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maidragoste · 6 months

Text

Forgive me

Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader (unrequited love), Alicent Hightower x Velaryon!Reader, Larys Strong x Velaryon!Reader

Part 5 of this

Part 6

Serie Masterlist

Larys does not appear in this chapter but we have Alicent 😋

btw, there was going to be a little scene with Daemon but I felt like it didn't add to this chapter but if you want I can upload it separately

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

"Get out," you demanded the moment you saw Rhaenyra with Jacaerys in her arms entering your chambers. You noticed how her smile seemed to tremble at your cold tone but you didn't care. If she didn't care about your feelings when she fucked your husband then you had no reason to care about hers.

You had to admit that Rhaenyra had been cautious enough to come when you were alone. If your mother had been with you you were sure that she would not have held her tongue and would have told the princess everything she thought of her. You could even see your mother dragging her by her hair to get her out of your chambers. A small smile appeared on your lips as you imagined the scene, that would be something to talk about in court. Although you would never let your mother lose her temper so much, she couldn't get on the king's bad side.

"Jacaerys wanted to meet his cousins," Rhaenyra said as if she hadn't heard you and sat down next to you. You moved as much as you could, wanting to make your displeasure clear. You couldn't go far since next to you was the basket where Aethan was sleeping there.

Of course, she was going to use her son as her excuse to see you. It wasn't the first time she had done it. Now that she knew that she had seen that you cared about Jacaerys—if it were up to you she would never have found out but one night the prince couldn't sleep no matter what Rhaenyra, Harwin, and Laenor did so your brother had the wonderful idea to take Jace with you, you managed to make him sleep by singing him the same song that you sang to him in the nursery before the perplexed gaze of your husband and the princess—I thought that through him he could get close to you again. But she was wrong.

"Jacaerys couldn't have told you that," you said, feeling Alyn begin to stir in your arms. A small part of you wished that he would start crying so the princess would leave but you knew that if he cried then Aethan would wake up and he would start crying too. You sighed and began to coo to your son, trying to ignore Rhaenyra's glare.

"But it's obvious that he's in a bad mood because he hasn't seen you in days," said the princess.

"Fine. He can stay, now you can go" you said, starting to think that you would have to call one of the maids to help you. You didn't like the idea but there was no way you could handle two newborns and a baby less than a year old alone.

"Y/n" Rhaenyra said your name with pure pain.

"What?" you said pointedly. You hated that she was doing this. You wanted to be calm with your children and she came to interrupt your little peace. No matter how many times you made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with her, the princess wouldn't stop insisting. And now she wanted to make you feel bad for her when you weren't the one who ruined everything between the two of you.

"Forgive me. Please, I just want everything to go back to the way it was before," Rhaenyra begged, if you hadn't had your son in your arms she would have taken your hands and kissed them like the two of you used to do when you were young whenever one of you had said or done something that had hurt the other.

"Rhaenyra, that will never happen," you said, starting to feel pain in your head.

"I miss you" You closed your eyes as you heard the princess's voice falter. “I love you,” you couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath. You decided to focus on your anger and ignore any other emotions you felt.

"You say that and you still fucked my husband," you said, opening your eyes and looking at her furiously.

"I handled the situation badly," she admitted, hugging Jace, trying not to break down in front of you. "I'm really sorry," she apologized again, feeling her heartache at your attitude. "I know I was wrong but I need you. I can't stand you hating me."

You'd like to say you weren't affected by hearing the desperation in Rhaenyra's voice but you'd be lying. You hated her. And you hate yourself for stopping her from affecting you. A part of you feared that deep inside you were still the young woman who loved the princess and lived to see her happy. You forced yourself to remember the whispers of the court at Jacaerys's hair color to erase any trace of pity you felt for the princess. She alone had caused this. She couldn't expect that with a simple apology, you would forget everything she did.

“You'll have to live with that for the rest of your life, Rhaenyra,” you said that because it was the truth, you weren't going to ever forgive her, but you also said it because you wanted to hurt her, you hoped she felt at least a part of the pain that she and Harwin gave you. “You had to think about it before betraying me”

“You betrayed me first!”

Rhaenyra's scream caused the three babies to start crying. If Jacaerys had not been in the princess's arms, you would have thrown the object closest to your reach at her. Who the hell did she think she was to come uninvited to your chambers and yell at you? Not only that, but she accused you of betraying her. You couldn't believe her audacity. It hadn't even been thirty minutes since she apologized to you and now she was yelling at you.

If the babies' cries weren't drilling into your head, perhaps you would have asked her to explain what the supposed betrayal you had committed was, but right now you just wanted her away so you could calm the twins down.

“Get out” you ordered and for once Rhaenyra listened to you. Of course, she had to leave slamming the door, making your children's cries even worse.

“I don't like them,” Aegon announced, looking with obvious disgust at Aethan, who was in your arms, and Alyn, who was being cooed by Alicent.

Perhaps another woman would have been offended or bothered by the little prince's comment but you couldn't help but laugh at the pout of his lips and his little wrinkled nose.

“Aegon!” Alicent instantly reprimanded him, making the boy even more upset.

“It's okay, my queen,” you reassured her with a smile. “Do you want to tell me why you don't like them?” you asked in a soft voice and settled better in your seat so you could hold Aethan well with one hand and thus be able to caress him with your other hand Aegon's hair.

The boy felt a little better at your sweet caresses. “Because of them you can't spend time with me and Sunfyre anymore,” he grumbled.

Since you gave birth to the twins you didn't go to the Dragon's Pit with Aegon. Now it was the dragon guardians who taught him how to care for and bond with Sunfyre. He didn't like that. Aegon wanted you to be next to him, he wanted to see your proud smile every time he pronounced a word in Valyrian correctly, he wanted you to take him to fly with you over Nightwing like you used to do every time he finished his lessons.

The worst thing was that every time Aegon wanted to spend time with you there was always someone else with you and there were the babies. You couldn't play with him or pay attention to him for long because one of the twins would always start crying or someone would turn their attention to the twins. Aegon didn't understand what people saw as interesting about the twins, they were just annoying babies who didn't know how to do anything but cry. Aegon just wanted to have his time alone with you again.

“Oh, my little prince, I miss spending time with you too” You kissed his cheek several times until Aegon began to laugh.

Alicent watched them both with a smile. It always warmed her heart every time she saw how you cared about her children and how loving you were towards them. She was sure that you cared more about her children than Viserys did. She knew you loved her children like they were your own. She could see it every time your face lit up when the children came running to hug you. She could see it in how you listened intently to Aegon and Helaena's ramblings. She could see it every time she found you in the nursery singing to Aemond and Daeron. She felt grateful for all those moments. She was grateful that there was someone who genuinely cared about her children.

“I promise you that once I recover I will go with you to the Dragon’s Pit.”

"But just the two of us! No annoying babies!" Aegon said, looking at you "seriously" as he pointed at you. You laughed again, the little prince's attitude made you tender.

“Aegon, you shouldn't talk about them like that. They are your family,” Alicent reminded him sternly, making you stop laughing and making the boy have a pout on his lips again.

Sometimes you felt that Alicent took everything too seriously and forgot that Aegon was just a child. It was obvious that he was just jealous that he couldn't spend time with you and it was the first time you'd heard him complain. You didn't like seeing Aegon being reprimanded just for acting his age. A child his age should be free to say what he thinks, he should spend more time playing instead of being pressured to attend lessons just because they thought it would impress his father. You didn't like it nor did you want to take away authority from Alicent's upbringing but sometimes you couldn't help but intervene because you didn't like how they pressured Aegon.

“You can say that they are annoying or anything you want, Aegon,” you said poking his nose with your finger making him smile a little “As long as we are alone” you quickly clarified before the queen's gaze “Besides I am sure that once they grow up and you can play with them you will like them”

Before the prince could answer you, the maester appeared to take the boy away since he had to start his lessons. You managed to convince Aegon to leave after you promised him that he could visit you again once he finished his lessons and that you would be waiting for him with his favorite sweets.

“How are you feeling?” Alicent asked once they were alone. She had been furious when one of her handmaidens informed her that Rhaenyra had come to see you. She had also noticed the dark circles under your eyes. She knew that the twins weren't letting you sleep much, she more than anything wanted to be able to help you but she was the queen and people would notice if she came to your chambers in the middle of the night.

“I'm tired but now that I've seen you and Aegon I'm happy” you admitted, resting your head on her shoulder and you closed your eyes, missing the blush on the queen's cheeks and the sweet smile that appeared on her face at your words.

You smiled as you felt Alicent's lips on your forehead. Not feeling satisfied, you stopped leaning on her shoulder so you could steal a kiss from her. You felt your chest warm at the familiarity of the sweetness of her lips.

Any discomfort that Rhaenyra caused you was forgotten with Alicent's kisses.

Again another night of crying. You didn't know how many minutes ago Aethan and Alyn were crying. You tried to feed them but none of them wanted to take your breast, you had already changed them but they still kept crying.

You rocked Alyn in your arms and with your foot from time to time, you lightly pushed the crib where Aethan was, hoping that the movement would tire him out. All this while you sing to them, trying to ignore the lump in your throat. You feel worthless for not being able to make your babies stop crying. It shouldn't be difficult to put them to sleep if you are their mother.

You jumped when you heard the door open. Your body tenses as you see your husband enter. Harwin had not come to your chambers since the birth of the twins. He never made a complaint or a reproach to you about your relationship with Larys, he stayed by your side and presented your children as a proud father before the court but he no longer went to your chambers. And you were okay with that because you didn't want him to keep insisting that you forgive him.

“What do you want?” you asked pointedly, not bothering to hide your annoyance at his sudden presence, hoping that would make him leave.

You were surprised to see that Harwin didn't seem affected by your tone like usual. You noticed the determination in his eyes and wondered what the hell had happened. Was he coming to argue with you because of how you spoke to Rhaenyra? If he dared to come in the middle of the night while your children were crying just to defend his lover you would kick his ass and let your mother scare him with Meleys.

“I heard the twins crying.”

“I'm sorry that my children don't let you sleep,” you interrupted him with obvious sarcasm. Trying not to think that if Harwin could hear them cry, so should other people. You didn't want to think about how tomorrow the court would talk about your inability as a mother.

“I came to help you” You were surprised by his words.

“Why?” you asked clearly defensively. Although you two knew that you really wanted to ask him, why would you help me with them when you are not their father?

“Because I care about you,” he said but you both knew he really wanted to tell you because I love you. You told yourself that you felt nothing as you saw the obvious love in Harwin's eyes. “You haven't slept well in days. I heard them cry for days and I know you, I know that every time you can't calm them down you are insulting yourself. "I can see right now how frustrated you are because you can't also pick up Aethan and comfort him as you would like."

The lump in your throat grew bigger. You hated that he knew you so well. But you weren't surprised after all he is your husband. Of course, he knew how you thought and how your mind worked. He had seen you in your most vulnerable states.

He had been so good to you but he had to ruin it all.

“Can I pick him up?”

It was silly but you really appreciated that he had asked instead of directly taking your baby in his arms. You nodded, not trusting your voice not to come out shaky.

You frowned as you watched Harwin take off his nightshirt.

“Jace calms down when he feels my skin,” Harwin was quick to clarify and get Aethan out of her crib before you decided to kick him out for thinking she was trying to seduce you. He felt you watching him intently as he placed the baby's small body against her chest. Of course, his crying didn't stop instantly but he seemed to calm down a little.

Your husband started singing the same song you were singing a few minutes ago. His Valyrian was rusty compared to yours. Once you are sure that your voice is not going to betray you, you accompany him in singing. You don't stop rocking Alyn as you watch Harwin pace around the room carefully holding your son. You relaxed as you saw that Aethan didn't look uncomfortable and how as the song continued he became calmer and calmer. It doesn't take long for Alyn to calm down when he sees that you are no longer upset.

Your eyes meet Harwin's and the two of you smile at each other. And Harwin can't help but think that this is where he belongs.

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aemondsbabe · 4 months

Text

Arbor Gold

summary: sharing a drink & toys || rhaenyra treats you to a very special night out

pairing: modern!rhaenyra x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, wlw, public, fingering, use of a toy, vibrators, mentions of alcohol, mommy kink, sub!reader, allusions to oral, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.9k

a/n: happy day three of 12 days of smuff!! i was sweating writing this one, i can't lie lmao

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @gameofthronesdaily!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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“Oh, that’s perfect,” Rhaenyra says to the waiter, watching with a smile as he finishes pouring two glasses of wine with a fancy flourish before setting the bottle on the table, “Thank you.”

With a polite nod, the waiter takes his leave, leaving you and your girlfriend alone once more. Your eyes scan the room once again, taking in the fancy dark wood paneling on the walls and the way the vintage crystal chandeliers sparkled as they cast a low, moody light over the room; the soft instrumental music coupled with the dull hum of other couples and groups of friends sharing quiet conversations comforted you despite the circumstances.

Finally, you let your eyes sweep over Rhaenyra and your lips instantly curved into a soft, sweet smile as you took her in, watching as she took a sip of the decadent Arbor Gold wine. This whole little adventure had been her idea – something fun and new to do, she’d said.

And she doesn’t disappoint, you think with a slight shiver as you shift a bit in the plush booth, the small vibrator she’d taken oh-so much care to work into you earlier presses deliciously against that small, sensitive patch within you.

“Everything alright, sweetling?” Rhaenyra asks, finally catching your eyes from where you’d been absentmindedly staring at the flickering tea candle on the table.

You smile and take her hand as she presses in closer to you, your bare shoulders nearly touching. You can’t help but admire her dress, a mirror copy of yours in every way aside from the color – the dark, blood red silk contrasts so beautifully against her soft, pale skin while the dim lights of the small bar dance off of the black silk of your own dress in smooth, pearlescent waves.

“I’m fine, Nyra,” you can’t help but reassure her with a soft smile as you poke your tongue out to wet your lips before pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, “Just wondering when exactly you plan to start the show.” You tease, nodding to her phone.

“Now where would the fun be in revealing all my tricks?” She gives as good as she gets, her eyes gleaming as she looks you over appreciatively. She takes another sip of the wine, taking the time to swirl it around in her glass before delicately pressing her lips to the rim. You can’t help but bite your lip as she closes her eyes with a pleased hum. “Have you had any of yours yet? You really need to try it, my love, it’s absolutely decadent.”

You reach across the table and grab your glass, swirling the pale yellow-gold liquid around in the same way Rhaenyra did before taking a sip, sighing happily as you taste all manner of sweet, fruity notes.

You go to look at her with raised brows, about to compliment the expensive vintage as well, when she discreetly taps the screen of her phone. You only manage to get a soft, barely there squeak out as the vibrator comes to life inside you and buzzes softly against the most tender spot within you before Rhaenyra quickly leans over and presses her lips against yours, muffling the noise.

You sigh gratefully against her lips as your eyes flutter shut, one of your hands squeezes at her thigh, and you’re grateful that each table is adorned with a long tablecloth as your hips seem to buck up by themselves for a second.

She pulls away after a moment, once she can sense that you’ve calmed down some, and fixes you with a pleased grin before pressing one last, soft kiss against your shoulder. “That good already?” She teases, lifting her glass to her lips to take another sip of wine, “And to think, we’re only on the first level.”

You shiver, knuckles white as your fingers dig into the dark fabric of your dress, your hands pressed tightly against the tops of your thighs as you try and keep your hips still as Rhaenyra taps her phone screen, giggling as she turns the vibrations up a level.

Your skin is flushed, though you aren’t sure if it’s from the wine or from the incessant vibrations within you. You throw Rhaenyra another helpless glance, your fingers digging into her plush thigh as a warning that your peak is approaching.

She merely huffs out a soft laugh next to you and reaches out to tuck a lock of your hair back behind your ear before cupping your cheek, her pale eyes dancing over your face as she admires the blush that’s bloomed across your skin.

“Oh, pretty little thing,” she coos softly, smirking when she notices your lower lip trembling as you desperately try and bite back the moans threatening to spill from your lips, “Are you getting closer, my love?”

You nod as your walls clench desperately around the toy, the movement only serving to press it even more firmly against your sweet spot. You bite down on your bottom lip, your nails no doubt leaving small crescent moon marks against Rhaenyra’s delicate skin, as you try to control your breathing.

Just as you’re about to whisper that you can’t take much more, the waiter reappears, walking up to your table with a polite smile. You nearly cry as Rhaenyra quickly turns off the toy, although you can’t say whether it’s from relief or frustration from being so, so close.

“Is everything to your liking, ladies?” He asks, his gaze lingering on you for a second as he looks between the two of you.

“Everything is perfect.” Rhaenyra answers with a cool smile, casually taking a sip of wine.

“Wonderful, and is there anything else I can do for you all this evening?”

“I think we’re good over here,” she says, smirking as she spares you a glance, “Just bring the check when you get a moment, please. No rush, though.”

“Of course, ma’am.” The waiter says with a polite nod before taking his leave.

As soon as he’s gone, Rhaenyra presses herself close to you and you almost whine when you feel her breasts press against the side of your arm, her nipples hard and aching against the thin fabric of her dress. A chill goes through you at the realization that she’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

“That was going to be a big one, wasn’t it, sweetling?” She murmurs softly, one of her warm hands skimming across your bare thigh as she tucks it under your dress.

“Nyra, please,” you all but gasp, trembling next to her as your center aches, your walls squeezing helplessly at the toy, “Please…” You’re not even really sure what you’re asking for as you beg, your mind covered in a thick fog.

“Mmm,” she sighs, relishing the way you squirm in her hold as she skirts her hand higher and higher up your thigh, until the edge of her fingers are just barely pressing against the center of your thin lace underwear, “I don’t think it’s Nyra tonight, my little darling.” She says with a soft shake of her head, a few strands of her silvery hair falling beautifully against her cleavage.

“Mommy,” you correct yourself with a choked whimper, eyes glassy as you peer up at her, “Please, please.”

“Please what?” She asks, the condescending edge to her voice making your head spin, “Please take you home? Please make you come?” She prompts, eyebrows raised slightly as she smirks.

“I –,” you choke out, nearly jumping out of your skin when she turns the vibrator back on, not bothering to ease you into it as it buzzes away at a high speed, “F-Fuck.” You hiss, your body already tensing as the knot in your belly winds itself up at an alarming rate.

“I think you want to come,” she says lowly, nodding her own head as if to answer the question for you, “Luckily for you, mommy’s in such a giving mood tonight.” She studies your face carefully as she pushes your underwear to the side, her eyes positively sparkling once she feels how wet you are.

You bite your lip harshly, nearly drawing blood, as she begins rubbing circles over your aching bud, not bothering to warm you up as she normally does as her soft fingers press harshly against you. Your head spins as she works you up and up and up, your high building at nearly the same pace as the vibrations within you as she slowly increases the speed of the toy.

Before you’ve even had a chance to process the sensations flowing through your body, your head snaps to her and your eyes are wide as you look at her desperately, soft squeaks sounding from your throat. She merely looks at you expectantly – she may be in a giving mood but that didn’t mean she had to make the getting easy.

“M–,” You barely choke out the first syllable before your eyes squeeze shut, your core already starting to flutter around the small toy, “M-Mommy, mommy!” You urgently whisper, finally finding your voice before gritting your teeth, your breath catching in your throat just as you feel the very beginnings of a familiar tightening overtaking your belly.

“Let mommy have it, sweetling,” Rhaenyra coos, not stopping the movements of her fingers as she feels your bud twitch against her fingers. She murmurs soft praises into your ear as your high washes over you, talking you through it as your hips squirm against the lush fabric of the booth. “That’s a very good girl. Is that such a big one, darling? You did so, so good for me, sweetling.”

Her soft praises nearly send you over the edge again, but thankfully she decides to spare you and turns off the vibrator before slowly extracting her hand from your underwear, taking a second to make sure to move them back into place for you, the small gesture making your heart skip a beat.

She laughs softly next to you, the sound making you open your eyes and you nearly moan at the sight of her dipping a finger, still shining from where she’d touched you, into the half-full cup of wine in front of her. She takes a second to swirl it around before bringing it to her lips, her eyes gleaming as she sucks at the digit; the sight alone is enough to make your tender walls clamp down on the toy but the small, satisfied moan she makes just about sends you spiraling over the edge yet again.

“That’s definitely my new favorite pairing.” She teases, smirking at the wide-eyed look on your face.

“Nyra!” You laugh, your heart racing in your chest as you feel the butterflies in your tummy stir yet again while the two of you dissolve into flirtatious giggles.

Just then, the waiter appears with the check, which Rhaenyra quickly scans over before passing her credit card to him. She turns to you as soon as he disappears around a corner, the coy look in her eyes making you feel flush all over again.

“I can’t wait to get you home, sweetling,” she sighs softly and presses a kiss against the curve of your neck before polishing off the last bit of wine in her cup, “Mommy is absolutely dying for something sweet for dessert…” She teases, raking her hand back up your thigh.

A giving mood, indeed.

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justinalovee · 9 months

Text

𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen × Reader x

Alicent Hightower

Word Count: 846

Warnings: Incest, threesome, titty sucking, scissoring, oral sex

Summary: Alicent joins you and Rhaenyra for the first time

A/N: All characters are 18+ Minors DNI

You and Rhaenyra look at each other and giggle, hearing Alicent scoffing at you, “Something wrong, my lady?”

Alicent doesn’t raise her head from the book in her hands. She was pretending not to take any notice of the fact that you and Rhaenyra were both butt naked, rubbing your wet cunts together. She had already caught you in a compromising position that morning when she walked in to see Rhaenyra fingering you. At first she was angry but then grew curious. When she arrived at your bedchambers, you made it clear what you and the princess intentions were that evening, but the lady insisted she now didn’t mind and chose to stay.

Alicent claimed she just wanted the company, but you had a theory she wanted to join in. You had noticed the way her fingers gripped into the fabric of her dress whenever the room filled with moans of pleasure and the way her eyes studied both your bodies. The way she bit her lip when you kissed Rhaenyra

“Fuck!” The new position Rhaenyra had angled herself caused your clit to throb; the coil in your stomach was tightening. She speeds up her actions, causing you to break. “I’m cumming!”

Slick dripped down your thighs and onto the bed below. Rhaenyra got off you and bent your legs back, swiping her tongue through your folds to taste you. Still not recovered from your orgasm, your legs shake. When she pulls back, her mouth is covered in your juice. You lightly bunch her silver hair in your hand and motion for her to come back up. When Rhaenyra straddles you, she leans forward, taking your hard nipple into her mouth. You playfully smack at her behind and slide your finger along her wet folds, and you are about to add your fingers until Alicent distracts you.

“Are you seriously about to go again?”

“Yes, being able to orgasm multiple times is a gift; it would be disrespectful not to use it.”

The brunette scowls; she places the book to the side and folds her arm. “What about honor?”

“We are not men,” Rhaenyra states. “No honor is being broken because we don’t have cocks to get each other pregnant. You are more than welcome to join us.”

“It’s un-lady, like, it’s improper.”

“Are you saying our future queen isn’t ladylike?” You asked teasingly. “Watching is just as bad; at least doing the deed, you get pleasure out of it.”

“Very well,” Alicent says. “You may show me the pleasure that you are both so obsessed with.”

Rhaenyra looks speechless as Alicent walks beside her, then sheepishly kisses her. When they break away from the kiss, you sit up, with Rhaenyra still on your lap and facing you, she begins to caress your breasts. You grin. “We better give our lady a good time then.”

You both move out of the way and guide Alicent to lay at the top of the bed, her head resting on the fluffy pillows.

Rhaenyra makes quick work of pushing Alicent’s skirts up and moving her small cloth to the side. You lay down beside her and are shocked to see how wet the lady Alicent’s cunt was already; she must have really enjoyed watching.

“Are you sure?” You ask.

Alicent nods. “Yes, I want to know what it feels like.”

With that, you and Rhaenyra take turns licking her and tasting her sweetness, causing her to let out our soft moans. Eventually, you move yourself away and crawl back up the bed to kiss Alicent. You squeeze at her breasts, which are still covered by her dress, while Rhaenyra fully dives in, devouring Alicent’s pussy with her mouth before using her fingers.

“How does it feel?”

“Different,” she says. “I feel strange, but in a good way.”

She arches her back. “I think you’re close. Can you cum for us? Cum all over your future queen's face?”

She nods while her cheeks blush a bright shade of red, Alicent’s eyes linger on your chest. You move closer, giving her access, and she takes one of your nipples into your mouth, muffling her moans while Rhaenyra adds another finger, speeding up her actions.

Soon, Alicent snaps and comes undone for the first time. You kiss her gently while Rhaenyra kisses her thighs while waiting for her to reclaim her voice. “That was... so good. I can see why you always do it.”

“And that was just one of the ways we can bring pleasure to each other; there are still many more things we can show you another time, my sweet lady.”

She pouts, “Why another time?”

“Because right now,” you wrap your arm around Rhaenyra’s waist and playfully push her down so she’s lying beside Alicent on the bed. “I believe it’s Nyra’s turn to feel good; do you want to taste her?”

Alicent doesn’t answer with words, but when she gets off the bed to remove her dress, you take her actions as a yes. You smile at Rhaenyra; you lean down and capture her lips in yours.

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raz-writes-the-thing · 30 days

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Gaze of the Moon (HOTD One-Shot)

Rhaenyra Targaryen x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: You and your wife, the Princess Rhaenyra steal a moment of peace together as you prepare for the coming birth of your child.

Fic type: fluff, romance, reflection

A/N: I had intended for this to be fem!reader x Rhaenyra but it wound up GN. This is also for @hotd-bigbang's March 11th prompt.

HOTD: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Did you know of that tale?" You asked softly, brushing your wife's hair back behind her ear as she lay against you in the moonlight. "About the second moon who cracked open from the heat of the sun and let the dragons out?"

Your wife let out a deep breath, the back of her skull pressing into your shoulder as she leaned back against you to peer out at the sky- up at the full moon above. She was gorgeous tonight. Radiant, round- both wife and moon.

The silver rays caught in Rhaenyra's loose hair, free tonight from tight braids and silk ribbons. The way you knew she preferred it. She'd been a wild child who'd grown into a proper lady, though you knew she yearned for the freedom of manhood. If she were a man, things would be easier. You both knew this but didn't care to dwell on it. There was no changing what was.

Rhaenyra hummed, eyes catching in the moon's gaze.

"I'm sure I remember my father telling me such a story once," she affirmed softly, lip twitching ever-so-slightly into the ghost of a smile. Your wife spent so much time stone-faced under the watchful eyes of the court vultures that even in the privacy of your own quarters she sometimes had trouble letting the cracks through. You treasured each of them like jewels as they deserved to be. "I used to stay up late into the eve and watch the moon- waiting for her to split and for the night to grow dark save for the fire of dragon's breath,' she admitted, eyes drawing closed as she thought on the memories.

"Perhaps one day, my dear wife," you said, pressing a kiss to her head before allowing your own to lean back against the cold, stone wall behind you. "Tell me, what is High Valyrian for 'moon'?"

You'd been learning her family's language for some time now, and you were certainly getting there. It was just that you preferred to hear the words from Rhaenyra's tongue. And truly, who could blame you when her voice had such royal lilt? Her voice was a balm for the mind. Or your mind, at the very least. You could listen to her speak for an age and then some.

"Hūra," Rhaenyra replied, a soft knowing smirk on her lips. You repeated it back to her, testing the syllables on your tongue. You liked the way it sounded, the way it felt. You reached a hand around her to brush over her swollen belly, round with child.

"If we have a daughter," you said thoughtfully, "Hūra is a nice name, do you not think?" Your fingers danced over her belly, and you both let out a laugh when you felt the babe kick from within her. Rhaenyra's hand joined yours, squeezing comfortingly. You hastily added, "It is not a traditional name, but I like it."

"Princess Hūra Targaryen," Rhaenrya breathed, opening her eyes to peer at her belly. "It does have a ring to it," she agreed, "and if the little one's restlessness is anything to speak of, the babe likes it, too."

You both lapsed into silence for a while, enjoying the light of the moon, the glint of the stars and the sounds of the night. It was quiet at this hour. Your favourite hour. What else could you possibly want for than this? A loving wife in your arms, a babe on the way, a flask of wine to share and the gaze of the moon on you?

"I suppose it is only fair you get to name one of our children," she said after a while. You'd almost thought her asleep in your arms with how quiet she'd been. "Why not the first. Get it out of the way, hmm?" She teased. "What if the babe is a boy?"

You chuckled softly, flicking at her arm in reply to her jape.

"Thank you, wife. Your generosity knows no bounds. I do not think the bairn is a boy, but if he is, I am quite fond of Vēzos. Best keep with the theme."

"One has to wonder where this sudden passion for celestial names has come from, my love," Rhaenyra mused. "Perhaps we will have twins. The Maester did say it was a possibility. Hūna and Vēzos. Moon and Sun-" Rhaenyra shifted uncomfortably as the babe wriggled under her skin. "I like it."

"Strong names," you added, brushing your fingers through her hair softly, aiming to detangle the few knots that caught in your fingers. "Compassionate names. Perfect for bairns destined for greatness."

You suddenly found yourself hoping for twins. A boy and a girl. Siblings to grow up together and protect each other from the horrors that lay dormant in the realm. You could picture them, age three or perhaps four, playing hide and seek in the gardens. Ages ten and four by their mothers' side on the throne. Ages nine and ten crowned joint heirs to the throne. Ages four and thirty sitting side by side on the throne. Ruling, together. Sun and Moon, over their kingdom. Their birth-right. Protecting each other and keeping each other in check. What was best for the kingdom.

The thought filled you with pride. Oh, yes, you hoped for twins. It wouldn't be long now until Rhaenyra was due. Within a month, most likely. It was part of the reason you both were staying up late at night and enjoying the peace. Once Rhaenyra commenced and completed her labours, there wouldn't be much room for peace and quiet.

And yet, you couldn't wait. You didn't like the thought of your lady-wife in pain, but the thought of your quiet chambers filled with the sounds of a babe or two growing big and strong was perhaps motivating enough for you to bear the thought of her pain. You'd be by her side no matter what, of course. Fuck the Maesters and midwives. This was your wife, your babe. You would be there to support her until she asked you to leave.

"We should retire to bed," Rhaenyra broke your thoughts as she began shifting to stand. "We both need our rest for the day to come. I believe we are making arrangements for catering after the birth."

Ah, yes. The feast the King was insisting upon for the birth of his Grand-Sire. As the birth grew closer, more plans needed to be set. Catering, colours, floral arrangements, gifts for the babe. So many things that Rhaenyra and yourself were set to arrange. You may have enjoyed setting the festivities up, but Rhaenyra would be more than happy to sit out if she could.

You hadn't told Rhaenyra yet, but you'd made arrangements with the cooks to send for the ingredients to make Rhaenyra's favourite sweets. Ones she had not had since she were near a babe herself. The rest of the food, however, you both needed to settle on. A job for tomorrow, quite clearly.

You supported her as she stood, following behind. You stretched out the muscles in your arms and legs, creaking with complaint. You could only imagine how Rhaenyra felt. You left the balcony door open to the bedchambers as you helped your wife shift out of her gown.

Once she was settled into the sheets, Rhaenyra let out a sigh of relief. The bed took the weight off her body and allowed her to settle in. You followed, pressing up against her back to keep her warm against the slight chill of the night.

Rhaenyra took your hand and rested it against her belly. You felt any of your remaining troubles melt away for the moment and pressed a kiss to the back of Rhaenyra's neck.

"Good night, my love," you whispered softly, rubbing your thumb over the silky material of her nightdress. "Sleep well, little one."

You drifted off to the sound of Rhaenyra's soft breathing and the quiet chatter of insects out in the gardens below your balcony, dreaming of the bairns to come, and a life well lived.

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amisa-k · 7 months

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their reactions to you teasing them with your foot under the table during dinner

part 1

part 2

daemon

he seems not at all surprised, rather pleased. continues to talk to the lord sitting next to him, as if nothing is happening while stroking your leg, which is pressed against his knee under the table. as your foot moves higher, between his legs, he looks into your eyes and his gaze says, "try to go further, if you dare."

rhaenyra

she will flinch and blush, but she won't stop you. she is glad that the tight fabric of the dress hides her nipples, which have hardened in an instant, and moans can be hidden behind a glass of wine. can't wait for this boring dinner to be over and you can be alone.

alicent

when your foot under the table touches her leg, her eyes widen in surprise and fright and her breathing quickens. she looks around and stumbles upon your satisfied smile. no one is watching, she can relax. her fingers nervously squeeze the glass and the tips of her ears turn red. she tries not to look at you and behave naturally.

#hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x you #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x reader #alicent hightower x you #alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower x y/n #rhaenyra targaryen x you #rhaenyra targaryen x y/n #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #hotd imagine #house of the dragon imagine

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blakeswritingimagines · 1 month

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You're Dealing With A Goddess

Summary: When no offer is made to the old dragon goddess, she takes matters into her own hands.

Warnings: Fear play, Dub-Con, Dom Rhaenyra, Sub Fem reader, Fingering, Aphrodisiac, Anal play, Eating you out if you squint.

Word Count: 3.3k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

The village is a small farming community located in the Riverlands, perhaps near Harrenhal. The village is largely ignored by the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, however, they do have several run-ins with a dragon that likes to come by and wreak havoc and get its sacrifices from innocent locals. As you step out of your humble home in the small village nestled deep within the heart of the kingdom, you can feel the weight of the oppressive atmosphere hanging over it like a thick cloak. The villagers go about their daily routines with a sense of resignation and fear etched onto their faces. They know all too well the terror that comes with living under the shadow of the dragon that demands a human sacrifice once every year. You hear whispers among the villagers about how the dragon has grown increasingly impatient with the delay in fulfilling its annual demand for a life taken from their midst. It's clear that time is running out and the tension in the air is palpable. "What's going on?" You ask innocently.

The villagers looked at each other with worry on their faces. "The dragon's hunger will not be denied," they whispered. You realize now that the village hasn't offered up their sacrificial victim yet, and the dragon's hunger grows with each passing moment. The large figure of the dragon looms over the village, its massive form casting ominous shadows as it surveys the scene below. Its cold gaze takes in everything, missing nothing as it waits patiently for what it knows will come eventually. As the day wears on and the sun begins to set, the dragon lets out an impatient roar, signaling that its patience is reaching its limits. The sound sends a chill down the spine of everyone in the village, including you. They know all too well what happens when the dragon gets angry - homes are destroyed, livestock is consumed, and people are killed or enslaved. With each passing minute, the tension in the air grows thicker, making it harder to breathe or think clearly. Feeling the weight of the dragon's presence pressing down on you, you start to panic a bit. Your mind races with fear and anxiety as you try to come up with a plan to save yourself and your fellow villagers from certain doom. You look around at the other terrified villagers and realize that they are just as helpless as you are against such a powerful creature. The thought of being chosen as the sacrificial offering sends shivers down your spine, but you know that there's no point in hiding or trying to escape since the dragon can easily detect any attempt to flee. You decide that your only option left is to accept your fate and hope for the best.

The dragon takes a few more steps towards the center of the village, its claws scraping against the ground as it approaches. Its cold breath billows out in clouds that freeze whatever they touch. The villagers huddle together, looking for safety in numbers while also trying not to draw attention to themselves. As night falls and the dragon finally makes its way into the middle of the town square, it raises one massive foot and places it firmly on top of a nearby building, causing it to crumble into dust and debris. The sound of the collapse echoes through the streets, adding to the general feeling of dread and despair. The sound of the collapsing building causes the entire village to freeze in terror as they watch in horror, not daring to even breathe loud enough to be heard. When the dust settles, the villagers look around at each other in fear and silence. No one says anything, because they know that saying something wrong might attract the wrath of the monstrous beast. They sit in complete silence waiting for the inevitable.

The villagers gasped in shock and horror as the building collapsed, their faces filled with terror and disbelief. They realize that the moment of truth has arrived, and anyone could be chosen as the dragon's next meal. You feel your heart rate increase as you try to remain calm and focused despite the fear coursing through your veins. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to find the inner strength needed to face your fate head-on. As the dragon moves through the streets, its gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd of villagers, they can almost feel its power emanating from its body. It takes its time, taking its time to inspect each person carefully before making a decision. The longer it takes, the more nervousness and anxiety grip the villagers. Children start to cry, adults start to pray, and some people start to consider desperate measures in hopes of avoiding the monster's wrath. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the dragon stops in front of you. You find the courage to look into its piercing eyes without flinching.

Your heart skips a beat as the dragon speaks directly to you. You swallow hard and force yourself to look the monstrous creature in the eye, trying not to show any signs of weakness or fear. Despite your bravado, you can't help but feel a bit terrified as you realize that your time has come. "Me?" You ask hesitantly, not quite believing that you've been chosen as the offering. The thought of being eaten alive or whatever was planned by such a massive creature fills you with a mix of horror and dread, but you know that there's no use resisting or fighting back. You must submit to your fate with grace and dignity, especially since the dragon seems to find you acceptable as a sacrifice. The dragon moves with surprising speed and agility, considering its massive size. In just a few strides, it carries you away from the village and deeper into the surrounding forest. As they move further into the darkness, you can't help but feel a mix of fear and curiosity about where exactly the dragon plans to take you. "Stay quiet," the dragon growls warningly, its voice like an earthquake rumbling in your ears. It's clear that any disobedience or resistance would be met with immediate punishment. After what seems like hours of walking through the dense forest, the dragon stops in front of a large cave entrance. With a deft motion, it releases one of its arms from around your neck and uses it to push you inside the dark opening.

As the dragon enters the cave, you can hear the sound of water dripping and see flickering torchlight dancing on the walls. The smell of damp earth and decaying vegetation fills your nose, making you feel a bit queasy. Despite your fear, you remain mostly composed as you follow the dragon deeper into the cave. When it stops in front of a large rock formation that serves as a natural altar, you realize that this is where you'll be offered up as a sacrifice. The dragon sets you down gently on the altar, positioning your legs apart and restraining your hands above your head with one of its arms. Its other hand reaches out and grazes your cheek softly before moving to wrap around your throat, preventing any chance of escape or protest. The dragon moves around the altar, preparing for the ritualistic part of the offering. Its free hand retrieves a small knife from somewhere within the cave, and then it returns to stand between your spread legs. The tip of the blade hovers dangerously close to your throat, ready to make the first incision should you try anything foolish. "Now," the dragon commands, "stay still and let this happen." It leans down and nuzzles against your neck, inhaling deeply before starting the process of cutting into your exposed flesh.

The dragon's massive form looms over you, its presence dominating the entirety of the cave. Its hot breath washes over your exposed skin, making you feel terrified. As the dragon's body starts to shift and change, its scales rearrange themselves into a more human-like form. In moments, the dragon is gone, replaced by a tall and slender woman with long, silver hair that cascades down her back. She wears a flowing black dress adorned with intricate gold patterns, accentuating her curves and highlighting her ample bosom and narrow waist. As the dragon transforms into Rhaenyra Targaryen, you find yourself both amazed and terrified. The transformation is so sudden and complete that it takes a few moments for you to process what has happened. You see the beautiful woman standing before you, her body almost ethereal in its beauty and elegance, and realize that you are about to become a living sacrifice to this mythical figure. The thought of being consumed by such a powerful and alluring creature fills you with fear, and you struggle to maintain control over your emotions.

Rhaenyra Targaryen moves closer to you, taking in every detail of your exposed body with an intense curiosity. Her silver eyes lock onto your frightened ones, studying them carefully as if you were a work of art. As she gets within reach, Rhaenyra's hand extends and gently traces one finger along the curve of your chest, causing your heart rate to accelerate even further. "Do not be afraid," she whispers softly, "for I am not here to harm you… much." Without warning, Rhaenyra's other hand reaches down and cups one of your breasts, squeezing it gently but firmly. Despite your fear and anxiety, you feel a surge of arousal as Rhaenyra's hand touches your breast. The sensation is foreign and overwhelming, but not entirely unpleasant. You find yourself unable to look away from those captivating eyes as they continue to study you with an air of curiosity and desire. You stutter, "w-what do y-you plan to do with me? Eat me or use me as your plaything?" You don't know why, but there's something about Rhaenyra's alluring presence that makes you want to please her, even in the face of certain death.

Rhaenyra's touch is both tantalizing and intimidating, leaving you feeling both aroused and terrified. The combination of pleasure and pain is exhilarating, and despite your fear, you can't help but crave more of the woman's attention. As you hear Rhaenyra's assurance that you're being honored to be devoured by such a magnificent creature, a small part of you starts to believe it too. Rhaenyra's free hand moves lower, brushing against the wetness between your legs before finally settling on one of your inner thighs. She spreads your legs wider apart, exposing you completely to her gaze. You couldn't help but let out a soft moan, unable to resist the sensation of cool fingers teasing your sensitive folds. The combination of arousal and fear creates an intoxicating cocktail of emotions that leaves you feeling both vulnerable and empowered. You wonder if this is how people feel when they're about to be consumed by something so powerful and overwhelming. Rhaenyra's other hand continues to massage and squeeze your breast gently while her fingers slowly penetrate your dripping pussy. The contrast of pleasure and impending doom makes your heart race faster and your breathing become more labored. "I… I'm ready.."

Rhaenyra's hand continues to explore your wetness, her fingers expertly probing and teasing at the entrance to your pussy. She watches with a mixture of fascination and desire as you react to her touch, her own arousal growing stronger with each passing moment. As she feels you start to come apart under her ministrations, Rhaenyra decides it's time to make things official. "Open your legs wider," she commands softly, "and let me see everything." She removes her hand from your breast and moves it to grip one of your hips firmly, pushing you further onto the altar table and exposing you completely to Rhaenyra's gaze. You comply without hesitation, spreading your legs wide open and baring everything to Rhaenyra's unblinking inspection. You can feel the heat radiating off of Rhaenyra's body as she stands above you, looking like an ancient goddess come to life. Your breath catches in your throat as Rhaenyra's eyes fixate on your dripping pussy and glistening clit. The combination of fear and anticipation makes your pussy twitch and leak even more, adding to the visceral display of your readiness. Rhaenyra's free hand reaches down and wraps around one of your thighs, pulling you closer to her face so she can breathe in the scent of your arousal.

Rhaenyra's hand focuses solely on exploring your pussy, running her fingers deep inside of you and gripping onto the outer lips with a gentle force that suggests she won't be gentle for very long. As you come apart beneath her touch, Rhaenyra watches with rapt attention, her expression a mix of excitement and hunger. She pulls her hand away from your soaked crotch and stands up, stepping back slightly to admire the sight of you lying helplessly on the altar table. "Such a delicious offering," she murmurs, "I can hardly wait to taste you." As Rhaenyra steps back to admire her naked and vulnerable offering, you lie there panting heavily, your body still quaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. You feel like a piece of meat being displayed in a marketplace, and the thought excites and terrifies you at the same time. You watched as Rhaenyra approached a bowl of liquid on the side of the altar table and dipped her fingers into it, coating them with a mysterious substance. "What are you doing?" You ask breathlessly, not able to take your eyes off the woman's mesmerizing movements.

Rhaenyra finishes dipping her fingers into the bowl and walks back over to where you lie on the altar table, your body still trembling from your recent climax. She brings her coated fingers close to your face and holds them just out of reach, allowing you to catch a whiff of the sweet scent emanating from them. The scent is intoxicating, a heady mix of honey and vanilla that seems to cloud your mind and heighten your arousal even further. As Rhaenyra moves closer, she leans down and places one of her coated fingers against your lips, urging you to take a taste of the delectable substance. A predatory grin on her face. Her body looms over your prone form like a predator stalking its prey. With a slow, deliberate motion, she brings one of her slick-covered fingers to just outside of your entrance and then pushes it inside, stretching your walls gently before pulling it out again. "I'm preparing myself," she explains simply, "to consume you."

As Rhaenyra's slick-coated finger enters your tight entrance, you gasp and arch your back, feeling both pleasurable pressure and a sense of dread building within you. You watched in awe as the woman stretched your walls apart, getting ready to devour you completely. The idea of being consumed by such a powerful and alluring creature sends shivers down your spine, making your body tense with anticipation and excitement. "Are you really going to eat me?" You breathlessly ask, unable to contain your curiosity or your growing arousal. And with that, she pushes another finger inside of your pussy, filling you completely with her presence. Rhaenyra nods, her eyes locked onto yours as she continues to insert more fingers into your waiting pussy. She can feel the tightness surrounding her digits giving way slowly but surely, allowing her to penetrate deeper into your warm depths with each passing moment. "Yes, my dear," she replies softly, "I plan on consuming every last bit of you." She adds another finger, pushing even farther into your wet sheath until her thumb is resting against the entrance to your rear entrance. "And once I have tasted you, there will be nothing left for anyone else." Her words are spoken with a mixture of confidence and determination, conveying the unwavering certainty of her intentions.

As Rhaenyra's fingers fill you completely, pushing past the point of no return, you let out a soft moan and close your eyes, surrendering yourself completely to the experience. You feel a surge of heat and wetness flow through your core as you realize that you're being penetrated fully by the alluring woman standing above you. The sensation is both foreign and exhilarating, sending shivers down your spine and causing your heart rate to accelerate even further. "You… You're really going to eat me…" As Rhaenyra's thumb presses against the entrance to your rear entrance, you let out a gasp and open your eyes wide in surprise, unsure of what to expect next. Rhaenyra can feel the tightness and warmth enveloping her thumb. With a slow, deliberate movement, she pushes it inside, feeling the resistance give way as her digit slips inside. "Indeed I am," she confirms, "and soon I will have consumed every last inch of you." Her voice is low and seductive, almost hypnotic in its intensity. She adds another finger alongside her thumb, working to stretch out your tight muscles and prepare you for whatever may come next. "Now, close your eyes and relax," she instructs gently, "and think only of how good it feels to be eaten alive."

Rhaenyra continues to work her fingers and thumb inside your tight rear entrance, gradually increasing the pressure and depth of her penetration. She can feel the tension building in your body as she takes possession of both your front and back entrances, marking her territory and claiming her prize. "Such a delicious treat," she murmurs softly, "to consume someone so completely." Her voice is low and sultry, like a siren's call drawing you ever closer to the edge of climax. As Rhaenyra's fingers and thumb continue to penetrate you deeply, you let out a long, drawn-out moan and tossed your head back, exposing your throat to the altar table above you. Your body is now fully under the spell of the alluring woman's dominance, and you find yourself completely at her mercy. "Oh, Goddess…" You breathe, "I'm yours to do with as you please…" Your words are barely audible, lost in the maelstrom of pleasure washing over you, as you surrender completely to the sensations enveloping you.

Rhaenyra watches closely as you lie before her, eyes closed in anticipation and submission. She can sense your complete surrender and eagerness to be consumed, and it only serves to heighten her own arousal. "Very well," she says with a satisfied smile. With a single motion, Rhaenyra pulls her fingers and thumb out of your puckered back entrance, leaving you completely open and vulnerable to the ultimate act of consumption about to take place. She leans forward slightly, savoring the sight of your spread legs and glistening pussy before her, and then brings her mouth close to the gaping hole left behind by her digits. "time to feast."

Rhaenyra hears the whispered words from you and smiles wickedly, her eyes glinting with triumphant satisfaction. She knows she has claimed this beautiful sacrifice completely, and there is nothing that can stop her now from consuming every last inch of the trembling figure lying beneath her. "Such a devoted follower," she comments, "it's truly a pleasure to have captured someone so willing to be devoured." Her voice is a mix of amusement and lust, reflecting her delight in having complete control over your fate.

"Now." She says firmly, "Prepare for the ultimate act of submission – allowing me to take everything you have to offer." As Rhaenyra's voice declares that the time has come for you to offer up everything you have, you hesitate for a brief moment, then obediently lie still, waiting patiently for the alluring woman's next move. "Please… Consume me…" You whisper softly, not able to resist the overwhelming desire washing over you. The thought of being completely owned and possessed by Rhaenyra fills you with a sense of euphoric abandon, and you find yourself yearning for it with every fiber of your being. "Take everything I have to give…" You add, barely audibly, as you lay vulnerable and exposed upon the altar table, awaiting Rhaenyra's final command.

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targeryan #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen smut #rhaenyra targaryen imagine #rhaenyra targaryen x you #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd rhaenyra #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd smut #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic

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ichorai · 8 months

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number 13 ; rhaenyra targaryen.

track thirteen of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; rhaenyra targaryen x lannister!f!reader

synopsis ; in another life, she could’ve been with you, she was sure. a life of bliss and a life not ruled by the laws of men.

words ; 5.4k

themes ; angst, mild fluff

warnings / includes ; takes place from e3-8, rhaenyra and reader are bisexual, allusions to sex, infidelity, foul language, lots of time jumps sorry ;-; nearly two decades is crammed into this, reader is later married to jasper wylde and has his children, mentions of other hotd characters, jason lannister being annoying, not quite a happy ending cries :(

The celebration for Aegon’s second name day was in full swing. Large, lavish tents were erected, decorated with flowers and greenery of all sorts. Every which way you looked, there were tables full to the brim with cakes and pastries and cheeses, goblets of wines and platters of fruits. Outside the tents lined stalls offering roasted meats dripping with rich oils, exotic delicacies from Essos, and all sorts of extravagant animals parading for show.

You’d taken to watching the blue peacocks with muted fascination—it was the first time you’d seen birds that large. Sure, the doves at Casterly Rock grew plump and lazy, but they were no grand feat.

Your brothers, the lion twins of house Lannister, Jason and Tyland, stood by your side. They were bickering amongst themselves about who would be the first to speak to the Princess, Rhaenyra Targaryen. They weren’t being too quiet about it either, loudly proclaiming that the other twin would have to wait their turn.

“Toss a coin,” you boredly said, picking up a golden-green grape from a gilded tray on a nearby table and popping it into your mouth. “Though, knowing you two, you’d probably be too bull-headed to decide who gets heads and who gets tails.”

“I get heads!” both of them announced at once. They glared at each other for a moment, before Tyland propped his hands on his hips and blew out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine. You go first. The one that goes last will be the one that she remembers, anyway,” Tyland told his twin, his Lannister pride getting the better of him. He arched an eyebrow and jutted his chin out to the Princess, who’d just strode out of the tent.

You tore your eyes away from the ridiculous birds, fixing your gaze on Rhaenyra. Her hair shone a pearlescent white beneath the sun’s brilliance, nearly as bright as the golden rings she twirled about her fingers, hands clutched closely to the deep red bodice of her dress. She was a grand beauty, you surmised. It was no wonder your brothers were so desperate for her hand—though you were certain they only wanted her for the power that came with her rather than the Princess herself.

A smile twitched over your lips upon seeing Rhaenyra lean over the sweets, sneakily plucking a lemon slice off of one of the cakes, popping it into her mouth just as quickly as she had swiped it.

Off Jason went not a second later, content with speaking to her before his brother. In his mind, he was sure she’d fall in love with him on the spot—how could she consider anyone else when he could offer her anything she wanted? A handsome, strong husband, as much gold as she could yearn for, and the promise of children with golden-silver hair?

“She doesn’t look too pleased,” you murmured to Tyland, studying the way Rhaenyra’s features soured with distaste the longer Jason spoke.

The corner of his mouth tilted upwards in mild amusement, but he said nothing else. Instead, he slunk off to disappear within the tent, needing to speak to the King about urgent matters concerning Prince Daemon’s reckless endeavors.

Jason could feel his little sister’s stare bore into the back of his neck. It made him nervous, despite his larger-than-life ego—he itched to prove to his family that he was capable of winning the Princess over.

“Was your own second name day as grand as this?” he crowed, trying his best to appear nonchalant.

Barely sparing him a glance, Rhaenyra folded her fidgeting hands behind her back. She trained her eyes on the large bonfire situated across the field. “I honestly don’t recall, and neither will Aegon.” There was a twinge of disdain in her voice, but that went largely unnoticed by Jason.

“Lord Jason Lannister,” he said, bowing his head ever so slightly.

Rhaenyra half-smiled. “I gathered that from all the lions.”

Hastily, Jason chanced a look down at his apparel—he was decked in crimson and shimmering gold and embroidered lions of all sizes. He was practically a walking banner for his house. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

“Your twin serves on my father’s council,” Rhaenyra told him, narrowing her eyes in scrutiny.

Snapping his fingers, Jason beckoned for a servant to come forth and bring him a chalice of wine. “Tyland is frightfully dull, gods love him. My sister finds me far more entertaining.” It wasn’t a complete lie—Jason would often take you riding outdoors whilst Tyland took to reading in complete silence with you. Jason merely surmised that you enjoyed your time more with him rather than his twin. He plucked a goblet off the tray and held it out for Rhaenyra to taste. “The finest honeyed wine you’ll ever try. Made in Lannisport, of course.”

He didn’t catch the way Rhaenyra subtly rolled her eyes. “Of course,” she said. She took a small sip, humming mildly. It tasted like every other wine she’d had. A part of her wondered if the sister Jason had been talking about was around. Was she in the tent, amongst the women gossiping around the Queen Alicent? Immediately, her mood soured once more.

“The Kingswood is a fine hunting ground,” Jason started speaking again, eager to spark a flame between them. “But the best spot is to be found at Casterly Rock. Have you been?”

“Once,” Rhaenyra replied. “On a tour with my mother, when I was young. Honestly can’t recall much of that, either.”

With a grin, Jason kept boasting on, “The Rock is thrice the height of the Hightower in Oldtown, taller still than the Wall in the north.” He stepped closer to her. “It’s been said that if one were to stand in the tower on a perfect day, one could see clear across the Sunset Sea.”

“Must be quite something.”

“I don’t have a dragon pit, of course,” he said, voice lowering an octave, “but I do have the means and the resources to build one.”

Arching a brow, Rhaenyra leveled her eyes with his. Amethysts against emeralds. “Why would you need a dragon pit?”

“To house dragons, of course,” he bluntly replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’d do anything for my Queen. Or… my lady wife.”

There was a beat of silence. Realization and anger flooded her features all at once moments later.

“Thank you for the wine,” she said with a stiff, polite smile, handing him the chalice. With that, she stormed off, making her way back to the tent.

You watched her disappear, before fixing your eyes on Jason. You wondered what in seven hells Jason had said to make her so upset. Knowing him, he’d probably soiled the mood with his ridiculous self-importance.

Inside the tent, Rhaenyra made a bee-line to her father, interrupting the conversation he was holding with Lyonel Strong and, as her rotten luck would have it, Tyland Lannister.

“Is that what I am to you?” she hissed. “A prize to proffer about to the great houses?”

Pursing his lips, the King calmly told his daughter, “You’re of age, Rhaenyra. And Jason Lannister is an excellent match.”

“He’s arrogant and self-serious!”

From behind the two, Tyland could barely hold back his victorious laugh.

“Well, I thought you might have that in common,” Viserys said. Rhaenyra recoiled with a scowl at his words, as if she’d been struck. “Since you came of age, I’ve been slowly drowning in a lake parchment flung from every corner of the realm. Marriage proposals, all. And I have tried, oh so often, to discuss it with you! But you’ve refused me at every turn!” His voice raised with frustration. Several curious heads turned to see what the commotion was.

Baring her teeth, Rhaenyra insisted, “That is because I do not wish to get married!”

“Even I do not exist above tradition and duty, Rhaenyra!” the King yelled.

Rhaenyra hotly spewed out a protest, but was quickly cut off by Otto Hightower. The two were reeled back in from their argument, noticing everybody’s prying eyes on them.

“You must marry,” said Viserys to Rhaenyra. And that was that.

He turned to Otto, asking what it was he needed to say, effectively dismissing Rhaenyra. The Princess angrily pushed her way out of the tent, the heels of her boots scuffing deep into the dirt once she exited.

“What do you think has got her knickers all twisted?” Jason asked, taking a large bite into a sizzling skewer of meat. The two of you watched as Rhaenyra made her way to the tethered horses beside the tent.

You shook your head, exasperated. “You’re such a fool, Jason. You know nothing about women. Did you even try to ask if she wanted to marry you, instead of presuming it to be so?” Before he could respond, you were already walking off, leaving your indignant older brother in your wake. You stopped by the sweet desserts on one of the long tables, picking up a delicate slice of lemon cake.

A coil of nervousness sat within the pits of your stomach as you approached the Princess. You were near the same age as Rhaenyra, if not just a few moons younger. If it were anyone else, you would’ve easily made friends without hesitation. But this was the Princess—she was royalty.

And it didn’t quite help that she was so beautiful.

“I’m sorry about him,” you said, pulling Rhaenyra’s attention away from the horses, to you. She spun the golden rings about her fingers in quick motions. She studied your face first, before darting down to the simple dark dress you were wearing, detailed with yellow embroidery. It took her a moment to realize that you were Jason and Tyland’s sister—you shared many physical similarities with your brothers, though Rhaenyra had to admit that you were far prettier than they were. “Jason is an imbecile. He thinks his own cock should be gilded with gold.”

Your words made Rhaenyra smile, the corner of her eyes crinkling as she laughed. A strange sort of pride festered within your chest.

“I take it the Lannister twins are your brothers?”

“Unfortunately, Princess.”

She hummed in amusement. Her eyes flickered to the cake you were holding.

“Would you, uhm—” You cleared your throat, a nervous flush creeping up your neck, spilling over the skin of your cheeks. “Would you like the lemon slice? I saw you nick one off before my brother came to you. I… I usually find it a bit too sour for my taste. Would be a waste for me to toss it away.”

After a moment of consideration, she nodded, and you held it out for her to take. She murmured a sound of content at the tart sourness, before shooting you a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” She fiddled with her rings as you absent-mindedly tugged at a loose thread on your dress. “I understand how you feel. I mean, obviously not as much pressure as you, I’m sure, but… my father wants to marry me off as soon as possible.”

Rhaenyra’s features softened ever so slightly. “It’s terrible. Fathers forcing us into marriages we don’t want. If I was born a man, none of this would be a problem.”

You turned your head to glance over at Jason, who had already moved on to flirting with other ladies of the court. “I’m glad I was not born a man. Or else, I’d be afeard of turning out like my idiot brothers.”

There it was again. Rhaenyra chortled at your words, her grin growing wider.

“I’m also glad you’re not like them. You’re far easier to talk to. Much less…”

“Of a Lannister?” It was your turn to laugh. You wrinkled your nose humorously. “Yes, there’s enough lions in our castle as it is. I’m content just being me.”

With a nod, Rhaenyra scanned her gaze along the crowd. “It was nice meeting you, Lady…”

“Y/N.”

Her violet irises glimmered. “It was nice meeting you, Lady Y/N. Thank you for the lemon. Enjoy the festivities.”

You nodded and gave her a slight curtsy, watching as she straddled one of the horses. A part of you wanted to ask where she was off to, but you wisely stayed silent, instead taking a bite of your cake. It was pleasantly sweet on your tongue, just slightly acidic with its aftertaste.

She gripped the horse’s reins and pressed her knees into its flank, urging it into a fast gallop. The Princess disappeared into the forest, Criston Cole shouting after her, hot on her heels.

During Rhaenyra’s tour for a husband—a tour that her father forced her into, one that she was not at all keen on—she made a stop at the Westerlands. Dozens upon dozens of eligible suitors lined the halls of Casterly Rock, awaiting their moment to present themselves to the Princess.

She was bored, to say the least. None of these men appealed to her.

Certainly not Jason and Tyland Lannister, who’d been relentless in their approach ever since she stepped foot in the castle. They showered her with gifts and gold and heaps upon heaps of riches.

It’d only been a few hours, and Rhaenyra found herself wondering where you were.

“Lord Tyland,” she called, and the tall, blonde man perked up.

“Yes, Princess?”

“Where is your dear sister, might I ask?”

For a moment, Tyland faltered. What would the Princess want with you, of all people?

“She’s usually in the library at this time of day,” he replied, miffed. “Would you like me to go fetch her?”

A touch of a smile reached Rhaenyra’s lips. “No, it’s quite alright. Would you be so kind as to escort me to her?”

Both Jason and Tyland exchanged indiscernible looks before Tyland bowed his head and beckoned her along, down the hall. “Right this way, Princess.”

The library was a grand hall, decked with hundreds of looming oaken shelves housing many rows of old, worn books. Tyland silently led her further inside, where there was a small alcove by a window, streaming golden light within the otherwise dim library. You were curled up by the glass, soaking up the light, reading fervently through a tome of alchemic history.

At the sound of footsteps, your eyes snapped away from the yellowing pages, widening upon seeing the Princess.

“You’re dismissed, Lord Tyland,” Rhaenyra told your brother.

Tyland opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. With a nod and a sharp look in your direction, he took his leave.

“Princess Rhaenyra. I’ve heard you’re on tour,” you said, slightly breathless. With fumbling hands, you shut the book closed and put it off to the side.

She clasped her hands behind her back, watching you with both caution and intrigue. “I am. It’s a dreadful affair.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. What brings you here, though?”

“I wanted to get away from your brothers.”

You knocked your head back and beamed as you laughed. Rhaenyra smiled then, wide and true. It was probably the first time she’d smiled since she set off on this wretched tour.

“You and me both, then.” With that, you stood up, smoothing out the creases in your soft crimson dress. The color certainly brought out warmth in your eyes, she thought. “Come. I can show you around the castle, if you’d like.”

“Please,” she said, breathily. She briefly thought about the long line of suitors waiting for her. None of them seemed worth the time.

But you seemed worth all the time in the world.

The two of you linked arms, and you led her out of the library. It was a beautiful castle, with much to explore—but Rhaenyra found it hard to concentrate when all she could think about was your soft skin pressing against hers.

After you’d shown her the lavish halls, the marbled pathways of the gardens, and the history room full of artifacts and prized Lannister heirlooms, you finally stopped by a gilded staircase.

“Up there are my chambers. My brothers sleep on the other end of the castle. I doubt you’d want to go there.”

The two of you giggled with each other, and she leaned even closer.

“Can we go up?”

“To my chambers?” you asked, hesitant.

For a moment, Rhaenyra feared she’d stepped over some unsaid boundary. She liked you a lot. Perhaps more than she should, for this was only the second time she’s met you.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to—”

“No!” you blurted, hands shooting out to hold hers. Your thumb brushed over her several rings. “Come. I was just surprised, was all. Nobody’s ever really wanted to come to my room before.”

The two of you made your way up. Not once did you relinquish your hold on her—and not once did Rhaenyra pull away. Tension crackled between you, but not the hostile kind. This was… this was the type that kindled fire within your chest. The kind that made your breaths grow shallow and your cheeks grow heated.

Your chambers were tidy and spacious, with a four-poster bed against one wall and a gold-detailed table across the room. Several windows were open, showcasing a beautiful view of the seas, glittering hues of clementines and tangerines.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, breathless, resting her hands upon the windowsill. “No wonder Lord Jason boasted about the view here.”

“Jason would boast about anything,” you snorted, coming to stand beside her. “But it is beautiful.”

Rhaenyra turned to look at you, finding you much closer than anticipated. She studied your features—the slope of your nose, the way your lips were parted ever so slightly, the beauty mark just below your right eye.

“Have you ever laid with anyone, Y/N?” she asked, voice quiet yet bold.

Surprised at her question, you reared your head back with raised brows. But she only stepped closer, her nose nearly brushing yours when she leaned forward. A bout of shyness overtook you, warmth spilling over your cheeks.

“No, Princess,” you whispered breathily, head tilting. She glanced down to your mouth when you nervously ran your tongue along your bottom lip.

A second of silence.

Rhaenyra took one more step, and you could feel her whole body press flush against yours. A part of you wondered if she could feel your heart thrumming loud within your ribcage. She watched you, waiting for any sign of uncomfort.

With that, she kissed you. Your noses slotted, your lips melded, and her hand cradled your face as you fisted the expensive fabrics of her dress. It was near magnetic, the way you two clicked into each other.

She tasted of lemons, you hazily registered. Of course she did.

When she finally pulled away, chest rising and falling rapidly, you found yourself chasing after her lips, eyes hooded with want.

She laughed at that, kissing your cheek once, then fluttered several over the bridge of your nose.

“What about the tour, Princess?” you murmured just before she captured your lips once more.

“Fuck the tour,” she replied, tugging you towards your tall bed.

Her words made you laugh, overcome with giddiness. “Fuck the tour,” you agreed.

A year had floated by since Rhaenyra’s tour. Much to your dismay, your father had you betrothed and wed to Jasper Wylde in a matter of a few moons. He was a handsome man, but you found very few things to speak to him about. It was clear that Jasper saw you as little else than something pretty to fuck—after all, you were the fourth wife he’d taken. Probably wouldn’t be his last, either.

There was only one positive that came out of your marriage to Lord Wylde.

You lived at the Red Keep because of your husband’s place on the small council as the Master of Law. And that allowed you and Rhaenyra to stay close, kindling the fires of your secret romance, along with your more… sexual escapades.

Life in the capital was utter bliss. Save for the few times Lord Wylde bedded you, of course. Those weren’t quite pleasant—most of the time you simply shut your eyes and let him do as he pleased with you. You much preferred your time with the Princess than with your own husband.

Times such as now, for example: your arm wound with hers as the two of you strolled in the Keep’s expansive gardens. You leisurely bent down to sniff the blooming flowers, the bushes bearing assortments of roses and peonies and marigolds. Rhaenyra was complaining about her father bringing up proposals again, all huff and puff and pout.

“Why are you smiling?” she queried once you shot her an amused glance. “This is serious!”

“Rhaenyra, my dearest,” you told her, grin widening as you clutched her hand all the tighter. “I care very much for your struggles, I do, but your pouting is quite funny.”

With a sigh, the Princess reached out to trace a finger along the petals of a flower. You watched her movements, your smile falling away. “I suppose you don’t have to worry about it anymore. You’ve got your husband already.”

“Yes,” you hummed, stepping closer so that your chest pressed flush up against her forearm. “Lord Jasper is… tolerable. But he never pleasures me the way you do.”

Her purple irises seemed to darken in a matter of seconds, darting down to your parted lips. With that, she seized hold of you and you hurried out of the gardens, back into the castle. In your haste, you both tripped over your skirts and the many staircases, your giggles echoing over the stone walls.

Once the two of you had successfully snuck into Rhaenyra’s chambers without any spectators noticing, her lips immediately slanted against yours. It was an embrace of fiery passion, as your hands spidered down to her waist and yanked her closer, reaching behind to blindly undo the threads of her dress.

“You’re getting better at this,” she murmured when you pulled her dress off in a matter of minutes, leaving her in just a thin shift. She began trailing hot kisses down your neck.

Gradually, the two of you made your way to her bed, leaving a haphazard trail of tossed-off clothing along the way.

It was a blissful evening, to say the least. But the days of wine and roses wouldn’t last long, the two of you soon came to realize.

Later that same moon, Rhaenyra was betrothed to her second cousin, Laenor Velaryon. And, to your turmoil, you found that you were pregnant for the first time with Jasper Wylde’s babe.

Ten years passed in a flurry, filled to the brim with many joyful ups and even more tumultuous downs.

You had your two children: your eldest, Petyr, was the spinning image of his father, with dark locks of hair and molten brown eyes. He was quiet and observant, never one to speak his mind. The youngest, Aella, was a bright and bubbly young girl, her curly hair a shade lighter than her older brother’s, but they shared the same eyes. In short, they didn’t look much like you.

That was one thing you shared in common with Rhaenyra.

After she was wed to Laenor, she had three sons—each of the boys harboring none of the traditional Valyrian physique of silver-white hair and purple irises. Instead, they bore an uncanny resemblance to Lord Harwin Strong, a man you knew Rhaenyra was seeing for quite some time. There were even instances where you joined in with them, but those were few and far in between.

Your children were close friends with hers, and you and Rhaenyra were happier than ever.

That was, until Laena Velaryon passed away. Which, much to Rhaenyra’s intrigued curiosity and your dismay, Daemon Targaryen was a single man once more. You were never quite fond of him, judging from his infamous reckless behavior and callous nature, only highlighted by Rhaenyra’s fond recollections of him during her childhood.

Eerily soon after Laena’s death, Laenor also mysteriously passed away. Something was afoot, and you only pieced things together once Rhaenyra approached you the next day. She did not look like she was in mourning for her late husband—in fact, she glowed more than anything.

“Come with me,” she whispered to you in the dead of night, gathering your hands in hers and staring straight at you. “I’m leaving for Dragonstone to be with Daemon. We’re to be married. I want you there.”

She said your name then, all sweet and silky, as if her tongue was coated with honey.

Your lips parted. Shock, incredulity, and anger flashed across your features all at once. “Rhaenyra, your husband died yesterday.”

“I know,” she said. “He’s…”

There was a pause.

The two of you gazed at each other. You could feel your heart starting to fracture, even though you weren’t even sure what exactly was happening just yet.

“Come with me,” she repeated. “We can be happy together in Dragonstone. It’s a beautiful castle.”

Your eyes flitted across the hall, to the closed doors you knew led to your children’s chambers.

“My husband wouldn’t stand for it,” you told her.

“I’m the Princess. The heir to the Iron Throne. He wouldn’t have a choice,” she stressed.

Blowing out an unconvinced scoff, you shook your head. “I have children now, Nyra. I can’t afford to be as irresponsible as you are.”

The woman in front of you drew her hands away, clearly stung. “Your children would have a good life on Dragonstone. Luke has even taken an affection to Aella, my love.”

A part of your heart crumbled when she called you hers. Nonetheless, you shook your head again.

“These are dangerous times… the realm is growing uneasy. I just don’t think it’d be safe there for me and my children. Besides… a lion has no place in a den of dragons.”

You chose your words carefully, but clearly, they weren’t careful enough.

“I leave by daybreak. The ship will have space for you,” she murmured lowly, but she took a decisive step back.

Salt pricked the corners of your eyes. Stinging, burning, hurting. You wanted to kiss her for offering, and yet you wanted to slap her for leaving you.

“Goodbye, Princess,” you said, bowing your head.

Anguish colored over her features. With not another word, she turned and began to walk away, her dark dress fluttering in her wake. She left you there, heartbroken, the both of you not knowing that that was the last time you’d ever speak to each other.

Six years crawled on by—slow and dragging. Life at the Keep without Rhaenyra had proven to be rather dreary. You missed her, awfully so. Things just weren’t the same without the Princess—your lover around.

The realm was beginning to split, it was obvious by now, especially with King Viserys growing increasingly ill and rarely making an appearance outside of his chambers. Greens against blacks, supporters of Queens against supporters of Kings, Targaryens against Targaryens.

Personally, you fully believed that Rhaenyra should take over her role as Queen once her father passed, but your husband seemed to think differently. You would hear him mutter aloud at times, his and Otto Hightower’s plans to put Aegon on the throne. Your brothers were none too quiet on the matter, either, both the twins boldly vocalizing their distaste to see a woman ruling the realm. A part of you wondered if they were all hatching a plan to supplant Rhaenyra during small council meetings instead of tending to actual matters of importance.

Not only that, Alicent Hightower grew more and more bitter over the years, practically ruling in her husband’s stead alongside her father. It seemed nearly the entire capital had turned their back on their future Queen they swore fealty to.

You oft worried for your children and their safety, especially with the looming threat of war on the horizon. It was a messy affair, that was made clear, and you were nearly certain that none of it would end cleanly.

The news that Rhaenyra was coming back to the Keep to reaffirm Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark didn’t delight you as you thought it would, for so many years. Instead, it made you worry even more—nothing good would come from her visit. She was a past love for you now, a woman you scarcely knew anymore. And yet your heart still ached when you thought of her. Of the life you didn’t choose by remaining in the capital.

Besides, Rhaenyra wasn’t here for pleasure. She wasn’t here to see you. She was here for her son—the very son that sliced out Aemond Targaryen’s eye. Alicent would not see kindly to Luke taking over Driftmark, especially with her suspicions of his true heritage.

Tensions ran high in the castle, that was safe to say.

And so, that was why you brought your children to the Godswood, a place of peace and much-needed quiet. Everybody was abuzz in the castle. Murmurs and whispers and an uncomfortable weight hanging about the air. You couldn’t stand any of it.

You leaned against the trunk and shut your eyes for a moment, listening to the whistling wind and the chirps of birds. Petyr quietly read a book beside you and Aella traipsed over the gnarled tree’s roots that poked up from the soft grass, giggling to herself. They were good children, you thought. They didn’t deserve to see war in their lifetime.

“Do you think Lucerys remembers me?” Aella asked, her arms spread wide open as she balanced herself on a large stone. “We were so close when we were young.”

You cracked an eye open and spared her a sweet smile. “I’m sure he does, darling.”

She’d always harbored affections for him, ever since they were young children. It ran through the family, you surmised.

Your mind flooded with memories of all the times you spent with Rhaenyra here. Stealing kisses beneath the shade when nobody was around, holding hands in the gardens, hurrying down the halls of the castle with linked arms. The two of you were only children then, but it was the happiest you’d ever been.

That was where Rhaenyra found you.

In truth, she was trying to find Princess Rhaenys to discuss the matter of betrothals, but she was glad she stumbled across you. You were just as beautiful as the day she left, Rhaenyra thought, her purple eyes curious as she watched you affectionately lean against your son. You spoke then, calling out to your daughter to be careful after she tripped over a fallen branch.

Gods, even the sound of your voice made Rhaenyra’s chest feel heavy. She ran her palms down the fabric of her black dress, over her prominent baby bump, and anxiously turned her rings about her fingers.

After Rhaenyra studied you a little longer, she noticed that there was a distinct sort of heartache with your expression—one that Rhaenyra was sure she mirrored. So much of her wanted to step out of the shadows. She wanted to wrap you in her arms, kiss the beauty mark beneath your right eye, and tell you how much she missed you.

But she didn’t do any of those things. The two of you hardly knew each other now. Merely two strangers that used to know each other in a different lifetime.

Rhaenyra could hardly swallow around the lump in her throat. Her feelings for you hadn’t mellowed with time, even though she’d convinced herself that they had during her time on Dragonstone. But seeing you right there made years of self-preservation come crashing down in an instant.

First loves were always the most painful.

And with an exhale that trembled much more than Rhaenyra would care to admit, she turned on her heel and took her leave, off to find Rhaenys.

In another life, she could’ve been with you, she was sure. A life of bliss and a life not ruled by the laws of men.

But this was not that life.

And Rhaenyra had come to accept that.

a/n ; thank you for reading !! i made picrews for how i pictured the lannister!reader to look like (you obviously can picture her however you want, though), along with her children, petyr & aella wylde :)

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #rhaenyra targaryen fluff #rhaenyra targaryen angst #rhaenyra targaryen smut #rhaenyra targaryen imagines #rhaenyra targaryen x you #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfiction #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x oc #rhaenyra targaryen fanfic

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arabellasleopardcoat · 6 months

Text

Ace of Cups (Hotd x Reader)

Summary: An act of kindness leads you to a misterious stranger who offers to lift a block on your love life. Feeling lonely during Halloween, you decide to give it a go. Now there is a blonde corpse in the middle of your bathroom, and it turns out the corpse is not really a corpse.

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Reader, Aemond x Reader or Daemon x Reader.

Warnings: Mature language. Mentions of corpses. My first ever crack fic?

A/N: Happy Halloween! At the end of this silly set up, you have to choose a card. There are three endings. Choose wisely.

“Um. Excuse me?” You raised your hand, trying to get the couple of teens at the register to stop… Whatever they were doing. Probably making out, if making out involved pushing their tongues to the other person's tonsils. “Excuse me?”

Ugh. You hated it. Even as an adult, you find being around couples awkward. Especially if they were making out. When the couple in question was, like, half your age, it was even worse. If it were up to you, you would have left them alone and found another corner store, but you would rather not end up walking three blocks just to be able to buy a bottle of overpriced wine.

“What?” The girl pulled apart from the boy, with an annoyed expression. She took out a piece of gum and started chewing annoyingly. “What do you want?”

Despite your best efforts, your dismay must have shown on your face.

“Miss. What do you need, miss?” The girl corrected herself, rolling her eyes. But the damage was already done. You tried to force your face to remain fixed into a pleasant expression. This was not going to ruin your plans of having a pleasant night all by yourself.

“I want to pay for this. Please.” You handed her a bottle of your favorite wine. You would need it to make your night better. After all, this was the first time you would be spending Halloween completely on your own.

Having recently moved into your own apartment, it was not like you could spend the night with your family. All your friends had plans out of town or with people you didn't know. And while your coworkers had invited you out for drinks, you really didn't feel like slipping on a tight dress and wasting half your salary on overpriced cocktails.

There was no one to watch a horror movie or go out with, like you had done in previous years. Instead, you had planned to take a bath, eat some nice dinner and enjoy a glass of wine. Maybe watch a movie. Perhaps, even do a ritual of some sort, like the ones that appeared on TikTok. The energies were supposed to be stronger tonight, or so you heard.

Your self-care was not about to be ruined by a teen girl who didn't even know how to kiss. You refused.

“I am going to need some ID.” The girl rolled her eyes. She looked as done as you felt.

Cursing yourself for not having it already out, you started fumbling with your bag. This was shaping up to be a terrible day. Not only were you about to spend Halloween alone, but you were also going to have to hear teenagers, the meanest creatures on earth, have a go at you.

Good God, why couldn't you find it quicker? Your wallet seemed to be hiding under everything you had. To be able to look for it, you started taking out some things and leaving it on the counter.

“Uh… Babe. Can’t you just… Let her? She is obviously old enough.” The boy asked, sounding annoyed. He eyed your growing pile of things on the counter. A used chapstick, your keys, a pencil, crumbled up receipts. He wanted you gone, and soon. “More than old.”

And that was a bit insulting, really. The boy had chosen to remain quiet during the whole exchange, and now he interrupted just to say a rude thing? You were not even that old. But it appeared that in the age of planned obsolescence, you already were.

The girl's eyes shifted between your furious expression and her boyfriend's bored one.

“Fine.” She said. You handed her one of the crumpled bills that you had placed on the counter. “Have a good evening.” And without sparing you a glance, she handed you a receipt and started making out with her boyfriend, again.

You were fuming. There it went, your relaxing evening. You were not in the right headspace for it now. Deciding to reclaim what little of your good mood was left, you decided to take another route home. Perhaps, walking across the park might lift your spirits.

Grasping the bottle of wine and surely looking like an alcoholic, you walked out of the store. As of late, you felt terribly lonely. Living alone was hard. Not only you had to do everything by yourself, no roommates or family to fall back into, but you also had to come home every night to an empty apartment.

At first, you had been ecstatic to have your own space. You had loved your rented apartment, in a centric place of the city and decorated in a very modern fashion. You hadn't protested your landlord's condition of no pets and no changing the colors of the walls, too happy with having something of your own. The novelty of having a place to yourself had worn off after a while, and you had to face your sad little beige walls and a deafening silence.

It had not helped how busy your friends and you were. It seemed like the days when it was easy to coordinate an outing were long gone. Now with responsibilities, jobs and studies, it seemed like you only saw them once in a blue moon.

You were starved for human contact. You had been thinking lately of getting a partner, but the attention you received only discouraged you. So far, the only offerings you had gotten were from creepy guys, or people you had no interest in at all.

Taking a deep breath in, and choosing consciously to let go of the negative thoughts you were having, you took a step forward. The noise of the park was comforting. Among the chirping birds, there were the cheerful voices of children running around.

You smiled. Barely six, but there were already people in their customs. There was a couple dressed up as Danny and Sandy from Grease, and a little girl dressed as Barbie. Many of the children carried their plastic pumpkins, and you had to give them a few loose candies you had laying in your bag.

Trying to avoid disappointing more children with your lack of sweets, you crossed the park, taking the route where there were more trees. Under one, you found a middle-aged woman sitting on a bench. She was dressed in full witch regalia, pointy hat and all.

She must have been around her late thirties, with a head of dark, glossy hair and big eyes. In truth, you could not truly place her face in an age range, looking strangely young but with an air of maturity. Gorgeous, you thought. In a really intimidating kind of way.

You shook your head, trying to get rid of the thought. She was probably someone's mother, indulging her children by dressing up with them. The thought made your heart clench with longing for your own mother.

“Good evening, darling.” The woman said, taking out a cigarette. The gesture was effortless, like one made by a sixties' actress. You smiled, helplessly. You hoped one day you ended up being half as cool. “Do you happen to have a lighter? Or some spare change?”

“Oh. Um. I don't smoke, but I think…” You started searching your purse, and produced a couple of the crumpled bills. Perhaps it was the thought of your mother, or your loneliness, but you couldn't help but want to aid her. “Here. It might serve you to buy one at the corner store.”

Instead of making eye contact, the woman seemed oddly fixated on your hands. Self-conscious, you wondered if it had anything to do with your jewelry or lack thereof.

“Thank you, dear.” She took the bills from you, and quick as lighting, she grasped your hand. You didn't even have an opportunity to try to avoid her grip. “You have very interesting lines here.”

“I do?” A bit weirded out, you try to remove your hand, but she only grips it harder. The woman forces you to tilt your palm up towards her. One of her fingernails traces one of the lines on it. It makes you shiver.

“You do. Your love line is diverging.”

That doesn't sound good to you. You frown.

“Is it?” Feeling very silly for being self-conscious about your hand, you look down. You had never noticed before, but one of the lines in your hand diverges into three.

“Let me…” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a tarot deck. She shuffles hurriedly, under your bewildered eyes. Three cards fall in order. The Empress, The Devil, and The Hermit. “Interesting… And if I… Oh, I see.” Another card falls off the deck. This time, it's The Lovers.

“I am sorry… I really have to go.” Weirded out over the whole thing, you wish to leave. Things are only getting stranger, with the woman taking out the tarot deck.

“Don't.” She says sharply, her hand going back to your wrist. Surprised by her aggressiveness and the urgency of her tone, you decide not to argue. It can't hurt to entertain her a little longer. “I see a great future for you. There are three paths going forward, but you need to lift the block you have on.”

“Block?” You repeat, dumbly.

“You are lucky today is Samhain.” She huffs, pocketing the tarot deck. She searches her bag before pulling out a small sachet. It smells strongly of herbs. “Here. Bathe in this and look in your mirror tonight. When the veil is thinner.”

“The veil…?” You ask, puzzled by the entire thing.

“Between worlds, darling. Gods, it seems one has to teach you everything. Between twelve and three.”

“Oh. I don't really believe in…”

“At least keep it. And here.” She writes some numbers on a piece of paper. “If you run into trouble. The magical kind.”

Unconvinced you haven't been the victim of the most elaborate scam in history, you eye her warily.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing. Nothing you will later not freely give.” She smiles, cryptically. “Have a good Samhain, darling.” And she gets up and walks away.

You glance at the bag. You don't want to be rude, but you doubt you will obey. She is a stranger, after all, and a pretty crazy one at that. As not to upset her, you pocket the bag and give her an awkward wave.

The rest of your evening is much less eventful. You get home and prep dinner, nursing a glass of wine. With everything that has happened already, you feel like you deserve it. You are generous with it, topping it at least twice.

As you curl into the couch to watch a movie, dinner and another glass of wine in front of you, the tarot reader's idea starts to sound right. You do feel lonely, and surely, throwing some herbs into a bath can't cause anything too terrible. At most, you would feel relaxed from the water and the smells.

Wine always makes you sad. Mopey, even. Tonight, your loneliness feels too tight, too solid against your chest, to be ignored. You long for someone to hold you through the night, to be by your side when things are tough. Someone to share your happiness and greatest achievements, but also your burdens. Mostly, you crave a sense of belonging. Belonging so well, your edges fit someone else's edges like a puzzle piece.

At the thought, you shake your head. Love wouldn't fix your loneliness, you think. There is something deeply alienating about the life you currently lead. Away from your family and friends, you feel unfulfilled. No matter how passionate you are about your work, it does not help to numb the longing for something more. If the perfect partner showed up, you would do the same you had done with your family and friends, and let life get in the way.

You wash your dishes. Curious, you take the little pouch the woman had given you out of your pocket. You smell it, deciding it has no hurtful contents. On your laptop, the clock reads quarter to midnight.

The tub fills as you decide to light some candles, to better set the mood. You add some Epsom salts before pouring your herbs in. The water shimmers under the candlelight in ways it should not, yet you do not notice. You mistake the swirls of colors for the herbs steeping in the water. The room starts to smell strongly of rosemary and lavender.

You enter the tub, satisfied with your choice. The heavenly smell is already relaxing you, and you congratulate yourself for taking the leap of faith. Slowly, the warm water relaxes your muscles and makes your body feel heavy. Almost too heavy. You catch yourself nearly dozing off, and decide to step out. You are alone, and you have been drinking, staying in it would be dangerous.

Careful not to slip on the wet floor, you wrap yourself in a fluffy towel and step towards the mirror. Your reflection is the same as always. If the block the woman had spoken about was a real thing, which you doubted, it left no physical evidence. You examined your face, noticing your paleness. But as your eyes meet the ones of your reflection, there is a flash of a foreign color in them.

There is a woman in the mirror. It's the same one you met at the park. She looks different now, dressed in a medieval green dress. Her lips stretch into a smile.

“I do hope you didn't choose The Hermit. Or The Devil. Oh, darling, I am so sorry. They are all bad choices.”

Someone presses a hand on your shoulder.

“Well. Better you than me. We shall meet again.” Her voice whispers in your ear, but when you turn, you see nothing.

You scream. The clock strikes twelve. A sudden spark of bluish purple that makes you turn again to face the mirror, relieved to find nothing more than your reflection. Your heart beats faster and faster, anticipating something you can't yet name.

Just as you are catching your breath, you notice that the face that is looking back at you it's not yours. You recoil, moving back as fast as you can. A loud thud echoes in your bathroom and your heels connect with something solid. You trip, screaming even more when you realize exactly what you have hit. A body. There is a body on your bathroom's floor.

You crawl towards them, shaking their shoulder and desperately looking for signs of life. You are starting to tear up in fright. The body is lying on its front, with a shocking head of silver hair. They groan.

This time, you scream so loud, your neighbors bang at your walls.

A voice then answers.

“What in the Seven Hells is going on?”

Choose your card:

The Hermit: You have decided to draw your attention inwards, in a path of self discovery. You are a quiet person, but quite bright. You enjoy learning and seek a mentor, though you enjoy your solitude. This is your next chapter.

The Empress: You are very connected to your femininity. You enjoy having beauty in your life, and the stimulation of your senses. You wish for your life to be comfortable more than anything. You are a romantic at heart. Your next chapter is here.

The Devil: You are a complex, multifaceted person. But if you could be described in one world, it is hedonist. You are very self-aware, and do not fear your shadow. If any, you embrace it. This is your next chapter.

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delfiore · 2 years

Text

the principles of pleasure

pairing: rhaenyra targaryen x fem!martell!reader

synopsis: the princess learns to give in to her desires with an envoy from dorne.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: some spicy stuff but no actual smut

a/n: ik i said no incest but there wILL BE A SLIGHT MENTION of the deed that rhaenyra and daemon did in that brothel because it’s essential to the plot 🧍‍♀️

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You stood out like a sore thumb.

They say a star would sooner fall upon the earth before a Dornishman set foot into the capital. Yet, here you were.

Despite whispers and chatters of the surrounding lords and ladies—clearly aimed at you—you never bat an eye. Instead, your eyes found Rhaenyra’s across the courtyard, as she tried her best to mingle with her family.

As if you read her mind, with a calculated steadiness, you made your way over to where she was.

“Princess Y/N,” Daemon said, his eyes hard and defensive, “welcome to the capital.”

She didn’t miss the animosity. Her uncle had just returned from Stepstones after all, and from what she gathered listening in at the Small Council, the Martells sided with the Triarchy, against him.

“Your Graces,” you bowed, “It is exciting to see the city again. My brother Qoren sends his regards.”

“Now that the war is over, I trust that our two houses will find common ground. You are most welcome to stay for as long as you like, Princess.” Viserys said.

“Yes, you must,” Daemon inferred.

“I thank you for your hospitality, your Grace.”

“May I introduce the Queen, Lady Alicent of House Hightower, and my daughter, the Crown Princess, Rhaenyra,” The King gestured towards the girls.

“Your Grace, Princess,” you smiled, “all the tales of your beauty truly do you no justice.”

At this, Rhaenyra let out a small laugh, heat creeping up her neck at your blatant compliment. She didn’t notice the way Daemon flit his eyes between you and her menacingly, nor the way Alicent looked to the ground at her hands.

“May I show Y/N the new tapestries?” Rhaenyra inquired, swallowing thickly.

Her father laughed. “Darling, Princess Y/N must be no stranger to tapestries, don’t you think she might find them a bit dull?”

“It’s alright, your Grace. I’d love to see them,” you then turned to Rhaenyra, and gestured for her to lead the way. “After you, my Princess.”

The words rolled off your tongue like silk. Rhaenyra found herself in a pit. There was something charming about you, and soon she found herself entranced, though you’ve only just spoken to her.

You had walked in silence beside you in the thick of the West garden when she suddenly spoke. “Do you like poetry, Y/N?”

“Poetry, songs, I enjoy them all.” You glided your hand over a big leaf. “We were raised to love art, my brother and I. My mother, in particular, told us that without it, there is no pleasure in life.”

“Pleasure can be found in many things.” Rhaenyra countered.

“Yes, it can be,” you raised your hand to show her. “This ring was gifted to me by my mother. It was given to her by her mother, and to her by her mother before.”

A clunky, golden ring adorned your middle finger, but no less beautiful. Engraved on it was the sigil of your house, a sun pierced by a spear.

She only noticed that she was holding your hand to admire it, when you flexed your fingers and the friction of it startled her. She pulled away quickly, averting your amused eyes.

“Is your mother in Sunspear?”

“My mother has passed on,” you smiled sadly.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Which is why I was saddened to hear of the news of Queen Aemma’s passing, for she was a mother as much as she was a queen.”

“Thank you,” Rhaenyra said, brushing over her fingers where they had touched you. “The realm seems to have moved on rather quickly from her ever since my half-brother was born.”

“History has a tendency to discard women the moment they don’t benefit the succession line, doesn’t it?”

“When I am Queen, I will make a new order.” The princess stated, “and they will have no choice but to obey.”

“I have no doubt that you will,” your voice softened, like a prayer, before you tenderly brought her fingers to your lips to kiss them. “It’s about time this country sees some changes.

“You must excuse me, then. I have some business I must attend to. The tapestries were lovely,” you bowed, and then you were gone.

You didn’t look at the tapestries at all.

Daemon was apprehensive when she returned, but the princess was too dazed to care. An arrow had struck her heart, and no remedy could cure her of Meleys’ grasp.

The prospect of her marriage was looming over her like a dark cloud. Daemon told her all the things that people do when they’re not stuck in a loveless marriage, and she thought about you. She had never been to Dorne, but she’s heard stories. She wondered if the Dornish were any happier than people like her.

“Y/N Martell,” Daemon asked her in Valyrian, “what do you think of her?”

“I think she’s very charming.” It took weight of her to say. “I’m sure that she would find many suitors of her liking. Men would flock to see her.”

“Men and women alike,” her uncle corrected her. “The Martells have been known to act upon their carnal desires, whether it be with men or women.”

“You think Y/N—No, it can’t be.”

“Can it?” Daemon raised a knowing eyebrow.

That night he smuggled her out of the Red Keep, into the city of the smallfolk, where she saw for the first time how the people lived. She saw mothers breastfeeding their babes on the streets, vendors selling foods and goods that would barely keep them alive past dawn, fools and jesters and actors guising as royalty, mocking her to entertain others.

He took her to a pleasure house, where she saw people fuck for the pleasure of it, no marriage nor the intention of procreation attached. She saw pleasure and desire in Daemon’s eyes when he circled her like a hawk, and kissed her against a wall. Yet, Daemon refused to go further and left her there.

When she opened her eyes again, she thought she saw you, in the back behind a veil, naked between a man and a woman. She knew she wasn’t imagining it when you opened your own eyes, and held her gaze as the man descended between your legs.

Fucking is a pleasure, her uncle told her.

Rhaenyra saw what she saw at the brothel again in her dreams, yet instead of her and Daemon, she saw you, she felt you embracing her, staring into her eyes with that fiery gaze of yours.

The princess had never known bodily pleasure, but she thought she might have felt it with you. She remembered the tenderness of your touch, the weight of your body on hers, the taste of you. She awoke the next morning frustrated as her bed was empty and her mind clouded with impure thoughts of you.

She had been in the gardens the next morning when she saw you. Her heart dropped as she quickly hid behind a tall column. The visions of you still fresh in her mind, and yet you were only sitting on a bench reading. She could hardly believe that you were there at the brothel too, and now here you were.

“Princess? Is that you?”

“Seven Hells,” she muttered, and came out of hiding.

You gave her a warm smile, and beckoned her to sit next to you.

“What are you reading?”

“Poetry from Dorne, dating back to the Age of Nymeria.” You pointed to the page you were reading, “this one in particular is a love letter from a noble woman to her lover, who was also her handmaiden.”

Rhaenyra knew you were watching her for any type of hostility, but in truth, there wasn’t. Instead, she leaned closer to you to read the words.

“Someone, I tell you, will remember us, even in another time.”

“I can’t imagine how lonely they must have felt,” she said, “not being able to show their love.”

“Yes,” you smiled sadly. “I imagine Your Grace also feels certain impediments to do so yourself, as a princess with certain duties to your realm?”

“What about you, Princess Y/N? Do you feel these impediments? Or do you act upon your desires as you please?”

You smiled, but there was an edge to it, almost like a smirk, like you were daring her to ask about last night. Rhaenyra held your gaze, despite how much she wanted to look away because of how nervous you made her.

“I find it easier to separate duty from pleasure than most people in the realm,” you said, “some people don’t have that luxury. But like a keg of wine, the more you fill it up, the more it spills.”

You grasped her hand softly, just tight enough so that if she wanted to pull away, she could have. She let her thumb brush over the back of your hand, feeling the smoothness of the skin that had been rough with somebody else the night before. Rhaenyra wished it was her.

The clanking of armor pulled her out of it, and made her retract her hand.

“The Small Council meeting is about to begin, Princess,” Ser Criston announced.

Rhaenyra closed her eyes, duty awaited. But you never took your eyes of her. She excused herself anyway, and left without another word nor another glance, afraid she wouldn’t be able to leave if she did.

The hour of the owl came, yet Rhaenyra was still wide awake. A breeze crept through her chambers, caressing her skin and raised goosebumps. She sighed, wishing it was you. No matter how hard she tried, all she could see was you.

She sprung out of bed, hastily throwing on her nightrobe. Ser Criston had left an hour before, leaving her door empty, and she quietly made her way across the castle. Long gone were the days of hopeless longing, she was grown now. If she were to be Queen, she would take what she wanted.

You opened the door without hesitation, a soft smile on your face illuminated by candlelight.

“You’re still awake.”

“I was waiting for you,” you spoke softly.

Feeling bold, she pushed forwards, through the door, and you took a step back. She did it again, and you let her.

Her hand then crept along the hem of your gown, feeling the fabric before pulling it loose.

She was too nervous to meet your eyes. You, on the other hand, watched her tentatively, but made no sudden move lest you startled the princess.

Wordlessly, Rhaenyra leaned up to kiss you deeply, her eyes shut tight. She was no longer a princess, she was just a girl, infatuated with you.

“What do you want, Princess?” You asked softly, holding her waist endearingly.

“Show me what pleasure feels like.” Her breath warmed your neck as she spoke. “I want you.”

You undressed her, slowly; you wanted to savor it. But you had desired her the moment you laid eyes on her, and when her left breast peaked through her gown, you let out a low groan, and picked her up around your waist.

The Targaryen princess was all you tasted. Her mind was hazy, her chest warm, and her cheek pressed against your own bare chest.

The morning sun peaked through the window, daybreak. She had duties, she was a Princess.

Rhaenyra slipped away from your embrace, carefully so as notnto wake you, and took a piece of parchment paper on your desk and a quill to write with.

“I’ll see you again tonight,” she wrote.

The princess then slipped out the door and back to her room before Ser Criston could figure out that she was ever gone.

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen imagine #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x you #house of the dragon #hotd imagine

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justinalovee · 7 months

Note

Rhaenyra smut but you’re in the bathtub and she’s washing you and she keeps brushing against your nips and legs but Reader tries to ignore it but that upsets her so she makes her attempts wayyyyy more noticeable

𝑴𝒚 𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒚

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen × reader

Word Count: 632

Warnings: Oral sex, fingering, swearing

Summary: Based on the ask above, hope you like it!

A/N: All characters are 18+! minors DNI

Rhaenyra’s delicate fingers worked the soap into a lather before massaging it onto the bruised skin that decorated your shoulders. It wasn’t unusual for you to be covered in bruises since both your brothers were knights and insisted on trying to train in self-defense, which always ended with you laying on your ass.

What was unusual was your good friend, Princess Rhaenyra, offering to help you bathe.

Each time she accidentally touched your breasts, it sent a shiver through your body. You had always thought of Rhaenyra as beautiful, and with her hands over your body, proper thoughts continued to flood your mind. You did your best to avoid looking at her soft-looking lips or her breasts whenever she leaned over.

“Your shoulders are tense,” she says, shaking you from your thoughts.

“Uh yes, princess, they are tense. The warm water is helping, though.”

You feel her arm brushing against your nipple as Rhaenyra moves her hand to wash your stomach. You notice the pout on her lips. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm.”

Rhaenyra finishes washing your stomach with the washcloth in her hand and returns her attention to your shoulders again. She drops the cloth and begins massaging them, which feels delightful. You let out a relaxed sigh, but noticed she was still pouting. “Perhaps your soft touch is what I needed to ease the tension.”

A small smile pulls on her lips. Your silly mind was playing tricks on you; it almost seemed as if the princess was looking for a compliment from you. Her hands slowly begin to travel from your shoulders to your ribs. Your mouth goes dry, and you feel a tingling sensation in your core, which causes you to squeeze your thighs shut.

Rhaenyra observes your actions and whispers in your ear, “I know another way that can help.”

Her hands move from your ribs to the underneath of your breasts; she cups them before gently massaging them. You shuffle back in the tub so Rhaenyra doesn’t need to stretch her arms as much; a soft moan leaves your mouth. Tilt yourself up, and Rhaenyra takes the opportunity to kiss you. Eventually she repositions herself on the side of the tub and leans forward to suck on one of your hard nipples.

Her hand snakes up your thighs, which had parted on their own accord. You let out a soft gasp when she begins to circle your clit. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you are clean inside and out, my lady,” she says, slowing her rubbing motion on your clit to spread open your folds before sliding two fingers into you.

Your lips find her again as she continues to pleasure you with her finger. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

She smirks into the kiss and speeds up her actions. It doesn’t take you long to come undone. Your legs shake as you cum around her fingers. She continues to rub at you, working you through your orgasm. When Rhaenyra pulls her fingers out, she goes to step back, but you grab her wrist to stop her.

“Let me return to favour and ease some of your tension, princess.”

Rhaenyra quickly pulls up her skirts, showing you her bare cunny, which was glistening with her slick. Within seconds, your hot mouth was covering her wet cunt, lapping at the sweet juices.

“Oh gods.”

It was an awkward angle with you still sitting in the tub and with her standing beside it, but you do your best to please her and feverishly suck and lick at her swollen pear. Rhaenyra grips your hair as she soon reaches her peak. “That was fun.”

You both start to giggle. “Perhaps you’ll join me in that bath next time.”

“That sounds like a good idea, my lady.”

#house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen smut #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen/reader #rhaenyra targaryen x fem reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x you #Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen

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madame-fear · 10 months

Note

Could i request something with a possessive Rhaenyra protecting her blind!handmaiden!reader from some handsy lord?

(sure thing! loved thisss 💜💙 and i hope you do as well, and it was what you expected! i love writing for Rhaenyra aghhdhjdk)

As you are a blind handmaiden whom has been with her for many years, Rhaenyra would’ve always been extremely protective of you. And I mean protective, to a whole another extreme.

Obviously, for you it’s always been difficult to carry with a normal life, even been frustrated at your condition because you wish you could serve her as a proper handmaiden; but Nyra would always stay by your side, takes you with her everywhere, would have your hand always looped around her arm, and would even protect you at the slightest inconvenience that there could be.

With the passing of time, she just grew a little bit too overpritective of you. If you aren’t near her and she briefly loses you from her sight, Nyra will immediatly panic. But obviously, in any way you can, you try to stay as close as you can from her without going too far. Not that you would dare going far or you can, anyways.

So, she would just... Grow possesive of you. More than fond, and you clearly are far more than a simple handmaiden to her. Nyra would keep you safe with her life, you are just an important part of her. You are like ther little treasure, and you would be as privileged as to receive endearing Valyrian nicknames for her.

And when someone tries to abuse you? Oh, she would just lose it entirely. No one has the right ti disrespect, or try to abuse you in any possible way, no matter who has disrespected you; whether it’s a Lord, Lady, Prince, Princess... It doesn’t matter.

If a handsy Lord tries to abuse from you, knowing that you’re blind and you wouldn’t be able to defend yourself much against the touching, her blood would just boil. Immediatly she would pull you away from him, and would just comfort you with sweet words letting you know that she’s there to protect you from everything and everyone, no matter what.

Afterwards, let’s say Rhaenyra would take good care of that handsy Lord that tried to hurt her beloved treasure. Not with verbal confrontation, perhaps she would have his hands or tongue... Or, she would just throw him as a treat to Syrax.

♡ taglist : ♡

@tickle-euphoria @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @zzz000eee @visenyacore @hannaroktj

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #possesive!rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x blind!handmaiden!reader #possesive!rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x you #rhaenyra targaryen imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fic #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon x you

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amisa-k · 7 months

Text

how would the characters of the “house of the dragon” react to the fact that someone offended you

alicent

she will not hesitate to use her influence as a queen to send this person out of court.

daemon

that person is already dead.

rhaenyra

will also use her influence, perhaps ask for help from viserys so that the offender is punished as severely as possible.

aegon

enter into a verbal confrontation with the one who offended you and make fun of him publicly.

aemond

will kill him long and painfully.

jacaerys

will stand up for you and use physical force if necessary.

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 1 year

Text

butterfly (fade away) │ Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader

See my Masterlist for more works!

Please note: this is a ONE-SHOT unrelated to my terms of endearment series.

Synopsis: After their marriage, your older sister Rhaenyra and Uncle Daemon take wardship of you on Dragonstone. You enjoy your time with them - until one night, when everything changes. Nothing will ever be the same again.

Triggers: r*pe/non-con, age gap, purity culture, incest, breeding kink, drugged sex.

You enjoy living with Rhaenyra and Daemon.

At first, you had been very uncertain about the change in your routine. Still grieving the loss of your beloved good-brother Laenor, you – like all others in the Realm – had been utterly shocked by the announcement that your sister had wed your estranged uncle within mere days of his wife’s funeral, of her husband’s horrific death. What had ensued in the immediate aftermath, you know not; only that, near two sennights after the messenger had delivered the news, you had been called to your father’s rooms and informed that you were to be given as a ward to Rhaenyra. You travelled to Dragonstone post-haste.

Rhaenyra and Daemon immediately took a great interest in you, something that both pleased and unnerved you greatly. Your sister had had little time to spare you in the previous ten years, and you could scarcely claim to know your uncle beyond vague recollections of childhood and the stories told across the capital of his numerous exploits. To have both pay such close attention to you now was thrilling and confusing. From lessons in High Valyrian to walks along the beach; from countless requests to break their fast with you to evenings spent in laughter and peaceful drowsing; your time is filled up completely by them.

What might have been stifling to others – the stream of sweet pet names and the knowledge of their eyes fixated upon you and the feel of their hands glancing across your form – brings you a sense of peace, of security. Of love. You have always craved your family’s love; you shall not turn it away now.

It is one such a night that you find yourself in Rhaenyra’s rooms, a cup of wine held loosely in your fingers as you sit curled up on the chaise near the hearth.

“… and, if you would believe it, husband,” your sister is saying archly, “your daughter turned to me and claimed that she could do as she likes, for her father would hardly seek to curb her.”

Daemon chuckles. “Attagirl,” he remarks teasingly, eyes flashing at his wife and smirking as she scoffs in playful reproach. He takes a healthy swig from his own cup. “I’ve taught her well.”

“Baela can be your problem, then, seeing as how this particular trait is one you’ve cultivated so keenly, uncle.”

The room is warm. You are clad in your shift and robe, but even with so few layers the temperature is stifling; you can feel the flush simmering beneath your flesh, hot and clammy, but you cannot bring yourself to move to cooler climes. Truthfully, you do not even know if you are capable of moving. Your limbs feel loose, gelatinous, as though the bones have dissolved and you are naught but skin and muscle suspended in the air.

“Darling? Are you well?” You peer hazily at Rhaenyra, who has seated herself beside you and placed her hand to your forehead. You make an affirmative noise – you are fine, just relaxed. It comes out garbled and incomprehensible, and you frown slightly. She glances to your uncle. “Daemon.”

Another set of fingers introduce themselves to the cup in your grasp, drawing it from you. Daemon’s eyes are dark as he presses the rim of it to your lips, coaxing you wordlessly to finish the contents within. You splutter as the rich, bitter liquid swirls in your mouth, taking small swallows to force it down.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, lips quirking. “Do you feel nice, sweetling?”

It is so warm, but the feeling is lovely. Your eyes flutter shut, the heat lulling you towards a gentle doze.

“Stay awake, sister,” Rhaenyra’s voice floats in the space between you. A cool palm presses itself to your cheek, and you look through blurred vision to see her face a scant few inches from yours. Her breath brushes along your skin as she speaks. “We want to play a game with you. Do you want to play, darling?”

You want to sleep, but she looks so serious. Caught up in the desire to please, you nod, though it is less a coordinated movement and more of a tipping forward. She chuckles breathily as you pitch into her shoulder, tucking your head to the side so that you are staring directly at your uncle. He is impossibly tense, gaze wild and breathing loud, as though he is restraining himself from something. You blink slowly at him.

“Come here,” Rhaenyra whispers, tipping your chin up.

You squeak as her mouth touches against yours in a manner that feels far less chaste than you remember familial kisses being. It is as though you are a marionette and she holds the strings, for you can do nothing else but let her lips glide slickly against yours, her tongue prodding between your teeth and licking into you. You make a weak sound, huffing against her at the twist of strangeness that shivers through you.

“Look at you both,” your uncle murmurs lowly, and you quiver at the sensation of his hand against your neck, brushing your hair from your shoulder and caressing paths along the exposed skin. “My pretty little nieces.”

Something hot and wet maps along the flesh of your throat, and the tickle of hair that is not your own brushes along your cheek. It feels good. You cannot make sense of it, but it feels good. Your belly swoops as you are lifted bodily from the chair, though you can only hang limply from whatever it is that is holding you aloft. The room feels cooler as you move further from the hearth.

You loll listlessly while hands turn you upright and fumble with your clothing, made difficult by the necessity of propping you up – without secure support, you will surely crumple bodily to the floor, a bird with clipped wings.

“Fuck,” Rhaenyra curses, and the vulgarity prompts a choked-off noise from you. She stares stunned and avaricious at you, as though you are the last lemoncake on a near-empty platter. “You’re perfect, aren’t you?”

Confused, you track the path of her stare down to your own form.

“Oh,” you peep. You are naked. When did that happen?

That wet feeling slides along your shoulder again, a rumble vibrating through your skin.

“These tits,” your uncle husks, and those iron bands of warmth at your hips glide up, up, up to cup the swell of your bare breasts, plucking at your nipples and making you cry out. Your head tilts back, overwhelmed. “They’ll look even better filled up.”

“Wha–” you start to say, but you are cut off by the feel of much rougher lips capturing your own, a kiss that is more aggressive and domineering than your sister’s had been. You whine into his mouth, arching subconsciously into the sensation of his fingers playing maddeningly with your nipples, rolling hard peaks between the digits and making you uncomfortable between your legs. “Ah!”

“Daemon,” Rhaenyra says urgently, and the world tips around you once more.

When your vision clears, you are on your back and staring up at the canopy of your sister’s bed. You are laying on something soft; you hum, rubbing your fingers along the surface below you, indulging in the pleasantness of it. There are slick sounds coming from a little further away. You can make out the vague forms of your sister and uncle – they might be grappling with each other, you suppose, though you cannot find it within yourself to care. You keep stroking the bed beneath you.

“Legs up,” a discordant voice sounds – a woman – and hands and arms reposition your body without your control. You let them prop your thighs over something, sighing at the feeling of fingers petting along your flesh. A burst of coolness puffs at those forbidden parts of you between your legs, and you wriggle nervously. “How wet this little cunny is.”

You whimper as you watch Rhaenyra’s head disappear between your thighs, and you think it must be her tongue that swipes through the mess that leaks from that part of you that belongs to your future husband. You know not why it is being so sinful now, and you try to tell her that she ought not be touching this spot upon your body. It is for your marriage bed.

She laughs, though it is punctuated by a groan.

“Your sister wants a little playmate for Aegon, poppet,” Daemon interrupts, hunched over your sister’s back and rocking against the side of the bed. His hand fists itself in her hair, shoving her back down into you, and you bleat as her tongue renews its efforts at parting your folds, at swirling through the source of your slick, at prodding something shocky and sensitive at the cusp of your mound. He grins. “But her milk won’t dry up, so she can’t make another babe yet. Don’t you want to be good and help her?”

“I–” You are overwhelmed, dizzy, hot and cold and sick all at the same time. You think you might need to make water, for something is happening below that you do not understand. “I don–”

“You love babes, darling,” Rhaenyra reminds you, voice scratchy and higher than you have ever heard it, jolting oddly at intervals. Her entire body is jerking against yours in tandem with the movements of your uncle at her back. “Don’t you want one of your own? A pretty, sweet thing with your face and uncle’s smile? How lovely it would be.”

She punctuates her statement with a hard lick straight up the split of you, making you shudder.

A babe. You do want one when the time comes. A whole little person just for you, one that you would name Viserys or Aemma or Alyssa or Baelon or Daella. You even have a small collection of items from your childhood you have saved for your future children – for one day. Not today. You try to press these thoughts out through your mouth, but the sounds will not form into words.

Your uncle chuckles, lurching more frantically against Rhaenyra, so much so that you shake from the tips of your breasts to the heels of your feet, tensing and vibrating between your legs. Your sister vocalises into your – your cunny – licking and suckling and even nipping with sharp teeth, a feeling that should not feel so good but does.

Something pops there, and you yelp as the intensity barrels through your spine and locks your toes into a curl, your blood thundering through your veins.

“Well done,” Daemon praises, grasping Rhaenyra by the hips and dragging her up. You realise with dim shock that he is coupling with her right in front of you, that it is far quicker-paced and rougher than you had ever thought it like to be. Her breathy ‘ah ah ah’ sounds seem to suggest she enjoys it. “Get that cunt nice and soaked for my cock, little girl. I’ll get to you in a moment.”

You watch as he reaches below her body and makes some kind of movement that sets her howling, jerking fully in his hold before slumping with her head on your belly, panting heavily. He steps back, and she laves along your navel mindlessly for a few moments before rolling to the side, shuffling up to lay beside you.

“Wh’ – Rh’nyra?” you slur, the vowels in your speech lost in the effort it takes to force each noise to fruition. She laughs, capturing your jaw in her hand and leading your face to hers. “’m – c’nfused,” you whimper into her mouth.

“Shh,” she soothes, tugging your knee up to your chest and holding it there, tracing lines across your lips with her tongue.

You can taste something earthy and piquant in her mouth – your own filthiness from below, from before – and rather than make you cringe, you release a shaky sound, stomach curled up so tightly you cannot tell if it is desire or nausea that drives you. She swallows it all, coaxes your lips to pucker and chase and dance with hers, silken hungry sounds that throb low in your belly. A weight settles on the bed beside your outstretched leg, in the hollow between your thighs, and you tremble at the calloused fingers that nudge into your folds.

“Fucking hells,” Daemon grunts, fondling the spread petals of your cunny, pinching the pearl of sensation at the top of your womanhood. “You’re dripping. Knew you wanted this, you little slut – just had to get you relaxed enough to do away with that damned courtesy of yours.”

You let out a tiny sob as the mortification washes through your addled mind, trying to twist away from his touch. Rhaenyra shushes you again.

“It’s alright, darling,” she reassures, kissing against your slack mouth. Your foot kicks in mid-air when something hot and hard and far too thick follows the path your uncle’s fingers made, jabbing threateningly against the place built to yield to men. “Uncle’s going to give you a babe now, isn’t that nice?”

“No,” you lament, attempting to lurch to the side, to roll to your belly and drag yourself away. But Rhaenyra has you hooked under her arm and Daemon has you pressed against the bed, raised up over you with his hand fumbling ominously between your parted legs. You are a butterfly, fluttering helplessly in spite of the pins that promise to shackle you down until your fight fades away. “No, no, no no no nonono–”

The white-hot poker shoved straight through you steals the sound from your chest and the breath from your very lungs. It is too much, too much, and you fear you might die from it even as your uncle lets out a base, animal groan above you. Your eyes fill with tears, blurring the shape of him into abstract washes of colour – silver, violet, pale, the crimson of the canopy.

“How does she feel?”

“Fff – fucking tight, gods–”

“Don’t spend yet, Daemon – poor thing, look at her–”

“Come here, sweetling,” Daemon croons, flattening himself against you so that he can lick into the open gape of your mouth, tangle his tongue with your own unresponsive one and work you into a tentative rhythm. You cry into him, you cannot help it, and when he pulls away his face is wet with your tears and the run from your nose. “It’s alright. The worst is over.”

“Hurts,” you hiccup, unable to do anything but lay there. You weep as he withdraws and pushes back in, spreading salt across a raw wound, grinding himself through your freshly-broken-in core. “St – sto–”

“Don’t be ungrateful,” Rhaenyra chides, turning your head back to her. Her expression is gentle, sympathetic as it is disapproving, and it makes you want to bury yourself in her arms and let her comfort you, to sink into the role of a nursling at the breast and be lulled by the hum of a lullaby and the soft contentment of a mother’s love.

I want my mother, you think desperately, unsure of whom you even mean – if you refer to Aemma, or Alicent, or even this sister before you who lays back and lets her husband defile you. I want my mother.

“It won’t hurt for long,” she adds. “Besides, uncle’s been very patient; he deserves a reward.”

“I have been, haven’t I?” he agrees, tipping your hips up and driving down into you, punching little yips from you with each thrust. His eyes gleam almost maniacal in the low light, the mad triumph of a man willing to commit countless atrocities to get his way. “Wanted to fuck you since I saw you on Driftmark - that ridiculous high-necked dress you were wearing, fuck - but your sister had the better idea. Get rid of Laenor, wed each other, then steal you out from under my idiot brother’s nose.”

Your mind is awash with horror even as your body gives way to the pain and lets pleasure take over, each strike of his hips against yours pulsing shudder-hot through your rippling walls and pulling you along the current to bliss once more. You hate it – hate the way you have become a whore in the bed of your sister and uncle, that you are finding enjoyment in the arms of those who would confess to murdering someone so dear to you simply because he was in the way of their covetous ambition.

Did they ever really love you?

Their attentions make sense in the worst of ways. Of course, they had no regard for you – they wanted your body, and now they have it. You are ruined, spoiled, and if you were in your right mind you might fear what will become of you now that your maidenhead has been stolen.

“Feels good now, doesn’t it?” Rhaenyra laughs, and it takes you a moment to realise that those high-pitched whimpers you can hear are in fact coming from you. “Uncle has the best cock. You’re a lucky girl.”

“You say the sweetest things, wife,” Daemon responds sardonically, and Rhaenyra leans up to kiss him. It is shocking, lewd, filthy, and yet you cannot turn away from the sight of them moaning into each other’s mouths. He does not stop his hips rocking into yours, the thud of his appendage sharp and burning against the very end of you. The slick sounds of slapping flesh make spots appear in your vision, exciting and sickening all at once. “Give her a kiss. I want to see my nieces playing together.”

She grins saucily as she bends back down to follow his command. You sink into her touch, allowing the feel and taste of her lips to banish the disjointed cacophony in your mind. A slender finger trails down your belly and catches your pearl, swirling deep circles into the tissue that make you mewl and pant.

“Are you going to peak for me, darling?” Rhaenyra says against your mouth excitedly. You keep your eyes shut, not wanting to see the victory that no doubt paints her countenance, the smug demeanour of a princess whose every whim is catered to. “I want to see you come on Uncle’s cock – go on.”

It is not until she moves to take your nipple in her mouth and suckle hard that you break, a fresh wave of sobs punctuating the attainment of that pure, unadulterated bliss, a raw nerve laid bare and bullied to satisfaction even through pain and torment. You choke on air as Daemon drives you through the end of it, grunting and groaning atop you at the clench of you around him. He sinks his teeth into your throat, pinning you down with the threat of clasping his jaw into your flesh should you attempt to bolt. It is not as though you are capable of it; whatever they had put in your wine has made you dull and slow and stupid.

“Yes,” he hisses, slurred and muffled through his teeth. He pumps harder, the bed creaking with the sheer strength of his onslaught. “This little cunt-”

It hurts now. Anything pleasurable about the feel of his body in yours has dissipated, leaving only the awareness of scraping wounds and too-stretched muscles forced to contort in unnatural positions. But you are a prisoner within your own body, caged in your own head and forced to take everything he will give you. You bite your lip so hard that you can taste blood, and you let the metallic warmth fill your palate.

He spills with an echoing growl into your skin, harsh punching jabs deep inside you that shove his seed right up against your womb, right where you want it least of all. You want a child, but not like this. Not here, not now.

“Fuck,” he pants against your shoulder, finally stilling. You stare up at the canopy, at the still silence of the fabric draped high above you. “Gods, that was fun.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

You try to block it out, but you cannot escape the sound of their conversation. Taking you against your will is fun? The casual disregard with which they treat you sinks into your bones, a scar that settles so deep within you that none will ever unearth it. And nor can anyone heal it.

“Don’t cry, precious,” your uncle coos, extracting himself from you with a hiss and dotting gentle pecks beneath your eyes. He collapses beside you, drawing you into his chest – you have no choice but to follow, limbs loose and uncooperative with the concoction they had dosed you with. “You were a very good girl.”

You are ruined, now.

“No,” Rhaenyra says, and you realise you must have said it out loud. She settles behind you, chin tucked to your shoulder and palm stroking softly over your belly. She smells like home, and it makes you ill. “You did exactly what you were meant to. I’m sorry we had to trick you, but this was the only way to make sure we could marry. Don’t you see, darling? Now we can all be happy.”

Happy. Can you ever feel happy again? Your hands are loose fists against Daemon’s chest, primed to strike but unable to garner the vigour to carry through. He kisses the top of your head. You do not feel warm anymore.

“My two little wives,” your uncle hums, petting Rhaenyra’s hip and sliding to yours. She giggles, muttering some agreement.

A pinned butterfly, fluttering helplessly and shackled down.

You close your eyes, and your fight fades away.

Read it on AO3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44969953

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bumblesimagines · 1 year

Text

When Fire Meets Fate

Part 6

Request: Yes or No

For anyone who may get confused, the last timeskip takes place in ep 6 when everyone has now aged up

~~~

Peering at the purple bruise covering his side, (Y/N) ran his finger over it and winced, pain shooting up his spine when he pressed into the skin. The previous night's events replayed in his head: a splendid feast, gleeful dancing, and then chaos. He knew little of Ser Joffery Lonmouth, other than his relatively close friendship with Ser Laenor. He'd heard whispers from gossiping maids about how Ser Joffery had allegedly insulted Ser Criston Cole, resulting in the knight losing his temper. Others rumored Ser Criston Cole seemingly attacked the young man for no real reason.

"Purple isn't your color." Looking up into the mirror's reflection, he blinked at the princess. Rhaenyra grinned cheekily at him as she approached, tilting her head down to look at the bruise. She hummed softly and reached out, gently placing a cold finger over the darkened skin. Her eyes, however, slipped away from the bruise and instead inspected the bare skin presented to her.

"How is Ser Laenor?" (Y/N) asked, releasing the crumbled-up shirt and letting it fall over his stomach, efficiently blocking her view. Rhaenyra pulled her hand away and flushed lightly, softly clearing her throat.

"He left for Driftmark this morning. They'll be burying Ser Joffery there, per Ser Laenors' request." Rhaenyra responded, fingers toying with the necklace her uncle had gifted her. "I truly can't imagine what it must feel like to lose a trusted friend so unexpectedly." Smoothing the back of her dress, Rhaenyra lowered herself onto a chair, setting her elbow on the bronze armrest and running her fingers through her hair. "What could've possibly set off Ser Criston?"

"Jealousy, perhaps." (Y/N) murmured, approaching his bed and gazing down at his coat. He reached out, dragging his finger over the green fabric and gold designs, colors that he'd been wearing for years. But after the power display his sister had done the night prior, he thought twice about wearing them with tensions so high and gossip spreading like wildfire.

"What makes you believe it is jealousy?" Rhaenyra questioned, leaning on the armrest to look at him, thin brows furrowed and causing wrinkles to form between them.

"I was told some rather interesting information last night. I suspect, if they are telling the truth, Ser Criston reacted out of intense jealousy that he directed onto the unsuspecting Ser Joffery. If you cannot harm someone, you harm those closest to them and Ser Joffery seemed awfully close to Ser Laenor." The Hightower answered, lifting the coat from the bed and cradling it in his arms for a moment. He heard the wood of the chair scrape against the ground as Rhaenyra stood up from it, turning his head to watch her approach.

"What exactly were you told?"

"Nothing worth losing sleep over, Nyra. You and Ser Laenor have an agreement, correct? He does not care about your maidenhead being taken by another."

"(Y/N)-"

"Which reminds me," (Y/N) folded the coat into a square, breezing past the stunned princess to put it away and pick out another. "How was your night?"

Swallowing, Rhaenyra rubbed her covered forearm before speaking. "Ser Laenor was too grief-stricken to focus on anything. He promised Lord Corlys he'd be ready after the funeral." She explained as (Y/N) slipped his arms into a maroon-colored coat, adjusting its collar and buttoning the ends of the sleeves. Rhaenyra turned, her long dress whooshing around with her movements and hair slipping over her shoulders.

"I do not love Ser Criston Cole."

"I know."

"And what happened between us-"

"I do not care, Nyra." Rhaenyra closed her mouth, a confused exhale escaping her. She walked closer to the young man, fingers coiling around each other from nerves. (Y/N) regarded her with an amused look and brought his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks. Her eyes bore into his, fingers pulling away and instead wrapping around his wrists as she searched his face.

"Why do you not care?" She asked softly.

"Because if you wanted him, you would've gone to him first."

"I admire your confidence." Rhaenyras' confusion gave way to amusement, a soft giggle slipping past her lips. Her hands left his wrist as she took a step forward and slipped her arms around his neck. Her eyes twinkled with mischieve and she tilted her head, grinning up at him. "I believe we were rudely interrupted last night."

"Were we?"

"Mhm, we were." Rhaenyra leaned forward, brushing her nose against his. His breath fanned her face and she felt their lips brush briefly, excitement pooling in her stomach and sending a flurry of butterflies fluttering around inside her. Closing the distance, she pressed her lips against his, nails scraping against the nape of his neck. (Y/N) dropped his hands to her waist, digging his fingers into the cloth of the dress and pulling her closer.

"You're married, Rhaenyra." (Y/N) muttered against her lips, feeling her chuckle softly and slip her hands under the coat, shoving it down his arms.

"Only days ago, you sent me away because you didn't wish to ruin the wedding night for my husband." She breathed, placing a fleeting kiss on his lips. "But, as your future queen, I command you to ruin it."

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Another scream tore from Rhaenyras' throat and (Y/N) grimaced, sharing a glance with Ser Harwin as they stood before her bedchambers. Her pregnancy had been sudden and unexpected yet widely celebrated throughout all the lands. King Viserys had been beyond thrilled, throwing a feast and many tourneys in celebration of his future grandchild despite the fears clouding his daughter's mind. Her mother had suffered greatly, grieving many stillborn children and being betrayed by her own body and husband in the end. The prospect of dying covered in her own blood with a sliced belly sent chills down Rhaenyras' spine, no matter how many times Ser Laenor assured her he'd choose her over the babe if it came to it.

The labors had begun early in the morning before the sun had even risen and Rhaenyras' crying and screaming had been echoing down the hall for ages. The first babe was always the worst had been Princess Rhaenys words as she entered the bedchambers with her husband in tow. The two, more so Lord Corlys, had demanded to be in the room to witness their grandchild and the future of the kingdoms being born, despite Laenors' protests that they wait elsewhere. (Y/N) didn't have the luxury of being at her side, so he stood outside with Ser Harwin, being forced to listen to Rhaenyras' cries, screams, and curses.

"You bitch!" (Y/N) snorted softly, digging his teeth into his bottom lip as he listened to his lover scream at the midwives attempting to help her. She hadn't relented in her curses, though they were occasionally followed by a strained apology and another agonizing groan. The muffled voices of Laenor and the maesters encouraging her seeped through every few seconds, something (Y/N) wished he could do.

"She's certainly fiery." Harwin chuckled as the clicking of metal hitting the solid ground filled the hallway. Looking down the hall, the two men watched King Viserys and his wife approach with their guards at their heels. Alicents' hand rested upon her swollen belly, her own pregnancy nearing its end as well. The brunette narrowed her eyes at her brother and frowned, taking a glance at her husband.

"What are you doing here, Brother?" She questioned, straightening her shoulders and quirking a brow. "I'm sure Princess Rhaenyra-"

Lifting his hand, King Viserys stopped Alicent mid-sentence and offered her brother a tired smile. "How is she doing?" He asked, sounding rather breathless. His health had been in a steady decline the recent years but nothing would stop him from seeing his daughter and first grandchild. The piercing cry of a babe pulled their attention toward the closed doors and King Viserys quickly entered the room, followed by his wife and (Y/N). Alicent glared back at (Y/N), wordlessly motioning for him to leave the room but he ignored her.

Rhaenyra lied covered in a layer of sweat, blood, and other bodily fluids. Her hair stuck to her wet skin, her chest heaving, and hands tightly clutching the sheets. She lifted her head, exhaling deeply upon seeing (Y/N) and giving him a tired smile as her body relaxed. (Y/N) turned toward Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, throat tightening when he took in the babe in the older man's arms. The babe had been wrapped in dark blue cloth but the mop of unmistakably brown hair had caught his eye first. Apart from the babes' cries, the room had fallen otherwise silent as those present absorbed the situation. The older princess's lips pressed into a line, eyes shifting over to the Hightower.

"A boy, Y-Your Grace." A maester offered King Viserys a meek smile and he cleared his throat, taking the bundle into his arms. Alicent tore her gaze away from the babe and turned to her brother with wide, furious eyes. (Y/N) met her gaze and inhaled through his nose, looking away from them and toward Rhaenyra as Laenor and a midwife helped her into a sitting position.

"He's perfect." King Viserys whispered, adoringly staring down at his new grandson. The newborn quieted his cries and calmed, tiny fingers grabbing his grandfathers' thumb as soft coos left him. King Viserys smiled, completely taken by the young boy. "What is his name?"

"Perhaps, Joffery?" Laenor attempted.

"No." Lord Corlys finally spoke, eyes remaining on the newborn. "He should be given a name fit for a king." His wifes' gaze snapped toward him and her brow quirked but she remained silent. Nobody dared to make a comment about the newborns' rather obvious lack of Targaryen features, though the glances shared around the room said enough. Velaryon blood did not run through the newborn's veins.

"His name will be Jacaerys Velaryon," Rhaenyra announced and the older men nodded their approval. The name brought a wide smile to King Viserys face and he approached Rhaenyra, handing the bundle off to her and affectionately stroking the back of her head. Rhaenyra lied back on the pillows, finally looking down at her son.

"You did well." King Viserys praised, leaning back and smiling warmly at his growing family. Lord Corlys inhaled and looked at his king, clasping his hands together behind his back and lifting his brows.

"May we speak privately, Your Grace?"

"Yes, of course." King Viserys sighed, glancing at his daughter before he followed Lord Coryls and Princess Rhaenys out of the room. Alicent lingered, teeth nipping at the skin of her lips and nails digging into the skin of her palm. She whirled around, sighing heavily as she exited the room with the midwives and maesters following to give Rhaenyra some space.

"How furious is your father?" (Y/N) asked Laenor, taking a seat at the edge of the bed, being careful to avoid the bloody sheets. Laenor brought a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed it, shrugging his shoulders and giving him an apologetic look.

"Not furious enough to accuse you outright." He replied and Rhaenyra hummed softly, lifting the bundle toward her face and pressing a soft kiss to Jacaerys forehead.

"Regardless of parentage..." Rhaenyra began, looking at the two men. "Both of you are his father." She smiled fondly, gently bouncing the newborn to keep him from breaking out into sobs again. She leaned forward and winced, shakily exhaling before she offered the bundle to (Y/N). The Hightower tensed but hesitantly took the baby from her, pressing the bundle to his chest. Jacaerys opened his eyes and (Y/N) half-expected him to break out into sobs but the baby instead stuck his fingers in his mouth and stared up at him curiously. Big brown eyes. Just like Alicent and their mother. Their father would surely curse him when news reached Oldtown. Another reason for his family to distance themselves from him.

"He's a Velaryon and a Targaryen, even if he has Hightower blood. My family would never accept him as one of their own." (Y/N) murmured, watching Jacaerys eyes flutter shut, tiny chest rising and falling steadily. A stain on the family, even with royal blood. A bastard the religious Hightowers would despise.

"Come now, little one." Laenor smiled and took the baby into his arms, cooing softly. (Y/N) stood up, looking back at Rhaenyra. The princess had already fallen asleep despite her uncomfortable condition. She deserved a warm bath and clean clothes.

"I'll fetch a maid to clean the sheets and get Nyra dressed in something that isn't covered in so much fluid." (Y/N) glanced at his son one last time, running his finger over the hair on his head. Turning, he walked toward the doors and opened them, pausing when he noticed a servant about to knock.

"Queen Alicent requests your presence in her room, Lord (Y/N)." The servant announced, straightening up.

"Could you fetch some maids for the Princess? She's in need of some care." (Y/N) watched the servant nod and bow his head before he headed off down the hall to fulfill his request. Harwin pushed himself off the wall and tilted his head, arms crossing as he took in the lord.

"How's the babe? Lord Corlys appeared rather-"

"He doesn't look Targaryen." (Y/N) interrupted Harwin quietly. The knight took a moment to soak in his words, eyes slowly widening and stance going rigid. His jaw went slack and he leaned forward in shock. "He looks like a Hightower and the Velaryons know it."

"But-"

"We'll speak later. If I don't show, Alicent will come looking for me herself." Harwin swallowed and nodded, looking back toward the closed doors. (Y/N) turned and headed down the hall, the surprise of it all beginning to chip away. A healthy boy with Hightower features. A boy who would eventually be called King Jacaerys. His son. (Y/N) marched on despite a wave of lightheadedness washing over him as the realization settled. He had a son. A son he couldn't parent for the sake of keeping the peace between the families.

"Your Grace." (Y/N) called as he entered his sisters' bedchambers and Alicent ripped herself away from the window, dismissing her servants with a steely look and wave of her hand. The maids quickly left the room, sparing glances at each other and whispering. When the sound of the door closing echoed in the room, she addressed her brother with a seething glare.

"A bastard, (Y/N). You've sired a bastard with a princess."

"I assume you've already sent word to Father?"

"Of course!" Alicent hissed, walking forward, only stopping to place a hand on her belly. She winced and grasped the top of a chair, carefully lowering down and taking a seat. She inhaled deeply and brushed away brown strands from her face. "This isn't how I envisioned you becoming a father. That child is pure Hightower. He should've been Velaryon."

"Laenor is his father, Alicent. He has his name and will use it until he sits the throne as a Targaryen."

"You and I both know Laenor had no part in his creation. He has the same hair and eyes as our brothers. Even if the Velaryons accept him and claim he is a pure Velaryon, he is yours and soon everyone in court will know it unless..." Alicent trailed off, lips parting as she sank deep into thought. "Unless he is believed to have been sired by someone else."

"Alicent-"

"Ser Harwin Strong." Alicent breathed, head snapping up. "He and Rhaenyra have gotten close over the years. The boy could pass off as his."

"He is my friend." (Y/N) sneered.

"And if anyone questions who the father of that boy is, he will take the fall for your mistake. His father is the trusted Hand to the King, he will be fine. You are my brother, (Y/N). You told me you spent your life protecting me, now it is my turn to protect you."

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

"Have you heard anything about the Princess?" (Y/N) asked the servant hurrying past him. The maid parted her lips but nothing came out, gaze drifting past him and down the stairs. The Hightower turned, a soft scoff of disbelief leaving him as he watched his lover struggle up the stairs with a new red bundle in her arms. Laenor held her arm, keeping her upright and quietly speaking to her.

"Rhaenyra!" He scolded, heading down the stairs and meeting them in the middle. Laenor gave him an exasperated look, showing his innocence in the princess's determination to walk up a flight of stairs after just having given birth. Targaryens were notably stubborn individuals and Rhaenyra proved it every day.

Rhaenyra released a shaky breath, blowing a strand of silver hair out of her face. "You can blame your sister for this." She winced, holding the bundle with trembling hands. "She ordered he be brought to her immediately."

"He?"

"Another boy," Laenor confirmed with a wide smile. One would mistake it for pride but in truth, it was happiness for his dearest friends, even if the boys saw him as their father instead of (Y/N). "I suppose it's true what they say about Hightowers only having boys." His voice dropped to a playful whisper and (Y/N) chuckled, taking Rhaenyras' other side and gently taking her arm.

"A curse, truly." He replied softly, gazing upon his third son. Jace and Lucerys, or Luke for short, would be thrilled with the news of a new brother. Corlys hadn't been in the room during Luke's birth but he'd been first to enter, perhaps searching for a crown of silver but he'd only been greeted by wavy hair similar to Alicents'. It seemed he'd given up hope with their newest child as he'd kept to Driftmark. Both boys had been raised with Laenor as their sole father and a mixture of rumors of who had actually sired them. Alicents' rumors of Ser Harwin being the father had many believers, including (Y/N)s' own nephews and niece. But there were those who believed the boys to be Hightowers. the Velaryons amongst those believers. The only one who refused to entertain the rumors had been the boy's own grandfather, King Viserys.

"I can speak with her-"

"You and Alicent only ever argue." Rhaenyra breathed, wincing again and groaning softly. "And we've gone too far to turn around now." She added, stopping briefly to catch her breath. Laenor sighed heavily and reached down, bunching up some of her dress and lifting it slightly so she'd be able to walk better. Rhaenyra gulped down some air and pushed forward, climbing up the last set of stairs and heaving in relief when they reached the top. They continued down the hall, stopping before Ser Criston Cole. He bowed his head and pushed open the door to Alicents' room, watching them enter. Alicent stood by her window as a maid worked on her dress. Maids walked about the room, cleaning and putting away things. The maid at his sister's feet stood and curtsied, pulling Alicents' attention away from the window and toward the three.

"Rhaenyra," She breathed, eyes wide. "You should be resting after your labors."

"I have no doubt you would prefer that, Your Grace," Rhaenyra responded, wobbling slightly. Alicent took notice, eyeing her exhausted figure and sighing softly.

"You must sit. Teyla fetch a cushion for the Princess."

"There's no need."

"Nonsense." Alicent brushed her off, nodding to Teyla as the redhead placed a cushion down for Rhaenyra to sit on. Despite her previous protest, Rhaenyra gladly took a seat, shoulders lowering in relief. Alicent stepped off the stool and approached them, attempting to get a peek at the child in her arms.

"What happy news this morning." King Viserys called as he entered, hair disheveled and pace slow. (Y/N) bowed his head and moved to stand behind the seat, looking down at Rhaenyra and the babe. Laenor smiled at the King and nodded, gingerly picking up the newborn when King Viserys asked for him. Taking his newest grandson into his arms, he smiled widely.

"A fine prince." He whispered, love and adoration written all over his features. His glee even brought a small smile to Alicents' face. "You will make a fearsome knight. Yes, you will." King Viserys cooed, chuckling softly when the baby made noises in turn.

"Does the babe have a name yet?" Alicent inquired, turning back to Rhaenyra and Laenor.

"Oh, we haven't-"

"Joffrey." Laenor interrupted. Rhaenyra blinked at him, pressing her lips together and furrowing her brows. "He will be called Joffrey."

"An unusual name for a Velaryon," Alicent muttered, looking at her brother with a disapproving frown. (Y/N) pursed his lips and looked away from her, head shaking slightly.

"I do believe he has his father's nose." King Viserys smiled and Laenor forced an awkward chuckle, nodding in agreement. (Y/N) bit the inside of his cheek and reached down to graze his fingers against Rhaenyras' shoulder. The princess hummed in contentment, eyes closing for a brief moment. She almost nodded off, only opening her eyes when Joffrey cooed.

Clearing his throat, Laenor looked at her father. "If you don't mind, Your Grace, your daughter has exerted herself heroically and should rest."

"Of course." King Viserys nodded, allowing Alicent to step in and take a closer look at the child. She smiled sweetly, taking Joffrey into her arms and walking toward the door. Rhaenyra nervously watched her, rising from the baby blue couch as King Viserys took her hand. (Y/N) parted from her side to approach his sister and son, watching her hand him off to Laenor. He knew his sister would never hurt a babe, much less one she knew was her nephew. Alicent didn't have that type of hatred within her. But (Y/N) couldn't help the uneasiness that swelled in his chest.

"Do keep trying, Ser Laenor. Soon or late, you may get one that looks like you." Alicent whispered, offering him a smile before she stepped away and walked toward her husband. Rhaenyra joined them, walking awkwardly as she exited the room, keeping a hand pressed to her belly.

"You don't think to consult me before you name my child?" Rhaenyra questioned.

"He's our child, is he not?" Laenor frowned, gently bouncing the baby in his arms when he fussed. Rhaenyra glanced at him, pure exhaustion on her face.

"Only one of us is bleeding."

"Joffery is a fine name, Nyra." (Y/N) muttered, raising his brows at her when she looked at him in disbelief. "Certainly not a name I'd choose but a fine name nevertheless." Pursing her lips, Rhaenyra stared at him a moment longer before looking away, letting the topic go with her lover's input in mind. Laenor gave his friend a thankful look and the three made their way to the boys' room. Rhaenyra entered first, greeting her sons with a wide smile. The boys stood up and detached themselves from Harwin's side, excitedly showing their mother the egg they picked for their new sibling. (Y/N) chuckled, running his fingers through Luke's dark hair as Harwin helped Rhaenyra sit.

"A good choice." (Y/N) praised his boys and they smiled widely, looking back down at the egg.

"Not every day an egg leaves the Dragonpit. I thought it best to escort the lads." Harwin explained, studying the boys. (Y/N) moved away from them, approaching Harwin and giving him a small smile. Harwin returned it, lifting his hand to touch his chin and stroking it with his thumb.

"Another boy, I heard?" (Y/N) nodded, resting a hand on Harwins' side and giving it an affectionate squeeze before he faced Laenor. The Velaryon bounced the little one, cooing softly as he stepped closer to (Y/N), carefully passing him off so (Y/N) could hold him. (Y/N) hummed softly, feeling Harwin loom over him to look down at the prince. Joffrey slept soundly, even as his brothers attempted to get a look at him before Laenor pulled them away and out the door.

"Laenor named him Joffrey." (Y/N) told Harwin, feeling the knight slip his strong arms under the bundle and take him. (Y/N) smiled softly at Harwins' tenderness and took a seat beside Rhaenyra, letting the princess melt against his side and rest her head against his chest.

"Asleep in front of the Commander of the City Watch." Harwin tsked playfully, staring down at the boy. "Terrible lack of respect."

"I'm afraid he gets it from us," Rhaenyra muttered tiredly, eyes threatening to close. (Y/N) slithered his arm around her shoulders and gently played with her tousled hair, slowly lulling the princess to sleep. Her breathing slowed, soft snores eventually escaping her as she fell limp against him. (Y/N) chuckled softly, looking back at Harwin.

"Terrible lack of respect." He repeated playfully and Harwin shook his head, continuing to gently bounce Joffrey in his arms. They remained in blissful silence for a little while longer until (Y/N) stood, slipping his arms under Rhaenyras' knees and scooping her up into his arms. He brought her to the bed, laying her down and pulling a blanket over her shoulders. Pecking her temple, he rubbed her shoulder and stepped away to approach Harwin and Joffery.

"I'll fetch a wet nurse soon since it seems the Princess is rather occupied," Harwin said, glancing up at the sleeping Targaryen with a small smirk. (Y/N) nodded, reaching up to stroke the head of his youngest son.

"Jace and Luke will be riders soon. I have no doubts this little one will become one as well." (Y/N) muttered, turning his head to look at the pot holding the dragon egg. "It worries me."

"They're Targaryens, (Y/N). It's in their nature to ride dragons." Harwin reminded softly, taking Joffrey to his crib and setting him down, allowing the baby to rest properly. (Y/N) sighed, rubbing the side of his neck and nodding but his words did little to ease his anxieties. He hadn't expected fatherhood to be sprung on him so suddenly and now, he had sired three boys who were destined to take to the skies on dragons.

Noticing the look on his face, Harwin gave a small smile and approached him, gently taking his face into his hands. "They've got the blood of kings in their veins. They were made to ride dragons and conquer kingdoms. Your boys will be knights, leaders, and kings. Just like their ancestors."

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