a discussion in which they wondered aloud where the money would come from to pay such a large sum. She felt frustration and anger at Lord Hightower's words that their soldiers would surely understand the situation and wait as long as necessary for their payments.

He was sitting safely in the Red Keep while they were giving their lives for him, and he was going to fail to pay them on time?

"Our soldiers have families they left behind to fight for our king's cause. What are their wives and their children to live off of?" She asked coolly and Otto cast her a protracted look. She saw him glance at her husband, apparently wanting him to point out to her that she should not speak at all, not being a member of the Small Council.

Her husband, however, looked at his grandfather with a stony face and did not even flinch. She thought, feeling the heat flowing through her body, that she and her husband had a silent alliance between them.

She felt a squeeze in her throat as the subject came down to Rhaenyra. Thoughts of her, of her suffering and grief kept her awake at night.

She feared that her revenge would be cruel and reach them all.

She shuddered, snapped out of her reverie when she suddenly heard Aegon's voice, cold and mocking, directed at his brother.

"If it were not for your haste, our brother would be still alive."

She felt the tension even in her fingertips, the cold sweat on the back of her neck, her gaze turned sideways in horror. Her husband's face expressed stupor and shock, his mouth opened slightly, as if Aegon had suddenly pierced his heart, hurt him, betrayed him.

She clenched her hand involuntarily on his palm feeling the realisation of what his brother had said begin to spread through his body, the understanding of his words.

After all he had done for him, after all she and he had sacrificed for him.

How could he have said that?

And then she understood.

He was taking revenge on him.

He was taking revenge on him because he made him realise that she belonged only to him.

"If you had arrived in time, our brother would be still alive. What stopped you? Another whore?" Her husband hissed, and she swallowed loudly. She jumped up in her seat as Aegon set his cup down with a loud clang of steel, fury in his gaze.

"That's enough!" The Queen thundered, rising suddenly from her seat, panting all over in despair, breathing hard.

"Just look at you." She whispered, looking at them heartbroken, shaking her head in disbelief.

After a moment, her eyes rolled back, her soft body slumped to the floor, causing a commotion all around. Aegon and her husband rushed towards her, her father shouting to carry her to her chambers immediately.

She watched with her hand clasped over her womb as Ser Criston took her in his arms and left with her through the open door. Otto ordered in an impatient tone that he wished to be left alone with his grandchildren.

She glanced quickly at her husband and he nodded at her. She pressed her lips together and turned away, walking out into the corridor with the others.

She returned to their shared chamber and began pacing around the room, frightened by what was happening. She had hoped that Aegon would change, that he would calm down, but what he had said to her husband was unthinkable to her.

Also, after what her husband had said to her during their second wedding night had not left her mind.

The fact that Aegon had dragged him as a thirteen-year-old boy to a brothel and locked him up with a whore who, in her reasoning, had hurt him.

She jumped up in her seat, snapped out of her reverie when her husband walked into the chamber suddenly, the door closing behind him with a loud slam of wood. She saw how tense his figure was, his hands clenched into fists, his face pale, his gaze blank and threatening.

"− Aemond −" She said quietly and he glanced at her over his shoulder in a way that sent a shiver through her.

She knew that gaze.

It was the same way he had looked at her before Luke arrived in King's Landing.

The way he had looked at her after dinner, the day before his father died.

"− sit on the bed −" He instructed dryly, and she swallowed loudly, knowing what that voice meant, knowing who he was now.

She nodded and moved uncertainly towards the bed, sitting down on the bedding and kneeling on it. She placed her hands on her knees and clenched them into fists, feeling them shiver.

She watched vigilantly as he approached her, her heart beating harder when she saw his hands untie his breeches. She didn't wait for his command, her fingers spread the material aside, his manhood already partially hard and swollen.

She grasped its base with her slightly trembling hand, squeezing it with a tender gesture up and down, her puffy lips traveled softly over its pink, fat head and placed a kiss on it.

She heard his sigh of pleasure, his sign of satisfaction, of momentary relaxation. His large hand ran over her cheek, over her hair, his gestures inadequate to the look she had seen in his eye only moments ago.

"− good girl −" He praised her in a whisper, and she felt her insides clench around nothing at his words, thirsty.

She realised that they hadn't done this since the battle, since he had returned, immersed in their own grief.

The thought made her yearn to please him even more, to return again to their intimacy, to normality as much as they could. She directed his throbbing manhood into her mouth and slid it partially in, only teasing it with the tip of her tongue, licking it and brushing it with her lips.

She heard him groan helplessly, his fingers tightening on her hair, forcing her to slide it into her mouth as deeply as possible. She felt its tip hit the back wall of her throat, tears in her eyes from the exertion and the sudden sense of being filled as he began to slowly move his hips back and forth.

"− shhh − easy −" He whispered softly, soothingly, his hand clamped down on her hair so that she couldn't move or escape from him, but his movements were still slow and steady, his length pulsing hard in her mouth, which she tightened around it.

"− just like that − your husband would never hurt you − easy, my sweetest -" He murmured softly, stroking her reassuringly, and she felt his words between her thighs, her wetness running down her skin, her heart pounding like mad. She felt the fear leave her and instead the heat spread slowly over her lower abdomen.

"− so pretty with my cock inside your mouth − ah − you'll swallow it all, won't you? −" He breathed out and she squealed as she felt his hips accelerate suddenly, his erection pulsing greedily between her lips, her hand clenching steadily on its base, driving him mad.

"− a good wife won't waste a drop − fuck! −" He growled out, and she felt his hot spend on her tongue, swallowing it with difficulty, breathing loudly through her nose, trying not to choke. Her husband continued to rock his hips inside her mouth with a sigh of pleasure and fulfilment, stroking her head.

"− just like that − swallow it all − such a good girl −" He whispered with a contentment from which she felt a tickle between her thighs and a clench, a need for fulfilment. She let his manhood out of her mouth with a loud splat and dared to look at his face, wanting to see if he was still enraged.

His face, however, looked completely different − he was sweaty, his lips slightly parted, his gaze hazy and warm with affection. He pressed her against his lower abdomen and hugged her, and she embraced him, snuggling into him, feeling relieved.

"Even when I’m furious. Even when I could kill someone − I would never hurt you." He said with emphasis on the last word, and she swallowed loudly, realising that he knew when he was scaring her.

For some reason she felt warm at his words and a pleasant shiver went through her, at the realisation that he had no intention of taking it out on her, no intention of hurting her even if he could have razed the Red Keep to the ground in his anger.

She looked at him uncertainly, wondering if she should say it, if she could ask for it.

"− I need you, husband −" She whispered, feeling her cheeks flush. She was all wet, her insides pulsing greedily around nothing.

Her husband hummed quietly running his thumb over her cheek, looking at her thoughtfully, as if wondering what to make of her words.

"− how can your husband help you, sweet wife? −" He asked lowly, tauntingly, the sparkle in his eye from which she knew he would tease and torment her, that he would get everything he wanted out of her and she would beg him for more. She swallowed loudly at that thought, feeling that she couldn't hold out much longer.

"− please −" She said quietly, hoping this would convince him to take pity on her. He, however, let the air out quietly, as if disappointed, his thumb running over her lower lip, parting her fleshy, wet skin slightly.

"− please, what? −" He asked lowly, impatiently, and she moved anxiously on the bed, feeling her own desperation.

"− please − I need you between my thighs −" She mumbled with difficulty, embarrassed by her own shameless words − he hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching in a satisfied smirk that painfully cupped her pride.

Her husband pushed her gently onto the bed so that she fell onto her back and knelt in front of her, pulling up the material of her gown and spreading her hips in front of him. She felt him run his thumb over her slick entrance, all sticky from her moisture, swollen with desire. She tilted her head back with a quiet mewl of pleasure, feeling how sensitive she was already, her husband murmured contentedly.

"− so wet from sucking my cock − do you like feeling me inside your mouth that much? −" He sneered, looking at her from above her thighs like a predator, the tip of his tongue ran over her puffy bud, making her moan helplessly, her body tensed like a string. She felt her heart pounding like crazy, her whole body hot, her thighs trembling in his hands.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled in embarrassment, clenching her eyes. He chuckled lowly seeing her state, how desperate and on edge she was. She drew in a loud breath and tightened her hand in his hair when she felt his nose pressed against her fleshy folds, his tongue sliding greedily between her pulsing slit, sinking inside her, tasting her wetness with just the tip.

"− you're so warm inside −" He murmured in delight, clamping his hands tighter on her thighs, feeling her writhing before him, trying to press his face closer to her, blocking her movements.

"− your husband has neglected this wet cunt for too long, hasn't he? −" He cooed, sliding his tongue deeper into her, teasing with each movement inside her the spot hidden on between her folds, driving her to spasms, sweet, uncontrollable moans of pleasure erupting from her lips, her eyes clenched shut, her head tilted back in heavy breaths.

"− ah − yes, husband −" She mewled, her hips rocking involuntarily towards him seeking more friction. "− p-please − harder −"

She heard him hum softly, not accelerating though, his caresses slow and steady, his tongue carefully petting and rubbing the most sensitive part of her insides, teasing her again and again, bringing her to the brink of orgasm.

When she felt she was about to reach her desired peak she cried out loud, feeling him pull away from her suddenly, a low, amused chuckle erupting from his chest. She watched with tightened lips as he clenched his hand and jerked his half-hard length, looking down at her.

"− so fucking desperate − soaking wet for me −" He murmured and took her hips in his hands, turning her onto her stomach, pulling her to him by her buttocks, forcing her to kneel in front of him and buck up towards him. He ran his fingers over her wet, swollen entrance, leaking with her moisture, and she squealed loudly as he gave her one hard slap.

"− oh my, what sweet sounds my wife can make − let's see what sounds you will make when I put it inside you − what do you think? −" He cooed, guiding the fat head of his throbbing, hard cock to her entrance, opening her wide on his thick erection. She whined quietly, clasping her hands on the bedding, her walls oversensitive from his earlier caresses.

She heard him sigh loudly, clasping his hands on her hips, sliding into her fully, filling her to the brim wonderfully, her hot, fleshy insides pulsing intensely against him, intensifying his sensations.

"− fuck − you're clenching so hard − you're close, aren't you? −" He exhaled, beginning to move inside her, his thrusts fast, sharp and loud, his thighs slapping against her buttocks with a wet clicks of their wetness again and again, both of them beginning to pant loudly, thirsting for this closeness like never before.

"− y-yes − ugh, h-husband, 'm gonna −" She mumbled with difficulty, moaning in front of him, their shared moisture running down her thighs as his erection streched her insides apart again and again with each of his thrusts, rubbing her at such an angle that she felt her whole hips tremble, the tension in her lower abdomen unbearable. She heard her husband groan at her words.

"− go on, little one, give it to me − fuck −" He cursed as he felt her insides suddenly begin to clamp down on him in a powerful fulfillment, loud moans of pleasure and fulfilment escaping from her mouth, her eyes clenched, her lips parted wide.

Her husband sped up instead of slowing down, fucking her through her orgasm, slamming into her with a sticky slaps of their moisture, ignoring her sobs and squeals from overstimulation.

"− just a little more − your husband needs to fill you − fuck, yes, that's it − o-oh gods −" He mumbled with difficulty, coming hard inside her, tilting his head back, his warm seed spilling inside her, filling her lower abdomen pleasantly, giving her a sense of both fulfilment and security.

She heard him swallow deeply and slide out of her after a moment, his fingers clamping down on her slit not allowing a drop of his spend to leak from inside her.

He laid on his side with her, placing his hand on her womanhood, making sure that nothing he spilled inside her left her, and kissed her neck, panting along with her. They laid like this, cuddled into each other, their bodies hot and sweaty, relieved after their fulfilment.

"− I missed you −" She whispered softly and felt him freeze behind her, swallowing loudly.

He knew what she meant.

Even though they had been next to each other the whole time, it seemed to her that their minds were somewhere else − plunged into darkness, into grief, into a mourning. And although she knew they would both not recover from their losses for a long time yet, they were finally reunited, finding comfort in each other's arms.

She heard him swallow loudly, placing a soft, tender kiss on the bare skin of her shoulder.

"− I missed you too −" He confessed in a low whisper, as if in embarrassment, and she stroked his arm that embraced her. They both lay for a moment in complete silence, playing with their fingers, touching the scars on the inside of their hands, a symbol of their true marriage.

"− I'd like to spend some time with Royce − he's overwhelmed with his responsibilities − he needs me −" She whispered and felt her husband's body shiver. For a moment, all that answered her was silence and the sounds of servants chatting outside the window in the courtyard.

"Do you trust me?" She asked quietly and he swallowed hard, sighing heavily, sinking his nose into her hair, his body easing in surrender.

"Yes."

Royce was given one of the large chambers in their part of the keep, however, he hardly left it. She knew that he felt like a prisoner in King's Landing, that he suffered because their father was still unburied and waited impatiently for their sisters to arrive.

She came to him unannounced, and he gave her an attentive glance from above the letter he had just written. He did not speak to her when the door closed behind her.

He was angry with her.

He was angry with the whole world.

He was suffering because their father had died for the King he did not respect or revere.

She approached him slowly, standing behind him, looking over his shoulder at his letter. He had just written to their uncle, Borros' younger brother, informing him of the King's new decisions.

"What is it?" He asked dryly, and she felt pain in her heart at the tone of his voice.

She knew he was suffering, she knew he was terrified that his father was gone, that now he was to be Lord of Storm's End, commander in chief of his army. She knew he didn't feel ready.

On top of that, he had been forced to marry against his will.

"Don't you want to see me anymore?" She asked quietly, and he swallowed loudly, sighing, putting the quill aside. She saw him run his hand over his face and remain silent for a long moment.

"I wish I could take you with me to Storm's End. To escape this fucking prison and forget what happened. Instead, I'm going to bring Iron Whore there with me, a woman who I'm sure has had hundreds of men before me and will cut my throat in my sleep." He hissed out on one exhale everything that was weighing on his heart, and she felt a tightening in her chest. She stepped around his oak desk and settled down in front of him.

"Do you remember the day I sailed for King's Landing to marry my husband?" She asked quietly, and he looked at her with his lips pressed together. His gaze softened, embarrassment flashed across his face.

"−…of course − I was heartbroken and devastated that… −" He said, but was unable to finish.

"− that you and our father sold me − is that how you felt? −" She asked him softly and he looked at her with his lips tightened, his nostrils moved restlessly, his eyes red.

"− yes − fuck, you know I did −" He mumbled, running his hand through his lush dark hair.

"You couldn't do anything, even though you wanted to. Me and my husband can't do anything now either, even though we'd like to." She said calmly, and Royce snorted at the mere mention of him.

"Our father died a heroic death saving my husband. I firmly believe that he is now in the heavens with our mother and can at last tell her everything he has been choking inside himself for so many years." She whispered in a trembling voice, feeling a squeeze in her throat, Royce looked at her in pain.

"Know that you will always have my support, Royce. Always."

_____

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @tempt-ress @blairfox4 @crazymusicgirl104 @ahristata @menaosama @ladywin17 @queenofshinigamis @rae-seri @dark-night-sky-99

234 notes · View notes

linberlyy · 1 month

Note

Also team Black actors share the same misconception and misunderstanding that many team black fans do that there is no love or loyalty within Team Green, when most of Rhaenyra’s team abandoned her in the end and they don’t even like and trust one another as it is currently. They aren’t supporting Rhaenyra because they believe in her. Theyre all supporting her because the position they’re in, there is no other choice or they personally want something- Daemon to be King, for his blood to eventually sit the Iron throne. Corlys, very much the same reason. He wants his name attached to a King. Rhaenys while throwing this accusation at Alicent, follows her husband’s lead far more than Alicent followed Viserys. Plus their Granddaughters are Daemon’s daughters and are now betrothed to Rhaenyra’s sons. They weren’t even betrothed because Rhaenyra considered them great candidates for her sons, but because she needs to use their legitimacy to bolster her own sons. She tried it with Helaena. Not to mention, Rhaena has lost her claim to Driftmark with the death of Luke, the deal with Rhaenys/Corlys was so weak and fickle that it broke within 3-4 days. Corlys distrusts and resents Rhaenyra more after Rhaenys dies fighting for her. Rhaenyra eventually calls for the heads of her most innocent and loyal supporters and one by one they abandon her too.

While team Green, despite their dysfunction were loyal to each other to the very end. Everything that Alicent has done since she was a teenager has been out of fear for and for the safety of her children. She is their only parent, their only source of attention, affection and discipline. She tells Aegon that he’s no son of hers, then 48 hours later- as futile as it is, she stands in front of a Dragon to protect him, he tries to pull her back with him and she removes his hand to push him further behind her but then there’s an understanding that they’re going to die together. Aegon doesn’t want it but he takes the throne anyway because he understands that his rulership will be the only thing that protects the people he loves. In the trailer you can see that the murder of Jaehaerys not only destroys Helaena but Alicent too. It also forces Aegon to mature, take more of a leadership role and actually fight to show that he’s “as fearsome as any of them”. Aemond talks shit about Aemond and wishes he was the firstborn son but ultimately he fights for Aegon until his dying day. Alicole are meant to contrast Daemyra with many seeing Daemyra as superior but Daemon has put his hands on Rhaenyra. Grows angry and resentful of her, takes a new little girl as lover, abandons Rhaenyra and doesn’t answer her call to be beside her when she needs him the most. While Criston is killed trying to make his way back to Kingslanding to save Alicent and Helaena. Daeron also dies trying to make his way back to KL to liberate his mother and sister. Otto isn’t shit, but even after being removed as hand, he stays loyal to Aegon. Aegon wanted to build giant statues of his brothers in their memory. He has it written into Law that Alicent and Helaena were the only Queens during the dance era, a law that still stands in Westeros and one Rhaenyra’s sons and other direct descendants didn’t bother to change. He marries his daughter to Aegon III to ensure that she’s Queen after he dies and she is known to history as Queen Jaehaera Targaryen even if it was brief.

If this isn’t love and loyalty, then I don’t know what is. There were no defectors on Team Green.

Even the commoners stayed loyal. Part of the reason they revolt against Rhaenyra and storm the Dragonpit is because of what happened to Helaena’s boys and Helaena herself and because of Brothel Queens even if it’s not clear whether it was a rumor or true. The people still loved Helaena and Alicent. While on Dragonstone, where Rhaenyra ruled for years. A broken and Dragonless (at first) Aegon goes and turns these people against Rhaenyra.

The phrase said by actress Raena about the fact that there is no love in the green family sounds quite comical. Because the character she plays received absolutely no love from, for example, Daemon. Yes, there were some scenes in the cut script where Daemon hugged his daughters after Laena died, but we're looking at the final script and that wasn't there. In the same episode, Raena complains to her mom that Daemon doesn't pay attention to her because she doesn't have a dragon, and in the next episode, Daemon marries Rhaenyra shortly after Laena's funeral. And the children were clearly not happy (and tb stans, please don’t make me think that they were simply frozen then. Their faces really showed a lack of understanding of what was happening). And the actress calls it love? Seriously? Is there love in the black family? Show it to me.

Now I'll be interested to see how Corlys reacts to his wife's death and whether he will tell Rhaenyra that it was her fault. Just wondering. Or will he stick his tongue up his ass again and say nothing? Will support the black team for no reason simply BECAUSE?

(no hate towards the actors) but most of them say real nonsense, their arguments are like “tb are good, tg are evil, there’s no need to choose, our family loves each other and hates them.” This is so funny. Okay, let the tbs kiss their ass, this video was edited for them.

#hotd #anti team black #houseofthedragon #pro team green #team green #the greens #corlys velaryon #rhaena targaryen #anti daemon targaryen #anti rhaenyra targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #alicent hightower #otto hightower #aemond targaryen #criston cole

60 notes · View notes

bandulin · 10 months

Text

I love the idea of Daemon x Alicent

Imagine this...

Alicent and Daemon get engaged in an attempt to settle the feud between Otto and Daemon. Viserys marries Laena instead. (Rhaenyra still marries Laenor and still has bastards with Ser Harwin. The Velaryons will try to get Laena's firstborn son on the throne instead of Rheanyra. Thus Team Blue is born. )

Otto keeps his position as hand (because Viserys is not falling over himself to get Rhaenyra to forgive him for marrying his best friend). In his eyes it's all the better because this way his daughter won't be corrupted by his brother anymore, so she can complain all she likes his mind is made up.

Because of this, the newlyweds stay in King's Landing, and as a boot this way Viserys and Otto can keep an eye on them, Alicent is not so isolated this time.

Daemon can't hurt Alicent physically at all and the one time he humiliates her in public (by calling her his green broodmare) Viserys tells him that one more stunt like this and their kids will get the Hightower name. (Otto was also seen leaving a conversation with Daemon but there were no witnesses in the room. No one is sure what Otto threatened him with but Daemon was visibly shaken after it. (He will deny it 'till his dying breath that he was ever afraid of Otto but the truth stands))

The point is that he can't hurt Alicent in an overt way, so he keeps needling her to cause enough distress for her to find a way out of the marriage. He is sure that if she bats her eyelashes and asks nicely enough, Viserys will annul the marriage. (He could never resist a pretty face after all)

At first Alicent is walking on eggshells afraid of his husband. She is still young and Daemon's insults cut deep, making her insecurities so much worse. She still refuses to ask for an annulment though because of her faith. Duty is more important than her feelings after all.

They have to lay together every week to make heirs, but it's a very miserable experience for both of them. Daemon can't help noticing how beautiful Alicent is, and he hates it.

Otto encourages Alicent to 'kill him with kindness' so she starts to be super nice to Daemon. Trying to have bonding time, showing interest in Daemons hobbies (mostly dragons and swords, but after about a month she finds out that he has a love for theatre (the dramatic cunt) and she is gleefully dragging him to their favourite plays) . She even let's him take her for a fly on Caraxes. (Daemon ofc knows she is afraid of it that's why he offers (as the sad excuse for a semen sack that he is)) She is trembling the whole time and she clutches Daemon so tight it leaves bruises, but afterwards Daemon respects her a lot more so it's worth it.

She even tries to resolve the past conflicts between them. She opens up about why he disliked Daemon (she refuses to use the word 'hate' even if it would be an adequate expression) and Daemon seems to be understanding and even apologetic about it. Ofc she doesn't get an actual apology but the next day there is a beautiful hightower green dress in her room with a necklace with the symbol of the seven incorporated in it. It's everything Daemon claims to hate and Alicent is so moved she cries.

Daemon is softer a bit but still not trying to make an effort to make the marriage work. So after her mooncycle is late, and a master affirms her that she is pregnant, she gives up and adapts the tactic of not bothering his husband at all if it's not necessary. She is still kind and polite when they are together but she doesn't make the effort anymore.

And Daemon... Misses her. He is too proud to reach out to her, but he can't stop himself from thinking about her every day. He keeps an ear on court gossips and tries to watch her from a distance, and he swears if Ser Criston touches her shoulder one more time he will break something. (all the while Alicent and Criston bond over their thoughts on duty and their shared ideas on cleaning up Flea Bottom. Alicent thinks the white cloaks could close the child fighting rings, while Criston believes the prostitutes wouldn't feel safe asking the guards for help even if they needed it. They also share cherry tarts sometimes as a treat)

Since getting married Alicent slowly but surely starts to get more confident in herself. Laena reaches out to her and they become fast friends. They bond over complaining about their husbands (in a polite way), and they find out they have a lot in common. They take a stroll in the gardens almost daily, and it's as much sweet as it aches for Alicent to have this friendship with someone other than Rhaenyra. But Rhaenyra is not here and even if she was Alicent is not sure they would get along again.

Alicent tries to help the common folk whenever she can, and she is loved by them in return. Otto notices (with glee) that Alicent has an affinity for politics and tries to cultivate it. He asks her opinion on resolving court matters and after a while it turns out that Alicent can be ruthless and cunning and in the end she still always comes out smelling like roses. Daemon sees this from afar and for the first time he thinks he is in love.

Parenthood brings them even closer together. Their love for their child turns out to be a wonderful base for their relationship. Daemon for the first time actually tries to woo Alicent. He is rusty but it's the effort that counts. He tells her his favourite tales of Valeria and in turn she shares the sauciest parts of Hightower history.

Aegon is a delight to them both, and spending time with him is the highlight of their day. He loves flying on Caraxes especially if his mother is with them as well, so Alicent has to get used to flying on the Blood Wyrm every second Tuesday. (She brings him a fat goat beforehand every time. They have an understanding.)

Daemon and Otto declare truce after Alicent, pregnant with Helaena, yells at them so hard they are afraid she will go into labour. (They have to make peace with each other or so help her...) Daemon tells her he loves her the very next day.

The dance still happens. Alicent leans towards team blue because of her friendship with Laena and because of the morals of the faith. Daemon still holds fond memories of Rhaenyra and wishes to fight next to her. They can't agree on it at all.

The decision is made when Helaena approaches them with the declaration that she wishes to marry the first son of Laena. Daemon would let it happen for the political opportunity alone but for Alicent the thing that settles it is the tangible love between the two of them. With love like that she would let her marry him even if he was a street urchin.

The path behind them was long and hard and in front of them it will be bloody too but at least they have each other to lean on.

#I don't care if it's OOC #Let me have my fun #Alicent is manipulative but with a gentleness #Daemon grows to love his non-valerian wife against his wishes #house of the dragon #team green #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #otto hightower #pro otto hightower #criston cole #laena valeryon #alicent x daemon #daemon x alicent #alicent hightower x daemon targaryen

311 notes · View notes

shibaraki · 2 years

Text

KINGDOM OF ASHES ┊TODOROKI TOUYA

synopsis: when you are suddenly uprooted from your life to enter an arranged marriage with Prince Touya you are unprepared for how greatly he defies your expectations, nor for how quickly you fall for him.

tags: FEM reader (referred to as ‘wife’ ‘daughter’ and 'lady’), royalty au; prince todoroki touya, arranged marriage, no quirks, historical setting, perceived unrequited love, fictional contraceptives, horseback riding, fluff, angst, protected vaginal sex, vaginal oral sex (reader receiving), dubcon, strangers to lovers, loss of virginity, hurt/comfort, canonical child abuse, bathing together, outdoor sex, talk of not having children/preventing pregnancy

wc: 12k

The evening before your wedding is quite fitting. Dark clouds have blanketed the skyline and large drops of rain cascade lazily down the windows, accompanied by a cold draft that intrudes the confines of your quarters, wailing like a lost child. Arriving earlier in the year than anyone expected, the Todoroki kingdom was known for its unbearable summers, but what followed was always a season of rainfall that felt unending.

Prophetic, maybe.

In the morning that follows, you would be wed to Prince Touya Todoroki, the firstborn son of King Enji. Your union had been entirely arranged with between negligent fathers, a Lord with land that held valuable ore, and the King in need of a bride for his son.

Your knowledge of the prince was limited, but that was the same for both nobles and commoners. Prince Touya was something of a ghost to the peoples, a determined boy known for his frail body; he'd been born too early and suffered for it. For years it had been rumoured that King Enji had ordered him killed, his weakness a dark stain on the family name. Touya had not been seen publicly since he was 11 years of age.

Upon your arrival to the palace, you had been covered in a white shawl and quickly led by a servant to the large bedroom you currently reside in. They relayed strict orders for you to stay put until the morning, insisting that you were not to wander the grounds nor come into contact with anyone but the handmaidens assigned to you.

Where you could not see much, imprinted into your memory are the hallways leading to your bedroom, imposing and dull. Walls that tower drastically above your head, littered with tapestries and family portraits featuring only the youngest children. You’d scanned every single one, and none of them included the eldest son, your dearly betrothed, and each of the siblings had worn a permanently detached expression.

As your escort had been making the bed, you’d asked about the absence of your soon-to-be husband and pity had flitted across her face before being carefully masked. The blatant caution surrounding him had not comforted you in the slightest.

The wind picks up and your hair stands on end at the sharp drop in temperature, arms crossed over your chest in an attempt to keep the warm kindling. Sparing a glance at the clock sitting on the bedside table, you realise that the night has drawn closer while you were lost in thought. If you wanted to be at your best for tomorrow's events you would have to retire to bed.

So you rest fitfully, the bed is nothing like your own and you’re scared, but the morning comes sooner than you expect. The assigned handmaidens bustle into the room before you have even rubbed the sleep from your eyes, rushing into your bathroom and beginning to fill the tub. With a heavy heart you slip the straps of your nightgown over your shoulders, the material pooling at your feet, and allow them to guide you into the water.

The maidens manoeuvre you as if you were a doll, lifting your arms and washing you with a cloth, pouring various divine smelling salts into the bath with you. Despite the lack of autonomy, you’re grateful that they’re here. You aren’t sure you could bring yourself to do it in their absence. Practiced hands scrub at your skin until you are a clean slate, a blank canvas for the prince to paint as he pleases. No crevice of your body is left untouched, not even the underneath of your nails, which are scraped free of any dirt. With morbid curiosity, you cannot help but watch as the water retreats down the drain — the ashes of your identity along with it.

When you return to the bedroom you find your dress hung from the large wardrobe door, silhouette haunted and draping across the flooring where the train flares. The fabric is notably heavy and expensive, white in colour to signify your proposed innocence, silky under your fingers. Beside it hangs a thick veil that appears to go on for miles. You would have to wear it for the entirety of the ceremony, forbidden from removing it until you are alone with the prince.

“You will look beautiful, I’m sure,” the oldest maiden present reassures you as she pulls down the gown with great care, her fingers crooked and wrinkled from decades of work. You wish you could have known their names, but after today you would likely never meet again.

“Not that anyone will truly see me,” you murmur, stepping into the dress stiffly, your movements mimicking that of a soulless puppet.

“Your husband will see,” she insists firmly, tugging the straps over your arms in two gentle motions. You'd been informed that there was no need for undergarments — the dress needed to be easy to remove. It was elegant, albeit simple, but not at all what you imagined you’d be wearing on the day of your wedding.

“Are you able to tell me about him?”

The elder handmaid's motions noticeably pause for a short moment before she gestures toward the vanity chair. Once seated you are given the chance to see your reflection, barely recognisable, and patently flawless.

“He doesn’t talk much with the staff, so I can’t be of much use to you. But I can reassure you that he is kind in his own way, my lady. I don’t think he will mistreat you”.

You meet her narrow eyes in the reflection of the mirror and they are nothing but sincere. At the very least, she believes what she is saying, and you take great comfort in it. Brick by brick you attempt to rebuild your mental fortitude, stilling the shake in your breath. Resolved, you nod, and her shoulders visibly relax with the relief.

The veil is lowered over your face.

All that is known to you in your journey to the ceremony are the floorboards beneath your feet, dark in colour and unnaturally charred in certain areas. You do well to ignore the implications, and quell your anxiety by counting each knot, tethered by the grip of a maternal hand. It squeezes in succession, tighter with every step, coaxing your thoughts from any fear as you stumble. The only thing to indicate distance is the daunting, heavenly song of a choir as it grows in volume.

You enter another room. Murmurings and whispers tell of it's grandeur — but it is nothing you are permitted to see. Stifling is the pointed weight of their stares against your back, pervasive in a way. Undoubtedly, given the chance, the lords and ladies of the Todoroki Kingdom would peel away the fabrics from your body if only to placate their own short comings. An understandable curiosity.

Why was it you were chosen, not them?

The elder guides you to a large cushion laid at the foot of the alter, plush beneath your knees as you kneel. You are left bereft in her absence. It was entirely possibly that you would not feel a kind touch again.

Not soon after you are seated, the hushed voices echoing throughout the venue are halted all together. There is no solace in the ephemeral silence, soon broken by the thunderous sound of a group of people rushing to their feet.

A body kneels on the cushion beside yours, mirroring your posture. It cannot be anyone but the man you know to be your betrothed.

“…In the presence of His Royal Highness we will begin the ceremony…”

You find difficult in swallowing. A bitter tang on your tongue. Throat swelling with the bloat of your heart, ears filled only by a pitched, white noise, you wonder if your family is in attendance; if they felt any guilt, or perhaps, they were simply glad to reap the fruits of your involuntary sacrifice.

“…Now, if you will join hands…”

Still puppeted by metaphorical strings, you do as instructed. Holding your right hand out with your palm facing upwards, it is all you can do not to flinch as a large scarred hand appears above your own. Prince Touya appears to hesitate, before decidedly intertwining your fingers together. You do not quite fit the spaces between each knuckle — the skin is smooth, blistering. It carries a heat you suspect will never truly dissipate.

In your periphery, the priest leans forward with a long, elegantly embroidered piece of cloth, and rests it over your wrists, swaddling the space where they kiss. He loops it over twice, symbolic of how your lives are now tied together.

You cannot look away from the hand now legally bound to your own. The skin is discoloured, a deep shade of russet that you recognise to be burn scars. Above the static, the priest is still waxing poetry to the guests about love and duty, how one cannot exist without the other, and your jaw aches with the effort to keep it held shut.

Unexpectedly, from the right you hear a hushed muttering of, “Didn’t think I’d be falling asleep at my own wedding”. To your bleeding heart, it feels like something of an olive branch. You can’t help but to laugh quietly, returning the sentiment. Given the way his figure immediately stills, Touya hadn’t intended for anyone to hear. Yet in the same breath, his grip squeezes, and you begin to hope.

The vows are shared — scripted and foreign in your mouth. Promised to him in mind, body and soul. You daren't count all the lies you had told before the Gods. Something dark and ugly settles in your gut as the both of you are each handed a small cup of red ginseng tea, a well known aphrodisiac, in order to encourage the consummation of your union. To you, it felt like confession. We know you do not truly want one another.

You drink it. The ginseng is slightly salty, the taste clinging like powder to the corners of your mouth, but it is otherwise easy to stomach. The applause that reverberates around the room is not. Wincing at the pinch of your now-husbands nails into the back of your hand, you are atleast comforted by his own discontent. It lessened the loneliness.

It was done. You are now the wife of a Prince.

Surprisingly, there is no room for shame to brew within you as Touya takes you to his quarters, delicately guiding you to the large bed and helping you atop it. The veil falls, the weight of it audibly thudding across the linens, and finally you come face to face with the man you are to spend your life with. Stray strands of saturated red hair hanging over narrowed eyes, paired with irises a piercing blue. His features are strong and distinct in the Todoroki family, yet you do not fear him. A soft curve to his cheeks that is almost youthful, no air of cruelty. He’s terribly handsome even when expressionless.

The stretch of silence causes you exceeding discomfort, though, infuriatingly, your husband seems completely unperturbed. Almost expectant. Touya scrutinises your reflexive flinch at the abrupt knock to his door, enacted in a quiet rhythm that must be purposeful. Due to his lack of surprise, this must be an expected visit. Unveiled but not yet bedded, you turn your head so whoever is there will not see your face, given you are still not broken in — it’s still forbidden.

“Did you manage to find some?” you hear Touya's low murmur, a frown settling on your face as he thanks the stranger and returns to his knees in front of you. Before you can question him, a cup is thrusted towards you, and you take it with both hands, gasping at the stinging heat. Rippling in staccato rings, the liquid appears to be wine, a dark rouge colour, aside from the flowered plant floating on the surface.

“This is…?”

“Boiled pennyroyal and wine,” he says, voice entirely flat and void of emotion. It's both explanation and instruction. Dread settles in the pit of your stomach, the evolving tremor in your hands causing the wine to lap messily at the rim of the cup. It was a tea well known for preventing pregnancy.

“You... do not want children?” you ask weakly. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the sound ricocheting between your ribs.

“No,” he replies sharply, before his tone lowers into something considerably softer, adding, “not right now” in what is a poor attempt at making you feel better. It's difficult to say whether or not you are relieved by the prospect. Bringing the hot lip of the cup to your own, the liquid warms your throat as you swallow it, and the aftertaste lingers awfully bitter.

Touya is slow to undo your gown, gently slipping the fabric over the curve of your shoulder. It is neither sensual or teasing, rather he’s being cautious, as if he expected you to run off like a skittish animal. The skin of his palms are rough with scarring but he handles you with so much care you barely notice, his fingers hooking into the sleeves and exposing your breasts to the tepid air.

You had never concerned yourself much with the appearance of your body until that very moment. Insecurities crawl their way into the forefront of your thoughts and you shrink into yourself, worrying that he might not want you, might not like what he saw.

He exhales shakily and shifts closer to you, your knees now touching. “Stop that,” he mutters. His tone is firm but not scolding, and he takes your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look back at him. Reflecting back at you is nothing short of lust.

“You’re beautiful”.

“You aren’t unhappy with me?” You ask meekly, hearing the quiver in your voice. There is a flash of frustration in his expression, which is quickly painted over with one of amusement. He lifts a hand to undo the buttons of his shirt, tugging the collar roughly to the side to expose the extent of his scars.

The laugh he offers in response is hollow, “I should be asking that of you”.

In an aborted motion, you move to touch him, your hand hovering awkwardly in the space between your bodies. Touya huffs irritably at your hesitance and pulls your arm forward, fingers coming into contact with the marred skin. He’s warm, and his pulse flutters beneath the heel of your palm.

“Could I ask, how did this happen to you?” you ask.

“Not very good at dirty talk, are you?” he laughs again, comforted that this one is bright and genuine. He gently guides you back until you are laid out along the mattress with only your upper half unclothed. Touya looms over you with both arms resting either side of your head, his knees tucked under your legs. Your blood thrums at the realisation that you are now pinned to the mattress, like a butterfly.

“Have you ever fucked anyone?”

Dilated pupils flicker across your face in search of any discomfort or anxiety. You shake your head, too embarrassed to speak. He hums in acknowledgement but seems neither pleased nor disgruntled by the confession. The seed of insecurity in your stomach takes root as you ask, “Have you?”

“Yes,” he says plainly. It doesn’t come as a surprise to you.

“Will you continue to?”

There is an edge to your voice at the thought of him sharing a bed with someone else. You’re aware that some wives allow their husbands to take a mistress -- it is looked down upon, yet especially common in arranged marriages in which there would be no love lost. But even though he was practically a stranger you felt deathly possessive of him. As your husband, he was now yours alone to love.

“Would that bother you?” he smirks, an infuriating air of condescension along with it, “will you tell me to stop seeing other women?”

Jealousy has caused you to overstep. “You’re my Prince and my husband,” you shiver, wishing you could move away and bow your head in apology, “I shouldn’t make demands of you”.

No punishment follows. Instead, the fleeting, tender press of his lips to your temple. “You are my wife,” he murmurs, “if anyone is going to demand things of me, let it be you”.

His given permission sparks like flint to rock in your centre, and you try not to preen. “It would bother me”, you tell him, and the smirk softens. In some way, you think he looks enamoured by your jealousy, by you, as if being wanted wholly was completely new to him.

“Then no,” he relents, “I won’t”.

Relief clouds your senses, and you are startled from your lull of security by the touch of a hand to your breast, his thumb slowly circling your nipple. Instinctively, you arch upward to follow the warmth amidst the chill of the room, skin alight under his touch. You ache to see more of him, weighted by a sense of vulnerability given your own nakedness, but as you reach to unbutton his shirt mottled fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you. A quiet thought whispers that perhaps you weren’t the only one here feeling insecure.

Wordlessly, Touya's hands then clutch at the softness of your hips in order to turn you onto your knees, so you would present yourself to him. You resist it, twisting to give him what you hope to be a pleading look. “I’d like to stay on my back,” you tell him, “I want to see you”.

His mouth falls agape, shaping around words that he can’t find. In processing your request, the pressure of his blunted nails grows steadily against your skin. The answer becomes clear when he relinquishes your hips, dragging your lower half unceremoniously into his lap as you turn. He begins to unbutton his shirt with a trembling hand, the other preoccupied with mapping out the lines of your body. Your knees press together reflexively as he hooks the back of your thigh, prying them open to expose your sex, and something about the salacious look in his eyes makes you feel as if you’re being revered.

A shiver rushes through your body as his thumbs settle into the creases of your thighs and gently pull apart your labia. “Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs, silken shirt finally falling open and revealing the expanse of his torso. He’s lean, toned, his shoulders and chest broad, his stomach seems to be the softest part of him. He’s held together by scars, raised and uneven, the pigment a little darker than the rest of his skin.

“Still want to be on your back?” he asks expectantly, as if it were a given that you want to be turned away from him.

“Yes,” you insist, bravely tracing the pads of your fingers along the glossed skin that covers his forearms, only pleased that he’s allowing you to touch him. His breathing shutters, eyes falling closed briefly under your tender ministrations.

“Will it hurt?”

“Not if I take my time with you”.

Your worries must show patently on your face, you think, as he immediately seeks to reassure you in an offhanded manner. It was already becoming obvious to you what kind of man Touya is, one that does not seek comfort or depend on anyone – a man that hides his affections in plain sight.

Without a modicum of shame, Touya laps at his fingers until they're sodden, and your lungs seize as you feel them press up against your pussy. Their movements are languid, lightly circling your entrance before spreading your wetness over your clit. You can’t help the appreciative hum that vibrates through your chest like a soft purr.

“Touya,” you breathe.

You’d touched yourself before but it had never felt like this. A mans touch was foreign. His fingers are longer, thicker, and acted with more experience than your own. He sinks into you slowly, instructing you to exhale and relax your hips, lips grazing along your inner thigh. Heat simmers under your skin the longer he stares, not at your pussy but at your face, waiting for any indication that you’re uncomfortable.

“That’s it,” he rasps, voice thick with hunger. All this intimacy wouldn’t be good for your heart. You knew it wasn’t common. With only the horrors passed to you through word of mouth, in the months leading up to your wedding, you’d prepared yourself mentally for pain and inconsideration. The expectation was that you would be manhandled and sore, not that your body would be gently coaxed into bliss.

Two fingers curl upwards inside of you, a come hither motion towards your belly, and both thighs clench against his shoulders. As if to sate his own urges rather than your own, Touya leans forward with haste and takes you between his lips, tongue tensed to trace patterns over your clit.

His breathes come hot and laboured through his nose. “Fuck,” you choke, barely a whisper that tapers helplessly into another moan. Almost. The sensation begins as something like a trickle, pleasure slowly seeps into your lower body and the intensity grows into a wave, your chest rising and falling with the tide. Your fisted grip on the silk linens tightens, legs seizing forcefully around his head, and he groans happily as you cum around his fingers.

“Gods. Look at you,” barely cognisant, you watch as Touya grins while bracing himself over the pillows, forearms either side of you, mouth pulled taut and still slick with arousal. When he licks his lips to taste you again, you finally think you understand what temptation means.

“You’re perfect”.

Spurred into action, you fumble as you reach for his belt and pull at the buckle, the tremors of your orgasm still fluttering between your legs. He laughs warmly at your attempts, taking purchase of your hands and resting them atop your sternum so he can attend to it himself. Embarrassment floods you, having wanted to do something for him, too.

All is forgotten when he rolls his hips, the length of his hard cock sliding against you. Pleasure frissons through you as a relieved sigh falls from his lips. He’s big, you think. From above he seems to get lost in it, lost in you, his hands kept busy massaging firm shapes into your thighs. When the head of his cock catches against your entrance you tense involuntarily, and he hushes you.

“Breathe,” he commands gently, pressing himself into you slow, “I’ll make it feel good”.

The stretch is unfamiliar and minutely uncomfortable, made easier by your earlier release. As you exhale, the sting lessens until there is no pain at all to be felt. Skin to skin, he waits in the cradle of your hips, letting you adjust to his length, his expression straining as your sex pulses around him.

“Please”.

Given permission, Touya moves. The tedious pace inwhich he pulls out has to melting into the sheets, savouring the drag of his cock. Your breasts shake with each rock of his body, his eyes enraptured, half lidded and following every movement. Your inhibitions are lost, hands flying up to grip his biceps, nails embedding themselves into the pinked skin of his shoulders. He indulges, bends to nip at the sensitive skin of your chest, and you arch into his mouth as he continues to transverse the length of your body to tuck into the crook of your neck.

The rhythm is purposeful, deliberate, playing to the obscene wet slap of skin bouncing around your newly-wed quarters. He groans and the sound is so unrestrained it has your toes curling against the bed. “I’m going to– again–!” you warn between stuttered breaths, too far gone to be ashamed by the clumsy jerking of your own hips as you attempt to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck– yes,” he grunts, movements devolving with the desperate need for release, “cum for me, baby”.

Quaking, tension weaves into the sinew of your body as the air catches in your throat. Eyes squeezing shut, your arms lock around the expanse of his back as you crest, in a feeble attempt to cling to reality.

You resurface in time to feel the final, abrupt thrust of his hips as he cums inside you, abdomen clenched as he curls into himself. Panting through it, Touya's brittle whines are hot against the underside of your jaw, limp arms still wrapped around him to keep his comforting weight close. You don’t want to let go.

The contentment does not last. Your arms fall away as he sits upright, his cock gradually softening inside of you. His vermillion hair dishevelled in all directions, a thin sheen of sweat along his forehead, a blush adorning his cheeks. The unkempt and blissed is a charming look on Touya -- it tempts for further intimacy that you aren't sure is allowed.

“Are you in pain?” he asks.

Blinking, you reply in wonder, “There was no pain at all”. He snorts, a tired yet cocksure smirk pulling at his lips. He is considerate even as he pulls out, massaging aimless shapes into your pelvis to soothe any aches, but that does not stop you grimacing at the emptiness that is left behind – nor at the sensation of his cum slipping down onto the bedsheets.

The chill is gone, air thick with the smell of sex. He curses grumpily at the mess and gets to his feet, hastening over to the bathroom only to return with a wet cloth to wipe you with. You fight the haze just to watch him kneel between your legs and gently clean, exhaustion seeping steady into your bones, wearing a tired smile at the small act of care. You think that perhaps, you really could grow to love one another.

It isn’t until you are falling into sleep that you realise he never kissed you. Not once.

The morning after the consummation of your union you awoke alone in your bed, and as your arm had slid along the mattress you noticed there was no warmth to be found. In hindsight, the absence of a loving kiss was somewhat predictive; as for the entire month following your wedding is largely spent alone or with the gardeners, Izuku and his mother Inko, whose family had supposedly been hired to tend Todoroki land for generations.

It did not take you long to realise you might have been naïve in thinking this marriage would be a loving one so soon.

Prince Touya seemingly avoids you at every turn, even going so far as to retire to bed late when he thinks you are already sleeping. He treats you like you are unsightly, yet when he climbs under the sheets he would cradle you against his chest, unaware that you’re awake, and press a tender kiss to the back of your hand – never your lips. Not only do you find his behaviour confusing, it hurts, much more than you thought it would, given you had been strangers not long ago.

But you’d vowed to him your life and your heart, let him have your body and honour. You hoped he would eventually do the same.

Regardless of his attempts to stay away, you would still make the effort to find him on the palace grounds. As lost as you might become in your endeavours, you were determined to have him face you at least once a day as a reminder. I am here, I am your wife.

Such is your goal for the day. Left to your own devices once again you find yourself wandering by the kitchens, lured in by the delicious smell of baked goods. You weren’t often informed of happenings in the palace – even after being wedded to the Prince you held no real standing – but you had heard excitable whispers from the staff that morning. Princess Fuyumi would be visiting, and she was known to have a sweet tooth.

The scent is tempting, and it calls to core memories from your childhood that you might’ve otherwise forgotten. Muffled voices and girlish tittering can be heard down the hallways, interrupting your moment of nostalgia and piquing your curiosity.

“...It’s too bad Prince Touya is married now, he never comes to see me anymore...”

You stumble at the mention of your husband's name and quickly conceal yourself flat to the wall, hand pressed against the cold brick to steady yourself. The maidens seem to have taken no notice, and had they caught you there would be no consequence, yet your pulse still echoes loudly in your ears.

“He’s a good lay, isn’t he?”

“I’ll miss his mouth, that’s for certain,” another laughs, “my beloved husband has never made me feel that good”.

Your blood turns to lead, a heavy stone settling into the pit of your chest with the realisation that these were the women he had been with in the past. He had touched them, tasted them, much in the same way he had you.

Touya hadn't been dishonest about his conquests, there was no reason to be. And you had been aware, even before his admittance to you, that he’d likely had other partners. But simply knowing and coming face to face with them were entirely different. Their gossiping offers kindling to an anger you hadn't known existed before now; it is less about him bedding them, rather, you wished they wouldn't discuss it so openly. At the very least, out of respect for you.

Twenty seconds is all you'll allow. As the time is up, you slap your hands to your cheeks to startle the tears out of your system and supress the hurt. A valley fold, a reverse tail -- one corner at a time, you take the insecurity and shape it into the mental image of an origami swan, and you tuck it away.

Clutching at the fabric of your skirt, heart steady, you choose to focus instead on the positive. Even though he clearly wasn’t touching you, Prince Touya was no longer seeking them out for sex. He’d respected your wishes, and the knowledge placates your anxiety.

Lifting the drapes of fabric pooling at your feet, you quickly turn to flee the corridor as the voices grow louder. Following the winding corridors, you make your way through the palace in search of the training area where you knew Touya would be with his brother, Natsu. You were still completely lost on the layout of your new home, every day that passed you seemed to find a new place to explore. In truth, you didn't think you were ever going to get used to living here.

Stepping through a large doorway into a padded room, your sights are set in on the distant figures of two men parrying with their swords. The left figure built, the right more lithe, quick on his feet. Your husband is smiling, and it is not because of you. A draft billows into the open space, and you wrap your arms around your chest, all the while childishly fantasising about Touya rushing over to offer you his coat.

“Are you alright?” a gentle voice calls out to you, and your body flinches at the sound.

“Heavens,” you gasp, alarmed hands clutching at your chest as if to smother the startled beat of your heart.

You whip around, and in doing so, come face to face with your new sister in law. Much like her other siblings she is undeniably beautiful, but with eyes much brighter in person, and a sweet smile that naturally begins to undo the knots in your sternum.

“My apologies, Princess Fuyumi,” you bow deeply and meet her gaze as you lift your head. “I was just looking for Prince Touya”.

At the mention of her brother, the placid smile widens into a grin. She is so content in her own presumptions of your marriage that you almost feel guilty. She takes your hands into hers with renewed enthusiasm, “How is he treating you? I trust all is going well?”

You try to muster up a genuine smile, intermingling a smidgen of truth in with the lie so it might be more acceptable, “It is going well. Though, I haven’t been able to spend much time with him”. But the Princess is as observant as she is kind. Fuyumi’s expression fractures slowly, grip tightening around your fingers and running the pad of her thumb along the line of your knuckles. The act of comfort is overwhelming after so long without a kind touch.

“Arranged marriages are difficult in the beginning, I can tell you from experience,” she offers sympathetically. “you were two strangers, now forced to navigate life together, you mustn't let yourself be disheartened by these growing pains”.

“It will eventually get easier”.

You nod in agreement. Fuyumi needn't know that she was only repeating to you what you had already been telling yourself -- though from her mouth, you heard it as a plea for her brother rather than a comfort.

“My elder brother has been through a lot of hardship,” Fuyumi continues with an almost motherly cadence, casting her gaze across the training grounds to observe as Touya and Natsuo continue to spar, the sharp sound of their weapons colliding can be heard even from this distance.

“He doesn’t know how to show love because it was never shown to him. He was hidden away and told he was unsightly. When Shouto was named heir and he had his claim to the throne stripped from him, political marriage was his only use. And even in that, he had no choice”.

A frustrated, pained retort of 'neither did I' sits heavy on the edge of your tongue. You remain silent, briefly glancing towards the tall ceilings to will away the sting behind your eyes. Unawares of your presence, Touya moves seamlessly with his weapon, wielding it as if it is an extension of his body. In spite of his irregular bouts of ill health, his body is lean and strong, his instincts impressive and reflexes refined. You knew from the books he kept in his personal library that he was intelligent, driven and curious. He would’ve been a good king.

Fuyumi settles her hand between your shoulder blades, the warmth seeping through your clothes, “If I know him as well as I think I do, I would say he likely avoids you because he thinks that is what you want”.

You balk at the notion, brow pinched with doubt as you glance towards her. “Why would I want that?”

Her expression is melancholy, and not once does she look away from her brothers. “He knows that if given the choice, you would not have picked him”.

“That's--!”

“--But! I think you’ll be good for him,” she interrupts, “I trust you’ll make him happy, though I didn’t expect him to run from his feelings so quickly”.

Before you can give a rebuttal, a yell of victory calls for your attention. Across the room, your husband throws his hands up in celebration as he stands over his brother, the tip of his sword tucked against Natsu's throat. Touya brandishes a bright grin, genuine and joyous; one that steadily dims as he meets your eyes, and narrows at whatever he sees beyond your figure.

A squire strides in through the doorway, pausing at your side. Your back straightens expectantly. Touya helps his brother to his feet, all the while keeping his dubious glare on the attendant, his shoulders strangely stiff. You had never seen him so apprehensive.

Voice monotonous and dutiful, the man falls forward into a deep bow, “King Enji wishes to meet with you before the evening feast, my Lady”.

Touya's strides forward with a hand resting on the hilt of his sword, footfalls loud as he hurries. He does not slow in his approach, crowding in uncomfortably close until he has inserted himself between the two of you, and the squire takes tentative step back.

“What does the bastard want?” Natsuo demanded, while Touya's remains surprisingly silent, maintaining a wide stance with half of his body shielding you from view. Fuyumi reaches forward for your hand, clasping it between her own, and pulling you further back to her side for reassurance.

You sought no comfort from the action, rather it frightened you. They were defensive on your behalf for reasons you couldn't understand. They were protecting you from a servant who was here at their father's behest, and seemingly, they did not want you anywhere near the king.

“I am not privy to that information, Your Highness,” the squire replies, “and the King does not think you are either”.

In the end, it is a helpless affair, one you cannot run from. Fuyumi releases you as you are beckoned, and the concern in her expression so stark it disarms you. As you pass Touya, he reaches for your arm.

“Be careful,” he murmurs, gently circling his thumb against the sensitive skin of your wrist, holding you in place until the servant pointedly coughs.

Guided deep into the maw of the Kings quarters, you feel a daunting sense of nostalgia. A prophetic dread hangs over your disposition just as it had the night before your wedding, only this time your source of comfort is the phantom warmth of your husbands hand.

The squire takes pause outside two large doors, arching atleast ten feet tall and guarded by two armour fitted knights. Without preamble, he pulls taut the rope hung beside the doorframe. A bell rings and both doors slowly swing open in return, the wood complaining beneath the movement.

King Enji stands foreboding by a wall of full length windows that look out onto the gardens. The room itself appears to be an office type space, a grand and beautifully carved desk sitting in the centre of the room with a large cathedra behind it and two cushioned arm chairs opposite.

The squire bows to his King, and then to you, before taking his leave.

“Sit”.

The fine hair on your arms stands on end despite the lack of a chill. Now alone together, King Enji stirs an instinct buried deep in your marrow that is almost primal. You, a well meaning rabbit, lured into the den of an apex predator. Enji is a colossal, imposing presence even without his armour. A king revered and feared by millions and rightly so – if the sensation of fury could be given a human form, it would surely take on his appearance.

“It’s an honour to finally meet you, Your Royal Highness,” you speak clearly as he prefers, and keep your back straight when you bow before taking your seat. Any attempts to smooth the tremble in your reply prove to be futile, but as you meet his calculating, amused stare, you realise that it pleases him.

“Touya was born a month early, were you aware of that?” Enji asks as he walks the length of the room to an array of glass bottles, the sound of wine being poured only slightly louder than the blood rushing in your ears. You shake your head in response, still unable to trust your voice.

“He almost killed his mother. A monstrous little thing,” he hands you a cup, half full of red wine, and the liquid swills against the lip of the glass as you shake.

A baby, you think. Not a monster, a baby.

“For months he refused to be taken from his mothers breast. He was weak, falling ill at the slightest change in weather. An embarrassment to the bloodline, really”.

There is a pregnant pause, and for a moment you fear that he expects you to speak, but he instead glares at the wine you have not yet sipped.

“Do you dislike wine?” he asks, and you quickly hold the cup to your lips, swallowing back the bitter taste while fighting to keep your expression neutral. It was strong, and left your tongue unbearably dry, but it satisfied him.

“He grew to be stubborn and sharp tongued. Qualities that I would not mind had his confidence not been so baseless, pathetic. He caused me nothing but trouble,” the King returns to the grand chair adjacent to where you sit, his form still seeming to tower over you even while seated.

“It is unfortunate that the fire did not kill him”.

You feel your helplessness more than ever in that moment, beneath the weight of his heinous grin. He is telling you all this because you cannot do anything about it, because he wants you to view your husband as weak, pathetic and disfigured. Touya was born into failure, that’s what his father thought, and he would not let his son escape from that reality. Not even with his own wife.

“Your union with Touya has been of great benefit to me, and for that I thank you,” he says, his index finger tapping heavily against his wine glass. “I can only apologise that these are the cards you were dealt”.

He felt sorry for you. He pitied your marriage to his son. This was not a meeting between a father and his new daughter, no, you were here to be undermined and intimidated. It was all a show of power, a show of wealth and status.

‘I did this to my own son, think what I could do to you’.

“You will forgive my imprudence,” Enji begins after swallowing all the liquid in his glass in one, quick gulp, “but did Touya finish inside you on your wedding night?”

Momentary white hot embarrassment, coupled with anger, flashes through you at his question, his lack of respect for privacy within your marriage, and his lack of respect for your husband. Your grip on the wine tightens so much you fear it might shatter.

“Touya may have failed as my heir, but he still has a duty to carry on our bloodline,” he continues, “that falls to you”. You remember what Touya had given you to drink that night, the lengths he had gone to ensure you could not be impregnated, and allow yourself a deep inhale to steel your resolve.

Loosening your shoulders as you meet his prying eyes you answer, “yes, Your Majesty”.

You are met with another member of staff upon your dismissal, there to escort you back to your quarters. The journey across the palace feels longer, suffocating, and paranoia prickles at your heart.

You had lied to a King.

To your surprise, Touya is waiting for you on the edge of your shared bed as you are led back to your room. There is an apparent nervous energy puppetting his body, wild eyes flickering across the length of your clothed figure.

“Bathe with me,” he instructs you.

“What?” you stammer, crossing your arms anxiously across your stomach. He huffs with frustration.

“I said, bathe with me”.

The bathroom you share together is much larger than you think it needs to be, but you find yourself grateful for the length of the tub as your husband undresses himself beside you without a care. He climbs in, the surface of the water rising slightly against his weight, gentle waves washing against his chest.

Once it becomes clear he is not going to look away you reach for the clasp at the back of your neck, undoing the buttons and shifting your arms out of the sleeves. This gown in particular has two underskirts, proving troublesome to remove without the help of your maidens, the material eventually pooling at your feet.

Your nakedness in front of him still stirs feelings of vulnerability and insecurity in you, despite having slept together. Touya’s stare is inescapable, the weight of it can be felt on every part of your body. In his eyes is an odd glimmer of trepidation, as if he were searching for something, but you weren’t sure exactly what.

You enter the bath at the opposite end of the tub, thankful for the depth as the water rises to cover your breasts. He doesn’t comment on the distance, but he does lean his body forward to rest his arms atop his knees.

“It is not like you to want to spend time with me,” you mutter with cautious annoyance. He scrutinises you, hesitant as his fingertips tease the surface of the water, almost close enough to reach for your own hand.

“Did he hurt you?”

It clicks, then, what he had been studying your body for. Bruising, or injuries, left behind by his father.

“No,” you reply quietly. You dare not look at him, watching the expression on your face distort within the water's reflection, “he did ask me if you had… tried to conceive with me, on our wedding night”.

A sharp inhale. “What did you tell him?”

“That we tried, of course,” you frown, lifting your head in brief irritation, “do you not trust me, or do you simply take me for a fool?”

“You ought to be careful what you say to me, or else you could land yourself in trouble,” his eyes narrow, cerulean irritation reflected back at you but you felt no true malice from him. You never had.

“You would not hurt me,” you reply in a whisper, far more afraid of your own tendency to be too honest than you were of him, though he could not have known that. Your hands wring together nervously, the water rippling around the movement, lapping the skin of your upper arms.

“What gave you that impression?” he snorts humourlessly.

“Everyone I’ve conversed with…” the words catch in your throat, your anxiety, a prong collar around your neck. Acknowledging that you saw through his act felt like you were stepping out of line, that you were disrupting the script. “They spoke of your unique kindness. You are known as a considerate man, Touya, not a cruel one”.

There is a brief period of unbearable silence, wherein neither of you know how to move forward. Your thoughts run amok in your mind, having learnt so much in so little time, you didn’t even know whether it would be appropriate to ask Touya about his mistreatment. He had been so sure that his father would harm you that he’d abandoned his plans for the evening just to wait for you.

“You don’t feel safe here, do you, Majesty?” you murmur.

He feigns ignorance at your words, denying you a response in favour of reaching for one of the many washcloths folded on a shelf by the tub. He dips in between your bodies, the cotton growing dark as it absorbs the water.

He tips his head toward you, holding the cloth out while nervously swiping his bottom lip with his tongue. “May I?” he asks.

“Oh!” you fight the urge to sink beneath the surface and stew in your embarrassment, heat simmering beneath your skin that you naively wish to blame on the steam, “do not feel obligated, your Highness, I can–”

“You are my wife,” he interrupts, “even if I weren’t obligated, I want to”.

There it is again, the intimacy, the sudden affectionate actions that cause your mind to reel. You wished he would just decide what he wanted, to leave you be entirely or to let himself be loving.

“Why are you crying?” He frowns, reaching out his other hand and hesitantly swiping his thumb across the dampness of your cheeks, yet you pull back from his touch. His voice is quiet, rough, it mingled so softly with the echo of the water you almost mishear him. You’re tempted to laugh at the question, at how oblivious he has been to your loneliness, words coming between stuttered breaths, Touya’s expression blurred behind tears.

“You needn’t pretend to care about me, Touya—” He clicks his tongue sharply with frustration, fingers gliding down your throat to cup the back of your neck, pressing your forehead to his.

“That is quite an assumption to make,” he rasps.

“What am I supposed to think?” You tremble, fingers meeting the raised skin of his chest as he moves to your end of the tub, “you haven’t touched me since our wedding night. You haven’t even kissed me”.

“That’s what this is all about?” He breathes, the words warm against your lips, his nose pressed to your cheek, “my sweet little wife wants me to kiss her?”

“Don’t mock me,” your voice still meek despite your efforts. To your disappointment he pulls back, only slightly, instead choosing to run the wet cloth over the curve of your shoulder and down the planes of your back.

“My sister scolded me while you were gone, you know,” he eventually says, “she said you do not have the ‘glow of a newlywed’”.

You don’t know how to respond, so you remain silent under his ministrations, complying when he quietly asks you to raise your arm from beneath the water. He takes your hand delicately, thumb twisting your wedding ring as he drags the cloth down the length of your bicep to your wrist.

“I’ve been... neglectful,” he admits in place of an apology, giving a subtle shrug of his shoulders, “I was never meant to be anyone’s husband, and I don't particularly know what love is”.

An exhale of breath, his fingers intertwine then with yours, ”but I would like to try”.

“Okay,” you faltered, a small flame of hope flickers in your chest that you’re quick to smother. At the very least, you would give him the opportunity to try, nothing else.

A strained air of awkwardness descends upon you both as you exit the baths and begin to dress yourselves. Touya still hovers close by, lifting his towel to dry the stray drop of water that cascades the dip of your collar, your heart stuttering where it sits beneath your ribs.

His fingers graze the sensitive skin of your nape when you struggle to hook the clasp, carefully fastening the back of the gown for you.

“Thank you,” you bow shortly, fighting the heat spreading through your body. Somehow, you find that small touch flusters you far more than bathing with him did.

The feast for Fuyumi is a moderate affair, attended only by close friends of the Royal Family. Uncharacteristically, Touya keeps his hand resting on the small of your back as you enter the dining hall together, and to your relief, neither of you seem to garner much attention from the guests.

A musician is seated at the grand piano, playing a soft alluring tune to serve as background noise to the conversations around you. You distantly wonder if your wedding had taken place here, unaware of the heterochromatic eyes following you across the room.

You take your seat beside your husband, a server immediately leaning over your shoulder to place the starter in front of you, then another cutting in from your left to fill your glass with sake. Now that you’re surrounded by families of wealth and high standing it becomes glaringly obvious how little they think of your husband, and by association you, as evidenced by how the two of you are blatantly ignored.

Touya slumps back into his chair with a loose grip on his drink, the other arm sliding across your lap to take your hand with a pointed glare toward the head of the table. You dare not look and begin using your free hand to eat.

“What is it?” you inquire under your breath, savouring the taste of the wagyu beef. Your circumstances could certainly be much worse.

“Shouto is staring,” he gripes, lifting his chopsticks and playing with his matsutake gohan like a picky child. Todoroki Shouto, the youngest sibling and heir, the one you had yet to meet. You raise your head to glance in the direction of the King, knowing that is likely where he’d be seated.

He is staring. Unblinking, his head tilted toward his father as if he were still listening to the man, yet his gaze remained on you. Even at this distance you can sense he is young, a youthful swell to his cheeks and a peculiarity you cannot seem to put your finger on.

But his eyes are harrowing. He seems desperately lonely.

“Do you dislike him?”

Touya snorts, “he is the golden child. Everything I am not”.

“He’s only a boy,” you say, tone forlorn and low with the King's words fresh in your mind, “just like you were”. The sharpness in his demeanour dulls into something soft, contemplative, and the squeeze of his hand causes your wedding ring to press uncomfortably into your skin.

Somehow you manage to eat from all five courses, conscious of the leftovers and not wanting to seem rude, but the people around you have no issue pushing their plates aside once they’ve had their fill. Even with a Lord for a father you’d been taught to never waste a meal, and it served as a harsh reminder that some people did not need to concern themselves with such customs.

Touya does not eat much, his distasteful scowl remains a permanent fixture well into the evening. Once people begin to step away from the table to socialise he suggests that you retire to bed early, the sharp rebuttal on your tongue quickly swallowed as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Believe me,” he rasps, “you will not be missing anything. I almost envy you”.

The bed is cold when you climb into it, as it always is, and Touya joins you late, as he always does.

You are coaxed from sleep by the sensation of a warm, heavy hand cupping your cheek. Blinking against the morning light that floods into the bedroom, your eyes slowly adjust to the silhouette of the figure still laid beside you. Touya watches as you shake off the last dregs of sleep, his lips crooked as he fails to stop himself from smiling.

“You’re here,” you mumble, voice still slurred and dipped in exhaustion. The smile tightens, a flash of guilt reflected back at you in azure eyes.

“I’m here,” he assures quietly, “I thought if you felt up to it, I could take you riding”.

You recall then his promise of trying to be better. Pushing up onto your elbow, forgetting yourself as you reverse your positions, you lean into his space excitedly. “A date?” you ask, rubbing the thin overnight crust from your eyes. Touya smirks, the chub of his cheeks deepening the laughter lines by his eyes, your enthusiasm entirely contagious.

Once you’re dressed, switching your skirt for riding pants, he leads you out to the stables. You had not yet explored this part of the gardens, a little wary of the stablemen and perhaps the horses themselves, but Touya navigates it well. In the castle the staff will often avert their gazes from him, but here he is greeted loudly, giving you the impression he visited often.

“It’s good to see you again, Your Highness!” an older man with fair, sand-coloured hair calls out to him, a wilting piece of hay hanging from between his lips.

“Jin,” Touya raises his hand in a familiar manner, “my wife and I both require mounts. Bring out Yua for her”.

The man nods before turning to comply with the demand, opening the gate to the third stall and guiding out a beautiful chestnut coloured horse.

“She’s our sweetest girl,” Touya murmurs, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Suits you, don’t you think?”

He brushes a surprising kiss to your temple and you lean back into his warmth, ignoring his flirting in favour of watching Jin saddle up your mare. Adjacent to Yua’s stall stands another mare, this one a little taller and blue in colour, that seems to be growing impatient.

“That one’s Nozomi, she’s mine,” Touya explains after following your line of sight, “She’s a Blue Roan. Rare in these parts”.

“She’s beautiful,” you reply in awe. Jin quickly saddles both Yua and Nozomi, Touya leaning forward to observe with obvious contentment. This was something he enjoyed, and you can’t help but smile at the fact that he was sharing it with you.

“I’ve had Nozomi since I was young, but she’s still cautious around new people,” he says, hooking his fingers beneath the girth strap of Yua’s saddle to make sure it’s secure enough for you. As he’s distracted the Blue Roan stares at you inquisitively and exhales a low, breathy whinny, as if to say ‘come here’. You step forward and raise your hand slowly, allowing time for her to duck her muzzle into your palm affectionately.

“Traitor,” he scolds half heartedly, poking Nozomi in the thick of her shoulder, and she huffs a snort in response.

Touya offers to help you mount and you accept, an abrupt squeak falling from your lips as he lifts you effortlessly and deposits you onto the saddle before swinging himself up onto his own steed with ease.

You welcome the cool caress of the breeze as the two of you ride out of the castle gates. Touya turns his mare toward a clearing in the woods, her relaxed walk evolving until she is galloping ahead of you, his vermillion hair blowing against the wind.

“Race you!” he yells over his shoulder, and you laugh incredulously.

Yua is spirited, but she listens well as you loop the reins around your hands and squeeze your legs against her sides, encouraging her to follow. Her easy trot speeds up until she’s galloping, only a few metres behind Touya and Nozomi, your body rising and falling with her movements.

Despite the ugliness that lies within the family, the Todoroki land is beautiful, fertile and green even with the sparse seasons of rainfall. As you ride the forest seems to breathe around the two of you, inhaling the scent of petrichor and wildflowers as the wind combs through your hair, taken by the sensation of freedom.

You could understand why Touya, of all the siblings, came to love riding.

Nozomi begins to slow as she nears a meadow and Yua sidles up beside her elder, whinnying loudly. You take a moment to appreciate the surroundings – wildgrass untouched, splashes of colour found in every corner and the gentle sound of running water in the distance.

Touya climbs down from her, and with assistance you dismount your horse into his embrace. “There’s a stream just ahead, we can sit and let them drink,” he says, eyes appraising the length of your legs in the riding breeches.

“Stop staring,” you spluttered, the embarrassment only making his grin widen.

“A man can’t stare at his wife?”

You tuck your chin to your chest in an effort to hide your own smile, knowing it will only encourage him. Leaning into his side as his arm wraps around your shoulder, he begins guiding you down to the brook with both reins in hand.

As the stream comes into view the mares walk forward instinctively, ducking their necks to lap at the clear water. He knots the reins loosely around a thick tree branch, patting Nozomi firmly on the back before gesturing for you to sit on a clear spot in the meadow.

You sit with your legs curled to the side, leaning against his shoulder as he plays with your fingers in his lap. The day is perfect, a rare day of clear skies without unbearable heat, the sun warm on your cheeks where she kisses your skin.

“Would you be angry if I asked you something personal?”

“Only if you won’t be angry with my answers,” he conceded.

“Why don’t you want children?” you ask, your voice suddenly startling a partridge out of the long grass. Touya inhales sharply, twisting to watch as it takes flight, a far-off look in his eyes.

“At present, Shouto will be the one taking the throne,” he begins with a shallow sigh, “I was deemed unfit because of my condition. Fuyumi is a woman, and therefore has no claim. Natsuo rescinded his right to the throne when he took the oath and became a knight”.

You nod as he speaks, keeping your gaze fixed on his expression as it sours, “If we were to have a son and something happens to Shouto, the claim would go to him, because I was the first born”.

“Oh,” you whisper.

He turns his hand, your palms kissing as he intertwines your fingers, “I wouldn't want our child to bear that burden”.

His reasoning is understandable, and it placates the small insecurity you held that perhaps he simply didn’t want children with you.

“Do you want children?”

You hum amusedly. “I’d want happy children,” is your decided answer, and he snorts a short breath of laughter, grip squeezing. An silent show of gratitude.

The breeze picks up momentarily and your body turns into his embrace to syphon his natural warmth. His chin nudges against your temple in a bid for attention, and you lift your head to grant him it. His face is closer than you expect, eyes heavy-lidded and dilated as he gauges your reaction.

Short, soft breaths ghost against your lips, and you feel the ache in your chest spread to your stomach, tilting your chin towards him with want. You jolt as he finally kisses you, a tongue tentatively tracing along the seam of your mouth, waiting for signs of discomfort just as he had on your first night. The longing has been accumulating for so long that you feel as if your strings have been pulled taut.

And so they thin, and inevitably snap.

His hand finds your hip, shifting until you are laid amongst the wildflowers, bracing himself over you on his elbows and knees, but as he deepens the kiss he lets his weight sink onto your body. It is every bit as comforting as you remembered it to be.

Like a flood gate had been opened, yearning and want takes ahold of you. Your hands flock along the length of his arms, needing to touch everything, everywhere, but not wanting to seem clumsy or naïve.

He smiles against your mouth, a welcome feeling, and slides his hands beneath your hips to squeeze at your ass through your breeches. The moment slows and the surroundings fade away, your husband seemingly content only to press himself to every inch of you and kiss you breathless.

“Touya,” you sigh happily, muffled by his mouth. He pulls back minutely, followed by a wet string of saliva still connecting your lips.

“How’s that for a kiss?” he asks, and it might’ve sounded mocking had it not been so eager, “or was that not enough for you?”.

Your legs fall open when he pulls you into his lap, hands tightly fisted into the material of his shirt. “We shouldn’t,” you sigh, your resolve crumbling as he begins to forge a path of wet kisses down the column of your throat, “not... not here”.

“No one will see or hear us,” he mouths at the exposed skin beneath the collar of your blouse, “but if you truly want to endure the twenty minute ride home to our bed, I’m happy to oblige you”.

He knows neither of you have the patience for that. You’re right where he wants you.

“Will you kiss me again?” you ask, and his lips align with yours. He kisses you tender, over and over, coming up only for short breaths of air before returning to you.

You feel as your body loses rigidity, melting like softening butter beneath his hands, the heat pooling notably between your legs. He pulls the hem of your blouse out from your waistband, his fingers quick to slip beneath and bunch the material above your breasts.

Emboldened by his affections you begin to undo the buttons of his shirt and this time he doesn’t stop you. Resting your hand against his bare chest, right where his heart sits, you marvel at the pace of his pulse.

You excite him just as much as he excites you.

“I need to taste you again,” he says, the request thick in his throat as he lets himself want, “it’s all I’ve been able to think about”.

“Please,” you breathe.

His movements are a touch frantic as he pulls off his shirt and carefully lifts your hips from the soft grass to spread it beneath your body. Once you’re comfortable he makes work of your breeches, tight as they are on your thighs, and tugs them off your legs.

He hooks the crotch of your underwear and pulls it aside, resting his thumbs in the crease of your thighs. Propped up on your elbows you watch while he slowly eases your legs apart, his gaze unblinking and ravenous.

Such a pretty pussy. You recall the words he’d said to you on that first night and feel yourself throb, his mouth falling slack at the sight.

Touya bows forward and takes you into his mouth, running the flat of his tongue through your folds and laving over your clit as he inhales deeply through his nose. Your thighs clamp either side of his head reflexively, and the hazy groan given in return frissons through you.

You feel his fingers flirting with your entrance, his tongue focused only on caressing shapes into your clit. He plays with you, sinking into your warmth only to the first knuckle and retreating, rubbing your wetness between his thumb and forefinger.

“You’re not being fair,” you whine, hips rolling up desperately to entice him, and he gives in easily. You remember his instructions to breathe when he finally presses his deft fingers inside of you, fucking you slowly with his hand. A sob falls from your lips, hands dashing into his windswept hair, your cunt pulsing as you squirm with sensitivity.

The pressure builds gradually until it is spreading like wildfire, thighs trembling where they hang over his broad shoulders. Your back arches, chest heaving and hands still tightly fisted into his hair. He moans wanton at the muted sting in his scalp, and you chase the sensation, holding him firmly to your sex as you crest. Molten bliss washes over you, diffuses through you, warming from the inside out.

Touya sits up to brace himself, forearms either side of your head and his grinning mouth obscenely wet. A soft gasp passes your lips as he reaches between your bodies to pull his cock from his pants, sliding himself through the mix of saliva and cum.

This time, as he sinks his cock inside of you, he does so with his mouth pressed to yours. Heat rises to the surface of your skin when he tempts your tongue into his mouth, suckling on it with a pleased hum that reverberates like a purr.

The drag of his cock inside you is as good as you remembered, the smooth rock of his hips seducing you into bliss, whines muffled and swallowed by his fervent kisses. The sun is bright above you, bathing you in her warmth where you lay hidden between the tall grass, the slap of wet skin drowned out by the rush of the stream.

His rhythm changes, both arms slipping beneath your body and holding you tight to his chest while he grinds tight circles into you. “Touya,” you moan languidly, nails curling into the marred skin of his shoulders as you cling to him, his pants hot against your cheek.

He pulls your orgasm from you like loose thread from a sheet, slowly unravelling and unending, your body trembling in his embrace all the while. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, “so fucking beautiful like this”.

You finally feel blanketed by loves potential, held, as he rides you through to your last wave with leisurely strokes until his hips slowly come to a stop.

He lifts his head to look at you, a blush blooming from his neck to his ears and his hair pointed in all directions. It takes a moment for you to realise that he’s still hard. You hadn’t taken the medicine, so he couldn’t risk finishing inside of you.

“Let me,” you mumble, still catching your breath as he complies and pulls out of you. There are a few seconds of mourning, your pussy fluttering around the emptiness as you wrap your hand around his cock. His brow furrows, collapsing onto one arm with his mouth agape in relief.

He grunts, “Tighter”. With three long, firm strokes, he cums across your bare stomach, whimpering as his hips buck clumsily into your fist.

“That was…” your voice tapers off in disbelief, and he laughs breathlessly.

His cock begins to soften and he leans his forehead against yours, eyes held shut and savouring the afterglow before pushing himself upright. He presses a tender kiss to the inside of your knee as he tucks himself back into his pants, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to clean you up.

You reach to cup his jaw as he does, brushing your thumb along the line of his cheekbone, the pink skin smooth beneath your touch.

“Do you apply any ointments to your burns?”

He turns into your palm, “No, there’s no point”.

“That isn’t true,” you say, your voice purposefully gentle, “it’s important to protect your skin, scars are far more susceptible to sunburn you know”.

“Is that so,” he murmurs offhandedly, his lips moving against your love line, folding the soiled handkerchief and shoving it back into his pocket to dispose of later.

You hum an affirmative. “I could make some for you, I’ll have to find some beeswax and…”

He studies you wordlessly through loose, crimson bangs with fond eyes as you list off the ingredients you’d need. Nozomi and Yua whinny impatiently from the brook, reminding you that if you did not return to the palace soon a search party may be sent out. You wished you could carve out this space in time and remain there forever.

The sun dips behind a cloud.

“Let’s go home”.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #touya x reader

1K notes · View notes

leviathanspain · 2 years

Note

Hello! If it’s not too much to ask Can I request Aemond x fem Lannister reader please like his family is not approved of their relationship but he still wants to marry her . Have a good day :)

you’re the only thing worth taking

aemond targaryen x lannister!reader

synopsis: aemond had to have you

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the minute he set his eye upon her golden face, he knew he had to have her. a lannister sent as a contender for his brother’s hand, aemond didn’t expect himself to fall in love with her. but the gods took a mercy on him, for his mother had rejected her, and aemond knew his chances had just gotten better.

she was sitting across from the one eyed prince. pushing her food around her plate nervously, she was under the scrutiny of alicent hightower. “she’s a lannister. lions who thirst for power, what’s to say she won’t subdue our aegon’s rule?” alicent tried to make it seem like she were whispering, but she could be heard across the table and down to y/n’s ears.

she swallowed thickly and stood up suddenly, “lions don’t fall for dragons in disguise.” she sneered at alicent and aegon, who having just talked with him once, y/n knew he was evil.

y/n picked her skirts up and sauntered out of the room without hearing another word of alicents deception. she was embarrassed, utterly embarrassed and over something she had no decision in?

y/n couldn’t help the tears that threatened to fall as she walked down the hall. footsteps were heard behind her but she continued, not caring for the embarrassment of her sniffles, she had enough for the day to kill anyones spirit.

suddenly she felt a hand on the small of her back. she stopped walking and turned around, seeing aemond looking down at her. “y/n. i-“ aemond couldn’t find the words as he noticed her tears, and the anger set upon him.

how could someone be so cruel to such a beautiful creature? aemond could break under the ache of it, and he held her, wiping her tears away with his hand.

it had been some time now since she and aemond had an established relationship. she met aemond in the dark of the night where he read her stories of the targaryen history, or just vented about his princely duties.

she had extended her stay at kings landing, welcomed by the king as her father was a dear friend, and for some court exposure.

but as much as y/n knew she had failed her house by not securing a marriage to the kings firstborn son, y/n knew she wasn’t just settling for the second.

she kissed aemond passionately as his hands drove into her golden hair. he was devoted to her, he wanted to marry her, have children with her, be one with her.

“i wish to marry y/n lannister.” his voice echoed as he announced to his mother and father, his siblings sitting next to alicent.

“what?” alicents voice echoed, and her confusion clouded her as she shook her head, “no. no, no.”

aemond looked at her and frowned, “i wasn’t really asking. i was letting you know.”

alicent stood up and walked towards her son, “no, aemond. she’s doing exactly what i said she’d do! she couldn’t have aegon so she settled on you, tell him viserys!” she turned to her husband who was looking intently at aemond. he recognized the look in his eye. he had seen it once on himself, when he was with aemma, the look was of pure love. whoever this lannister girl was, she was the love of aemond’s life.

viserys waved a hand, “let him marry her. i give them my blessing.” he looked at his son, whom he was never really close to but aemond had never caused him such a headache as aegon, so he wanted him to be happy.

alicent was enraged, and she looked at aemond, “leave us.” she turned to aegon and halaena, “all of you. now.”

aemond met with you later that night, and as he made love to you, he kissed you, “i promise, you’ll be my bride, my targaryen queen.” he whispered.

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon angst #aemond targaryen angst #house of the dragon fluff #house of the dragon smut #aemond targaryen

904 notes · View notes

bonefall · 8 months

Note

I honestly think both the situation with Gray’s kits and the fact that thistle law got her Son killed, it left her surviving children unfairly judged, it got another child poisoned. Goldenflower is not “im so sad my husband is evil” but i feel like it definitely would’ve been a reality check if that’s the right word for it

I really do write her love for Tigerclaw as being the least important part of this equation. Honestly it wouldn't surprise me if BB!Goldenflower is somewhere on the aroace spectrum lmao.

Her firstborn is dead. Her youngest son is haunted. He took her daughter. And she wasn't even allowed to keep the tragic but loving image of her mate soothing their baby in her last moments.

She lost a friend and a partner, yes. But he's ruining her LIFE. TigerClan is killing her friends and clanmates, slaughtering and abusing innocent people, and that was what he planned for THUNDERCLAN all along.

Her brother didn't get to raise his kids. Redtail and his mate are buried in the same grave. Brindleface is gone. Sorreltail has permanent damage. And what Darkstripe became is what he was going to turn us all into.

It's sobering, is what it is.

#On a scale from BB!Goldenflower to BB!Bright Stream how long did it take you to reckon with ur ex husband being a bad guy #BB!Goldenflower #Better bones au #BB!TPB

128 notes · View notes

haru-natsuka · 11 months

Text

Last step part 1 (Leona Kingscholar x Wife Reader)

Genre: Romance

Continuation of Chapter 1 : First step (Leona Kingscholar x Wife Reader)

In the vast garden near the side of the castle, two kids, a boy and girl were running around and playing together, the vibe they were making up silly and hilarious scenarios, and making each other giggle with their playful banter. They were so wrapped up in their antics that everything happening around them seemed distant and far away.

Their energy and excitement were contagious, and their deep connection and friendship was evident to all who saw them. It was just a perfect day filled with joy, laughter, and fun.

The mother of the girl was sneaking off the kids' antics in secret as she kept on giggling to herself. Clearly she was voting them to be together due to the vibe around them. Should she discuss this with Ruggie, the boy's father?

As you were too immersed in observing the kids, a hand sneakily wrapped around your waist and pulled you into a tight embrace from behind. Before you could even scream for help, another hand was clasped on her mouth and her voice just came out as muffled. The rapid heartbeat and pounding chest felt overwhelming and disorienting, making it difficult to think clearly or speak. It was a frightening experience. Was this another assassination in killing you because you are one of the royal?

"Why are you hiding yourself here, dear?" That one particular familiar deep tone and yet calming was the one that reassured you that the person behind you meant no harm. Your body's stop squirming for escape in his grips and you lean your back on his hard toned chest. You raised your head to look up at him who was staring down back at you with his usual smug smile that charmed your heart.

Leona noticed that you would not let out any scream as you know it just him, slowly release his hand on top of your mouth and gingerly stroking your cheek before placing a kiss on your forehead. A smile of delight forms on your face as you love the affection he gives you and silently want more of it.

The marital relationship between you both had progressed drastically after the first step you took. Turns out, both of you actually have feelings for each other but did not know how to show it and now let's just say you and Leona were very affectionate even in public.

"I'm just watching our daughter. The two of them might even fall in love of they spend more time with each other"

"You mean that little bastard of Ruggie?"

"Hey, don't say that. He might be our son-in-law before you know it" Leona was giving the boy his aggressive glare as if he wanted to punish the boy for approaching his beloved cute daughter.

"No, my daughter will not get married. She only needs a man who is her father. I should punish Ruggie for bringing that brat"

"Leona don't. Ruggie and his son have done nothing wrong and I will bless their relationship" You caressed Leona's arms to calm him down and divert his gaze from the kids towards you by holding his cheek. That is enough to make his anger decreased as he melt with your touch and affection.

"Alright, let's not focus on this. The future is unpredictable. Instead, you can focus on the current moment like spending more time with your husband before his expedition" He snuggled closer to her as he rubbed his cheek into her palm.

Although both couples would prefer to indulge themself in their newfound happiness, they need to put it aside for a while as their country was hit with heavy drought. In the first place, their country did not have very good land as plants would rarely grow and it was very hard to find any sources of water.

They push everything bad to the unfortunate second prince while the firstborn is raised in glory. It was very unfair and unfortunate but second on the throne barely could do anything except abide by everything. The only way to overcome this situation this time was unluckily to ask for His Majesty, Farena's help. Leona's only brother.

"Make sure you come back safe. The journey is long and tough but please come back as soon as you can. We will miss you dearly, Leona."

"I did not even think to spend a lot of time in that place. My place is beside you and our daughter only. You guys are the only ones for me, dear. I love both of you so much."

"We love you too, my husband. Safe journey"

With a heavy heart, Leona went ahead with his visit to his brother's kingdom and everyone else could only wait in anticipation for the benefit of his journey there. It should take only about a week for Leona to return but there was no news of him yet. Therefore, everyone could just wait and wait until it was already one month of a sleepless night. In the early morning, a royal carriage came into Leona's estate.

As you cannot wait any more, you grabbed your outerwear and eagerly ran down towards the carriage from your shared chamber. After a month, your husband is finally back. You would shower him with kisses and hugs and even if he got annoyed because of it you would never stop. It had been a long wait. However, no new delightful news greets you. No Leona came to greet you except for his corpse. Instead of victory, he returned back as a kingdom betrayer. He had killed Farena, Sunset Savana's king.

Next: Last step part 2 (Leona Kingscholar x Wife Reader)

#twised wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar x you #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #leona twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #romance #leona x oc #leona x y/n #leona x you

160 notes · View notes

aphroditelovesu · 11 months

Note

Assuming Rhaenyra and Alicent and Daemon's bastard get married to stop the dragon dance, what would their marriage be like? Would Rhaenyra have yandere tendencies with him?

I think their marriage could work. I imagine Prince!Reader wouldn't be as intolerant of the family side as Aegon and Aemond are, and he would be less manipulative to his mother's wishes.

I can see that he didn't even want to become King, but the Throne was forced on him by Alicent and maybe even Daemon. He didn't want to usurp his sister's throne, but he was forced to and to stop a war, Prince!Reader married Rhaenyra. In this canon, we can imagine that she married Laenor and had children with Harwin, however, Laenor was killed by her (yes, I know) in order to marry Prince!Reader.

Or perhaps it was Viserys who brought the two together. When he was looking for a husband for young Rhaenyra, he was convinced by Otto and Daemon that the best choice would be Prince!Reader. His son was not the firstborn son, but it was obvious to everyone who was really the favorite and Rhaenyra liked Prince!Reader and she agreed to marry him when he got older, aiming that the choice of husband was made when he was still it was a child. As such, Rhaenyra remained unmarried until her half-brother/cousin reached marriageable age.

The two would be a healthy couple at the very least. Prince!Reader would be crowned King and Rhaenyra Queen, there would need to be no wars except those fought behind the scenes by an angry Alicent. In the beginning their marriage was going to be just political, at least for Prince!Reader, as Rhaenyra fell in love with him and developed her own obsession with him. He would be a good husband to her, loyal and kind, and Rhaenyra would be a good wife in return and would be excited to have his children. Regardless of whether by this time she already had her children with Harwin or not, she will definitely want to have children with Prince!Reader.

Rhaenyra would be a fiercely protective and possessive yandere of Prince!Reader. She loves him, or so she believes, and she won't be separated from him by anyone. Any threats will be quickly dealt with by her.

A marriage between Prince!Reader and Yan!Rhaenyra would be "healthy" at first, but a yandere's possessiveness and habitual craziness would be troublesome to deal with.

~ Lady L

#house of the dragon #yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #a song of ice and fire #hotd #asoiaf #yandere concept #concept #yandere Rhaenyra Targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader

164 notes · View notes

itsgameofthronesimagines · 2 years

Note

Could I request a Cersei x f reader where the reader is Cersei’s secret lover but Jaime (Love him but needed a villain) found out and made up lies about reader so Cersei herself throws the reader to jail. When she’s finally freed after the allegations were proved wrong, reader is now cold hearted, avoiding Cersei who tries to talk to her. Go heavy on the angst. You can decide if it’s happy ending (at least as happy of an ending as you can get with Cersei) or not. Thank you! You don’t have to write it if you don’t want to

(Gif not mine but can I just say that I hate myself for loving how beautiful she is?)

Title: Lioness Roar

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Pairing: Cersei Lannister x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,719

Summary: Cersei’s brothers could do whatever they wanted with little to no consequences all because of their gender. Now as the Queen, Cersei believes she can do more.

Warnings: vulgar language, daddy issues (guess who), homophobia, angst, mentioned wlw smut, and I will admit it does kind of read like yandere.

Author’s Note: God I love writing about Lannisters. They’re so complex (and I know I’ve said that before so sorry if you’re sick of hearing it but I’m not sorry for saying it) and I think this might be the first time I’m writing a Cersei x reader so this was exciting!

(I do not consent my works to be reposted/copied)

~~~~~~~~~

Cersei always believed that if she were born with a cock, her world would be a lot different, but for the best.

As a child, she drew pictures of herself on the back of the dragon, and as she got older, her father kept promising to marry her to the prince, so then she began drawing Rhaegar Targaryen in those same pictures.

Before she grew into her female qualities, she was able to dress as her twin brother and attend sword fighting lessons without anyone able to tell the difference.

While Jaime had no interest in listening to his father about the importance of their history, their finances, and the running of the keep, Cersei listened intently. She knew that if she were Tywin’s firstborn son and heir, he’d be proud of all of her accomplishments, and this was just one of many ways she tried to gain his approval.

She did all these things to prove that she can do anything her brothers did possibly even do more than Tyrion but Lord Tywin always stamped down her ambitions other than the one that involved her getting married to the prince. No matter how hard she tried, Cersei could never get her father to actually see her aside from what she already was.

One look and Lord Tywin would’ve seen his daughter holding a sword better than Jaime ever could and reciting old text better than Tyrion could ever pronounce. If Tywin could only see past her gender, Cersei would truly be his golden child.

Alas, she was nothing but a bargaining chip; a pawn he liked to move around the board. When her marriage proposal to Rhaegar fell through and all the Targaryens were killed off, Cersei was married to Robert Baratheon and she became his Queen Consort. She gave him three children, despite the two of them being unhappy from the start. Even if her children didn’t look like the King, she didn’t care. She did her duty to the realm, to her husband, and to her father, securing the legacy Tywin always wanted for his family. Cersei did her part and now she felt inclined to her own right of freedom to do whatever she wanted.

That freedom came in the form of Lady Y/n.

As a wedding gift, Lord Tywin sent Cersei the daughter of one of his bannermen to act as her handmaid and confidant. Y/n was possibly the only truly kind gesture Cersei’s father ever made toward her, but the new Queen was bitter from the beginning. She did not confide in other women. Cersei felt as though she was above gossiping and hand-sewing, even when she was a little girl. With her father’s praise and boasting of her being the most beautiful woman in all the Seven Kingdoms, Cersei even believed she was above all the ladies of the country, including Y/n.

Y/n was a quiet young woman. Dutiful towards her Queen and tending to her every need without question, the handmaid was smart to never speak openly to Cersei. She kept her thoughts tight-knit in her mind and only replied to the Queen if Cersei spoke directly at her. Even where Y/n was from, she heard certain rumors about Cersei and how the Lady Lannister’s best friend, Melara Hetherspoon, mysteriously fell into a well and only Cersei lived to tell the tale. Y/n’s mother was secretly concerned when Tywin Lannister sent her daughter away to tend to Cersei, knowing that the Lioness of Casterly Rock was always troubled and strangely devoid of any emotion other than anger.

Even Y/n believed this, and in fear, she never spoke a word to Cersei unless spoken to so as not to draw attention to herself. Tending to Cersei was like awaiting with anticipation for a barrel of wildfire to ignite. All it took was one tiny flame.

However, once Cersei’s children were born, it appeared as though that flame was tameable. Y/n often tended to her Queen’s children more so than the wet nurses. Many wondered if the wet nurses were just lazy, but one maid, in particular, had the bravery to whisper about the Queen being behind this, how Cersei ordered the wet nurses to do their duty to feed her children except Myrcella but to leave all other care to Lady Y/n and herself.

If this rumor was to be taken seriously, no one knew why Cersei would do such a thing unless she full-heartedly trusted her handmaid. But this was Cersei Lannister of all people, and no one, not even King Robert, was allowed to be near the princess and princes without Cersei’s presence.

And yet, Y/n could be found with all three children, alone, holding them to her chest when they cried or laughing as she chased them around in the gardens. If they weren’t with Cersei or their teachers, the royal children were likely to be found with Lady Y/n, who they lovingly nicknamed their aunt once they began to speak. Perhaps the children truly thought Y/n was part of their family and if so, Cersei had allowed it to appear that way.

The truth is Cersei grew to care for one other person besides her children and Jaime, but kept that close to her heart and locked it away, not even Y/n could reach it. At first, Cersei was disgusted with her thoughts and her feelings. There was a time in her inner turmoil when she would lash out at her handmaid even though Y/n did nothing wrong. Despite all this, Cersei blamed her for everything and was even tempted to send her away. But young Myrcella, barely able to write her own name, cried one night when Y/n was not there to tuck her into bed and told her mother how much she loved Y/n. Feeling defeated, Cersei never exiled Y/n and refused to look at the other woman for many months.

Cersei’s demons came to a head when she heard Jaime tell yet another story about Tyrion finding another whore to bed with... but instead of her usual disgust, another thought struck her. There was a time when Cersei could act like a boy all she wanted without anyone batting an eye. She could do whatever she wanted and even though she was now Queen, Cersei had yet to take full advantage of that. As long she remained married to the King and gave him children, her father could not tell her what to do and her husband cared very little about what she did as long as Cersei kept him out of it. Hearing Jaime’s story of Tyrion’s new woman, Cersei thought if her dear little brother could take any common whore to bed without scandal, why couldn’t she?

Lady Y/n was already her handmaid. It was already the perfect disguise. If Tyrion could do it and hide his lover as a servant girl, so could Cersei. If Robert could openly bring whatever woman he wanted into his bed, so could his wife.

Of course, Cersei could order Y/n to kiss her and bed her if she liked, but she was a clever woman and felt the excitement of playing the long game of convincing Y/n to love her. So as not to scare her, Cersei started off slowly, starting by subtly nodding her thanks to Y/n when she helped her dress and undress because yes, Cersei has never once thanked anyone before. When Y/n didn’t appear put off by this, Cersei slowly began to openly thank her, then slowly progressed to subtly touching her arm or moving Y/n’s hair off her shoulder.

This slow progression is successful in many ways. Y/n doesn’t notice how much Cersei changed because Cersei had slowly done so without any red flags rising. Before Y/n could remember the story of Melara Hetherspoon, Cersei had her wrapped around her finger, practically brainwashing her handmaid into believing that she had always been a kind and loving queen towards her loyal subjects. Cersei’s patience paid off when Y/n began to openly talk to her about her hopes and dreams, even her opinions, without ever flinching of fear or repeal.

And, in a way, her patience also brought Cersei to love Y/n even more than just for lust. Listening to Y/n talk made Cersei wonder why she had suppressed the young woman from doing so in all the years she’s known her. Everything sounded exciting when Y/n spoke, her voice forcing Cersei to listen to every syllable.

That is... until eligible suitors came searching for Y/n’s hand in marriage. When Y/n talked about her suitors, Cersei would immediately order her to speak of something else. She couldn’t bear to hear about the men trying to take her new interest away from her. She wouldn’t allow her brothers to steal a toy from her as children, why would this be any different?

It was the talk of the decade. Throughout King’s Landing, people whispered about how Lady Y/n must be cursed. Ever since her father announced opening a proposal for her, many of Y/n’s suitors have mysteriously disappeared or been found dead in their beds, sometimes even before they could meet her. Over time, several men have gone to King’s Landing in hopes of winning Y/n’s hand. None have returned to their homes and some houses were on the brink of extinction because of this curse.

It didn’t take long before men stopped asking for Y/n’s hand in marriage, and Cersei had never been happier to have her handmaid remain at her side.

By the time Jon Arryn mysteriously died, Y/n was more than just a confidant or friend. She became Cersei’s secret lover, and Cersei didn’t feel any shame or disgust the first time she kissed her. While making plans for the royal family to travel to Winterfell, Y/n shyly and breathlessly confessed her love for Cersei. Before she could escape the Queen’s chambers in her shame, Cersei roughly held Y/n’s face in her hands as she fervently kissed her. The victory going on in Cersei’s mind was all too sweet, hastily taking Y/n to her bed then and there, finally claiming her as no one but the Queen’s.

Cersei had begun to feel like a god with what she had taken as her own. With Y/n secretly under one arm and Jaime under the other, she began to believe and reminisce about the young girl she once was, a Lady Lannister who took no prisoners and always got whatever she wanted. As Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Cersei felt as though she held the world in her hands and was believed to be untouchable.

This god complex would continue to fester and grow as several events play out. While in Winterfell, Young Bran Stark mysteriously fell out of a window. When the royal family left the North, they brought Ned Stark and his two daughters with him as the new Hand of the King. When Cersei arrived back in King’s Landing, Y/n was waiting for her in her chambers with open arms and a hot bath. Cersei had never felt such power secured tightly in her fist before.

That is until it slipped ever so slightly out of her grasp and Cersei lashed out and nearly lost her mind. Under Lord Stark’s orders, his wife Catelyn took Tyrion as her prisoner and this prompted Jaime to attack the Hand of the King before escaping King’s Landing. Cersei could feel her power and influence slipping when, even as Ned Stark admitted to her accusations, Robert still refused to punish his old friend.

Madness slipped through, for a split second, as Cersei snapped, “I took you for a king!”

“Hold your tongue.”

“He’s attacked one of my brothers and abducted the other. I should wear the armor, and you the gown.”

King Robert spun around and hit her before Cersei could say more. She proudly claimed she would wear this mark on her face like a badge of honor before swiftly leaving the room. She retreated to her chambers to lick her wounds and fester in her rage. When Y/n was summoned, she was horrified by the angry bruise on Cersei’s face and tended to it immediately. Unaware of what had happened, Y/n barely even blinked when Cersei ordered her to stay with her the whole night.

War began to brew after that and Cersei received word of Tywin and Jaime raising an army to bring back Tyrion. Sensing it was time to make her move, she had her cousin Lancel bring an armload of wine for Robert when he fled to the Kingswood to hunt. Of course, everyone knows that wine and hunting don’t mix, and when Robert returned to Cersei, his guts were spilling out of him. It wasn’t long before Joffrey was sitting on the Iron Throne after that, his mother sitting beside him.

Cersei had Ned Stark arrested and his daughters confined to the Red Keep. With her son as king, she now had all the power with no one to tell her otherwise. She still felt her self-control slip, however, when she heard of Jaime’s capture and then Tyrion returned to King’s Landing as Tywin’s Acting Hand of the King. When she heard the news of her twin brother, Cersei retreated back to her chambers and once again, kept Y/n in her bed all night long. Y/n was none the wiser, believing Cersei was only grieving her brother’s capture by taking her anger out on her lover. This anger got even worse when Myrcella was sent away to Dorne.

When Jaime returned, Cersei was still an angry woman and nothing was ever the same again. Cersei retreated from Jaime’s embrace whenever he reached out to her. At first, he thought it was because of his missing hand, but then Cersei gifted him a golden prosthetic as a replacement. When she didn’t appear disgusted by him, Jaime kept a watchful eye on his sister.

He suspected Cersei had another lover but failed to find any man entering his sister’s chambers, no matter the time of day. He did, however, always noticed Y/n freely walking around wherever she wanted. Even when Cersei was not around, Lady Y/n would enter her room and the guards standing outside wouldn’t even question her. Sometimes, Jaime even witnessed Y/n ordering the guards around as if she were speaking on the Queen’s behalf, and they listened to her. Jaime’s affronted thoughts came to a halt when one day, he noticed Y/n out in the gardens with Tommen, the young prince indulging the lady with a book he read out loud. Cersei was nowhere in sight.

Jaime was not the smartest Lannister, but he knew Cersei better than anyone, and he knew that his sister would not trust their her children with anyone unless she had complete faith in them.

He confronted his sister that night when he knew that Y/n was sent away after helping Cersei undress. With the Queen now alone, Jaime snuck in and didn’t hesitate to speak his mind, “You love her.”

Cersei froze, her back turned to him, refusing to say a word or even look back to face him. Jaime scoffs because that was enough of a confirmation for him. Cersei was never one to hold back her tongue; this would have been no exception if it wasn’t true. The emotions that began to build within Jaime were rage and disgust. He pushed a boy out of a window for Cersei. He kept their affair a secret for Cersei. He killed his cousin for Cersei. He even lost his hand when trying to get back to Cersei. How is it that he went through all that trouble the gods have cursed him with for Cersei, and she had already moved on and fallen in love with another? How could he live with this knowing that Cersei had pushed him aside for none other than a woman?

“As hateful as you are... you love her,” he seethed between his teeth, “All those years you made me believe you kept her around to keep all eyes away from us... when really you just wanted us both. You have always been a selfish woman.”

A wry smile curls over his lips, the brewing anger slowly turning malicious, “But I wonder how selfish? Or are you just too blind by love to see it?”

Cersei turned to face him, her expression sour and voice dripping with venom, “See what?”

“That she has fooled you,” Jaime lets the words spill out of his mouth like water, fluid and graceful, even he believed the deceit he spoke, “Lady Y/n’s father may be our father’s bannermen, but she is no ally to us. I intercepted a raven before my escape, one that was addressed to Robb Stark. It was sealed with your sigil but not your handwriting, so I knew it wasn’t yours. However, seldom few have access to your seal and your desk, so one could only wonder who had the means of contacting the King of the North bearing your mark?”

Cersei stood still, eyes locked onto Jaime’s as her expression slowly twists and turns corrupt with barely restrained rage and madness in between the flicker of the candle flame. For a moment, a brief moment... Jaime thought that rage was directed at him.

~~~~~~~~~

Y/n was roughly woken by a few of the Queen’s personal guards, binding her and muffling her screams with a rag. Tediously, they bring her all the way down into the dungeon before throwing her into the deepest, darkest cell. With her bonds and gag loose, Y/n finally has a moment to yell and plead, her hands gripping onto the iron bars for dear life as she begged for someone to help her.

Her pleas stop, however, when from the shadow emerges Cersei, regal as always, dressed in her usual red and gold fabrics without the help of her usual handmaid, now trapped behind bars. The moment Y/n caught the light on Cersei’s face, she knew who to place blame for her arrest.

“Why are you doing this?! I deserve an explanation!”

“You’re a traitor,” Cersei hissed even with a sly smile on her beautiful face, “You betrayed my son, your king. And worse of all, you betrayed me. Did you truly think I wouldn’t find out about your secret little messages to the King in the North? Were you praying that Jaime would never return so that he wouldn’t be able to inform me of your treachery?”

Y/n was initially shocked by these accusations before turning to defend her honor, “Surely he’s mistaken! Your brother has been away from home for far too long. His mind might be sick from being Robb Stark’s prisoner all this time. Why would you believe Ser Jaime over me?”

The question dies in her throat, her face crumbling into fearful realization as Cersei continued to stand still, as quiet as a cat while smiling down at her mouse. Y/n’s voices drop down into a whisper as she tries to hold back her own emotions, “... Unless it’s true. The rumors have all been true. You and your brother...”

Y/n’s fear slowly reverts to anger as her thoughts spill openly from her lips, “I refused to believe the whispers. I was loyal to you from the very beginning. I stuck by your side through everything and yet-- How could you?” She finally snapped, voice rising once again as her grip tightens around her bars, “I sacrificed everything for you! I gave you all I had and it still wasn’t enough, wasn’t it? I loved you... with all my heart, but not even love can cure you from this madness.”

Cersei’s eyes bore into Y/n’s own, the two women standing in the silence of the dark, cold dungeon. The Queen doesn’t acknowledge her actions for not even she knew why she quickly decided to imprison her former lover. She herself felt disgusted. Cersei had been able to round up each of King Robert’s bastard children and slaughter them for the sake of Joffrey’s legitimacy, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to have Y/n executed even though the woman was accused of betraying Joffrey. Cersei once believed she would do anything for the sake of her children, and now she felt disgusted knowing that she couldn’t even kill a woman to uphold that silent promise.

Cersei held her chin high, her voice was as cold as the day she first met Lady Y/n, “I love my brother. I will only ever love my brother. How could I ever love someone as lowly as a servant girl?”

~~~~~~~~~

It didn’t take long before Tywin noticed his daughter had a new handmaid and not one who was trusted enough to tend to Tommen when Cersei wasn’t around. Without questioning the Queen, Lord Tywin conducted an investigation and quickly discovered Y/n in the dungeons. After briefly talking to her and investigating Jaime’s accusations, Tywin was able to concur that Y/n was innocent of such treasonous actions and set her free. When Cersei heard of this, she was enraged and immediately went to her father with demands of executing her former confidant. When Tywin brought his evidence to her attention, Cersei refused to believe it, turning a blind eye and cursing her father’s name. Even in disbelief, Cersei couldn’t help but internally feel the ache and anger in her heart. Deep down, she knew Y/n had done nothing wrong, yet she listened to Jaime anyway. The last nail was wedged into her coffin when Tommen asked Cersei where his Aunt Y/n had gone. Only then could she truly admit she made a mistake.

But it was too late. With Y/n no longer being Cersei’s handmaid, the lady avoided the Queen like the plague. Y/n was no longer the woman everyone once knew to be kind and compassionate. She was cold and calculating to everyone, including Cersei, if the two women ever had a brief encounter in Joffrey’s court.

Y/n couldn’t even find it within herself to feel sympathy towards Cersei when Joffrey was murdered at his own wedding. Long after Tommen was crowned King, Y/n continued to avoid Cersei and never once shed a tear for the boy she once loved as her own. As long as one bore the face of Cersei or sported any sort of Lannister trait, Y/n avoided them at all costs and even felt disgusted if she had to share a room with them. A moment of opportunity arrived for her to be rid of this Hell when the High Sparrow became a big influence on King Tommen and his people. Cersei had the High Sparrow annointed as High Septon with the belief that he would work under her rule, and Y/n watched this unfold from a distance until finally, she made her own calculated move.

In time, Loras Tyrell, Queen Margaery, and even Cersei had been thrown into various cells of the Great Sept when none of them confessed to the sins they were accused of. Cersei had felt the cold breath of karma ghost down her neck the moment her cousin Lancel entered the room to stand beside the High Sparrow. Weeks dragged on and Cersei was miserable in her cell, hair matted and body covered in filth, tongue dry from her thirst. The cell door opened one miserable morning and Cersei curled in on herself instinctively, ready to refuse the water when offered in exchange for a confession... but the septa never said a word. Slowly, Cersei looked up from her arms and found Lady Y/n standing there instead of a septa, dressed in travelling clothes and holding a small pouch of water in hand, devoid of emotion as she looked down on the former Queen she served.

Cersei didn’t look pleased or impressed, turning her away to lean against the cold wall of her cell, “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The one thing you have always strived for; craved for... You have always wanted to see me suffer.”

“I don’t know if there is anything I can say or do to convince you otherwise,” Y/n scoffed while setting down the pouch of water, “I gave my life to you, yet you still believe I betrayed you somehow in some shape or form. Even when I was proven innocent, you despised me. Why?”

Cersei blinked slowly while staring off into space, trying to swallow her spit to relieve her thirst, “You were just some lowly reminder of a time when I was unfaithful.”

“To who? King Robert? Everyone knows you despised him. That is no secret. Everyone knows that you would have done anything to hurt him. But to hurt Jaime... I think most can suspect that at this point, you would have done anything to keep him at your side. You can’t fool anyone, Your Grace. Not anymore.”

“I have fooled no one.”

“No one but me. You had me fooled the moment you kissed me,” Y/n’s voice broke, ever so slightly, cracking her mask, “You had me believe what we had was love. And yet you threw it all away the moment you decided to believe whatever you wanted to hear.”

“I didn’t want you to betray me.”

“And I never did. But you didn’t exactly care, did you? Instead of just asking me, you threw me in a cell and left me to rot. Because it was Ser Jaime’s word against mine.”

“Why are you really here?” Cersei rasped, watching her finger as she absently traced shapes into her cell wall.

Y/n composed herself, hardening her heart again and quickly blinking away the tears before they could be shed. She straightens up her vest as she confidentally spoke, “I came to say goodbye and to pray we never see each other again. What happens to you is no longer my concern. King Tommen has granted me leave from your service and is sending me home today. My only wish... my only wish is that we part with our truths laid out to one another... the way it always should have been.”

Cersei finally turns to look up at the woman standing over her, feigned smile spreading over her filthy face, “What truths, pray tell?”

“The truth is you were right, Queen Regent. I did betray you,” Y/n carefully watched as Cersei’s face twisted with several emotions before continuing, “I betrayed you to the High Sparrow. I confessed my sins to him and thus revealed yours. I told him everything, from our affair to yours and Ser Jaime’s. It wasn’t your cousin who turned you in. It was me.”

For years, Y/n has watched Cersei play the game with eager eyes and thin smiles and it wasn’t until recently did Y/n want to see the smug smile wiped from her former Queen’s pretty face. In her dreams, Y/n could imagine this and feel satisfaction bloom in her stomach, fulfilling her without food or water and lasting her till she is old in age. Now, finally succeeding in making Cersei lose at her own game, Y/n doesn’t feel that satisfaction she desired. All she could feel was guilt and shame.

Cersei’s face crumbled until it was laid bare for Y/n to read her as a childrens’ book, the Lady Lannister’s voice becoming accusatory, “So I was right. All you’ve ever wanted was to see my downfall.”

Y/n felt as though she had been slapped in the face, hating herself even as the words fell out, “No... never. Not when I loved you.”

Cersei looked back up when she heard Y/n kneeling down to her height, meeting her shining eyes as her former handmaid whispered as though she spoke a secret, “You might not see it as I do, but if I were to recall... you were the one who betrayed me first. I only returned the favor. Farewell... my lioness. I will pray for the next whore you decide to take to bed.”

The way Cersei’s face fell only made Y/n feel worse as she stood, turning to leave. The former handmaid wanted this woman to beg for her life as she once did in her own cold cell. She wanted Cersei to squeal and cry and feel her heart break as she once did, betrayed by the woman she loved. In a last ditched effort, Y/n kicked her pouch of water close to the cell door, far from Cersei if she even tried to reach it.

“No-- wait, Y/n, please-!”

Y/n hastily made her exit, slamming the cell door behind her to shut out Cersei’s pleas. As she walked down the hall, Y/n could feel a tear slip past her detection... as well as a smile of freedom.

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hi I’m back on my bs again. It’s been a busy couple of weeks and now that I’m caught up on House of the Dragon and no longer working nights, I feel fueled to write again. Please support and leave a request in the ask box!

#cersei lannister x reader #cersei x reader #cersei lannister imagine #cersei lannister #got #got imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #asoiaf #asoiaf imagine #a song of ice and fire #cersei lannister fic #lena headey

976 notes · View notes