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sepherinaspoppies · 2 months

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Only If For A Night (i/?)

pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

summary: In Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), she gets forcefully transported to Westeros and meets her favorite book character, Aemond 'One Eye'. She asks and begs for his help to send her back home after realizing this was a world she did not want to live in. Unknowingly to her, her favorite fictional man had already grown too attached to fully let her go.

warnings for this part: profanity, tea drugging, blood magic, sexism, I think that's it... more dark stuff later. READER IS LATINA !

wc: 4,027

series masterlist

my masterlist

pt2

notes: originally I was gonna have this fic be a one shot but it is sooo long that I decided to split it into three. this is an introduction part, aemond will be on the next (I'm half way done with that part).

She knows she is screwed when Doña Maribel broke the news to her that the last of the cempasuchiles were completely sold out in her shop. Making it five flower shops in the span of an hour that she walked to have fully run out of the bright orange flowers she needed for her ancestral altar that she and her abuela worked tirelessly on for the past few days. (marigolds, grandmother)

She wonders what to do next or perhaps where to go as she plays with the gravel beneath her shoes. Sure, she could walk another mile or so to another flower shop and try her luck there just as Doña Maribel suggested but she finds herself too tired to venture deeper in her small pueblo by herself. (town)

Even the walk back to her abuela’s was not something she looked forward to as of now. This was the time where she wished she had the ability to drive but alas she could not for even the streets of Mexico were more hectic and nerve wracking than back at the states. (grandmother’s)

She sighs in defeat. The cempasuchiles were the last thing on her abuela’s list of things she required for tonight’s first day of Dia de Los Muertos. The bright orange flowers illuminated the path of those who died, back into the land of the living and enjoy the offerings their family’s set up for them. (Day of the Dead)

Maybe for just tonight she could spare them.

She sets her three mercado bags beside her as she sits down on a bench right next to a bus stop that could lead her directly to her abuela’s home. The smell of citrus of the lemon tree above her eases her disappointment and feels that this is the perfect spot to reread one of her favorite books. (shopping)

George R. R. Martin’s, Fire and Blood Vol. 1. She wondered what it was like to reside in a world of dragons (before they were all extinct), dire wolves from the North, red priestesses from Volantis, and mysterious yet powerful witches. To live inside the walls of the Red Keep and tour around the secret passageways and to fight for the rightful Queen of Westeros, Rhaenyra and the other members of the Blacks during the Dance of Dragons.

Sadly, even if it was possible to venture deep into alternate fantasy universes. It all was pure fiction. Not real. Impossible.

‘And so one-eyed Aemond the Kinslayer took up the iron-and-ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror, “It looks better on me than it ever did on him,” the prince proclaimed.’

“Excuse me, do you happen to know when the bus is due to arrive?” She snaps her head up meeting the most beautiful and enchanting woman she’d ever seen. Eyes round and greener than the trees itself during spring. Hair long and black like ravens in the night sky. She was tall, taller than most of the women here with skin like porcelain that had not seen a day of sun, a rarity here in Mexico.

It was her mischievous tight lipped smile that made her feel loss of words. Unknowingly, this mysterious woman was the first person who spoke to her in English, not Spanish.

“Umm… I- I’m sorry?”

The green eyed woman smirked as if she knew the small effect she had on her. Gods she was beautiful.

“The bus–”

She shook her head out of her revere, coming to reality. “Oh, I’m not sure. Perhaps a few more minutes.” She informed, pulling her mercado bags closer to her side, allowing the green eyed woman to sit, not wanting to be rude.

She murmurs a quick thank you as she sits exceedingly close to her, shoulder to shoulder, flesh to flesh with her. Jeez, talk about personal space! However, the woman doesn’t seem to care or acknowledge that she has enough space for her own person. A feeling of uncertainty rests below her gut, telling her to be vigilant around her presence.

“How long have you waited?” She asks, breaking away the long silence between them. She almost shivers at the intensity hue of her eyes that bore right through her.

“About ten to twelve minutes.” She replies, looking anywhere else but her.

A satisfactory look sketched around the woman's youthful yet elderly face which she found odd. What could be so pleasing about the bus not arriving? The woman said nothing, only sitting rather straight, almost elegant in her simple long green dress. Though, in the back of her mind, she wondered if she felt hot underneath the heaviness of the velvet fabric. She sure as hell did.

“Wait, how did you know I spoke english?” She asked as the hairs on her arms stood up straight in some kind of chilling fear.

The woman’s eyes lowered and centered on the object sitting up on her lap. “Your book gives it away.” She snickered softly, tilting her head reading the bold letters of her very worn book she got at the thrift store for just two dollars. “An interesting read.” The green eyed woman said whilst her face held no sincere fondness of it for someone who found it interesting.

“You’ve read this before?” She asked curiously, little taken back, that she finally found someone else who read Fire and Blood Vol 1. Or anything by George R. R. Martin.

“Yes, almost like I've lived through it”

She opens her mouth to speak but the green eyed woman beats her to it. “I don’t mean to pry but where are you headed?” The smile falls off her face as she remembers the warning of stranger danger she learned as a kid.

The woman must have noticed the dubious look upon her face as she threw her head back in a laugh. “I ask because it seems a storm is coming our way. And it looks like an angry one.”

Sure enough, as she looked up the sky had turned into a deep gray with heavy clouds ready to pour any minute. Well this wasn’t forecasted in the noticias this morning, otherwise, she’d carry an umbrella. Or better yet, she wouldn’t have walked all this way if a storm was brewing. (news)

“My cottage is not very far from here,” the green eyed woman revealed, standing up from the bench, overlooking the seriousness of the clouds. “It is just around the corner. Would you like to come?”

She wanted to say no, that she was better off walking an hour back to her abuela’s house, even if it meant that she’d catch a cold in the pouring rain with blisters all over her feet. Besides, she did not know anything about this woman. Every bit of her mind screamed stranger danger! Don’t go!

But as she glanced between the heavy clouds and the green eyed woman with her hand extended out, all that doubt and worriment went away.

“I don’t even know your name,” she pointed out. If all goes bad, at least she had a name to tell the authorities.

“My name is Alyssandra Riveras.” The green eyed woman smiled, bowing at the waist.

Though still somewhat skeptical, she walks alongside Alyssandra to her cottage. She makes small mental notes in her head, counting the red stop signs, right and left turns and any other landmarks of important significance.

She was almost positive she could point her way back home. It did not help that five minutes into their journey, it started harshly pouring out of nowhere like a bucket of water had been poured all over, blanketing her vision.

Alyssandra’s cottage had sat on the outskirts of the pueblo, isolated from all civilization, hidden around tall and green pine trees. A faint voice in the back of her head screamed to run and never look back. She ignored it.

From a close distance, she was able to distinguish a small window with overgrown vines and branches wrapped around the perimeter of the cottage. Bones, bells, and crystal windchimes hung from the roof and windows, mostly likely put up for some kind of spiritual protection.

She was no stranger to the craft. Although raised catholic, both her mama and abuela had hung an old broom above their doorway to keep away unwanted guests and negative energies as well as pinning the mal de ojo sigil around the walls for the look of evil and envy against their family. (evil eye)

“Cempasuchiles,” she murmured in awe when Alyssandra’s small garden came into view. It was the most of the orange flowers she had ever seen, all bright and lively and huddled together.

“When the storm is over, you can grab as many as you’d like,” Alyssandra offered, peering over her shoulder, unlocking the door to her cottage. She nods following her inside whilst giving a grateful smile.

The interior of the cottage was small, meant only for one person to take residence. The same size as what a studio apartment would be back in the states.

In no way was the inside minimal, in fact it was the opposite. Almost all of the walls were covered with shelves with small trinkets adorning inside such as little statues, crystals, herbs and other supplies.

In the center of the room lay a huge stone like table, old and antique bearing the resemblance of something medieval. And something about it, sent shivers down her spine along with the same faint voice, telling her to run.

She ignored it, again.

“Give me your belongings, and change into this,” Alyssandra says, tossing a strappy white chemise. She exchanges her poor-soaked mercado bags that contained pan de muerto, churros, and tamales for her ancestral ofrenda. (bread of the dead, offering)

She turns around to protect her modesty, seeing as there was no other room to change nor did Alyssandra point her to the bathroom, so she lifts the drenched garment over her head and sheds away the last clothing she had on her body, leaving her completely bare in her birthday suit.

She couldn’t help but to feel Alyssandra’s eyes watching her very intently, examining every inch of her body as if it met her standards or so. She knows she should use her hands to cover up and give Alyssandra a piece of her mind, or better yet introduce her to a knuckle and hand sandwich for the way she was looking too closely.

Yet her body feels frozen, unable to move under the green eyed woman’s gaze.

“Would you like some tea to keep you warm?” Alyssandra asked, moseying to the kitchen.

She blinks, whatever paralyzing feeling she had dispelled away. “Um, yes thank you.” Alyssandra nodded, pulling what looked to be a kettle on the stove. Meanwhile, she slipped on the white chemise in a hurry to not feel as exposed anymore.

She takes the time to analyze the rest of Alyssandra’s cottage as she hears the droplets of rain hit the rooftop harder and the sound metal being filled with water. Various of the same purple flower plants were placed near the entrance, she notes to herself that these couldn’t possibly be lavender but another species or something within the same family.

A small cot laid in the corner close by the hearth, with multiple open ancient books and scrolls spread on top of the bedspread. She almost wants to look through the pages and read Alyssandra’s interests but she doubts she could as she observes the handwriting is unreadable from where she stood.

She walks forward to where the hearth is, feeling slightly warmer as something immediately catches her eye. Above the mantle, hung on the wall was a medium sized portrait of a small boy, appearing no more than three years old. He stood straight, almost regally with his hands behind his back. His face held no gentleness or warmth like a child should have.

Gods forgive her, but the child looked cruel like the gueritos who bullied her in elementary school when she was just trying to make new friends. (white boys)

Though, for an evil looking child, he sure was beautiful. The most striking thing about him was his set of eyes. Wide with his left eye a dark violet and his right a dark green similarly to Alyssandra’s. His hair was straight and cut short right below his ears. She looked closer at the portrait, thinking if her eyes deceived her as she noticed the peculiar color of the boy’s hair.

Silver.

Curiosity takes the better of her as she asks, “Is that your son?”

Alyssandra turns, holding two mugs of steaming tea. “Yes, that’s my beautiful little boy,” She places both glasses on the stoned table before she sits adjacent to her. It doesn’t go unnoticed by her the sad look on Alyssandra’s eyes. “He looks like you,” she points out though it’s somewhat of a lie in hopes to lift up Alyssandra’s spirits.

Alyssandra throws her head back in a chortle, “For all my hard work and labor, I had hoped he looked like me but nature loves to play its cruel jokes. He is a replica of his bastard father.” The thought of her son’s father left a sour and disgusting taste in Alyssandra’s mouth.

Alyssandra focused her attention back to her, “What about you?” She asked, sitting rather too straight.

“Do you mean if I have kids? Gods, no.”

Alyssandra smirked, “I take it you don’t like the idea of children. I did not either but after years of solitude, I changed my mind. I had other children before my son, but all of them died before they were due. You, however, are still young. Your mind can still change.”

She shifted in her seat anxiously, sipping the odd taste of the herbal tea Alyssandra provided. It wasn’t like she did not like children. She respected children and found them quite cute with their little tiny hands and feet and infectious laughs. But besides the point of appearance, children were a tremendous amount of responsibility that she found herself not ready for.

Not now. Not ever.

She could barely handle taking care of herself. Much less care and provide for a child for eighteen years or so.

“I don’t—”

“Oh but you will,” Alyssandra fired back without so much as blinking an eye.

She grimaced, knowing where this conversation was heading. And it was about to be a not so pretty one. She glanced at the window by the door, the rain was still heavy if not more.

“I thank you for giving me shelter. But I really must go. I was only just supposed to be out for some groceries and my abuela is probably wondering where I am.” Polite and respectful enough just as her mama taught her.

She grabbed her belongings that were hanging by the fire and stuffed them inside her mercado bag. Her hand was on the cusp of prying the door open when Alyssandra rushed to her side, wrapping her hand around her wrist.

“Wait. Please don’t go.” Alyssandra pleaded, “It’s just that you remind me much about myself. I didn't mean to cause offense, I’m sorry.”

Run. Say no and run now, While you still can…

There it was again that same paralyzing feeling closing in on her feet, preventing her to move. It was strange like a shield gluing both her legs down.

She nodded, murmuring ‘fine’ under her breath as Alyssandra slowly led her back to the woven chair with such gentleness as a porcelain doll. “I still need to call my abuela, so she can know I’m alright.”

Alyssandra twisted her face in a wince, “I’m afraid we’re too far out for any signals to catch a telephone call.” She held back the overweening snicker to herself, it was why Alyssandra chose her cottage to be settled this far out in this very modernized realm; so no one could find her.

Alyssandra wasn’t lying. No matter how hard she hit her Iphone against her palm or moved it around, there had not been a single signal bar glowing. She wondered if her abuela had started to grow worried and perhaps began to search for her. She hoped she didn’t and that her cousins kept her preoccupied with the rest of the decorations to notice the duration of how long she’d been out. She also wondered if they were still going to the cementerio, to clean and decorate the graves of their loved ones but with the amount of thunder and rain, she’d doubt it was still on the agenda. (cemetery)

Alyssandra prepared some more tea as the fire gradually faltered down. This one had a different taste than the previous one with tiny purple petals floating around. Alyssandra watched very intently as she sipped every last drop while she scarcely touched her own mug.

The green eyed woman began asking her multiple personal questions, mostly about where she was originally from (due to the fact that her vocabulary deemed to be more vehement in English than Spanish), her family, and if she had any siblings. She had answered them all. Letting her know that she was just visiting from the states to celebrate Dia de Los Muertos with her family she had not seen since the death of her sweet abuelo. (grandfather)

Alyssandra’s eyes glimmered even more when she explained how strangely, her very stern and overprotective mama had suddenly let her travel by herself to a country she had never been to in years since she was small. Her mama preferred her to be where she could keep a close eye on her because ‘uno nunca sabe’ especially if you’re a woman. (one never knows)

It was odd, alright. Especially when her mama gave her money that she didn’t have, and enthusiastically wished her good fortune on her travels. Yup odd…

But not to Alyssandra.

Alyssandra sat down after cleaning both mugs ready to ask the hard hitting questions she’d been warming her up to. “Have you ever been with a man?” Her eyes widened before breaking rounds of deep laughter that made the sides of her ribs ache and cramp.

However, there wasn’t an ounce of amusement displayed on Alyssandra’s face, but rather annoyance. What was so funny? It was a simple and uncomplicated question that meant no harm. At least not to her. He couldn’t harm her any more here. Alyssandra guessed perhaps it was the side effect of the tea making her humoristic.

“No,” She replied, wiping the humoristic tears at the corner of her eyes. “The opportunity has never presented itself?” Alyssandra asked.

All the humor that previously lingered had gone swiftly away, realizing that Alyssandra was indeed asking something so personal to her. “No,” She shook her head, feeling her face hot and red. “People don’t look at me as someone they want to be with. They’d rather be with someone exciting, adventurous, and outing. And I’m neither of those things. I’m a homebody who’s idea of fun and adventure is living through fictional books.” She answered truthfully, too truthfully.

Alyssandra watched her face transform into a deeper shade of red. “What is it?” She questioned, taking a hold of her hand, taking in the role of someone empathetic.

“I want my first time to be special. Like the fairytales I grew up reading about with the grand Prince sweeping the young maiden off her feet and taking her to his castle…” The way her eyes reflected small flashes of light made Alyssandra almost feel guilty for her true intentions once the repercussions of the tea ran out.

She remembers when she too wished for a dashing knight in shining armor to take her away, far away from the shit she had been through; the pain, the suffering, and the poverty. All of it. As Alyssandra grew well into her womanhood, she realized there was no knight coming to save her. Instead, there was a selfish Prince who spared her for his desires and her many talents beyond the acts of the flesh.

But Alyssandra needed her to go. She needed that piece that was stolen from her. She didn’t want the risk of going back and facing him again and repeating through the hell and agony he put her through. So sending her for it seemed like the better alternative.

“I know you probably think it sounds stupid–” She stammered, her face still beet red.

“I don’t think it sounds stupid,” Alyssandra softly smiled, giving her hand a light squeeze. Judging by the serene look upon her face, it was a good lie that she seemed to believe.

She smiled. Finally, someone who didn’t think of the idea of waiting for the right person was silly and unrealistic.

Her smile deterred, sensing something trickle down her nose, dropping against the skin of her hand.

Blood. Her blood.

Run!

“Alyssandra?” She whispered, puzzled at the sight of more blood spilling out of her nose. Every strand of hair in her arms stood, sensing a new type of alertness course right through her. She glanced at a very blurred Alyssandra with what looked to be a smirk written on her face.

“W-What’s happening?” She stood from the chair, but that soon turned out to be a bad idea as her knees gave out, sending her straight to the stoned cold floor. She glanced up, watching as Alyssandra sauntered in front of her, and as much as she wanted to crawl away her body was glued to the floor.

“Look,” Alyssandra said, crouching down at her level before she took her in her arms like a newborn baby, weighing little to nothing. “We don’t have much time. When you wake up, I need you to retrieve something of mine…”

She felt her back collide on top of the stoned table, “What was in that tea?” She questioned but Alyssandra was quick to shush her. “It doesn’t matter now. You drank it all willingly.” There was no argument there.

Alyssandra pulled out a jar with overflowing cempasuchil petals inside and circled the petals around her. Almost like a ritualistic circle she used to watch the brujas next door do. (witches)

“You need not to be afraid. You will not be harmed as long as you do what I say. Exactly as I say.” She gulped, nodding seeing as she had no other choice. “Bruja.” She spat but Alysssandra only chuckled, “I’ve been called much worse, little dove.” (witch)

Through the corner of her eye, she saw Alyssandra holding out a small knife. “I am in need of a sapphire. It was stolen from me many years ago. It is one of a kind, which is why when you see it you’ll know it is mine.”

She momentarily shut her eyes as the dark haired woman rapidly cut the middle of her palm spewing her blood on top of the petals. “Once you’re successful, you’ll come back here with the sapphire and gather some of my materials. The marigold petals with your blood coating them; The blood of whom you took the sapphire from and lastly you’ll lay on top of my precious table here to be transported back.”

There was an evil smile on her lips that she desperately wanted to punch it off. “And if I don’t get the sapphire?” She questioned.

Alyssandra combed away her unruly braided hair, “Then I won’t bring you back and you’ll be stuck there forever.”

Fuck.

“Stuck? Stuck where? Where am I going?”

Alyssandra clicked her tongue, “A place where fairy tales do not exist, my little dove.” If she wanted a Prince to sweep her off her feet. Alys would gladly give her one.

She attempted to wiggle herself out of this pendeja’s spell but whatever Alyssandra mixed in the tea it was compelling her body to still and her eyes to slowly falter shut in a peaceful sleep. (dumbass)

“However I should warn you, this spell is only valid until tomorrow. Until Dia de Los Muertos is over and even if you do achieve in retrieving the sapphire but it is after November second, you'll be permanently trapped with him.”

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flowerandblood · 2 months

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Object of Desire (Epilogue)

[ dark • Aemond x Arryn • widow female ]

[ warnings: sex content, breastfeeding kink, smut, angst, domination, swearing, mention of postpartum depression ]

[ description: After a difficult childbirth and finding out what kind of man her late husband was, Aemond finally finds the strength to truly understand his wife. Their life becomes peaceful and successful until Aegon is seriously injured in battle and he is proclaimed Prince Regent. The female character has a specific eye and hair color. ]

Part 1 − Object of Desire Part 2 − Object of Despair Part 3 − Object of Delight

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

My other works: Masterlist

_____

For as long as he could remember, the image of himself with Aegon the Conqueror's crown placed on his head had flashed through his mind. He had never thought of depriving his elder brother of the throne, but they both knew that he was better suited to the role.

However, now, as his King lay in his chamber, with burns that caused him so much pain that they made it impossible for him to move, let alone rule the kingdom, when he was proclaimed Prince Regent, the weight of the steel pressing down on his forehead and temples seemed to overwhelm him.

His wife stood beside him, seated on the Iron Throne − she was showing her allegiance to him by wearing on her neck and fingers the sapphire jewels, necklaces and rings he had given her, her gown as usual in the colours of her lineage, blue.

He knew that she did not desire rich, shiny gifts, and his presents were not intended to satisfy her vanity − never able to express his feelings and thoughts aloud, he preferred to show his respect and affection towards her in this way, and she accepted it with calmness and gratitude.

She paid tribute to him as the last person to stand in front of his throne − she bowed and wanted to kneel, but he stopped her with a gesture of his hand, ordering her to stand up.

He did not stop her when she approached him, when her hand grasped his, when she lifted it to her lips and kissed it reverently, closing her eyes.

He swallowed loudly, stroking her smooth skin with his thumb, feeling like just grabbing her around the waist and placing her on his lap, the way he would if they were alone in his chamber.

She moved away from him, looking at him with peace − a certainty, a pride that made him feel a warm contentment, something in her violet eyes that always reassured him.

She was his ally.

Not his grandfather's, his mother's, or his brother's.

His.

The mother of his heir.

His wife.

After the ceremony, a council was gathered, led by him, to determine what to do about the situation in Harrenhal, besieged for some time by Daemon. He did not allow his wife to leave the chamber, pointing with his hand to the seat on his right hand that would normally be occupied by his mother. His sire accepted this with humility, allowing his wife to take the seat next to him, herself sitting down next to Ser Criston.

Silence fell.

"How long do we have to tolerate Daemon flying around the kingdom threatening to take the crown from my brother? He laughs in our faces, occupying a stronghold so close to the Eyrie." He said coolly, his voice deep and defiant, certain. He heard his wife draw in a deep breath upon hearing the name of her ancestral fortress, lowering her gaze to her fingers.

His grandfather grunted loudly, twisting in his seat with a quiet creak of wood, looking at the faces of those gathered with a raised eyebrow.

"In my opinion, Prince Daemon wants to provoke you, Your Grace. It is obvious that his target is King's Landing. In my opinion, Harrenhal is a small price to pay to keep the capital, let him hold this fortress if he so desires."

"Harrenhal is the bridge between the North and the South. Daemon will burn Lord Arryn's army if he chooses to come to our call." He replied impatiently, Criston Cole grunted loudly, eager to make his point.

"There is only one King. Prince Daemon must be reminded of that." He said coldly, looking at him intensely, ready to rally their entire army at one sign of his. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his wife, who was looking at him with a gaze he knew well.

As always, she was letting him decide if he wanted to hear what she had to say.

He nodded at her, allowing her to speak.

"You are the rider of the greatest dragon in the kingdom, my king. You must remain in King's Landing. The Red Keep, unlike the Eyrie, can be conquered. Prince Daemon is just waiting for this. I'm certain that when he hears that you are heading in his direction with his army he will join his wife and they will march here together. Blockade of my uncle's army will still be a lesser loss." She said calmly, looking at her hands, his grandfather nodded, his face expressing surprise and some kind of admiration.

"Your wife speaks with great wisdom, Your Grace, and I agree with her completely." He said, and he looked away, hitting the side of his cheek with the tip of his tongue, thinking intensely about what she had said.

What if he does indeed move on Harrenhal, and finds only an empty fortress with children, old men and women?

What if Daemon humiliates him, tricks him like a little child hoping he'll swallow his bait, and attacks the Red Keep along with his half-sister knowing he won't make it back in time?

"Forgive me, my Lady, however, idleness is the domain of women, not men." Criston Cole hissed, but fell silent, swallowing hard, his lips pressed together as he met his warning gaze.

"You mistake idleness for wisdom and caution, my Lord. Like many men before you." His wife replied, and he clenched his fingers on the base of his nose and closed his eyes, sighing impatiently.

"Enough." He ordered, a tense silence fell around him, his wife looked away − he could see the vein pulsing fast on her slender, long neck, her cheeks red, betraying her annoyance.

"Mother." He turned to her, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, as he always did, reckoning with her opinion. He saw her swallow hard, picking at the cuticles around her fingernails in a nervous gesture, her big brown eyes filled with fear, uncertainty and dread.

"I think it's a trap, Aemond. Daemon is clever, he lives to mock others. He's always been this way."

He sighed quietly, feeling that despite his deep desire to lead his army to victory, there was much right in the doubts of his wife, grandfather and mother − when his anger and desire to prove himself began to give way to common sense he recognised that indeed if he left the Red Keep, his half-sister would take the opportunity.

"Let our spies continue to watch him and report his doings to us. We should think about luring him out of there somehow. Is there any news from the Iron Islands?" He asked, Lord Lannister nodded and grunted loudly.

"Yes. They agree to a set sum. They will stand against the Velaryon fleet at our call. However, they demand that their independence from the crown be upheld." He said quickly, nervously, adding the last sentence as if on the fly, clearly afraid of his reaction. He sighed heavily and merely nodded.

Their discussion continued for a few more hours, touching on the army, its supplies and the state of the soldiers' morale, their attitudes, whether an agreement could be reached with Lord Baratheon to remain neutral in exchange for the seat on the Small Council that his grandfather had offered in place of his own, knowing that it was his decision that had caused the betrothal to his daughters to be broken off.

When he had heard all he wished he closed the council by dismissing everyone but his wife.

She looked at him with her characteristic composure, watching as he removed Aegon the Conqueror's crown from his head and placed it with reverence on the top of the stone table in front of him. He gazed at its steel surface thoughtfully, tapping the tip of his finger against it, each time causing it to make a quiet clink.

"All my life I have thought about this moment. But it's not how I imagined it." He said finally, his voice impassive and tired. He heard her sigh quietly with understanding, looking down at his hands.

"I know."

They were silent for a moment, hearing only the sounds coming from outside the windows, the loud conversations of guards and servants shouting in the courtyard.

"They'll think I'm a craven." He hissed through clenched teeth, feeling uncertainty and frustration rising in his chest − he sensed that she looked at him, her hand tightening on his, as if she wanted to give him the courage to do the right thing.

"He knows this is what you fear most. He'll laugh and mock that you're afraid to face him, but we both know he'll do it because he hopes it will break you. Don't let him dictate to you the terms of when and where you will face each other. It's humiliating." She said with a certainty from which he felt a squeeze in his throat and closed his eyes for a moment, his thumb running over her soft skin.

"I'm expecting your child."

He shuddered, looking at her with his lips parted in disbelief, his heart began to pound hard at the thought that just a month after she'd given birth to his son, despite their shared promises, he'd come deep inside her when he'd made love to her, unable to stop himself, her hands clenched tightly on his bare buttocks, her sweet moans begging for his seed.

How could he deny her?

"Forgive me." He whispered in a trembling voice, thinking of the nightmare she'd endured, of how long she'd been unable to recover from it, how close she'd come to leaving this world. He heard her hum under her breath as she smiled softly, shaking her head.

"No. It is a good omen. A sign from the gods that they favour you." She replied, looking at him as if she was the one who wanted to comfort him, his fingers intertwined with hers. "I think this time will be different. I already know what to expect and that I can count on your support, my King."

He nodded, lifting her hand to his lips, placing a loud, lingering kiss on her smooth skin.

"They have taken pity on me, sending me you as my wife. My Queen." He muttered, drawing her close to him, gripping her waist, seating her comfortably on his lap, leaning against the back of his chair with a quiet sigh, gazing at her familiar, pleasant figure with tenderness.

She smiled warmly at his words, taking his face in her hands, stroking it with her thumbs. He closed his eyes, letting his body loosen, feeling sleepy and tired even though his manhood clearly expressed its pleasure at her closeness, swelling in his breeches.

"I will order a meal to be prepared for you and brought to your chamber. You have hardly eaten or slept for days."

"Mmm." He hummed, satisfied, as always, that she was watching him, that she knew what he needed without asking him unnecessary questions.

While this would surely have caused his frustration with another woman, her initiative didn't bother him; on the contrary, it made his daily life a lot easier, giving him the feeling that he didn't have to think of everything himself.

She was the one who decided what attire he should wear for what occasion, what they would eat for their morning meal, knowing what he liked most. To his satisfaction, she also found herself in the role of mother, establishing a close bond with their son, Jace's attachment to her and how joyfully he reacted to the sight of her made her eager to hold him in her embrace, letting him watch her feed him in the evenings.

His greatest weakness, as he found out, proved to be not the lack of his eye or control over his fiery temper, but the taste of her milk melting across his palate as his son slept peacefully at night with his belly filled with her food.

He clamped his mouth over her swollen, puffy nipples, sucking on them greedily as his fat cock thrust impatiently into her slick interior, teasing with its tip the spot inside her that made her moan shamelessly with pleasure.

"− my King −" She sobbed sweetly with her thighs spread wide, letting him pound into her with deep, fast pushes, purring with pleasure into the skin of her breasts, swallowing loudly her wonderful nectar. His sound vibrated through her entire body making her walls clench against him greedily, squeezing him, his thumb teasing and trailing around her pearl, making her fingers dig helplessly into his naked, sweaty back.

"− this is a meal worthy of the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, don't you think? − my wife's sweet, warm milk −" He murmured, running the tip of his nose over her nipple only to move his face to her other breast, repeating the same process, justifying his behaviour by the fact that he knew the excess milk was causing her pain and discomfort, and he couldn't imagine it going to waste.

"− yes − it's all yours − f-fuck −" She muttered, tilting her head back, her nails digging into the skin of his shoulders with his low groan as he felt her core begin to pulse around his manhood in orgasm, squeezing his seed out of him.

He didn't have the strength to resist and just filled her with himself, sighing in relief, licking her nipple with the tip of his tongue, as oversensitive as the rest of her body − she whimpered, trying to push him away but he wouldn't let her, busy with sucking her milk until she calmed down.

"− Aemond, please − oh gods −" She mumbled softly, completely absorbed in her fulfilment, panting heavily. He remained deep inside her, leaning on his elbow, not wanting to crush her with his body, remembering in the back of his mind about the baby in her womb.

"− what is it? − my wife is overwhelmed? − impossible −" He sneered with a grin of satisfaction − since it appeared that his attention to her breasts aroused not only him, she was soaking wet for him, her fulfilment approaching quickly and violently, making her body completely vulnerable and limp, as if she herself was shocked by how intense the sensation was.

"− I didn't even notice when you filled me again, my King − I'm inclined to think you're drawing satisfaction from my pleasure −" She cooed with a sweet smile, from which he chuckled under his breath, leaning towards her − her hand pulled him closer as their lips joined in a hot, sticky, soft kiss, her swollen breasts pressed against his chest.

He ran the tip of his nose over hers, looking into her eyes, a violet he adored − the shade of her irises slightly darker than his, warmer, shimmering wonderfully in the moonlight illuminating their bed.

He wanted to confess to her the many things that did not slip through his throat, the affection that filled his heart with heat, yet he remained silent, looking at her with a gaze she knew well. She always reacted the same way, her soft hand stroking his jaw as only two words came out of her mouth, spoken in a whisper.

"I know."

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tylermileslockett · 9 months

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Hellenic Polytheism or Hellenismos is the traditional, polytheistic (multiple gods) religious belief system of Ancient Greece. Modern people who believe in pre-Christian and polytheistic belief systems often refer to themselves as pagans. Let’s look at some of the general practices of typical Hellenic worship.

Hellenic Polytheists use altars or shrines to worship specific Gods within the Greek Pantheon. For example, an altar for Apollo may contain an image or sculpture bust of the god, as well as a side table, called a trapezōmata, which holds offerings of incense and flowers or food and drink such as wine, honey, milk, or olive oil. Another tripod incense holder was called a Thymiateria.

Before engaging in a ceremony, the practitioner will employ purification methods with lustral water (ritually cleansed). They may recite hymns or prayers in honor of the god, using the Homeric hymns for example. The practitioner may use a divination practice to seek guidance or gain insight from a god through methods like casting lots, reading signs from nature, oracle prophecies, and dream interpretations. In their ceremonies, ancient Greeks would perform rites in respect to their Ta Patria, (ancestral homeland heritage), and they would take pride in their reverence with Hos Kallista, or the highest level of beauty.

Hellenic Polytheism follows annual calendar festivals commemorating Gods or famous mythological events such as the Panathenaia in Athens (commemorating Athena), the Anthesteria and City Dionysia; (festivals celebrating Dionysus) The Olympics (a physical competition in honor of Zeus) and the Thargelia, (dedicated to Apollo and Artemis), and the Thesmophoria, (a festival exclusive to women in honor of Demeter), among many others.

Want to own my Illustrated Greek myth book jam packed with over 130 illustrations like this? Support my kickstarter for my book "lockett Illustrated: Greek Gods and Heroes" coming in October.You can also sign up for my free email newsletter. please check my LINKTREE:

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boycasanova · 8 months

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Twst spoilers

Lilia naming Silver after the silver moonlight beams, because he’s now a fae of the night, as a way to reclaim the color from its past silver owl association is so 🤧 Also, we learn two more UMe, Lilia’s Far Cry Cradle, which allows him to piece together people’s identities by seeing their memories, and Sebek’s Living Bolt, which conjures a wave of lightning. Do you think his UM being similar to Malleus’s unconscious magic play any part in his reverence of him?

Also, Maleanor, Malleus’s mother, and the Knight of Dawn, revealed to be Silver’s biological father, we’re finally revealed! While there are slight differences to Maleanor’s face, KOD is just Silver’s model with longer, blond hair. Also, his armor looks like Silver’s Fairy Gala costume, perhaps another example of fae and fairies reclaiming the color from the silver owls :3 Silver could also be as old as Malleus, having been born around the time his egg was laid. He’s place under a spell that makes him sleep, apparently stopping his aging as well, and isn’t found until 400 years after Lilia visits the castle again as it was taken by the humans. Silver wakes up as the magic wears off over time, Lilia says that he was already awake when he got there!

I love the confirmation that fae are being pushed out of their land, it strengthens the theory that Sage’s Island belonged to the fae until humans encroached on it. We see that play out again during camp Vargas, where they encourage the students to use violence to gather resources. It shows the disconnect in nature for the two species. They burned the woods down, decimated it for generations to come, and hindered their population… for a good grade in class. Additionally, most of the students weren’t even aware of it. Memories of ancestral right is a reoccurring theme in TWST, like Malleus gazing up at the stars through Ramshackle’s destroyed roof in book 5. The coliseum we see in book 5, during the culture fest, also bares a striking resemblance to the base we saw in the last chapter, perhaps foreshadowing that Sage’s island was fae territory before they were displaced by humans.

#twisted wonderland #twst #malleus draconia #lilia vanrogue #twst x reader #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #spoilers #mw

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trippygalaxy · 1 month

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My Opinion on the LU Boys DND Classes

as a DM of 3 years and a enjoyer of dnd for MUCH LONGER, i have so sososos many thoughts on what classes the boys would be. This will also include subclasses CAUSE ITS MY POST AND IMMA DO WHAT I WANT! /LH SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!!

Time -> Fighter, Eldritch Knight

Twilight -> Barbarian, Path of the Ancestral Guardian

Warriors -> Fighter, Battle Master

Sky -> Paladin, Oath of Devotion

Wild -> Ranger, Gloomstalker

Legend -> Wizard, Bladesinging

Hyrule -> Warlock, The Celestial

Four -> Fighter, Echo Knight

Wind -> Rogue, Swashbuckler

Taglist cause I know somepeople were interested! @catreginae @next-hero-in-line @unexpectedstormy @nancyheart11 @majorproblems77 @ladye-zelda @ajscico @mishwanders @violetregrets1837 @1dragon-mustard1

Under the cut will be explanations as to why i picked these classes! (as well as the official descriptions of the subclasses for context)

Time, The Eldritch Knight

Subclass Description; They focus their study on two of the eight schools of magic: abjuration and evocation. Abjuration spells grant an Eldritch Knight additional protection in battle, and evocation spells deal damage to many foes at once, extending the fighter's reach in combat. These knights learn a comparatively small number of spells, committing them to memory instead of keeping them in a spellbook.

Fighter is a go to for all the boys, but I think Time is a perfect fit for the class as he is shown time and time again to be a frontline fighter. He's quick to draw his sword and quicker to swing it.

Though Time is not a heavy magic user in the LU comics, he is known to have quite a few spells/magical abilities in his games and comics! Many of these abilities are defensive or to deal with large 'groups' of enemies at once, which is what Abjuration and Evocation spells are used for -respectively. The Class is still heavily rooted in melee rather than magic -like Time- but the magic they do use is to add a extra kick to their punch.

There are also abilities that make the Eldritch knight much harder (if not impossible) to disarm!

In higher levels, the subclasses allows the user to be more effective and quick with their spell casting who their actions are free for melee attacks, which would be a perfect fit for the quick and preciseness Time uses in battle.

Twilight, The Barbarian of Ancestral Guardians

Subclass description; Some barbarians hail from cultures that revere their ancestors. These tribes teach that the warriors of the past linger in the world as mighty spirits, who can guide and protect the living. When a barbarian who follows this path rages, the barbarian contacts the spirit world and calls on these guardian spirits for aid.

Barbarian is a common pick for Twilight as it is the most strength based class and while I agree with it always never quite sat right with me due to the violence the class is stereotyped to lean towards.

The subclass itself was picked because I connected it with not only the Hero's Shade but also the light spirits that Twilight encounters on his journey. Its very much a spirit heavy class that deals with a lot of themes regarding 'guardian' like figures which fit perfectly for the 'guardian' spirits Twilight runs into -and is trained by- during his adventure. I also choose this one because of how defensive it is, especially when it comes to protecting others!

Twilight is a protector, in the LU comics, in his games, in his manga, he is shown time and time again to protect others so to have a subclass to reflect his protective nature is a perfect match for his character!

Warriors, the Battle Master

Subclass Description; Those who emulate the archetypal Battle Master employ martial techniques passed down through generations. To a Battle Master, combat is an academic field, sometimes including subjects beyond battle such as weaponsmithing and calligraphy. Not every fighter absorbs the lessons of history, theory, and artistry that are reflected in the Battle Master archetype, but those who do are well-rounded fighters of great skill and knowledge.

Another fighter! Like I said for Time, this class is very much a 'go-to' class for any and all of the LU boys! But warriors fits so well for this class, a undeterred and seemingly never ending energy in a fight, Fighter fits perfectly!

I think that we all can agree that Warriors is one of the top 3 swordsmen in the group, his way with his sword is unlike the others as he holds an elegance and swiftness that can be rivalled by very few. The Battle Master subclass is built upon the idea of 'Yeah, you can try to hit me but get ready for your shit to get rocked.' It is about countering, using the enemies weaknesses to your gain and getting your hits in whenever you can.

A Captain in a war would be a battle master without a doubt!

Sky, Paladin of Devotion

Subclass description; --They hold themselves to the highest standards of conduct, and some, for better or worse, hold the rest of the world to the same standards. Many who swear this oath are devoted to gods of law and good and use their gods' tenets as the measure of their devotion. They hold angels – the perfect servants of good – as their ideals, and incorporate images of angelic wings into their helmets or coats of arms.

Is...Is this a surprise to anyone? A little cliche yes, but how can you blame me when it suits him so well!

First, Divine smite? PERFECT for the Skyward Strike, without a doubt and I don't think theres anything that could fit it so well! A mighty strike blessed with divine power and -depending on what spell/ability- can shed a great amount of light and cause lightning/thunder to burst from the strike! There is also abilities with the subclass that makes your weapon a beacon of light for a short period of time

Sky is devoted to many things. But its obvious hes devoted to his Zelda -the reincarnation of Hyila, a goddess- so much so that before he knew of her divine spirit he was willing to head into a world unknown just to look for her. He is so devoted to her and Skyloft that he fought a GOD to keep everyone he loved safe and sound.

Wild, The Gloom Stalker

Subclass description; Gloom stalkers are at home in the darkest places: deep under the earth, in gloomy alleyways, in primeval forests, and wherever else the light dims. Most folk enter such places with trepidation, but a gloom stalker ventures boldly into the darkness, seeking to ambush threats before they can reach the broader world.--

Since TOTK I feel like this would be fitting for the hero to be proficient in fighting in the darken places of the world. The name of the subclass is also suits him considering a huge part of the game -The Gloom- is apart of this class in a way.

Ranger is a great class for Wild, it is the definition of a hunter, an explorer, one that finds there own path in the wildness. Wild, though seen to get lost in the comics, has a great understanding of his Hyrule and its geographic locations and terrain, both surface and depths. He is also a great archer, and a even better hunter!

The hero is a survivor of the wilds, and Rangers are the best suited to do such a thing

Legend, The BladeSinger

Subclass Description: Bladesingers master a tradition of wizardry that incorporates swordplay and dance. In combat, a bladesinger uses a series of intricate, elegant maneuvers that fend off harm and allow the bladesinger to channel magic into devastating attacks and a cunning defense.

----

Legend is one of the more magically inclined Heros, and though thats mostly through his artifacts and magic items that doesn’t take away the fact that the hero has a broad knowledge when it came to magic.

I picked bladesinging specifically because while it’s main focus is magic it still uses the sword and it’s connection to ones-self. Legend is still a fighter at heart so i don’t think he would toss away those skills in this situation. He is shown in a few panels to have some sort of connection/bond to the mastersword and likely his own weapon, so it was important for me to somehow intertwine his two biggest skills together.

And a bit selfishly, i think he would look very very cool dancing around with his sword-

Hyrule, The Holy Warlock

Subclass description: Your patron is a powerful being of the Upper Planes. You have bound yourself to an ancient empyrean, solar, ki-rin, unicorn, or other entity that resides in the planes of everlasting bliss.

---

I know most people would make Hyrule either a wizard or nature based magic user but in all fairness, I dont think Hyrule is one to learn magic by the traditional means (reading/studying it). This isn’t to say the kid isn’t capable of doing so, but with the whole “hero of Hyila,” you’d think there would be a bit more a divine connection there.

Warlocks make deals, pacts, with some sort of higher being for their magic intentionally or not and Hyila ,a holy celestial, being fits perfectly to be his patron. The magic granted to a celestial warlock is based on a clerics abilities, healing, protecting from the undead and fiends, lighting a path etc. Warlocks also are also a little more focused on melee/combat and if picking the right pact boon, can have a special relationship/connect to their sword!

Four, The Echo Knight

Subclass description: Echo knights harness fading shades of unrealized timelines, pulling a shadowy duplicate of themself called an "echo" to fight by their side. The echoes are somewhat fragile, but the echo knight can summon another at any time.

Okayokayokay— HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE!!!

One of the echo knight’s main abilities is being able to make shadowy versions of themselves to fight alongside them in a battle. These shadows or ‘echoes’ are an extension of the person’s form/soul and are able to communicate and aid the original knight. They are able to project their consciousness into these shadows to get the information they have seen/witness and collects it all once they all fuse back together.

TELL ME THAT AINT PERFECT FOR FOUR!!!

Wind, The Swashbuckler

Subclass Description: You focus your training on the art of the blade, relying on speed, elegance, and charm in equal parts. While some warriors are brutes clad in heavy armor, your method of fighting looks almost like a performance. Duelists and pirates typically belong to this archetype. A Swashbuckler excels in single combat, and can fight with two weapons while safely darting away from an opponent.

….i feel like this is pretty straightforward as to why i picked this for Wind.

Wind, shown to be quite a sneaky Link in his games, is probably the most rogue like in the Chain. He’s a strong kid, but he specializes in quick strikes and keeping his opponents on their toes and unexpecting. He is also, very clearly, a pirate! So it isn’t surprising for the hero to have one of (if not the only) pirate theme-d subclass! The class is very agile, but the subclass specifically is focused on disarming, ‘backstabbing’ and overall being sneaky in plain sight!

And thought i do think this is a great fit for the hero, i could also see him as a Storm sorcerer, which was my second pick!

UHHHH! YEAH THATS IS! if you're reading this, thank you so much for listening to me ramble and if you have any ideas/thoughts of your own i would LOVE to hear them!!!

#tales out of orbit #dnd #linked universe #linked universe headcanons #linked universe au #linkeduniverse #lu boys #lu time #lu wild #lu warriors #lu sky #lu wind #lu hyrule #lu twilight #lu legend #lu four #lu chain

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fragileheartbeats · 2 months

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make another valerian house that survived, make them protective.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐀𝐑 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝑅𝑂𝑌𝐴𝐿 𝐾𝑁𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝑆 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

─ 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𖤐

─ 𝘎𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦 𖤐

House Valysar, a lesser-known house among the Valyrian descendants, has carved its existence into the tapestry of history not through wealth or power but through unyielding loyalty and an unwavering sense of duty. Their story is intertwined with that of House Celestyr, binding them in a tale of survival, allegiance, and unwavering courage.

The ancestral weapon of House Valysar is a slender, elegantly crafted spear known as "Silent Guardian." Unlike the typical Valyrian steel swords that many noble houses boast of, Silent Guardian's blade is forged from a unique blend of Valyrian steel and a mysterious, obsidian-like material found in the depths of old Valyria. This combination gives the spear an eerie, almost otherworldly appearance, with a dark, shimmering blade that seems to absorb light. It is said that the spear's creation was inspired by the house's protective and watchful nature, serving as both a symbol of their duty to those they vow to protect and a formidable weapon in battle.

The most renowned member of House Valysar was Rhaegor Valysar, a figure of deep loyalty and profound courage. His close relationship with Jacaelar Celestyr, forged through mutual respect and shared trials, became legendary. Rhaegor's role in safeguarding the future of House Celestyr, especially in protecting Maesella and guiding her children, Rhaevar and Nelaella, earned him a revered place in the annals of both houses. Despite their modest number, each member of House Valysar is trained in the art of combat and strategy from a young age, ensuring their capability to protect and serve with honor.

Their words, "In Loyalty, We Stand," speak volumes about the essence of House Valysar. It is a testament to their unwavering loyalty, not just to House Celestyr but to their own ideals of honor, protection, and service. These words serve as a constant reminder of their commitment and the lengths they are willing to go to for those they have sworn to protect.

The members of House Valysar are characterized by their loyalty, protectiveness, and disciplined nature. They are the embodiment of the devoted guardian, always ready to stand in defense of their allies and loved ones. Their intimidating presence is balanced by their affectionate and reliable nature, making them respected and cherished by those who know them well. However, their protective instinct can sometimes become overbearing, leading to conflicts with those they aim to protect. Despite this, their courage, devotion, and reliability make them invaluable allies and formidable guardians.

House Valysar, though not rich in gold or lands, possesses a wealth of honor and loyalty that surpasses many more affluent houses. In their story of unwavering allegiance to House Celestyr, through trials and tribulations, they embody the true essence of valor and dedication. Rhaegor Valysar, with his legendary deeds, stands as a beacon of the noble spirit that defines House Valysar. Their sigil and words are not just symbols but a solemn vow to always stand in loyalty, a vow they have upheld through generations, making them an indelible part of the legacy of Valyria.

My other original house:

House Celestyr

House Lyrielle

@fragileheartbeats . Don't plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

@emily2003alzaga @nash-dara @altaircc @heavenly1927 @omgsuperstarg @asoiafhyperfixation

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ludwig-holy-blade · 1 year

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The Eyes of the Beholder

Rhaenyra Targaryen x Male Dayne Reader

Rhaenyra Targaryen, the realm’s delight, did not feel beautiful today. It was the early morning on the isle of Starfall and Rhaenyra was sat upon the beach as she was oft to do every morning. Her gown had been soaked around her ankles and bum for the better part of an hour now, though she had hardly noticed.

Her thoughts were awash with doubts as she stared out towards the Torrentine. It was only eight days ago that she had given birth to her fourth son and it had become strangely apparent to her that she was not the beauty she once was. After ten years of marriage Rhaenyra and Y/N had produced no less than eight children together. The thought brought a smile to her face. She and her husband had been rather over eager in their passions.

The truth was however that those births had added weight to her once slender form. While Rhaenyra and her husband enjoyed the new size her breasts and bottom she had quickly become quite frustrated with the weight around her middle. This frustration was often made worse whenever she saw Alicent, still slender and slim despite having birthed four children of her own. She often feared that in time her husband would grow disgusted with her and in time would seek out others. There were so many after all in Dorne alone not to mention across the Narrow Sea and in Westeros itself.

These thoughts liked to creep into her mind in the early morning and late into the evening. They would often leave her quiet and staring into the mirror, reminiscing on her once beauty.

The sound of splashing dragged her out of her thoughts.

The reason for Rhaenyra’s love of watching the waves in the early morning was twofold. On one hand the sound of the waves and the cool air were calming and brought her a sense of peace. On the other, was her husbands love of swimming. Lord Y/N Dayne loved to swim around the entire length and breadth of his Island Castle and Rhaenyra loved to watch him.

Y/N had also gotten bigger over the last ten years except unlike Rhaenyra Y/N had turned said weight into muscle. This was made easy due to her husband’s love of swimming and many other forms of exercise, he often spends hours training with his houses ancestral blade Dawn and loved wrestling and grappling. Rhaenyra loved to watch him train, not only was it incredibly attractive to watch Y/N’s muscle flex and move but it also made Rhaenyra more comfortable, it was a comfort to know just how well her husband could and in fact would protect her if needs be.

The sight before her was one she had seen many a time but still never grew tired of witnessing. Her husband came out of the water in naught but his small clothes and while a grin broke out across her face at the sight of him and thoughts of more amorous activities flooded her mind she couldn’t stop herself from covering her stomach.

Y/N approached sluggishly, as there was no way possible to exit the water attractively. A smile broke out across his face as soon as he saw her, his true smile, the one that reached his eyes. The slow walk turned to a quick stride as he got closer. The sight of his approach made Rhaenyra’s heart beat faster and heavier, made her smile almost painfully wide and made a blush spread across her face and ears.

He came and sat before her folding his knees under him. He looked nearly boyish in that moment, smiling like a fool without saying a word. The two of them simply sat there gazing at each other simply smiling.

“Hello gorgeous.” Were the first words spoken, quietly, as if he was speaking reverently of her. Rhaenyra merely took him by the face brought his lips to hers. joy flood into her as it often did when they kissed.

They parted for a mere moment and Y/N stopped to look at her. “What’s wrong Rhaenyra.” She averted her eyes though she knew she couldn’t hide her upset. She never could, not from Y/N. “It’s too early in the morning to be so distressed.” Rhaenyra had turned her face into her shoulder, a vain attempt to hide herself but Y/N had followed her turning his face with her. No longer desiring to hide from her husband, it was to want to she knew, Rhaenyra steeled herself. Taking a deep breath she spoke.

“Do you still find me beautiful Y/N?” The shock that over took his face would have been funny if Rhaenyra was in a joking mood but she remained stoic. Y/N appeared almost offended by the very question when he answered. “Why wouldn’t I Rhaenyra, your as beautiful now as you’ve ever been.” His response was earnest and yet still Rhaenyra’s face was still downcast. “Who would call you anything but lovely Rhaenyra, tell me they’re name, I'll strike them down with a god’s wrath.” A laugh bubbled up from Rhaenyra. “No one Y/N I swear no one had offended me so.” A laugh interrupted her and she brought her hand to his cheek once again. “Though thank you for caring so much as to kill someone for my pleasure.” The two of them laughed quietly.

“I will be honest with you then my love but please try not to judge me,” Rhaenyra breathed deeply again. “Over the past I have begun to notice, after the children have been born, I have kept more weight on my stomach than I should have been.” Y/N once again began to speak but Rhaenyra’s raised hand stopped him. “I simply do not feel as beautiful as I once did, I know you love me but it does worry me that perhaps one day you will decide to seek out another younger woman.” She wove her hand through his long dark hair, Y/N closed his eyes and took her hand.

“Rhaenyra I want you to listen to me and hear everything I say.” She nodded. “I have loved you since the moment I first saw you as a boy. You are as beautiful as you could possibly be.” Y/N came forward, making Rhaenyra lie on her back. He settled his hands in her splayed out hair, as he loved to play with her silver locks. Y/N locked eyes with his wife before he spoke again. “There may younger women, prettier women, women with larger tits, tighter asses and the like.” He brought his hand down to stroke her cheek. “There will never be a woman more beautiful than you in my eyes, no one. And there shall never be another woman as beautiful as you to come.”

Y/N began to kiss Rhaenyra’s neck, long deep kisses which pulled moans deep from within her throat. He descended slowly kissing a trail down her body. He opened her night gown, revealing her breasts to the early morning air, he kissed both of them for some time before moving on. He made his way downwards to her belly and stopped. He kissed it once, twice, thrice then over and over and over again. It was obvious what he was doing but Rhaenyra had not married him for his wits but rather for his honesty and frankness. It was not to say his kisses were ineffective either. Rhaenyra became hot once again, warmth flooding through her chest as Y/N’s kisses continued.

After much time and many more kisses Y/N finally stopped. Crawling back upwards he sat between her legs, Rhaenyra wrapped them around his waist almost instinctively, and he kissed her lips again. “You may grow as big a house if you so desire Rhaenyra Targaryen and should any man call you anything less than beautiful I’ll kill them and the next generation of their families. No man or woman will demean you in my presence, not even yourself.”

He brought his lips to hers once again, passion colliding as they embraced. Rhaenyra knew in that moment that no more words need pass between them, Y/N intended to prove his loyalty the best he could. It was long into the morning that they loved each other and Rhaenyra in that moment, could not have felt more magnificent.

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