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barbieaemond · 5 months

Text

A snake in the bosom

Moodboard by the queen herself @zae5

PAIRING: Prince Regent Aemond x Lady!reader

WARNINGS: dark Aemond, angst, public humiliation, semi public sex, p in v, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), religious kink, knife kink if you squint, overstimulation, light choking.

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

Author’s note: House Peake were green loyalists during the Dance. Shout out to @zae5 who helped me brain storming this filth 🫶

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @chompchompluke

The skies rumble as they always do when preluding a storm. But it’s different this time. The thunder echoes in your chest, sliding through your ribs and then rattling them to break free.

A warning, the Gods’ way to seal what cannot be undone. They greet this new day, this new order, with blinding lightning. The Wood seems bathed by the early morning light, and yet the owls will soon resume their sentry task on the branches of these ancient trees.

A new flash forces you to look up and you think you can see them, the Seven, leaning out from their perches, pointing a finger at a woman like any other, with her bowed head devoted to obedience and her tight corset to choke to death any desire inside her heart.

And you did.

You stopped going to the library, you kept your eyes faithfully down, weeding out the need to caress the silver through your gaze, to feel the cold alabaster carved into angles so precise and sharp as to be exhausting.

You stopped lingering on the delicacy of long white fingers turning pages, on white knuckles around the sword, rippling with veins, blue and green as snakes crawling underneath.

Not looking didn't do much good.

It's all burned into your eyelids, and the more you don't look the more your mind betrays you like a stab in the back, evoking slender hands and an arched mouth that lazily pulls itself up into an omniscient smirk.

It happens so often that you've come to terms with it. Desire is a shadow that follows you step by step, crawls into your bed as you lie with your husband, makes you close your eyes as you peak and in the darkness that shadow is finally flesh, pulsing and weighing on you, but it is not.

It shouldn’t and it will never.

The lightning tells you can no longer hide, there is no way to stall now, no way to trick the King about the allegiance of your family. It is easy to fool a fool, more so when he’s willing to make himself one in front of a woman. But the King is burned. His cries of pain can be heard outside Maegor’s Holdfast, until the Maesters are merciful enough to give him milk of the poppy.

The throne is empty, the Kingdom has no ruler. But the Gods are snickering with thrill and dread.

Not for long.

“My lady, there’s a storm coming.”

You turn and see your maid clutching a cloak to her chest to shelter from the wind. "Please, you should go back inside.”

You nod tiredly, walking on the thick grass, dragging yourself back within these walls in which days seem to pass following two different times.

There’s the real, urgent one, a military up and down of whispers and promises, pawns moving and ravens coming and going, breaking or forging alliances as easy and quick as their wings flapping. And then there’s your time, dilated, obscenely slow, like molasses. It sticks to your fingers, prevents you from picking up ink and parchment and write, cheat, whisper what you have easily spilled from the worn out lungs of your husband.

“Men sing like parrots in their final throes, remember that. They’d tell you anything when they think with their cock.”

Samantha had been right. But your sister is playing her game in Oldtown and Old Town is not the Red Keep. There are no eyes on the walls there, or ears behind the portraits. There’s no shadow trailing on her path, clouding her mind enough to look away from the game. A game of life and death, your father reminded you in his last letter, the scolding clear in the way the feather had pierced the parchment in some points. The answer was nowhere but in your head, and you were too ashamed to even confess it to a Septa, let alone put it on paper. There’s a snake crawling in your garden of lies and instead of chasing it away, you’re nursing it in your bosom.

You slow your steps upon glimpsing your husband. He’s striding towards you along the corridor. There’s a slight furrow between his brows, one that you have been able to recognize on the faces of many within this fortress. But it's more severe now, or maybe it's just that shadow that makes you see a new man, a stranger.

Has his hair always been that dull and mousy? Has his posture always been so unassuming?

They have since that night in the library, the sin whispers.

“Husband.”

“I’ve been looking for you. We have been summoned to the throne room.”

“Is something the matter? Is the King—"

"The King lives. But the Maesters believe it is best to confine him to bed. Come, Prince Aemond is waiting for us." he grabs your arm and you walk with him, glad that he can’t see the shadow falling on your face at the mention of the King’s brother.

The throne room is so dark that servants are hurrying themselves to light more candles. Every now and then a new lightning flashes from the large windows, making the Iron Throne an eerie sight at the center of the Hall.

There are a few Lords of the court with their ladies, and they seem just as lost as you as they see you and your husband halting before the ancient seat.

Whereas not more than a moon ago, Lords and Ladies would have had to wait hours to be received by Aegon, the new ruler is not long in coming.

The huge doors open and Aemond Targaryen stalks the room carrying the same storm breaking outside. He makes a striking figure, ominous; the lighting pours on his long silver hair making them look like moon rays.

A dreamy picture, were it not for the conqueror's crown on his head and the sapphire in plain sight.

It is the first time you see him without the eyepatch, the first time anyone has seen him without it. They said he wore it so as not to frighten the ladies, but the one-eyed Prince is done hiding. And if fear is all he can muster, so be it. It serves him well for what will come.

He halts before the Iron Throne and takes a good look at the little gathering. You can’t help but trail your eyes on his lean and tall figure, wearing a dark green doublet made of velvet. But it’s the sapphire that catches your eye, and the long scar marring his marbled face.

You remember that one. You remember it shamefully clear while disappearing along with his head beneath your gown.

“My lords” he starts lacing his hands behind his back “As you may know, my brother is in no condition to rule. Thus, according to the law, in case of physical or mental incapacity of the sovereign, the younger brother must bear the weight of the crown.”

There is a shy, almost uneasy passing of glances between those present, but Aemond ignores them altogether. “I will not style myself as King. You will address me as Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm."

Silence falls upon the huge Hall until a loud thunder seem to awaken one of the lords who hurriedly bends his knee before the Prince. "My Prince, I renew my absolute loyalty to you and your—“

"Get up, my Lord, I did not summon you to hear you pledge your loyalty.” He says in a bored tone, darting his eye at the man “Rest assured, if I had any doubt about it, Vhagar would be feasting on your corpse as we speak.”

Silence falls once more and Aemond revels in it. He can smell fear, just like the creature he rides. “But you did raise an interesting subject.” he tilts his head and looks at Lord Peake, your husband, with a benevolent expression stretching on his face. “Lord Peake, if I asked you to pledge your loyalty to me and my family, would you do it?”

You dare not to raise your head, keeping your eyes glued to the ground, but you can sense your husband’s uneasiness, the sound close to one being insulted as he addresses the Prince. “Prince Aemond, my loyalty to your Grandsire and the Dowager Queen has never wavered and it never shall.”

The Prince nods slowly, seemingly pleased by the answer, and keeps his gaze down for a few moments before casting a sharp glance at you. You can’t see it but you can feel it.

“That is very noble of you, Lord Peake. But I can’t help but wonder, is your lady wife of the same mind as you?”

Lord Peake looks puzzled, shifting the weight on his feet “My Prince, my wife is—”

“No.” Aemond cuts him off, darting a single look at the Lord before returning on you “Let her speak.”

With a deep breath, you look up, shrinking under his violet eye and the sapphire ominously glinting of his own light. “My prince, I am saddened that your Grace would think I’m nothing but loyal to your brother, the one and only heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Every day, I pray the Gods to heal him from his burns and give him strength to—”

“Hush.” He says, raising a hand to stop you. “That’s enough.”

You shut your mouth nervously, tensing all the more as he looks at you, unblinking, for a long moment before his lips stretch into a slow, cunning smirk.

“You know, I spoke to your distant cousin once, Lord…something Tyrell. He said something very interesting to me.”

You keep a blank face even when dread starts to run down your spine. Despite the distant kinship, there’s always been bad blood between Tarlys and Tyrells.

“He said to be very careful with Tarly women. Pretty vapid things, he said, hiding a viper’s bite.”

“I am neither my prince.” you state calmly “I’m just a woman like any other, serving my husband, my house, my King.”

“Hmm.” He ponders, the smile lingering still. Then, he picks something form his pocket and asks “What is this then?”

Despite the darkness, you could recognize that seal with eyes closed. And that seal, now, in this room, clutched by Prince Aemond’s fingers, is a death sentence.

“This is not the seal of House Peake.” he rightly says.

You look down, mustering your courage, and say “No, your Grace. That is just a silly token of love between two sisters. I use it to send ravens to my sister in Oldtown.”

“I see. And why do you hide it?”

“I do not, your Grace.”

“Lying to the King may cost your head, my Lady. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Wife…” your husband takes your arm, searches your face with an anxious stare “What is going on?”

“The White cloaks found it.” The Prince informs him “when I made them search your rooms.” He looks back at you and raises an eyebrow “For a token you’re supposed to be so fond of, I may suggest placing it somewhere else than the bottom of an old trunk.”

“Am I on trial for sending letters to my sister?”

“Yes. Considering the circumstances under which these ravens were sent. Ladies give letters to their maids, they do not go personally to the rookery, more so in the hour of the bat.”

Courage leaves you like a gust of wind. You thought you had been clever, careful. Why would anyone take notice of a court lady simply taking a walk in the early hours? And even if they had, they would have dismissed the thought at the first distraction. But not him.

“You think I would not notice? I may be half blind but I can assure you, my lady, I see everything.” He throws the seal on the ground and resumes his soldier-like posture, standing tall and domineering with his arms laced back. “What did you tell your sister? Knowledge about our war plans? Are you secretly siding with the Blacks? I’d advise you to choose your words carefully. From them depends whether you’ll see the next dawn or not.”

Your shoulders slump a little, like a doomed creature sticking its head in the noose.

“My father asked me to spy on my husband to gather knowledge about the green army at Rook’s Rest. But I did not send any raven. I stopped since—"

“Since what? Do continue, my lady, I think your Lord husband is keen to know why his wife stopped playing him like a fool.” He leans his head forward, like someone desperately willing to hear a big secret, but your tongue is a dead thing in your mouth.

“No?” he inquires as silence stretches “Fine, I’ll tell you. You see, Lord Peake, recently your Lady wife seemed to have developed a sudden interest in the library.” the prince says with a little grin “I’m aware of this because I am myself an avid reader. In fact, your lady wife and I have been keeping each other company lately. A rather…intimate company.”

Some of the ladies start to whisper at your back, and you know what kind of words they’re labeling you.

“Wife.” Your husband calls, and this time his voice is steel “What is the meaning of this?”

You open and close your mouth, unsure whether it is worse to tell your husband how you’ve played him or to confess your sin.

“Come, don't deny it now.” the Prince goads you “All the hours you've spent, all those late nights did bear fruit, did they not? You've betrayed your house and the Crown, yet what sweetness it was to have gotten a taste, I'm sure your husband would agree.”

Lord Peaks looks utterly bewildered, shifting his gaze between you and the Prince like a dead fish.

“Oh, so he hasn't after all.” Aemond laughs “A pity, for your treacherous essence reeks of the most bittersweet nectar. Tart, but delicious.”

Your husband’s face is whiter than a sheet for a moment, followed by a red veil of anger and shame. The latter is in plain sight in the way you keep your head down; the Gods have stopped pointing their finger at you and left you in the claws of a much crueler creature. Namely, your own desire.

“Search her.” Aemond orders returning to a stern face “And search her thoroughly.”

“My prince?” asks one of the guards.

“Women can be sneaky with all those veils and layers. Lose the corset.”

The cloaks look at him puzzled, just as you and your husband and anyone else in the room, but the guards know better than to disobey the King.

One of them goes to stand behind you and starts pulling the laces of your dress, another is busying himself with lowering your sleeves.

Your eyes bore to the ground with the purest humiliation as your chest gradually grows exposed. You could raise your hands to hide your breast, but you have nothing to hide, not anymore.

You know it and Aemond knows too. He’s not doing this because he thinks you’re hiding something. He’s doing so for his own pleasure—to see you bare, to finally make you come out of your den and stop hiding from him.

You dare not look at him but you can feel his eye lingering on you, on your body; you can sense the ghost of a delighted smirk on that wicked mouth.

He takes an unreasonably long time before he gives a short nod to the guards, at last satisfied with your public humiliation. What drives your husband to move is not regard for you, but for his own dignity. What are women if not property of men? And however ruined you are now, Lord Peake will not have talk of his wife standing with her breasts out in the Throne Room.

But just as he leans down to you, the Prince speaks “You may go, Lord Peake. All of you.”

The Lord stalls, looking lost at his Prince.

“You can wait outside. She stays.” Aemond commands.

His eye is boring into you as he walks down the few steps with leisure, lingering on the sole of his boot before resting it on the ground. “She needs to learn the price of her disobedience.”

Your husband hesitates, looks at you with lingering disdain and a veil of fear that keeps his eyes wide open, but he can only bow his head.

When you’re left alone the Prince, save for the guards on the four sides of the hall, you dare to look up and see his eye blazing, a cunning edge to it.

He starts circling around you, and what’s left of your dignity makes your hands fly up to cover your chest.

“You said you stopped writing to your sister. And you stopped coming to the library.” he starts with a collected and calm voice. “Why?”

“You know why.” you mutter.

“You better drop this condescending tone if you want to leave this room with your head on your shoulders.”

“Apologies, my Prince. I did not mean to offend you. But I dim you wise enough to understand why I thought it was best to keep my distance from you.”

He stops his circling for a moment “Enlighten me.” and then he’s pacing again.

You swallow, smelling ashes and smoke on his trail. “It was a sin.”

“Hmm. Which one?” He asks somewhere behind you. Out the corner of your eye, you see him slightly leaning towards you, silver rolling past his shoulder as he cocks his head to one side “Your betrayal or the fact that you let me feast on your cunt like a common whore?”

You swallow again. Shame is still coiling in your belly, but there’s also something else on hearing those words coming from his mouth, recalling that night. This man has just humiliated you in front of the court and yet you crave for him to get closer.

“Both.”

“Both?”

“I did not want to.” You say and it’s true. And this, this is the last chance you might have to avoid the pike, or worse, Vhagar’s fangs. “My father forced me.” You say turning your head left and right as he resumes his pacing behind you “I don’t know which kind of deal he has struck with Prince Daemon but I swear it, my Prince, I said nothing about Rook’s Rest, I—“

The word dies on your tongue along with your breath as you feel the coldness of a sharp blade against your throat.

“I should slit your throat here and now.” He whispers dangerously, you can hear his teeth gritting. His arm is pressing on your chest, keeping you locked against him. “What else Lord Tarly ordered you in all his great wisdom? Mh? To seduce me? To play me like a fool, like you played my brother and your husband to gather knowledge about our armies and report it to my uncle and his whore?”

“No, I—" you try to say, but he presses the blade firmer and you choke a gasp, unconsciously grabbing his arm.

“You will speak when I say so.” He seethes, pulling your arm back with his other hand, painfully twisting your bone until a moan of pain escapes your mouth.

It awakens something inside him, something savage that makes him collide his body against yours “Hmm.” He coos darkly in your ear “This brings me back to that night.”

He swiftly twirls the dagger, sheathing the Valyrian steel, but his hand is quick to resume his caging, sliding on your half-covered breast, looking down your shoulders at your bare chest.

His fingers are cold as they slowly travel up, but they lick flames on your skin, making your nipples harden. “Do you remember, little snake? I do.” he runs the tip of his finger on the hard sensitive skin and you whimper softly “It was hard to forget the sounds you made.” He speaks to your neck, his breath scorching “I could hear them when I fucked my hand at night. You made me sin so many times. Was that part of the plan too? Did your father force you to moan my name while you peaked on my tongue?”

“Please…” you sob quietly, feeling fire nestling in your belly at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his bulge against your lower back.

“Do you moan like that when your husband fucks you? Mh?”

He wants an answer, and he pinches one of your nipples when you don’t please him.

“No…”

“No? I thought so.”

Your body reacts on his own, clenching for how his voice in your ear pools like liquid fire below your stomach. You can see his delighted smirk out of the corner of your eye. “You better speak now, little one. Not even the Gods can save you from the spike. Why would they? They turn their backs on traitors and sinners. And you dared to sin with a Kinslayer. You have only me to beg for mercy.”

“You don’t want to kill me.” You choke when his hand laces around your throat.

He would’ve done it already. He might still do it, but his pressing hardness on your back tells you otherwise.

“No. I have a better use for you.” he says squeezing your neck “I will make an example out of your treacherous mouth. They will look at you and be reminded of the mercy of my crown.”

He steps back and you have little time to catch your breath as he sits on the Iron Throne with the confidence of a God on his perch. The candles mix with lightnings, making the blue of the sapphire and the obsidian of the crown shimmer in a disturbing way.

He rests his arms along the forged swords, his long legs almost sprawled out on the ground. “Come and pledge your loyalty, my lady.”

Your heart hammers in your throat as you swallow. This is a game of life or death, but not now. Your two times have merged into a perpetual dizziness and you’re sinking into the claws of your desire like quicksand.

“No.” he admonishes with a voice like honey when you dare a step closer “On your knees. Like the sinner you are.”

You sink to the ground and his eye goes down with you, smirking with something savage flashing on his face. “Go ahead.” He says spreading his legs around you. “Take your blessing.”

You raise your hands slowly, close to his belt but when you start unbuckling it you find there’s no tremor in your fingers. And he’s too quick to notice. “You wanted this, do you?” he asks “Did you close your eyes and pretend to suck my cock instead of your husband’s?”

The buckles clink together as you finish the unbuckling but he suddenly leans over you, gripping your cheeks with a hold of iron.

“Answer me.”

“Yes.” You quickly, shamefully say.

The left edge of his mouth pulls up tiredly, omnisciently. “How? Like this?” In a blink his long fingers breach your mouth, hitting the back of your throat until you choke on them. He pulls them back just slightly, grazing your tongue, and he looks at you with a lustful blaze in his eye.

“Suck.” he orders, and you oblige, keeping your eyes on him as your mouth close around his two fingers, sucking gently and twirling your tongue around the skin.

“Hmm.” He croons with pleasure, leaving your mouth abruptly to lean back against the throne, sliding a little on the ancient seat to push his crotch before you. He makes haste of pulling his cock out, giving it a few tugs while he keeps looking at you, at the longing darkening your eyes and wetting your gowns.

You take hold of his hard hot length, all veiny and leaking from the tip and it’s only natural for you to close your lips around it. You have obscenely dreamed of this.

He lets out a loud gasp, gripping the throne with his hands as your head goes down, taking him all in. It hits the back of your throat with a lewd choking sound; you breathe through your nose, resuming your holy punishment once you have adjusted to length and girth, sucking hard and fast.

"Greedy little thing.” He praises with his eye growing heavy with pleasure “Easy. Easy, now.” he goads you to slow down, and you do, looking up to see him watching you closely, his lips parted, his breath slow and puffed.

“Fuck—” he curses, titling his head back but keeping his eye fixed on you. “See? This is the only good use for your cheating mouth. And you look so pretty.”

The ache between your legs is unbearable, you’re swollen and wet, you can feel your undergown dampening.

“Are you soaked for me, hmm? I bet you’re dripping all over the Conqueror’s swords.”

You have no way to answer as you keep bobbing your head up and down, a sinner worshipping her own sin.

“Open your mouth—wide” he orders and you do, drooling all over him as he starts to thrust harshly in your mouth.

“Yes. Like this, yes—fuck” He pumps in and out, bucking his hips, hitting your throat on and on while he moans helplessly and loudly, as only a King on his throne can.

“Hollow your cheeks.” And when you do it, something snaps inside him. He grabs your hair, pulling at the roots painfully while he keeps fucking your mouth frantically, choking your breath. But you don’t mind. This could be your last day, your last hour breathing. The snake is sucking at your bones and you welcome the poison.

“Enough.” he croaks when he was starting to breathe too fast, too close to the end. “Get up.”

Your knees ache as you pull yourself up but he’s so quick in lifting up your skirts and grabbing your waist to make you turn and sit on his lap, facing the Throne Room. The Guards are exactly where they’re supposed to be, blind and deaf to what they can perfectly see and hear.

“Let me give you my blessing, now.” Aemond says spreading your legs on the throne, making you wince as you feel his hot fingertips on your wet aching folds. “You’re soaked.” he states proudly, smiling with victory next to your ear.

He draws lazy circles on your bundle, sliding down your dripping lips, slowly, too slowly. You buck your hips against his hand and his chuckle travels up and down inside you, rattling your bones like thunder.

“Please…” you cry when his fingers brush your swollen lips once more.

“I should summon back your husband. So he’d see how his pretty wife begs to be fucked by her Prince like a whore. Shall I?”

You grab his hand, pressing it to your core and he dips a finger inside, spilling a loud moan from you that makes him bite your ear as he feels your hot walls clenching around him.

“Fine. We shall let him hear it.”

He brings his soaked fingers to your mouth, sticking them inside to make you taste yourself, and then he takes your wrist, trapping it on your stomach with his hand. He easily slides his cock inside you, moaning along with you into the haunting silence of the hall. His thrusts are deep and quick, desire has consumed him too, for too long. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh are only barely muffled by your frantic gasps. Your eyes are closed in a painful bliss, his hot labored breath dampens your neck as he fills you to the hilt.

Your throat is sore with lack of air as you turn your head and he slams his mouth against yours, filling your mouth with his scorching tongue, biting your lip and sucking until it’s swollen. All of this while relentlessly rutting into you, giving you violent bursts of pleasure that make your moans high-pitched and loud, so loud that everyone outside these walls can hear them. Your husband will hear them, the guards are definitely doing so.

“Fucking Gods, you feel so good” He pants in your mouth “You really wanted this. Your cunt is squeezing my cock like a vice. That husband of yours never fucked you this good, did he?”

“Gods—” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut but he grabs your chin with his free hand, forcing you to turn your head. “The Gods cannot hear you now. They’re deaf to the pleas of sinners.” with his free hand he clutches your bundle and he starts to torture you, drawing fast circles, while his length keeps rutting harshly. “Lucky for you I’m more merciful than the Gods.”

The tension in your belly is unbearable, it makes you cry obscenely and the sound only pushes him to go harder, faster.

“Please—I—I can’t—Gods—”

“You can’t what? Mh?” he nothing but growls, thrusting once more and then again. “This is your retribution.” He says baring his teeth “You failed your family for this. You lied and cheated. Now fucking—take—it” his last words punctuated with three deeper thrusts that make you whimper and roll your eyes back.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to reach your peak, letting out a long moan matched with sloppy shakes of your body against his. But he doesn’t stop, chasing his own pleasure as you whimper and sob with overstimulation. His hand keeps moving on your apex, all sticky with your pleasure and you grip his arm, trying to stop him. “Please—I can’t take it anymore—please my Prince—"

“You can and you will.” He promises “Give me one more. Come on, little traitor, just one more.”

You’re not late in granting his wish, trembling all over him and curling your toes with spasms in your muscles.

He groans loudly beneath you, teeth clamping down your shoulder and he stills completely, coming inside you with a choked sound of relief vibrating from his throat.

You whimper softly, feeling him pulsing inside you, but he grabs your waist and forces you to stand up. You waver on your weak feet, his hand is around your arm but only to firmly push you away from him. Falling on the ground, you look up to see him fixing his breeches, hair all disheveled and a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Guards.” He says hoarsely, catching his breath, and two white cloaks stand at attention, their faces blank, pretending to be oblivious to what they have just witnessed. “Take her to my chambers and have the maid give her moon tea.”

Then he looks down at you, his face is wild and yet viciously focused. “We’re going to find a way to send your husband back to Starpike.” He says grazing your lips with his long fingers. “You’re not leaving my chambers anytime soon. In the time being,” his hand grips your mouth harshly, his voice eerily calm “You will write to Oldtown in your own hand, and ask my uncle to send me the head of Samantha Tarly.”

You widen your eyes with terror and he smiles, sweet and poisonous. “And remember, little snake. If I find you near the rookery at odd hours again, I will cut your throat in your sleep. Such a waste it would be. I’d rather have you choking on my cock than your own blood.”

He leaves without another word and you’re left on the ground. You can’t beg mercy to the Gods now, you will have to beg for his and his alone.

thank you so much for reading!! 💕

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malleleothreesome · 6 months

Text

Femdom!Reader x Sub!Malleus Draconia

💚 summary: Malleus grovels before you as you sit upon his throne in the Diasomnia dorm lounge ༶༶༶ 💚 warnings: afab fem reader, no pronouns (use of you/your) but Malleus does refer to you as his Queen. Malleus has two cocks, consensual bdsm scene, all actions taken agreed upon offscreen prior to starting and are within Malleus' boundaries, collar & leash, you use him as a footrest, use of good/bad boy, you slap him (it doesn't hurt), punishment: you masturbate in front of him, edging (him), orgasm denial (him), face sitting cunnilingus, vagina stretching spell, breeding, creampie, aftercare ༶༶༶ 💚 word count: 4.5k words ripped from my tortured soul

Oh, how easy it was to turn the powerful, brooding future King of Briar Valley into a needy, desperately loyal little puppy. Completely dependent on your attention—and your touch. Who could have known he would fall so deeply—and wretchedly—in love with the first girl who didn’t run away? After centuries of Malleus walking alone under the dark void of night, you came and filled the sky with bright, twinkling stars. From the very second he was met with your crinkled, smiling eyes—a far cry from the usual look of dread—he was yours, and yours alone. Without a second thought, you’ve folded him into your sweet embrace, promising eternity. You’ve taken it upon yourself to fill his days with love, companionship, happiness—things he has indeed always deserved, but all of which, until now, were missing entirely.

You were inseparable. When he wasn’t tending to Kingly duties, he could be found close behind you, clinging to your comfort and familiarity. Malleus always admired your confidence, strength, and what seemed to be sheer fearlessness. You packed a lot of spunk in that tiny, mortal body of yours. You were determined to get the other students to accept him—you would have done it by force if you’d had to. (You didn’t have to. You were far too clever for that.)

He was your plus one, always. You introduced him with such adoration, that any preconceived ideas of him were pushed aside without much thought. If someone dared question his presence, you’d make an example of their rude presumptions. All the while, Malleus towered sheepishly behind you, blushing, and elated. You were the only one in his life who truly saw him.

Dominance was Malleus’ birthright. His ability to command inferiority and trepidation from every single person in a room was an unwanted side effect that had been passed down for generations. Dominance is a role he was forced into by his Kingdom—it’s all he’d ever known. But then, there was you. The way you stand up to and for him with no fear or hesitation. The way you simultaneously treat him like he’s Just Some Guy, and also the most precious treasure in the world. Watching you take the lead makes his heart race—and loins ache—faster and deeper than anything before. He was absolutely desperate for you to take advantage.

So there you were, sitting on Malleus’ throne in the Diasomnia lounge, in the depths of the night. Everyone else had retreated to their rooms. The Prince of Thorns was kneeling before you, his alabaster face enveloped in the faint purple and green glow that danced around the throne—the only source of light in an otherwise pitch black room. Your feet—costumed in 6-inch, dagger-like heels that might be lethal to both body and soul—rest heavy on his shoulders. If only Malleus’ ancestors could see their tyrannizing heir being used as a footrest by a common human…

Your lingerie is devoid in the places it matters most—a corset that leaves your breasts propped up and completely exposed, panties with a slit that perfectly frames your exposed, wet cunt. So close, yet so far away. A flick of his forked, serpent-like tongue slips out of his mouth. His eyes get lost in the view. For you, he would reduce himself down to just a tongue—how he yearns to be useful. His twin cocks create a prominent bulge against his tight, leather pants. You keep a short, firm grip on the leash that connects to the patent black collar around his neck.

“What are you looking at?” You ask rhetorically, taking your right foot off his shoulder and placing the toe of your stiletto against his forehead, forcing his gaze to meet yours. You let it linger there, making a point: The feared crown Prince of Briar Valley is beneath you.

His heart stammers and he gulps, lips parted but unable to form an answer. A low moan escapes his throat, eyelids fluttering closed—this is pure ecstacy. Unfiltered submission. Total loss of control. Absolute surrender. It was intoxicating. He had no control of his body, and he could hardly form a coherent thought. His cock muscles begin to flex against his pants, as his desperation to create friction shows face.

But it’s not time for relief or release. You yank his collar, forcing his face toward you. “Bad boy!” you purr, through gritted teeth, slapping him hard across the cheek. “Did I give you permission for pleasure?”

His eyes roll back, hand instinctively rushing to his cheek. Not to tend to the wound—to relish in the feeling of your touch. The slap didn’t hurt, but the sheer audacity of the move was almost enough to make him cum right then and there. In his long life, no one had ever dared challenge him in such a way. You loved how your precious Malleus showed his emotions so plainly on his face. A strong wave of arousal flooded your nervous system as you admired his flushed face. His eyes had gone hazy, drool glistened on the corners of his mouth, which had curled into the lewdest smile you’d ever seen. There was no doubt—he was getting off to this.

You yank the leash again, forcing him out of sexual gratification. “What a shame.” You look down at him with so much contempt that he winces. You almost wanted to break the scene and comfort him, but these were the rules. This was what he wanted.

You continue to follow through with your punishment, reminding him of his place and purpose in the bedroom: service and obedience. You take a deep breath and sigh. "I was really looking forward to using that pretty face of yours to make myself cum. Guess I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

You remove your feet from his body, bracing them on the seat of the throne and spreading your legs in one smooth motion. His pout transitions into a dropped jaw as your free hand crawls down your stomach to spread your labia apart. You hold his eye contact and you see his slitted pupils dilate. You begin to draw slow, sensual circles around your clit.

Every neuron fires off in delicious agony, screaming that he should be the one pleasuring you. His heart aches—he vowed to himself that his Queen shouldn’t have to lift a finger as long as he was around. Malleus was holistically devoted; your pleasure has become his entire purpose.

He dedicated his days to chasing the high of your smiles and his nights to getting drunk off of your moans. He didn’t deserve to revel in your precious light, but you let him in without a second thought. That was just the type of person his beloved human was, and for that, he would serve you until his last breath.

But now he had to sit idly and watch as you enjoyed yourself without him. What a beautiful torture. A fitting punishment. Perfect for stripping away his ego, forcing him out of everything he knew, all while reminding him of his subservient status. As much as it hurt him… he craved moments like these.

Malleus studies your movements carefully, internalizing every detail of how you pleasure yourself. The way you slid your middle finger up through your delicate folds, gathering the slick of your own arousal for lubrication. How you alternate between light flicks on your clit and flat, rapid rubbing with two fingers. The way you allow yourself to become absorbed in your lechery.

You’re sure to drag out Malleus’ punishment, taking time to honor every part of yourself. You explore every surface of your body, through your hair, teasing your hardened nipples on the way back down to your cunt. What a naughty tease. How beautiful it was to watch your vulva swell as you got closer and closer to orgasm. His heart raced, breath running ragged as he became consumed by theories of what you could be thinking of to bring yourself closer to the edge. Were you thinking about him? What dirty fantasy about him would transform your pleasure, forcing you to the point of no return?

Whatever it was, you couldn’t fight it. Your eyes widened, and Malleus watched as you wrapped his leash around your wrist to grip the armrest of his throne, holding on for dear life as you rode out the high of your orgasm. Malleus made a tight fist with his right hand, digging his nails into his palm to prevent himself from cumming too, just from the sight of you. There was no bigger turn-on than seeing you receive the pleasure you deserve. It had been weeks since his Queen had allowed him to cum. His balls were desperate to release—even a nipple poking through your t-shirt was enough to feel like he was edging.

Currently, it was taking every fiber of his being not to slip up. He was ever careful not to take any action that his Queen would consider stepping out of line, lest his orgasm be denied further. But that look on your face… every sound of pleasure from your sweet lips… every involuntary twitch of your legs and each curl of your toes—safely filed away in his mind to replay when his Queen finally gives him permission to cum.

“What a good boy you were. I know that was hard for you.”

You sit back up on the throne, leaning towards Malleus’ face, smiling sweetly as you let your smug, cunning eyes tell a different story. You know you’re driving him mad—and you’re goddamn proud of it. You lean even closer, lifting his chin with your blood-red, manicured fingertips. You can’t help but giggle as you poke and prod, rubbing his pale, soft cheeks with your thumb, dragging your fingernail along his pointed ear. His blush deepens. You lift his upper lip up with one teasing finger, admiring his cute little fangs.

“How adorable you are. My perfect little obedient pet. My perfect lover. I love everything about you.”

You settle back into the chair, cheek resting on your fist, face arranged in a coy little smile.

“You may speak.”

A faint, “T-thank you, m-my Queen” is all he can muster before dropping eye contact and falling silent again, cheeks sizzling. He doesn’t know how to process your earnest adoration.

“Aw, is that the best you can do? I can only hope you have more to say when giving a royal address, or appearing before the faerie courts. Let’s hope the domestication of a future King isn’t grounds for dethronement. By a human, no less.”

You both know Malleus remains ever-so-diligently authoritative when it comes to his duties to his Kingdom—it’s one of the reasons you felt so honored how eager Malleus was to lower himself for both of your pleasure.

“You know, I don’t like punishing you when you’re a bad boy. I want to take care of you, too.” You yank his leash in a final act of correction, watching his upper body stumble forwards once again. “Don’t make me do it again, or I swear on the Seven you will not like what follows. Now lay on your back. I’m not even close to being satisfied.”

Without hesitation, Malleus falls to the floor. Another place you shouldn’t find a powerful crown Prince: laying on the cold, hard, dirty ground. He wears a stupid smile on his face—he knows what’s coming. Rolling your eyes, you get in position; feet framing his eager face, offering a direct bird’s-eye view of your plump, glistening cunt. Slowly lowering yourself into a squat above his face, you purr, “beg for it.”

He can smell the musk of your pussy and his cocks throb painfully against his pants. His heart races, eyes once again hazy with arousal, mouth completely agape. His body twitches—he’s already edging. I guess a month of being denied orgasm will do that.

He looks up at you, eyes watering, lip quivering, hands in tight fists as he fights the urge to touch himself. He closes his eyes, savoring the warmth radiating from your cunt, and deeply inhales your scent. A deep, warm exhale swirls around your clit—still sensitive from your first orgasm—which sends a surge of electricity through your entire nervous system. You can’t help but shudder.

The corners of his lips curve upward, his ego is beginning to show itself again. You yank his leash upwards, meeting his eyes with a narrowed stare. Malleus knows the drill. He doesn't want his Queen's kindness to turn cold, after all. He gulps, all arrogance vanishing in an instant. You relax your grip.

A pathetic whine accompanies his plea: deep, smooth, and dripping with arousal. "Please," he begins. His eyes are wide and his lip trembles, desperate to satisfy his Queen. "I will worship your beautiful body. I will show you my love, my loyalty, my devotion, with the entirety of my being. My tongue will show you my adoration and gratitude. Please..." he begs and whimpers, more pathetic with each word.

"You're drooling." You wipe his mouth with your thumb, smearing it across his lips and forcing them apart. You stick your thumb into his mouth, on which he sucks hungrily. You can't help but smile—he really is greedy for your love. "Such a filthy, desperate, pitiful, whiny boy."

His eyelids flutter and he moans, loving how your words make him feel. His cocky, confident demeanor completely dissipates as you degrade him. He's a complete mess, completely dependent on your words and your touch. The second your finger is out of his mouth, he begins begging again, more frantically. "Please. Sit on my face. I want to be useful. I want to make you feel good. Please, please, use my mouth, I want to make you cum. I want to be covered in your essence. I want to taste the sweetness of your arousal. I want to drink it up, and breathe you in. I want to be completely engulfed in the warmth of your cunt. Please, my Queen. Use me for your pleasure. Let me worship your pussy.”

"You may."

Those two words felt electric. Malleus' heart raced and his cocks leaked and his eyes rolled back, lost in the euphoria of this moment. His arms reach around to squeeze the sides of your thighs, pulling your dripping cunt to his face before you could change your mind. A demanding action like that normally wouldn’t have been allowed, but you were already losing yourself to pleasure.

He pressed his nose into your pubic bone, licking at every inch of skin he could reach. Malleus wastes no time giving his Queen exactly what she wants. His tongue strokes up and down your pulsing pussy, lapping up your wetness and savoring every taste. His eyelids flutter in carnal ecstasy and his mind floats away, primal instincts taking over. Breathing deeply through his nose, practically drowning in your scent, a moan escapes his lips. He licks faster, swirling his tongue around your clit. He looks up, moaning again as he takes in the view: the plump undersides of your breasts bouncing lightly with every lick, fire-red fingernails squeezing your right nipple, your head thrown back in unmistakable pleasure. His moan pulsates against your soaking wet pussy, intensifying your pleasure to something even more carnal. Your pelvis—suddenly with a mind of its own—thrusts and grinds against his tongue.

He's hungry and messy, but he knows exactly how to please you. You run your fingers through his dark, sweaty bangs, pushing his hair back to expose the gorgeous scales hidden on his forehead. You hold onto his horns like a saddle, taking back some control.

"You're such a good boy, Malleus. Keep going." His long, forked tongue is immediately thrust inside of you, desperate to gather up every bit of slick from your last orgasm. You can feel his thick tongue prod against your sensitive, contracting walls as he eagerly laps up your sweet, musky juices. His tongue could do things a mortal man couldn’t dream of. You grind down harder, pushing his face further into you.

Arching your back, his tongue continues to devour you, licking and sucking with primal desperation. He licks the entire length of your vulva and then sucks his way up your labia, finishing his trail with a wet “pop,” leaving your clit swollen and throbbing. He revisits your labia with his entire mouth, sucking it taut and letting it go. The sensation of the blood rushing back is divine, and your whole body shivers. You’re so close. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your plush thighs, holding on for dear life as his adrenaline pulses through every blood vessel.

Your moans are music to his ears, and he wants more. He sucks on your clit, circling it with his tongue, flicking and licking up and down, positioning it safely between the fork of his tongue. It's too much, but you want more. He vibrates his tongue, sending shockwaves up and down your spine. Your leg muscles twitch and your breath catches. He can tell that you're almost there, and his cocks throb harder than ever. He’s desperate to cum when you do.

"Don't cum." You read his mind. "If you obey me, I'll let you cum in my womb."

He moans loudly, and his hips involuntarily jerk upward, trying to find friction in the air. His cocks are dripping, his pants soaked with clear, sticky precum. He feels so hot and needy, it's almost painful. But he loves it. The idea of finally releasing into you—his Queen. His love. His entire universe. If he could cum right now, he'd fill you to the brim, and then some. He'd give you the family you've always wanted. He'd make sure you'd never want for anything else. He'd give you everything in his universe, just like he promised.

Malleus can't help but whimper as you pull his hair, forcing his mouth back against your pussy. "Focus," you remind him. You can feel him nod, and then his tongue is back to work, licking, sucking, and flicking your clit, vibrating his tongue and moaning against your folds, the sound muffled by your flesh.

"You're such a good boy," you praise him. His eyes roll back and he moans even louder, sending vibrations up through your pussy. "Mmm... that's a good boy, Malleus. Such a good boy." He's getting sloppy, moaning and whimpering and bucking his hips uncontrollably. "You're so needy. Just a little more... a little longer. I'm close. Don't stop. Make me cum."

You feel his fingers digging into your flesh, his whole body is trembling. His face is red, and tears stream down his cheeks. His cocks ache—he won’t be able to hold on much longer.

For his finishing move, he pulls your clit between his lips and begins to suck, swirling his tongue around, and then flicking the tip. He vibrates his tongue as hard and as fast as he can, sending shockwave after shockwave straight through you until you’re completely uninhibited. You shudder and convulse, completely lost in orgasmic ecstasy. “MALLEUS,” you scream, cumming so hard that your juices squirt into his mouth and run down his chin. He shoves his tongue deep within your pussy, feeling your walls contract around him, lapping up the sweet, sticky liquid as it releases. He's in Heaven. His eyes are closed, breathing ragged, his chest heaves. He's panting, covered in sweat. His cocks twitch, and his balls ache, but he wouldn't dare let himself go over the edge. His prize awaits.

You crawl away from this face, legs wobbling and mind scrambling to catch up. Looking back at him, you see smudged eyeliner, swollen lips, and a face glistening in your juices. His chest heaves, cocks leaking with desperate arousal. He looks so pitiful, completely lost in the throes of carnal desire. He meets your gaze, his eyes out of focus. Small, desperate whimpers escape his lips. He's desperate for your touch—and you love seeing him this way.

You slowly undo the buttons on his shirt, one by one, taking the time to appreciate each reveal of toned muscle. He's so beautiful. Pure. Innocent. Perfect. You run your fingers down his chest, feeling the smooth, firm skin, and the rise and fall of his chest. His nipples are hard, and you can't resist. You tease them with your red, stiletto fingertips, feeling him shudder under your touch. He's so cute when he's aroused.

"M-my Queen..." he mumbles, and you know exactly what he wants. You kiss his chest, he moans. Arching his back, his hips buck forward, and a frustrated groan exits his airway. You kiss his nipples, playfully sucking, then a quick nibble. He cries out, body trembling, cocks twitching with excitement.

"Patience, my love," you coo. "You’ll get your reward."

You trail kisses down his torso as he squirms beneath you. His cocks are painfully hard. By the time you reach the waistband of his pants, his entire being is begging for you to take them off. In the same moment you’ve tugged the zipper down, his cocks spring free, bouncing against his abdomen. They're hard as rocks, covered in precum, and twitching with need. He's whimpering, and you know he can’t hold on much longer.

Slipping his pants down, you free his legs of their final constraint. You look up to find him gazing at you through half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily. He's so beyond ready for release. You climb back up him, straddling his hips, careful not to make contact with either cock—you don't want him to cum just yet. Not before he fills you up, and makes you his.

"I want to take both of them. I don't want to waste a single drop." This is new. Usually it’s one cock inside of you while you jerk the other off or rub it against your clit. Two at once require a bit of fae magic. He nods, shuddering. Reaching up, his fingers brush against your pussy. His gasp is voracious—he felt how soaking wet you are. His hand glows green and he pushes two fingers into your tight little pussy, his magic spreading inside of you. It tingles in the best way. You feel like you're being filled up with warmth and love and ecstacy. Your body buzzes, pussy throbbing. As his magic begins to take effect, he adds two more fingers, your pussy eagerly and willingly stretching to accommodate his entire fist. Euphoria courses through your veins.

“Give yourself to me. Fill me up with every last bit of you. Make me see stars.”

Finally, permission.

In one swift motion, Malleus removes his fist and plunges both pulsing, throbbing, needing cocks inside of your enchanted pussy. Within an instant, Malleus can't hold back any longer. He erupts, and a guttural moan escapes his lungs as his orgasm hits him like a freight train. His whole body convulses, hips jerking violently, pumping his hot, sticky, viscous essence deep within your womb. Your eyes roll back, feeling his thick, warm cum paint your insides. The sheer force of his orgasm pushes you over the edge, and you cum for the third time that night, your walls clenching around his cock, milking him for every last drop. The feeling is almost indescribable—both of your aching bodies become one, pleasure and cum filling you to the absolute brim. He pummels you again and again, your eyes rolling back, jaw slack, holding on for dear life.

He's continues to cum—it's been a month, after all. His moans are desperate, his breathing ragged. His hips buck, and his body trembles. His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass cheeks, pulling you flush against him. He can't get enough. His head spins thinking about how badly he wants to impregnate you. To breed with you. To have you bear his children. To make you a mommy. He imagines your beautiful, swollen belly; a physical manifestation of the love you share.

After what may have been eons, his orgasm finally subsides. His vision clears, and he's met with a glorious sight: you, above him, blissed out and dripping with cum. His heart swells, his love for you now deeper than ever. You allow him to kiss you, after seeing him yearn for it. You taste his love, his desperation, and his complete submission to you. It's divine.

You collapse, falling on top of his chest. Lay there together, breathing hard, you both come down from the most intense orgasm of your lives. His cocks soften, and slip out of your overflowing cunt. Your body shudders. It feels strange to be empty again.

“Bathe me," you command him.

"Anything for my beloved."

You both stand, legs wobbly. With a flick of his wrist, Malleus uses his magic to clean up, restoring the room to a pristine state. Before you can protest, Malleus scoops you up, and in a flash, you're back in his dorm room. The green teleportation fireflies fade as he carries you to the bath. You relax into his arms. With one, strong hand, he turns the water on, making sure it's just the right temperature, cuddling you until the water fills. Sleepily, you disconnect the leash from his collar, leaving his collar fastened around his neck as a sign of ownership.

Malleus carefully slides the straps of your corset off your shoulders, unlacing the back and letting it fall to the ground. He kisses along your clavicle, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He kneels before you, slowly pulling your panties down. Watching them fall, he can't help but blush, remembering the way he'd seen them just moments before. Your nudity is absolutely mesmerizing.

You step into the soothing water in the tub, and Malleus steps in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you onto his lap. He's so good at caring for you. He washes and scrubs every inch of your skin, finishing with a scalp massage. His movements are soft and intentional—full of love and adoration. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight. You let your eyes close, listening to his heart beat, feeling the warmth of his skin.

"Thank you for tonight. It was perfect," he coos into your ear.

"I'm so happy you trust me so much with your fantasies." You feel him smile as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. "Do you feel more comfortable in your submission?"

"Every time, it gets easier. I've never felt this safe or this loved. I am forever indebted to you. I love you, now and always."

"I love you too, Malleus. Now and always."

His hands rest on your lower belly. One day, it will swell with change, and you'll bear his heirs. You'll live your life together, and you'll rule his kingdom by his side. He can hardly wait—he’s already vowed to serve and protect you and your future children with every bone in his body. But for now, he takes pride in knowing you choose to be with him. To show him that his submission is not weakness, it’s power. It's a privilege. And more than anything, it's love.

You fall asleep like this, in his arms, dreaming of your future together. He holds you close, cherishing the moment. You're his everything—now, and always.

This was my first ever fic! If you enjoyed it, it would mean the absolute world to me if you told me either in the replies, in my ask box, or in the tags! Please know you have my endless gratitude for reading my fanfic — thank you for supporting my passion. I have been a long time lover of fanfic and I am absolutely honored to finally contribute to the community I care so deeply about! I hope you had a great time! 💚 Erica Malleleothreesome

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland smut #twisted wonderland x reader smut #twst smut #twst x reader smut #twst malleus draconia x reader smut #twst malleus draconia smut #twisted wonderland malleus x reader smut #malleus draconia x reader smut #twst malleus draconia #malleus draconia smut #twst malleus #twisted wonderland malleus x reader #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus x reader #my writing

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egypt-museum · 6 months

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Calcite Tall Vase Inlaid with Faience

A brownish residue from a perfumed oil was found inside this Egyptian alabaster tall vase from the Tomb of Tutankhamun. Oils, essential for rituals, were highly valued.

The Tomb of Tutankhamun contained various artifacts, including perfumed oil vases. This vase was discovered during the excavation of his tomb in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt. It is believed that the vase was used to hold perfumed oils or other aromatic substances, which were commonly used in ancient Egyptian rituals and for personal grooming. This vase is an example of the intricate craftsmanship and attention to detail that characterized ancient Egyptian art and culture.

Height: 65.8 cm. GEM. 70

#ancient egypt #tutankhamun #18th dynasty #new kingdom #alabaster #vase

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theancientwayoflife · 10 months

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~ Perfume bottle in the shape of a hes-vase inlaid with the figure of a princess.

Period: New Kingdom, Amarna Period; 18th Dynasty; Reign of Akhenaten

Date: ca. 1353–1336 B.C.

Place of origin: Egypt; Possibly from Upper Egypt, Thebes

Medium: Travertine (Egyptian alabaster), carnelian, obsidian,gold, and colored glass inlay.

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lcverwrites · 1 year

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aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader (daemon's daughter) drabble

note: am I playing into the over popular trope of making reader daemon's daughter: yes, I am. am I sorry about it: no I am not.

"No one could love a cripple" Aemond sulked, placing his hands below his chest, feeling the subtle rise and fall of each breath he took.

His alabaster skin was still tickled pink with splatters of blood, the thick oozing had subsided after the Maester had stitched the clean slice across his flawless skin. The stitching zig-zagged across his skin, protruding in places and sinking in others. The dark black thread starkly standing out against the pale hue of his skin. Starting from his temple, coursing down the right side of his face, right over his once violet eye, down to the middle of his cheek.

Right over his once violet eye.

It wasn't something to gloss over, Lucerys had slashed Aemond right across his eye, taking the damn eye with it. There was nothing left behind to salvage, so the Maester had said, he was lucky the blade did not go any deeper.

She shuddered at the thought, loosing an eye was a terrible misfortune, but she would be forever grateful that Aemond was strong enough to survive it.

"I won't listen to you speak so terribly about yourself" She retorted, seating herself on the edge of Aemond's bed, placing her hands gently in her lap.

"'Tis nothing but the truth" Aemond hummed lowly, his single eye stared blankly at the ceiling.

Whatever thoughts that carried their way through his mind, she was not privy to them. She bit her tongue, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him, her Aemond.

The boy she knew, the one who lurked beneath the scared surface, who hid behind his brooding and melancholy thoughts, the boy who couldn't keep a single thought from her, the one person in the world who was nothing but truthful with her.

But now, it was as if she were talking with a stranger. Someone she no longer knew, he was guarded in a way that was strange to her, she wasn't able to see past the solid walls he was starting to build.

"No, it is not true, I won't let you believe that is the truth" She was firm in her words, no stuttering to be found, though she felt as if her heart was about to leap from her chest, nervousness tickling her skin.

"How can you prove something that is so plainly shown" Aemond's voice lowered, sounding as if he was on the verge of bursting into tears, but holding himself back from further humilation.

There was nothing to be ashamed of, not with her.

"You forget yourself, my prince" She replied simply.

"There isn't a woman in the seven kingdoms who would take a second glance at a boy with a scar as hideous as mine own" Aemond finally looked at her.

Her breath caught in the back of her throat, stilling her heart for a mere moment. For the first time since the prince had returned to King's Landing, he showered her with his unbridled emotions. There were so many things swirling around in those violet hues, so many emotions.

She could hear the bitterness pouring from his words, sticking to every syllable that passed his lips. She could see the hatred shading his eyes, stormy and crackling. Like lighting striking the earth beneath her feet, like embers of a flame licking at her skin, it was a searing sort of hatred.

But there was fear, a coldness lingering in the deep hue of his eye, like he was fighting off the sharp, howling winter winds from the North. A frigidness in the way his shoulders sat, straighter, almost vexing, preparing for the foulness he was handed by those whom were supposed to care.

"You lay claim to the largest dragon in all history" She reasoned gently, her stare never faulting from his gaze, despite the intensity of it. "Vhagar wouldn't allow anyone to claim her, less they be anything but extraordinary"

She wanted him to know, she wasn't afraid of his maimed appearance.

"Means nothing" Aemond denied, clenching his hands in tight fists.

"I hardly believe that Aemond" It was her turn to scoff. "You are the son of the King, Prince Aemond, first of his name--"

"And what!" Aemond exclaimed, sounding angry, finally letting something slip past the sturdy walls. "I'm supposed to be okay with my future lady wife only loving me for riding the largest dragon, or for being the son of the king"

"Perhaps, my prince, you should allow me to finish" She didn't allow his raised voice scare her, she straightened her back, looking at the prince with a fierceness that faltered him. + "I mean, those things are only a fraction who you are, you are wise beyond your years, far better with a sword than most of the knights in King's landing, and you are a mere boy, imagine what you shall be like, a man of extraordinary talents, you shouldn't allow a silly little scar--

"'Silly little scar' you think this deformity is merely a simple little scar?!" Aemond cut off the Princess against, sounding aghast at the thought of his wound being compared to a silly little scar.

"Lest you forget my Prince, I am still a Princess, I'd take back the tone of your words"

She wasn't going to let Aemond walk all over her, just because his melancholy thoughts were eating him alive, didn't mean he had the right to treat those who care for him, as if they were dirt beneath his boots.

He was welcome to be upset about the wound, she'd find him odd if he didn't grieve the loss of his own eye, but he was allowing his grief and anger over take him.

Blinding him to what he may become.

"This scar has taken my eye from me, and any chance of living anywhere close to the realm of normalcy" Aemond disregarded her praise, turning his gaze from her face to the tight fists his hands had knowingly formed.

"We Targaryen's are beyond the realm of normalcy" The Princess denied once more, tilting her head a fraction, as she watched a subtle pink hue painted Aemond's pale skin. "We are gods among men, lest you forget"

"No god has a scar like this" Aemond sounded defeated now, tired, depleted of energy to try and fight back.

"Only those blessed by the old gods and the new" She felt herself smile a little as she watched Aemond's eyes slowly trail along the length of his bed, finding her still perched on the edge of the bed. "Those they deme worthy, survive with a mere scar to prove their strength"

Aemond remained silent at her words, but the icy glare had subdued in his violet eyes, gaining a millimetre of warmth.

For a moment, she could see her Aemond, slipping past the façade he was creating.

"There are still people in this very castle, whom love you, scar and all" She replied easily, knowing it to be true.

"My family are the least of my worries" Aemond brushed off with a simple shake of his head, wincing a little as the action tugged at the puckered skin of his face. "They are stuck with me"

"Perhaps" The Princess' voice carried a gentle tone, sounding just above a whisper.

She reached a soft hand to grasp Aemond's closed fist, making the prince jump, breath catching in the back of his throat. She made no moves to remove her hands from his, keeping a barely there touch on his hands.

"I however" She paused her words, and for the first time, she had trouble keeping her gazed locked on Aemond's, feeling heat pinching at her cheeks. "Can choose where I shall reside, and there is no place I would rather be, than by your side"

"Please don't grant pity on me" Aemond whispered, looking deep within her violet eyes, trying to find an inkling of deceit, only to come up empty handed, and feeling his heart fluttering wildly in his chest.

"Never pity, not with you, my Aemond" Her smile was warm, like the feeling of being welcomed home, of the warm summer sun tickling his skin, of being loved wholeheartedly without restraint.

She pressed her palm firmly against his fist, opening the tight hold he had. His resolve melted like butter beneath her palm, hand falling open without fight, without complaint, willing and able. Just hearing her call him, her Aemond, there was not a more thrilling feeling.

"My heart, will always belong to you"

She could feel her own heart beating beneath her skin, rapid and heavy, jumping and leaping. The confession felt light on her lips, like breathing in the freshest spring air.

"And my scar. . ." Aemond was timid in tone, but his hand moulded around the Princess', holding it gently.

"It has never wavered, and it never shall"

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