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arcielee · 3 months

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The Dragon and the Wolf

Summary: “...perhaps the fire of a Targaryen prince is what is needed to thaw out your heart.” Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader Word Count: 2700+ Warnings: Reader AFAB, kissing, oral (f receiving), loss of virginity, slight overstimulation, creampie. Author’s Note: This was the poll winner! 💜 Thank you to my lovelies @aemondsbabe and @valeskafics for helping me brainstorm the title. No beta, my mistakes are my own and I am woefully sorry for them all. This will be a series of one-shots of the moments between Prince Aemond Targaryen and his Northern bride-to-be (which I pulled from my OC!Stark x Aemond Targaryen story, but whatever). There will be fluff and there will be smut. Enjoy!

You could feel the panicked gaze from your handmaiden, her visceral exasperation spilling as she watched you pace the room, but you could not hold still.

Not tonight, not after that kiss.

She begged until you finally allowed her to help you change into your nightgown, despite how your skin felt aflame. She then took your hand to lead you to the vanity to sit, to hold still, to allow her to brush and braid your hair for bed, just as she had every night since you first arrived to the Red Keep months ago.

You had traveled from Winterfell at the behest of your brother, a promise to see through what the late King Jaehaerys failed to accomplish: to solidify the bond between the North and South kingdoms. Cregan saw no harm with the capital’s proposal, as you had already scorned all of the Northern lords who called for your hand.

“Who knows, sister,” his eyes twinkled just as your father’s had when he was still alive, “perhaps the fire of a Targaryen prince is what is needed to thaw out your heart.”

You had scoffed, but soon realized how right Cregan had been, that you were enamored from the moment you met Aemond. The rest of the Keep seemed to fade away as you watched him, his imposing severity that settled into the sharp contours of his face and in the way he held himself. He towered you; he watched you with his one eye, a lovely lavender that flitted over you, while the other was hidden beneath a leather patch with the wrathful scar that curled above and below.

You remembered the touch of his hand–his palm calloused and warm and gentle–when he took your own; you recalled the spill of silver as he leaned forward and the softness of his lips against your knuckles with his kiss. Even his low timbre soothed you as he repeated your name; the introduction left you blood rising to the surface.

Your courtship with the prince was something to be displayed–an ailing king’s desperate grasp at legacy. Aemond played the role of the perfect, regal gentlemen, but you wished to pull him away from the prying eyes of the court, to learn everything about the infamous one-eyed Targaryen prince.

There were stolen moments scattered with Aemond and you collected them piece by piece, but still you were rarely, if ever, allowed a moment to be truly alone with him.

It was not until the crowned princess returned to the capital, and the chaos that followed and ruined the family supper, that you were able to follow after Aemond, out into the gardens of the Red Keep.

You recognized his silhouette at once, and moved closer until you saw his ethereal glow from how the moon poured over him. Your tone was soft at first, a teasing kindness until you saw the upwards curl of his lips, and you dared giggle with your encouragement that he should teach you swear words that would best describe his nephews in High Valyrian.

And then something changed, something shifted. Aemond stepped closer and you felt the cool night air pull away, enveloped by his warmth, the scent of smoke and leather and sandalwood. His palm moved to cup the side of your face and then he kissed you.

This was your first truly intimate moment you shared with your betrothed. And it was also your first kiss.

You sighed sweetly in his mouth, a kindled passion that thrummed from where his hands touched your hips, his hold to pull you closer only to quickly recoil once one of the Cargyll knights finally found you both.

The White Cloak then escorted you back to your quarters, your steps lead-filled, and here you were expected to sit still as your handmaiden fret over your hair.

But you could not sit still, hence why your slippered foot tapped the stone floor, your heart pounding violent against your chest as that kiss in the garden replayed in your mind…

“Please, my lady,” your handmaiden squeaked, the ivory comb tangling in your hair.

Your hands flared out to ward off her touch, your tone cutting. “Thank you, but that is enough. You are relieved from your duties for the rest of the night,” you stood up, pushing the poor girl and sending her stumbling towards the door.

Her eyes were wide. “I–I have not finished with–”

“I have hands of my own,” you grabbed the silk robe to cover yourself, “I shall manage,” and when you turned to step towards the girl once more, she squeaked again. She moved to open the door and paused to see Prince Aemond already poise, his one arm tucked behind his back and the other lifted as if he meant to knock.

It was an eternal silence; Aemond looked startled, but his gaze eventually found yours, and you stared back, unabashed, burning from the sight of him.

Meanwhile your handmaiden, mortified, shrank to slip past the prince and leave.

Only when you heard the soft sound of the door closing behind did you find the courage to move towards Aemond, reaching for his tunic and pulling him close. You fell into him, your lips hungry for his own and he returned your passion before slowing to savor, his tongue running your bottom lip and then curling into your mouth.

It continued until your breath was an exchange between, his exhale becoming your inhale and trilling through your veins, pumping your heart. Your mind was clouded with his proximity–you felt giddy and your hands twisted into his tunic to hold yourself upright.

He hummed, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flushed against his chest. A shy sigh spilled when you felt his length pressing through the fabric and against your stomach, a bolt of warmth and want curling together. But your passion was replaced with a trepidation, something that now curdled instead.

You broke the kiss, a rosiness spilling from your lips to your cheeks, to the tip of your nose: “I lost my maidenhead on horseback.” You felt your blood thicken with your confession. “But I have never been…”

The words would not come, but Aemond did not need them. Instead he closed the little space you created, his warm palms moving to cup your face and bring you back to capture your lips with a tender kiss.

“I will be gentle,” his low timbre promised. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

You believed him, as you had seen his actions that spoke far louder during your time at the capital. He had always shown you a careful consideration since the courtship began, but now you found that you could not wait another moment.

Your fingers pulled at the silk robe you had thrown on, allowing it to slip from your shoulders and puddle onto the floor. Your hands moved to the lacing that lined the front of your nightgown, but you paused, pinned under the lavender of his eye.

His chest rose and fell with his steadied breath a moment before he offered his hands, his slender fingers gentle to loosen the ties. Aemond stopped to place kisses on the slope of your shoulder, your chest, a soft tickle of his lips as more of your skin was bared to him.

You felt vibrant, ignited by his touch, and you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, admiring the flush of rose that now stained his skin. You pulled at your skirts, grabbing the bottom hem and peeling it over, dropping it into the silk puddle already at your feet.

Lust now swallowed the lavender, but Aemond only hummed his admiration as his gaze slowly dragged from your face, following your curves and then returning to meet with your eyes again.

“Gevie,” he mused with a slight curl to his lips.

You burned, cursing your Septa for the little Valyrian she indulged to teach you, too shy to ask now for a translation, but bold enough to reach for him. Your fingers touched the buckles of his tunic. Aemond hummed again as you began to undress him, until he was bare from the waist up, and the heat that pooled from him now seeped and curled into your core.

His form was lean, taut, with a muscular definition and its decoration of silver scars scattered across his chest and his abdomen. Your fingers trailed the lines that cut into his trimmed waist, and then you stepped closer to press a soft kiss to the right side of his jaw.

Aemond caught your chin, bringing your lips to meet with his own again. His kiss was drawn out, wringing the air from your lungs but still so gentle that you could not help but melt into his chest, into the warmth that he embodied.

Your fingers reached to touch his jaw but paused, a hovering hesitation. He took your hand and brought it back to cradle against his chest, watching you. You swallowed. “Aemond, please,” you began slowly, your voice careful, “I wish to see all of you.”

His jaw steeled with your request, tense for that moment but then he reached with his other hand to remove the eyepatch. The crimson seemed bolder, brighter, cutting through from his brow and into his cheek, and you also saw that placed in his scarred socket was a sapphire stone that glittered in the amber light of the room.

You pressed to your tiptoes, your fingertips touching to tilt his jaw down and you pressed a kiss beneath, your lips careful to trail his maim before placing another against his cheek. “Ñuha zaldrīzes,” but you were slow with the only Valyrian you knew, and finished with another kiss to his lips.

My dragon.

His expression was unreadable, and for a moment you believed that you had ruined the practiced pronunciation. But then Aemond moved to wrap his arms back around your waist, his face burying into the softness of your neck and his hands grabbing into the curves of your hips. Your laughter spilled as you felt him lift you enough for your feet to not touch the stone floors, your arms wrapping around his neck, and Aemond moved with wide steps, bringing you back towards your bedside.

You fell back onto the mattress, looking up at him. His neck bobbed as his eye followed the pink hues that now spilled from your cheeks to your neck and onto your chest. Your nipples were peaked and your eyes shone bright as he stepped closer, climbing onto the bed and moving on top of you.

He tucked his head to trace the slope of your neck with his lips and your back arched with the desire to feel his chest against your bare skin, a fluttered moan spilling from you. Aemond moved lower, placing warm, open mouthed kisses that scorched your skin, with a warmth that was pouring into your core.

Aemond continued lower, his silver tresses spilling and tickling your skin as he moved between your plush thighs. You mewled with the touch of his lips to the inside, and your thighs squeezed to stop him.

You are breathless. “It tickles.”

He only hummed, reaching to press his hand onto your stomach, a comforting touch as his fingers traced abstract lines on your skin. “Let me,” and his exhale was titillating as he nestled back between.

Aemond was careful with his touch, just as he always showed himself to be. He was aware of your every sound and sigh, pacing himself with a slow rhythm that began to build until his clever tongue had you pinned to the mattress.

You blossomed with bated breath, grabbing fistfuls of the bed linen to ground yourself from falling into the trance of his ministrations. You felt a prod at your entrance, his finger curling within, and your pleasure fluttered up your spine. It was too much and you writhed from his mouth, but his other hand moved underneath your thigh, gripping into your soft flesh, halting you.

Let me.

Aemond quickened his pace, encouraged by your quiet pants, from how your heartbeat now pulsed around the digits that were knuckle deep in you. You felt Aemond pulling you towards a precipice that was consuming, a warmth that crashed against and spilled throughout. Your heart still bruised against your ribs from the cresting tremors of your fading pleasure, and only then did you notice it.

How Aemond grinned smugly against your wet cent.

You reached with boneless fingers that tangled into his silver hair, pulling him back so you could capture his mouth that now glistened with you. It was your own bittersweet taste on his lips and you felt emboldened to grab his waistband. When your fingers brushed against his heavy bulge that pressed the crotch of his slacks, a sweeping shyness returned.

He pulled back with a sly smile, removing them before he moved back on top. His arms cage you to the bed and your skin rose with how his breath fanned against your cheeks. “I do not wish to hurt you,” he repeated after a moment, but his heavy hesitation lifted as you pulled him into the cradle of your hips.

You sighed from how he molded into the softness of your body, and Aemond gave another savoring kiss. “Please, Aemond,” your eyes wet from your want, and his head dipped to watch as he grabbed the base, careful to line himself with your entrance.

Aemond paused with a new trepidation that settled along the rose hues that dusted his sharp features. You squirmed beneath him, searching for friction, to feel the blunt press of his cockhead against your silken folds.

“Aemond,” you now plead, a honeyed whisper, another kiss to encourage him, “I want you.”

He watched you as he pressed forward, and you felt a stretch, a fullness as his hips moved against yours. You tensed from the new sensation, your nails biting and leaving red crescent marks that startled against the white of his skin.

Aemond stilled at once, allowing you a moment to adjust, his brow furrowed with his concern. You then let out a soft exhale before tilting your chin to give him a kiss, a promise that you were fine.

And only then did Aemond move, slowly, carefully, with each gentle thrust that split you further as he sheathed himself fully within you. It rekindled a deeper passion, and your eyes widened with a small gasp; he dipped his head to press his lips to your neck, decorating the column with his kisses, your pulse thrumming beneath. It began to ripple through you and your thighs tightened around his slender waist, beckoning him closer still.

“Aemond,” you gasped.

He hummed his acknowledgement, pushing himself up. He used one arm for balance while his other hand moved to press onto your hip, his palm trailing closer to your bloom above, his thumb moving in circles.

You felt raw, sensitive still from before, and something sparked with his touch. The air was thick and caught in your throat; a passion spilled from you without the same tensity from the first time, though still with a melody that played sweetly throughout your veins.

Your velvet walls clenched with your climax and it pulled Aemond after. He groaned his own release, melting against you and burying his face back into the curve of your neck. You gasped again from how he pulsed between your legs, his heart rattling through to your bones.

After a moment, Aemond rolled to the side, his chest expanding to catch his breath before he reached to pull you to curl against him, equally breathless and aglow. Your arm was thrown across, your face pressed against to feel the rhythm of his heart, his seed spilling onto your thigh; his fingers began to trace patterns on your skin.

He leaned to press another kiss to your hairline, and he whispered the same word from before. “Gevie.”

“What does that mean?” You cannot help your grin, tilting your head back to look at him.

His other hand came round, a finger pressed to your cheek to look at you. “Beautiful,” he said and then he gave you another kiss.

Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @sylasthegrim @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @girlwith-thepearlearring @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowprincesa1 @officerbrowneyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @hb8301 @namelesslosers

arcie's masterlist

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #stark!reader #the dragon and the wolf

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hwashotcheeto · 2 months

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Here's the Prince!Seonghwa drabble I thought about. @malldreamprincess princess made this moodboard for me without asking, so she's amazing, everyone say thank you to her. 💜

Prince!Seonghwa x gn!reader

WC: 922

All fluff, very fluffy, rot your teeth like cotton candy fluffy.

Tag List: @cherrycel @mxnsxngie @malldreamprincess @asjkdk

You were sitting in the rose gardens, admiring the many different manicured bushes, counting the blooms on each one. Before you moved to the Palace of Wonderland, you’d never known how many colors roses could be. You’d seen red, white, and pink, sure, but here, there was blue, and purple.

“You spend a lot of time here,” a voice behind you observed.

You turned your head to see him. Your betrothed. The man you were going to be married to in just two months.

The crown prince of Wonderland, Park Seonghwa. Your future husband.

You fought your father on being married off to a man for the sake of an alliance. You hated it, you didn’t want your life to be a bargaining chip.

And then you met the man you’d be married to. You met Seonghwa, and he was everything anyone could want.

Romantic, kind, sweet, gentle, gorgeous, loving, and so much more.

He made sure you were comfortable with anything he did. He held you when you were scared. He defended you from others in the palace. He made the effort to learn who you were and what you liked.

He told you the night you met: “I’ll always be your husband before I am your king. And I’ll do my best to be the best one I can be for you.”

You vowed the same to him. To be the best spouse you could be. Every kind gesture, you returned it. You learned about him as he learned about you.

You wanted to marry this man. And he wanted to marry you.

“I like roses,” you responded, turning more towards him, coming back to reality.

Seonghwa smiled as he walked up to you, his back perfectly straight, as always. He sat next to you on the little stone bench as he looked at the roses as well.

“They are quite beautiful, aren’t they?” He reached out and held one of the blooms in his hand. You watched his slim, delicate hands cradle the delicate flower in his palm as he admired it’s deep red coloring.

“They are. They’re my favorite.”

Seonghwa looked at you, and every time you looked at him, you fell deeper into his dark eyes. He looked at you with a fondness you’d never been familiar with. And he made sure you felt it every time his eyes met yours.

He nodded as he let go of the rose, turning back to you. You did the same.

“I have something I wanted to give to you,” Seonghwa said softly. He held out his hand for you to take, which you easily did. His hand closed around yours, and it felt like a key sliding into it’s lock.

He reached back into his pocket and retrieved a small, black, velvet box. With his one hand, he managed to open the box, and revealed a gorgeous diamond ring. A silver band with a diamond on the top, with smaller red rubies around it.

A diamond, for you, and rubies, for his kingdom’s colors.

Seonghwa couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled the ring from the box. “I know royals don’t have proposals, but I could not stop thinking about this moment.” He looked up at you as he held the ring, the biggest smile you’d ever seen on anyone, his eyes sparkling with delight.

It was taking everything in you to not burst into tears on the spot. Despite the tears, you were smiling as well. Your heart ached with a love you’d never felt before. An adoration, a desire saved for someone like him.

For someone as special as he was.

“Would you marry me, my dear?” He asked you, moving closer, squeezing your hand. He lowered his voice as he leaned closer to you. “Would you spend the rest of your life with me, and make me the happiest man on Earth?”

You nodded as the tears spilled down your cheeks, not trusting yourself to speak. You felt weak, but not in a negative way. Your whole body felt the love you had for him.

You were convinced that you were in love with the prince. You were marrying this prince not because you had to, but because you loved him. And he loved you just as much.

Seonghwa slid the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly.

He reached up and held your face in his hands, wiping away your tears. You gratefully leaned into his warm, soft touch as he cradled you like you were the most precious jewel in the world. To Seonghwa, you were.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, wiping away another tear. “I’ll be the best husband I can be.”

“I know,” you whispered back, reaching up to lay your hands on his. “I’ll do the same for you.”

“I know.” He smiled as he repeated your words, but tears began to well in his own eyes. His eyes sparkled even more than normal.

You let go of his hands and threw your arms around him, hugging him as tightly as you could manage. Seonghwa did the same, holding you tightly against his chest. The squeeze made you feel safe. You knew you’d always be safe in Seonghwa’s arms.

There were no words exchanged. There didn’t need to be.

This is what life would be for years. Loving embraces. Endless kisses. Bottomless adoration. Singing each other’s praises until the end of your days.

Being entirely, selfishly, hopelessly devoted to each other.

You couldn’t think of anything better.

Neither could Seonghwa.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol(s) in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez ff #ateez drabble #ateez fluff #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa fanfiction #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa fic #seonghwa ff #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa drabble #seonghwa x reader #ateez x reader

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nebulaafterdark · 1 year

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Can I get something Aegon x Velaryon(Strong) reader where she is his betroth but when he wears the crown she takes side with her mother. Rhaenyra annuls the betrothal and betrothes reader with Cregan Stark. Reader goes to Storm’s End with Luke to gain support. Well the rest is like in the show but Aemond takes her to King’s Landing forcefully after he kills her brother and when Aegon learns she’s betrothed with Cregan he weds her and makes her his queen no matter how much she resist. If you are uncomfortable you don’t have to make it yandere or dobcon/noncon. There can be smut or something else it doesn’t matter. I trust your imagination. I really love your Aegon x Velaryon(Strong) reader theme. There is no enough content in Tumblr about Aegon x niece!reader. Most Aegon contents are about Aegon x sister!reader and those contents doesn’t fulfill my thirst for enemies to lovers plot.

I love it! Enemies to lovers just hits different. But I feel they’re more like frienemies to start. Aegon definitely pulled her hair as a kid and if anyone hurt her (besides him) may the gods give them rest lmao. Let’s get into it 💜

Storm’s End

Aegon x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Warning: Targcest, Yandere!Aegon, dark subject matter, mentions of sex, themes of non/dubcon.

Storm’s End. Not a place Aegon’s given much thought to, until now.

Storm’s End. Where the new ruling King sends his brother, Aemond, to retrieve what is his. His half sister’s sweet daughter, Y/N.

Not so long ago they had been betrothed. Before Viserys died and any semblance of ‘family’ shattered. Y/N chose her mother, because she always did.

‘I am no more or less than a vessel tossed about to create the illusion of peace. As my mother’s eldest child, I go willingly, to protect that which come after me.’

That’s what she’d told him. So it came as no surprise when Aegon learned Rhaenyra had betrothed Y/N to Cregan Stark instead. It stung a bit at first, Y/N was the only person he’d bothered getting to know. Unlike his family, affections for him were not guaranteed. Unlike the whores from the pleasure house, she was not required to give him time of day; only to wed him and bear his heirs.

It is no secret that Aegon is intrigued by the Princess. He spent most of his days imagining where she would fit into his life, what their children would look like, how his cock would feel stuffed inside every hole she had. Perhaps it was wrong, perverse at the very least. But so long as she was his no one could stop it. No one would dare.

When word comes that Rhaenyra’s camp has begun flying about the realm, trying to steal his throne, Aegon sees his opportunity and he seizes it. But from the sound of his future Queen, all but growling like a caged animal, something must have gone amiss.

Aemond enters the room, with Y/N kicking and swinging at him, as they go.

“Get your hands off me, you fucking traitor.” Y/N demands, tossing her head back against Aemond with enough force to dislodge his nose.

“Quiet, bastard!” He seethes, shoving her toward his brother to tend his bleeding.

“I told you I wanted her unharmed.” Aegon rushes to Y/N, taking her around the waist. Partly to comfort, mostly to restrain. Her dark hair falls carelessly about her, escaping from the braid trailing down her back. Her cheeks stained with tears, nose running unabashedly. She is inconsolable.

“She did not come easy.” Aemond informs him, through gritted teeth.

“I wouldn’t go anywhere with you, murderer!” Y/N jerks in his arms, lunging for Aemond as best she can.

“What’s she on about?” Aegon demands, attempting to gentle her to no avail.

“He killed my brother.” Y/N wails, the words wrenching from her throat in an inhuman manner.

“Lucerys owed me a debt.” Aemond half smirks.

“He was a baby.” Y/N cries, “he was just a little boy.”

“Leave us,” Aegon commands.

Aemond nods, clearing the room with the other occupants, until only the King and his Queen remain.

Y/N continues to fight against Aegon, wrestling him to the ground.

“Stop it,” Aegon huffs. His body lying over hers, restraining her hands with his own.

Y/N rears back, spitting in his face.

“Oh my dearest love,” he chuckles, “I’ve missed you too.”

Y/N clunks the back of her skull into the stone floor of the throne room. “Kill me,” she pleads, “do it and be done with it.”

“Shhh,” Aegon frowns, “I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to make you my Queen.”

“No,” she shakes her head.

“Wed you in the tradition of our house and Old Valyria, bind our blood forever. Fuck you full of my children. Tear the Seven Kingdoms apart and rebuild them in your image.”

Y/N lets out a sob. “Please, Aegon. Let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I’ll say you helped me escape.”

Aegon click his tongue at her. Leaning down to her ear, “if I can’t have you, no one will.”

————————————————————————

However improper, Aegon is the one to prepare her for their ceremony. Trickling warm water from the bath over the delicate features of her face.

“Lean up, I’ll wash your hair.” Aegon taps her chin with his forefinger.

Y/N shifts forward, curling in on herself, knees to chest. Arms wrapped tightly around them. “Why are you doing this, Aegon.” Her voice is tired, drained as her body.

It isn’t love, it’s too dark, too selfish, too one sided. It isn’t lust, for he wants more than her body. He hungers for her mind, her soul, to become one in every way. Thoughts of her are all consuming. “Because you’re mine.”

“I’m nothing special. Plain featured bastard at best, by all accounts of your mother.”

“I do not find you plain.” Aegon dampens her locks, smoothing through knotted pieces with his fingers. The dark hair he’s yearned to stroke softly in comfortable silence, to brush sweat damp from her skin as he fucks her.

Y/N peers over at him slowly. Here she has the King on his knees, tending her like a prized possession. She would have married him willingly, in another life. She would have loved him. Instead he chose the crown over her. And she chose her mother over him.

He washes and dries her with a devotion Y/N has never known. Helping her dress in the customary gown.

She is not allowed to leave his side until they are wed before the eyes of thousands. Sliding the blade of her late grandsire’s knife over her palm, pressing it to Aegon’s. Allowing their blood to mingle, seeping into the gauntlet between them.

Y/N feels nothing, not the bite of the blade. Nor the split of her lip, the cool metal of her crown. She is Queen. Traitor to her poor mother who has lost her son. Does she know? Y/N wonders as Aegon reels her in for a kiss. Lapping at the cut on her bottom lip, which matches his own. Does my mother know I’ve betrayed her?

Y/N was always meant to be Queen, one day when Rhaenyra was cold and in her grave. Not now, as she lives and breathes. Does she think I’m dead too?

The bedding ceremony is customary. Y/N goes quietly, draping herself dutifully over the mattress, praying that Aegon is quick about it.

Perhaps he does love her with all the pieces of his decrepit heart. Perhaps she does love him with the fragments of her own. But does it truly matter if this is all they have to show for it? Put on display for the small council as they make love for the first time. To breed children who will feed back and repeat the same jaded cycle.

The sound this thought wretches from Y/N causes Aegon to falter and uncomfortable shifting in the viewing gallery. “I am sorry, sweet girl.” He squeezes her fingers in his.

Had he always been holding her hand?

A lifetime passes in that room and yet no time at all. When it is done the crowd clears; they are alone. Y/N cries, Aegon does too.

If only she and Luce had been sent elsewhere that day. Anywhere but Storm’s End.

“I’m going to get you out of here.” Aegon whispers, stroking her hair with an affection he shouldn’t be capable of. “We’re going to steal away on a ship, sail away, never to return.”

Y/N curls her fist against his chest. “Why would you do that for me?”

“I never wanted this,” he breathes. Not the crown, not the stupid chair. “I wanted you.”

Cregan Stark might have been nice. He might have been a better ally to their cause. In time, he might have come to care for her. But Cregan wouldn’t scour the narrow sea in search of her. Aegon would.

Part 2

#house of the dragon #hotd aegon #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen smut #aegon smut #aegon targaryen #aegon x you #aegon x reader #aegon the elder

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bellofthemeadow · 3 months

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Dawn Ends the Night - Interlude

Aemond Targaryen x FemReader (Dayne)

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 3.5K

Warning: All warnings on the Series Masterlist, will update if necessary (Re-iterating, no minors allowed! Thank you)

Chapter Summary: Every morning, at dawn, for the past fortnight you meet Aemond Targaryen. Will today change things for the better between you two?

Notes: Hello everyone!!! I am writing earlier because I had this scene in my head that I could not fit into a regular plot-driven chapter because it was so long. So instead I turned it into a little interlude between chapters 4 and 5. It focuses on our favourite couple and if you have a thing for the whole regency "OMG THEY GRAZE EACH OTHER!" You will like that one. Its a bit angsty but with loads of fluff at the end. Hope you like it and like always LMK what you all think!

Thank you again to all of you who take the time to comment, like and reblog, you are all so kind and I love you all so much!!! 💜💚💜

See you in the next one xxx

Taglist: @duds31 , @snh96, @lol-im-done, @heavenly1927, @whimsywilde , @queen-123s-posts , @httyd-marauders , @singhfae , @nothing-just-hanging-around

At Dawn

In Starfall, you had been a ghost, haunting its ancient halls. You cherished the late hours, those quiet moments under the cover of darkness where the sky was a canvas of stars. To you, each star was not just a celestial spark but a guardian soul, a sentinel silently watching over the world from the heavens – you imagined they were looking after you when you needed them the most. This nightly ritual, however, came at a cost — mornings often found you rising late, the consequence of surrendering to the tranquil embrace of moonlit solitude.

In King's Landing, the luxuries of being a ghost were behind you. Now, well before the first golden rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon, with the dawn barely painting the sky in hues of timid pink and soft orange, Prince Aemond would be at your door ready to eat his morning meal in your company.

Yawning, you gathered your hair, weaving it into a simple yet elegant half-up, half-down style. It framed your face in a way you found particularly becoming. But these early hours beckoned for self-sufficiency as you didn’t wish to disturb your handmaiden at such a time. Thus, you had grown accustomed to readying yourself alone in the quiet of dawn, opting for dresses that required no assistance to don. Today, you chose one of your favorites, a dress perhaps a tad too short by King’s Landing standards, ending mid-calf. Its design was a mixture of airy fabrics and light silks that embraced your form in a flattering caress, and its deep blue hue complemented your complexion beautifully.

Gently, you pressed your fingers to your cheeks, coaxing a rosy flush to the surface. Despite the early hour, it was important to you to look and feel your best. Right on schedule, the familiar, soft knocking at the door signaled his arrival, accompanied by a gentle, "My lady," floating through the wood. A smile spread across your face at the sound. Each dawn spent with Aemond only deepened your desire to spend more time in his company. To learn all you could about this dragonrider, this will-be husband.

You gave yourself a final glance in the mirror before sauntering towards the door. With a playful lilt in your voice, you called out, "And who might be serenading my door at this ungodly hour?"

From the other side came Aemond's mock-serious reply, "My lady, should there be another suitor at your door at this time, I fear I must step in to defend my betrothed honor. A fight to the death perhaps?"

Your laughter rang out, rich and unrestrained, as you swung the door open. Leaning casually against the frame, hand perched on your hip, you greeted him teasingly, "Ah, what a sight – A fierce dragon graces my doorstep."

Aemond rolled his eye, the man teetering between amusement and exasperation, before offering a polite bow of his head. Over his shoulder, you caught sight of Perros, his expression a perfect study in stoic disapproval. Ever since these dawn meetings with Aemond had become a routine, Perros had appointed himself your unofficial chaperone. Chaperoning had never been a tested custom of Dornish culture, but due to his protective nature, Perros had still not warmed up one bit to the idea of the betrothal, even after a fortnight under the Targaryen royal roof and he was looking for anything to hold against Aemond.

You stepped aside, allowing room for Aemond and Perros to enter. Perros, ever the vigilant guardian, promptly made his way to his usual spot in the corner. There, he brooded, his gaze sharp and watchful, tracking every interaction between you and Aemond with hawk-like intensity.

You recalled a morning some days ago when Aemond, in a rare moment of clumsiness, had spilled some jam on your sleeve. His instinctive move to dab it away had provoked an instantaneous reaction from Perros, who leapt to his feet, his voice laced with protective fervor as he reprimanded you both for the supposedly improper contact. The moment had ended with you and Aemond awkwardly distancing yourselves, while Perros took up a stern post at your table on the small balcony, arms crossed in silent disapproval. Aemond had sported a look of utter vexation, his face tinged with a hint of pink, huffing, while you couldn't help but shoot a glare at Perros for his overzealous protectiveness.

You led Aemond to the quaint table on the balcony, its surface crowded with an assortment of dishes. Your taste buds, having grown accustomed to the vibrant spices and flavors of Dorne, found the typical Westerosi cuisine rather uninspiring. Consequently, you had developed a preference for simpler fare – delicate cakes accompanied by soft Vale cheese and a sweet red-berry jam from the Reach, as you could not stomach anything else. If you were to live here, you would need to have a cook brought from Sunspear, you thought.

As you both settled into your seats, a serene quietude enveloped the balcony. The early morning light cast a soft glow on Aemond, accentuating his regal features and rendering him even more striking than usual. You caught yourself momentarily captivated by his appearance and quickly composed yourself. It wouldn't do to let on just how much your betrothed affected you.

"I trust you had a restful night, Prince Aemond?" you inquired softly, putting some berries on your plate.

"Fairly restful," Aemond replied, spreading cheese over a slice of bread. "However, I was somewhat vexed last night. I had intended to read 'The History of Dragon Anatomy' from the library, only to find it had already been taken out. The Maester there mentioned a young lady had taken it just after dinner. Curious, since I had expressed my interest in that very book earlier in the day, to that same lady."

You glanced at him coyly. "How frustrating for you. Perhaps this lady simply wished to delve into subjects that intrigue you, my prince."

Aemond let out a thoughtful hum, carefully layering jam on another slice of bread before placing it on your plate. "And..." he prompted.

"And what, my prince?" you asked, feigning innocence.

"Did you find the book to your liking?" Aemond's tone was casual, but his eye held a playful glint as he took a bite of his cheesy bread.

Your gaze lingered on Aemond as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing quite attractively. The sight inexplicably left your own throat feeling parched.

"The book was quite fascinating," you commented, "Particularly the chapter on dragon scales and their resistance to various metals. In Dorne, we don't have many resources on dragons, so it was a nice change of literature."

Aemond let out a soft scoff. "I imagine not. It would not be wise to provide our enemies with knowledge about how to defeat our dragons. Some would probably say it would be insanity"

Your eyebrows drew together in a frown. "Enemies?"

Aemond paused, meeting your gaze with a hint of uncertainty. "Old enemies, perhaps. You must understand the strategic folly in sharing dragon lore with those who have historically sought to bring them down. Our betrothal itself hinges on the long-standing enmity between Dorne and Targaryen’s dragons."

You bristled at his words. "Perhaps if dragons were not made to attack and lay claim to our lands, the sentiment towards them in Dorne would be different!"

Aemond's eye narrowed, a defensive edge creeping into his voice. "House Targaryen united Westeros by right of conquest. We are neither thieves nor invaders."

"Right of conquest?" you echoed incredulously. "Dorne was never conquered. Your ancestors never succeeded in bringing Dorne under their rule!"

Breakfast now lay neglected as you both locked gazes, each unwilling to yield, to be the first to lower the proverbial banner.

Aemond broke the silence with a measured tone, "Well, here you are now, in King's Landing. So, perhaps the past should remain just that."

Your response was edged with a hint of bitterness. "There's no need to remind me of my place here, Prince Aemond. Your views on my people, and by extension on me, seem quite clear. It must be such a burden to align your esteemed dragon lineage with mine.”

Aemond's eye flickered slightly, a shadow of discomfort crossing his face. "You exaggerate, my lady. I did not imply any such thing."

"Of course, my apologies," you replied, the sharpness in your voice unmistakable. Gathering his plate, you stacked it atop yours, a clear signal of the meal's end. "I trust your breakfast was satisfactory, Prince Aemond. However, I need to prepare for the day. I promised your sister I would meet with her."

Aemond seemed momentarily taken aback, his composed facade faltering. "But we've only just begun, and you've yet to enjoy your favorite jam. Why leave so abruptly?"

"I wouldn't want to impose any longer," you said, your tone firm yet polite. "It might be best for you to leave now Prince Aemond."

A thick silence enveloped the room, heavy with unvoiced sentiments. Prince Aemond, his jaw set in a firm line, rose abruptly from his seat. His movements were rigid, each step resonating with barely restrained anger as he made his way to the door. Upon reaching the threshold, he paused, turning to face you with a stiff, formal inclination of his head. "My lady," he uttered, his voice a strained whisper of formality. Then, with a swift motion, he opened the door and exited, the slam echoing with a finality that reverberated through the room. The resounding closure seemed loud enough to stir the entire wing, making you flinch.

Seated alone at the table, you gazed out towards the horizon, where the sun had begun to cast a golden glow over the morning sky. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you leaned forward, resting your head on your crossed arms atop the table. A soft groan of frustration echoed the turmoil within.

Had you overreacted? Aemond's words about Dorne's historical enmity with the Targaryens weren't unfounded, but his tone, dismissive and tinged with superiority, had struck a nerve. Your Dornish pride, a deep-rooted part of your identity, felt belittled in his presence. It was as if he had trampled upon the history and struggles of your people, reducing them to mere irritants in the grand Targaryen narrative.

Perhaps your reaction had been too impulsive, or maybe your expectations of Aemond were too lofty. The romantic notions you’d harbored, fueled by the tales and books you’d devored in Starfall, seemed naive now in the harsh light of the morning. Yet, Aemond’s daily visits, those moments that had started to become a cherished routine, suggested that maybe there was something more. Had you misconstrued his intentions, read too much into what was merely a princely obligation? The very thought of it twisted in your chest. You were confused and could feel a strange feeling of longing coiling deep within your stomach.

"My lady?" The concern in Perros's voice pulled you from your introspective reverie.

"Mmm?" you hummed, your voice muffled against your arms, still not lifting your head.

"Are you well, my lady?" He inquired gently, worry edging in his tone.

"You must be feeling vindicated," you said, lifting your head to meet Perros's gaze, your laughter tinged with a hint of bitterness. "It seems Prince Aemond has made his views about me quite clear."

Perros regarded you with a steady, thoughtful look. "I've never been fond of him, true. He's too princely, too arrogant. He's not worthy of you," he admitted, and you couldn't help but let out a small, teary chuckle.

"I guess now is the perfect time for your 'I told you so,'" you remarked wryly.

"But," Perros cut in, his tone shifting, "I can't ignore how he looks at you. From the very first day we arrived, he's been drawn to you like a moth to a flame. It's like you're the Maiden reborn in his eyes. And..” Perros took a breath for effect, "I suppose I might have judge the prince too harshly too... I was not to tell you, but Prince Aemond has been joining Davos and me during our training sessions in the yard.”

"He has?" You exclaimed, turning to face Perros - The image of Aemond, a prince of the realm, spending his time with little davos was a stark contrast to the man you had argued with only moments ago.

"Yes," Perros nodded. "He's been taking time to teach Davos the basics of swordplay. You should see the boy's face light up. The prince has a way with him, showing patience I didn't think possible. It's as if he sees something of himself in Davos. The lad's been boasting about it to anyone who'll listen, his chest puffed up with pride. Keep saying it’ll go to his head, but the lad is excited, the prince even said he’d show him that great beast of his. "

A thoughtful frown creased your forehead. "But why keep it a secret? Why didn't Aemond mention it? Why didn't Davos?"

Perros shrugged slightly, a faint smile touching his lips. "I suspect the prince isn't doing it for praise or recognition. Maybe he just wanted to help, to do something good without any fanfare. It's not something I expected from him, but with all my years, I’ve learned that people, even princes, can stil surprise us."

As you pondered his words, Perros placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding. "Speak with him, my lady," Perros advised gently, his voice carrying a wisdom born of years. "Whether he's a princely dragon or not, it's always better to clear the air, especially with matters of the heart.”

You offered a small, contemplative smile. "Perhaps you're right, Perros. I might just do that."

Just then, a series of knocks echoed at the door, you released a weary sigh, wondering aloud, "Do you think that the noise might have woken up mother?"

Perros straightened, ready to take action. "Shall I see who it is, my lady?"

"No, no, it's alright," you quickly responded, waving a hand dismissively. "It's probably mother, or Gerris and Davos. They have this habit of barging into my room to start their day. They find it amusing, I suppose."

But as you opened the door, it was neither your mother, nor Gerris, nor Davos – Standing before you was Aemond. His usually neatly styled hair was slightly disheveled, as if he had been anxiously running his fingers through it, and his solitary eye, usually so sharp and focused, now held a wild, almost frantic quality as he gazed at you

Finally breaking the silence, you found your voice ; “Prince Aemond?”

You were momentarily caught off guard as Aemond pulled you into his arms, his embrace firm yet cautious, tentative as though he was handling something precious and fragile. His body, usually so rigid and imposing, now enveloped you with a breath-stealing, protective warmth, contrasting sharply with the slightness of your own form.

His face buried in your hair, Aemond seemed to be seeking a sort of solace, his breath slow and deep. You could feel the slight quiver in his chest and for a moment, you stood there, unsure, your body rigid in his embrace. But as he inhaled, as if drawing strength from your presence, you felt a surge of want wash over you.

Tentatively, your arms wound around his back, your touch light, almost hesitant. The contours of his body under your fingers felt like the unyielding walls of a fortress, yet there was a tenderness in his hold that belied his outward appearance. The sensation of his breath warming the nape of your neck sent a shiver down your spine, and his voice, thick with emotion, resonated against your soft skin. "I am sorry for my words, my lady. They were careless and unkind," he murmured, his tone laced with a rare vulnerability. "Please, I am sorry. I ask for your forgiveness, but more than that, I beg you, do not shut me out. Not when I feel like I have only begun to know you."

His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if fearing you might slip away, his voice a soft whisper against your hair. "You have every right to turn away from me, yet I find myself selfishly hoping you will not. In you, I've seen a kindness, a strength that I have longed for. Please, my lady, grant me the chance to prove that I am more than my harsh words and hasty judgments."

Nestling closer into his hold, you felt a wave of understanding wash over you. "Perhaps I, too, was quick to judge," you admitted softly. "Your words, though harsh, weren't entirely unfounded. Our kingdoms have been locked in conflict for so long, and both have suffered greatly. It's just that..." You paused, taking a deep breath, grappling with the words that lay heavy on your heart. "I understand the reasons for our union – duty, family, the realm, the crown. But still..." Your voice trailed off, laden with unspoken hopes and fears.

Aemond gently lifted his head from yours, their foreheads meeting in a tender, earnest touch. For the first time since your encounter, you were close, close enough to see the subtle hues in his remaining eye, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. "I too wish for more, my lady, more than you could possibly imagine," he confessed, his voice a soft echo of your own longing.

A timid smile touched your lips, a flicker of the young woman who once dreamt under the stars, the girl who laughed freely. "Back in Starfall, they used to say I was like a ghost. After Gerris was announced as the future lord, I lost a part of myself. I never thought I'd find that girl again – the one who could marvel at the stars, who loved to read and laugh without care." Your smile grew, a hint of old joy resurfacing. "But with you, Aemond... when I'm with you, I feel as if... as if I'm finding her again."

Aemond's smile, a rare and genuine thing, mirrored your own. "And I," he confessed, "feel something I feared was long lost in me too."

Perros's conspicuous throat-clearing echoed in the room, startling both of you into stepping apart, faces flushed with the sudden intensity of the moment. You shot Perros a glare, one that he met with a raised eyebrow and a look that managed to be both unimpressed and protective.

Aemond, regaining his composure with a soft cough, glanced toward the door. "I must take my leave, my lady. Ser Criston awaits me in the training yard, and I dare not keep my sister from you company as she probably awaits you for her early morning beetle hunt," he said.

Your smile returned, a gentle curve of lips that hinted at the warmth you felt inside. "Of course, my prince. Dawn tomorrow then?"

Aemond hesitated, an unusual shyness in his demeanor as he paused at the door. "Actually, I was wondering if I might join you in the afternoon? You spend time with your brother and Davos then, right?"

"Oh, you needn't trouble yourself. Heleana usually takes the twins along, and we all enjoy the gardens together," you explained.

He hummed thoughtfully. "Nevertheless, I would like to be there. To spend time with those you care about."

A genuine smile graced your face. "Then after midday it is."

As Aemond began to exit, he paused once more, turning slightly toward you. "And perhaps after dinner, I could meet you in the library? I could show you more books about dragons. I read them all as a child."

Your smile deepened, warmth spreading through you at the thought. "I would be delighted to receive literary recommendations from the realm's most renowned dragon rider."

Aemond's response was a shy smile, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. He nodded silently, a gesture that spoke volumes of his growing affection, before finally stepping out of the room.

Left in the quiet room, you felt an unfamiliar sensation, a fluttering lightness in your chest, like a bird cautiously testing its wings after a long confinemen. With a dreamy smile lingered on your lips, you turned to face Perros, who stood near the small table, you caught the hint of a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His eyes held a mix of amusement and something softer that you had trouble deciphering, perhaps a reluctant acceptance of the scene he had just witnessed.

With a mock groan, you raised your hand, preempting any comments he might have. "Do not say anything, Perros."

His smile broadened, but he raised his hands in mock surrender. "I wouldn't dream of it, my lady," he replied teasingly.

Shaking your head with a mix of exasperation and fondness, you moved past Perros towards the door. "I have a busy day ahead," you remarked, "And it seems I now have plans for after dinner as well."

Next chapter

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in-omni-scientia · 5 months

Text

rank

EMPATHY — My Betrothed 💜💙💖💗💜💞💙💝😻🥰😍🥰

INTERFACING — Good dance partner. Invigorating conversations, when machinery is involved. Forgiving for the ASD Incident. It's gettin' kinda hazy.

SUGGESTION — Important. Will hold me accountable, but is forgiving.

VISUAL CALCULUS — Important. Impressive repository of information on mathematical topics.

LOGIC — Important.

AUTHORITY — Important. Friend. Difficult to place...

SAVOIR FAIRE — Nothing against them. I hope they are doing okay.

VOLITION — Important. *Usually* reliable; really, the only one I could lean on prior to Empathy.

TURTLE — ???

CONCEPTUALIZATION — Ability to quickly come up with metaphors and such show a unique knowledge and understanding of the world. This does not negate my consistent confusion whenever he speaks, however.

EVERYONE ELSE — No comments of note. Can provide thoughts for those in this category.

COMPOSURE — Noticed my eye shadow twitched that one time months ago at the beginning of the [REDACTED] Incident and I don't like that. Though, I suppose it dominoed into me eventually paying more mind to Empathy... so.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Important, and will listen to me ramble about things Harry likes, but... well. I know it's irrational.

PAIN THRESHOLD — *Also* important... but. Ngh.

INLAND EMPIRE —

DRAMA — Don't.

#contains: txt #author/s: me #skillsposting

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deejadabbles · 6 months

Note

I am sliding in for your Halloween prompts 👀

The prompt I'm gifting unto thee is...

MASQUERADE

(please read in Phantom of the Opera's song)

😘💜💜💜💜

Friend!!!!! I hope you're ready for me to be extra because mentioning Phantom of the Opera + Masquerades did things to me! Thank you for inspiring this delicious idea, I'm honestly a lil obsessed with it.

Forbidden Masks (Kix x Fem!Reader, fantasy AU)

Summary: The tyrant king had never claimed to love you and you certainly held no affection for him. Thankfully, you had found love in the arms of your beloved Kix. Rating: T (but minors DNI) Word Count: 2k (my hand slipped okay?!?!) Songs for Listening: Masquerade / Why So Silent and All I Ask

Warnings: Forbidden love, forced/arranged marriage, controlling and toxic behavior (not from Kix), brief mentions of sexual intimacy. Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up /// AO3

You had always enjoyed balls, especially the costumed, masked extravagance of a masquerade ball. As a young girl you had dreamed of attending your first ball all grown up, draped in the finest costume and an elegant mask- but most of all, you had dreamed of dancing with someone you loved.

Now, you were a woman grown and attending the most lavish masquerade you had ever heard of, but you were laced up in a gaudy gown not of your choosing and tangled in a weighty mask of gold. Worst of all, you were sitting beside a man whom you hated.

He scanned the ballroom, over those dancing and drinking, his eyes dark, contemplative, and did not even spare you a glance, despite his order to stay seated beside him. His hand did not hold yours and he had struck up no conversation. You, his betrothed, were meant for display only, apparently.

That did not stop your own eyes from wandering, of course. He could not prevent you from searching for someone else with your gaze. Someone who you should be attending this ball with, someone kind and noble, someone who made your lips curve with a smile and your heart skip a beat. Someone who actually loved you.

You found him, standing near the statues that flanked the doors to the garden terrace. He was surrounded by women, maiden and matron alike, and you tried to ignore the surge of jealousy. It wasn't his fault, he was just so naturally charming and a doctor of his rank would make a fine groom even for a noble.

The women giggled and waved their fans delicately and when one stroked his arm you almost had to look away. It wasn't their fault either, they could never know his heart belonged to you. No one could ever know. You were glad you didn't look away though, because just a heartbeat later, Kix's gaze left the face of the beautiful noblewoman and met yours.

His soft gaze, the way his lips parted just a little at the sight of you, the subtle intake of breath, all just from locking eyes with you. Yes, his heart undoubtedly belonged to you, just as yours belonged to him.

Unfortunately, even the gravity of his eyes could not distract you when a guard stepped from the crowd and up to the king beside you. The first part of what was said did slip your attention, though, as you found it so hard to look away from Kix when he was making your heart somersault in your chest.

What you did catch was that something required your fiance's attention in the war room and he rose from his throne immediately. It was only then that you finally tore your eyes away from your true beloved. The king may expect you to follow, sometimes he held your leash tight, others he expected you to entertain yourself.

And you thanked every star you could think of that it was the latter tonight.

“No,” he said simply, waving a hand as you began to follow him, “you stay and entertain our guests, like a future queen should.”

You bit your tongue, a common crutch in the months you had lived in his palace, in order to hold back any snarky reply. It was also a small miracle that he was so distracted by this emergency, that he failed to notice your lack of a “Yes, your majesty” answer to his order.

Just like that, the tyrant king was gone, swept away by news from the warfront, leaving you standing in front of the royal dais with no one but the commander of your personal guard for company. You turned to the commander now, asking a silent question. Fox was a good man, a fact that he had proven time and time again, and proved once more when he gave a very small nod in answer.

Well, your king did say to entertain.

You would be damned if you missed your chance to join the fun and, with a small wink to Fox, you marched towards the dance floor.

Everyone made room for you, parting like the sea in a wizard’s tale and sweeping into deep bows. You paid them little mind, besides a few polite nods of your own, all while your eyes were searching for anyone who may be brave enough to dance with you. In theory, you could just order someone to, but that would hardly be fun.

You had just caught the eye of a young brunette man, one with the markings of a general on his uniform, when someone behind you cleared their throat.

“May I be so bold and ask for this dance, your highness?”

There were a few quiet gasps and even more whispers as you turned, knowing who it was just by the sound of his voice. You did not know what Kix was playing at, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t secretly praising his boldness. He was smiling at you and holding his hand out like a tantalizing invitation.

You took it without a second thought. “Yes, you may, Doctor.”

Kix’s hand squeezed yours ever so gently, imperceptible to any on-looker, but it sent waves of electricity through you like nothing else. His rich, brown eyes never left yours as he guided you to a nice spot on the dance floor. Turning towards you fully, he gripped your hand even tighter, lifting it high and placing his other hand on your waist to pull you as close as he dared.

The two of you stepped into the waltz easily, transfixed in each other’s gaze as you both glided elegantly across the ballroom.

“I see that he was the one who picked your gown for the night.” Thank the gods that he had the smarts to whisper the observation, no one could ever overhear him talking so plainly to you. “Even from across the room I can tell you hate it.” For the briefest moment, Kix let his eyes travel down your body. “It’s amazing how you can still look gorgeous, even in that ill-suited dress.”

“Kix..” you wanted to say something, a warning, maybe, but his words made your face too hot, your thoughts too scrambled.

He stepped just a hair closer and dropped his voice even lower, “When you’re my wife, you’ll never have to wear anything you don’t want to.”

His wife, goodness, wouldn’t that be the dream. It was a promise he kept making, that he would find a way, that he would rescue you from your loveless future full of fear and solitude. That he would be yours and build a home for you far, far away from the king’s reach.

Some nights, his honeyed promises were the only things that helped you sleep.

The music in the air swelled, calling for a more intimate frame of the waltz, which Kix took full advantage of and slid his hand to the small of your back, pulling you so close you could feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your bare neck.

You weren't the only one who looked gorgeous. Dressed in fine blue fabric, the military cut of his jacket spoke of his service, but the intricate silver braiding across his chest and shoulders made him look quite regal. Not to mention the silver mask accented in sapphire gave him a mysterious air, yet another reason for your sudden need to swoon into his arms like a damsel.

In perfect time with the music, he spun you in an elegant arch of his arm, before quickly pulling you back into his embrace. “At least he hasn’t tried to dance with you, tonight,” Kix whispered into your ear, “the way you obviously want to recoil whenever he touches you…” he drew in a sharp breath as you both glided along the floor, “It makes my blood boil, cyare.”

Despite the heat that had taken you over from his closeness, you shivered at the protective tone. It wasn’t the first time Kix had mentioned that. Your first night curled in his arms, bodies as bare as the days you were born, he had told you that you would never have to endure an unwanted touch when you were with him. That it was all he could do not to push the king away every time he saw you tense and flinch under the tyrant’s hand.

In another skillful lift of his arm, he spun you again. He was growing bolder and bolder with every turn of the dance, because when he pulled you back this time, he practically buried his face in the soft skin of your neck.

If you could find it in yourself to focus on anything besides him, you would have heard the whispers and seen the stares of the crowd around you, but a part of you didn’t care.

“When you’re mine, I promise to love you the way you deserve.”

“I’m already yours, Kix,” it came out as a gasp and you could have sworn you felt his lips brush against your neck as he pulled back to look at you. “I’ll always be yours.”

His eyes turned so soft at that, all the possessiveness and jealousy melting away, leaving only his love and adoration for you behind. The music swelled with its ending notes, and Kix kept his gentle gaze steady on yours as he dipped you backwards, slowly, intimately.

“That’s all I need, my love,” he whispered.

There were claps and even some quiet cheers from the crowd, but you barely heard them, all you could see and hear and feel was him. Even when he pulled you back upright, you couldn’t let him go, needing to keep your hands on him just a moment longer.

Then, reality came crashing through your romantic dream in the form of Fox as he rushed to you.

“You have to go,” the commander hissed under his breath, placing a rough hand on Kix’s shoulder. “Go- now! Before he sees you.”

Your eyes went wide as you turned, seeing that the King was striding back into the ballroom. As much as it pained you, you forced your hands to rip away from your beloved and allowed Fox to take you by the arm and pull you away. It took every ounce of strength you had not to look back at Kix, praying that he took Fox’s advice and fled the dance floor as quickly as possible. That he did all he could to distance himself from you.

As he guided you through the crowd, Fox peered at you with eyes that were full of warning. “You’re going to get yourselves killed with stunts like that, Princess.” Despite how hard his tone was, it didn’t come out nearly as harsh as you expected. Instead, you heard the worry hidden in the words. The worry for you, and for Kix.

Before you could say anything, the mass of dancers cleared and you were presented to the King once again. His stare was as cold and hard as always while he looked you over, even when Fox stepped back to his post beside the dais.

“You seem flustered all of the sudden,” your forced fiance said in a flat tone.

“Oh- it’s nothing, I just feel a little light headed, is all.” It wasn’t a hard lie to play off. Your poor health since the day you were dragged here was how you and Kix met in the first place, after all.

At first, the King said nothing, just continued to stare with those empty eyes. Then, he jerked his head towards the throne-like seats on the dais. “Sit.”

With a slight bow, you moved to obey him, but, just as you walked by, a gloved hand shot out to grip your arm harshly. It was all you could do not to wrench away from him on instinct.

“Don’t forget who holds your chains, my dear.”

Unlike the pleasant shiver that Kix had elicited, you now felt cold and empty as your body shook from the words. All you could do was pray that he hadn’t seen you and your lover, that this was just one of the tyrant’s frequent reminders that he could control your strings whenever he wanted.

“Yes, your majesty.” The obedience made you sick, but you could endure it, because wilting under the man’s iron grasp was the best way to keep Kix safe. And in the end, that’s all that mattered to you.

Your arm ached when he released it, but you walked back to your seat as steadily as possible. There was also the unmistakable feeling of someone staring at you and you knew that Kix had been watching. You didn’t dare search the crowd for him again, instead, you comforted yourself with the memory of his promises.

The hope that someday, the Princess and the Doctor might be able to shed their masks and run away together.

Tag List: @sev-on-kamino @anxiouspineapple99 @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @commander-sunshine @dystopicjumpsuit @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @arcsimper5 @littlemissmanga @wings-and-beskar @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @moonlightwarriorqueen @briefartnaturewolf @kimiheartblade @littlemissbshine @funeralreunion @chubbyhedgehog-blog @ladytano420 @trixie2023 @mssbridgerton @wizardofrozz @vithepotato @mythical-illustrator

#kix x reader #clone medic kix x reader #halloween requests #clone wars halloween fics #deeja writes #clone x reader

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a-kind-of-merry-war · 2 months

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KISSIN' BOOKS BY MERRY

Hello! I write queer, medieval romance books - and you can find them below. Currently, I'm working on the Hartswood series, which is three separate, standalone stories with connecting characters.

My books are available wherever books are sold, online, and in ebook/audiobook format.

One Night in Hartswood

Oxford 1360

When his sister’s betrothed vanishes the night before her politically arranged marriage, Raff Barden must track and return the elusive groom to restore his family’s honour.

William de Foucart ― known to his friends as Penn ― had no choice but to abandon his intended, and with it his own earldom, when he fled the night before his enforced marriage. But ill-equipped to survive on the run he must trust the kindness of a stranger, Raff, to help him escape.

Unaware their fates are already entwined, the men journey north. But amidst the snow-capped forests an unexpected bond deepens into a far more precious relationship, one that will test all that they hold dear. And when secrets are finally revealed, both men must decide what they will risk for the one they love…

You can read more about ONIH here!

And browse my ONIH tag here 💖

All the Painted Stars

The first sequel to One Night in Hartswood! Out 28th March in the UK and 5th November in North America.

Oxford 1362

When Lily Barden discovers her best friend Johanna’s hand in marriage is being awarded as a prize at a tournament, she is determined to stop it. Disguised as a knight, she infiltrates the contest to fight for Jo’s hand. But her conduct ruffles feathers, and when a dangerous incident escalates out of Lily’s control, Jo must help her escape.

Finding safety with a local brewster, Lily and Jo soon settle into their new freedom, and amongst blackberry bushes and lakeside walks an unexpected relationship blossoms. But when Jo’s past catches up with her and Lily’s reckless behaviour threatens their newfound happiness, both women realise that choices must always come at a cost...

You can read more about ATPS here!

And browse my ATPS tag here 💜

Watch this space for Hartswood Book 3, aka Ash's Book!

#queer books #romance books #housekeeping #dont mind me just doing some tidying up #for a post to be linked to in my bio etc etc #long post #writeblr

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bentosandbox · 1 year

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It’s actually not a ‘top/most butch AK woman’ poll ...kinda

sorry at first i just wanted to archive some of my favourite comments (even though most of these should be edited copypastas) from that poll on weibo; explanation for title at bottom of post because i got carried away as usual

Those who don’t vote for Gladiia, Aegir will spit on them, Laurentina will drag them from Rhodes into the deep sea, their descendants will be abandoned by Skadi, and their soul will suffer from Nervous Impairment. But for those who vote for Gladiia, even if they didn’t pull any Abyssal Hunters, the Second Captain will forgive them and unclog the toilets on Rhodes Island, Fate will offer them an extra favour, and Revelations will always be by their side¹🙏 To those who don’t get how Gladiia is a 1² , farewell!

Vote for Gladiia! (Crawling in the dark)(Screaming)(Twisting)(Creeping in the shadows)(Screeching)(Writhing)(Screaming)(Crawling)(Tumbling)(Scrambling)(Splitting)(Hissing)(Stops moving)(Low roar)(Squirming)(Dividing)(Walking onto shore)(Warping)(Spasming)(Floundering)(Attacking indiscriminately)

Are you looking for【Margaret Nearl】⁉️ The Radiant Knight🌞？Or (this) golden pegasus🐎？Or perhaps Kazimierz’s most radiant King of Kings💜 🎐No matter which one you are searching for💐 💦 Whether you are just a passer-by or a fan of Margaret Nearl💖 She is Terra’s fiercest T³🥰Rhodes Island’s no.1 Top🏅Her strength and Blazing Sun side-by-side 🎀 Today(’s forecast) will be Sunny with a star falling🌟Please give a vote to Margaret Nearl💑 ！！！

Margaret Nearl, my groom, my husband, my betrothed, my Husbando, the source of all my desires, my yearning, my dreams, my lover whom I will never part away from, to not cast a vote for Margaret Nearl would be kind of sad, for it means you cannot appreciate this kind of combination of hard and soft with eye-catching beauty, those who do not vote for Margaret Nearl will be in trouble 🙏

What does the cat say? Meow; What does the goat say? Baa; What does the cow say? Moo; What does the dog say? Saria you are the no.1 T on Rhodes 😆 Your impartial gaze makes me lose my mind 😆 So handsome I cry until my tears hit the corners of my mouth and turn into the Qiantang River’s tidal bore You are my god and my star lighting up the darkness in my life You let me make sense of the world I turn I jump I dance a tango on the balcony you made me realise that God does exist 😆

Saria is such a gentle and strong father whose love is like a mountain and yet a conventional woman should stand on top of all lesbians Husband without you I really don’t know how I can continue living

Hoshiguma (is) my 184cm T-sis forever!!!! Who would refuse a Lungmen civil servant!!! Firefighting on the Lungmen gay bar frontline⁴!!! Rides motorbikes and goes on joyrides everyday and drinks and grills(BBQ)!!! If she’s not a 1 then who is!!! If Hoshiguma isn’t a 1 then there’s none on the whole of Terra! If Hoshiguma isn’t a 1 the entire Terra is 0!!!! (licking screen emote x7)

The 194cm Hoshiguma from the closed beta test isnt enough to make you dizzy?? 😲😲😲😲😲

TL notes

1. IS3 mechanic references 2. basically 1 = top 0 = bottom (switch is 0.5) sorry the girlyaoi is real

3. Okay so the poll’s ‘judging criteria’ is actually 无敌炫酷铁T灭火器 which is something like ‘Unrivaled dazzling 铁T Fire Extinguisher’ “What is that word you didn’t translate” I hear you ask

Okay so... I don’t think translating 铁T to just ‘butch’ like that one twitter account did carries the whole meaning. (shout out to that one QRT that was something like ‘wtf y’all definition of butch is ???” YOU’RE RIGHT)

If you look up 铁T it gives you pretty much the same definition that looking up stone butch on wikipedia gives you; “so T is butch then?” WELL... the etymology of T comes from ‘Tomboy’ but ermm basically it’s not a rigid label that can be easily translated to western/globalised terms but more of a fluid identifier used very specifically in chinese spaces, this article is a pretty good read

So anyway that’s why I left the Ts as-is (FWIW when i first saw it i was like is that a no.1 handsomegirlbossmalewifehusbandwomanthattops contest???)

further reading material

4. what’s up with the firefighter/extinguisher???

It’s a reference to a really old clip from a Taiwanese variety show where the host was describing how he went to a gay bar and it caught on fire and the owner fled while the T from the T-bar opposite them picked up an extinguisher and offered help

tl;dr: 1)‘butch’ doesn’t really cover it

2) they’re not using the term in CN literally either (my take on a badly worded transliteration would be something like ‘who would be the ultimate handsome chivalrous top’ if you take off the first few layers of shitposting) that’s why none of them in the poll look like butches lol

And that’s why I voted Hoshiguma even though I don’t think she fucks/is a 1 but i also don’t think saria is a 1 either but that is for another day

#arknights #i should tag all these tl posts under something #bentotexto

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itbmojojoejo · 1 month

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Fractured Moonlight / Pt 3 / Finan x OFC

Pairing: Vamp!Finan x Vamp!OFC

Summary: A prince forced to relinquish his title so that he may have a home, a princess begrudgingly doing her duty to ensure her lands survival, a king trying his best to keep their world from unravelling as war begins and a brush with death that reveals a secret threatening to destroy it all.

Warnings: MDNI18+ NSFW. Descriptions of injury detail, death, violence, blood, alcohol, and arranged marriage.

Wordcount: 5.5k | Part 1 | Other works.

Authors Note: Another huge thank you to lovely @bhxrdy 💜 will I ever learn good punctuation? Maybe, maybe not lmao.

Pale yellow candlelight flickered casting shadows along the stone floor, a gentle breeze flowing through the open window and smoothing over Marlena’s skin. A light huff was forced from her lungs as Adalyn harshly tightened the laces of the corseted gown, threatening to stop her breathing altogether.

“Almost done princess,” Adalyn’s sweet singsong voice soothed, securing the final knot before coming to stand in front of Marlena and admiring her work, “It truly is lovely.”

“You don’t think it foolish of me to be wearing my aunt’s dresses?” The princess’s fingers fiddled with the delicate gold chains that strung iridescent pearls across her chest and shoulders, contrasting against the blood-red silk.

She had wondered if dressing in the late queen’s clothes would somehow tie her to the same fate; destined to slip into a madness she could feel snapping at her heels, to be hidden away from the world until the sickness claimed her entirely.

“They’re going to waste locked away in that tower, she likely would have gifted some to you herself anyway.”

Marlena hummed, taking a swig from her cup and quickly scrunching her nose at the bitter bergamot laced blood washing over her taste buds, quietly cursing Osferth’s suggestion that it would help calm her before the celebratory ball.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Hal called into the room carrying a slim dark wooden box, kicking the door closed behind him.

Adalyn gave a small curtsy before attempting to exit but was stopped very quickly in her tracks.

“No, don't leave Adalyn, I will require your assistance. I’m not sure how to put this on her without damaging it,” He chuckled nervously, tapping Marlena’s hand for her to hold the box.

Opening the lid, he revealed glistening rubies encrusted into a thin gold band, with pearls hanging from it similar to her dress; it was Isobel’s diadem.

“Where did you get that?” Marlena stared at her brother in disbelief.

“The old man. He knows you’re angry at him so he sent me,” Hal smiled, lifting it onto her head as Adalyn held the chains away until it was in place.

“I’m not angry at him. I’m angry at all of it,” She muttered, admiring the band sitting along her brow.

“Look at that! The stones match your dress, and the gift Wihtgar paraded around Father's office earlier,” He ignored her comment, quickly lifting the hem of her skirt to the ankle, “Clever move avoiding a heel. He’s shorter than I remembered.”

“A gift?”

“Try to look happy when he gives it to you?” He pleaded softly, “I won’t be here to protect you from his sour mood if you upset him.”

Her brother was due to travel out with Aelfric and their forces to start readying their defences. He was always a welcomed whirlwind of playful humour, able to handle a serious conversation if needed, and a recent source of comfort she will miss.

“I promise to be on my best behaviour tonight on the condition you answer some questions for Osferth.”

“Fine, but I can’t guarantee I’ll have answers,” Easily giving in to his younger sister’s wish, he hooked her arm around his, “Well come on, let’s get this over with.”

In the grand ballroom located on the ground level of the keep, Marlena stood out amidst a sea of blue and indigo, alongside her betrothed who had settled on a bold yellow tunic heavily embroidered with gold thread.

Sitting beside King Helier, Aelfric and Hal at the top table overlooking the guests, she’d tried her best to wear a sincere smile as Wihtgar presented her with a ring, a large ruby accented with delicate emeralds. He’d insisted she wore it right away, the metal chunky and cold against her skin.

“You eat?” Wihtgar’s question dripped with disgust as Marlena rolled a plump peach in her hands.

“I like the flavours, can you not stomach it?”

“I have no need to,” Scoffing, he swilled his chalice wafting the scent of ripe blood.

“You’re missing out,” Marlena bit into the peach, fighting against a smile at his disapproving look as she chewed.

“Enjoy it while you can, princess. Northern weather is harsh, apples and pears barely survive growing and I hear the ones that do can be…bitter.”

Hal abruptly stood from his chair before Marlena could respond, “I think it’s time we had dancing!” He proclaimed, inciting the flutes and harps to play.

When will this pageantry end?

The only thing giving Marlena comfort as she took to the floor with Wihtgar was that his pained smile mirrored hers. It was becoming clearer to her that neither of them was truly thrilled with the idea of this union.

His hand against hers did not spark flames or excitement, it was cold like ice. Her mood didn’t improve as the dancing continued, elegantly turning and moving from partner to partner.

Finan was currently twirling the daughter of a high-ranking changeling, the quickening of the girl's heart and flushed cheeks, barely hidden by blonde curls, were hard to ignore.

Envy crept its way through Marlena’s veins that not even her brother’s whisper could wash away, “Fix your face, sister,” and then she was spun on to the next partner.

Her breath caught in her throat as she met the burnt umber eyes she knew so well, casting her gaze away as he took her hand, the familiar warmth she missed briefly returning.

Spinning her once he lifted her with ease, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as he brought her back down.

“Is that a smile I see, princess?” Finan spoke discreetly.

“No.”

A lie. The apples of her cheeks gave her away, no matter how hard she pressed her lips together, she was smiling. She hated it.

“Looks like one,” He smirked.

These were the first words they had spoken since his last visit to her room. She’d returned to the council sessions just to catch a glimpse of him, every bit of anger she held melted away the moment he was in her line of sight, quickly replaced with sadness.

Marlena’s face fell, his “I made a vow that when the time came to give you up, I would.” hitting her all over again.

“How's my performance so far, Lord Commander?”

She watched a frown form on his face, the implication of her question slowly realised and she turned on her heel, leaving the dance.

Finan quietly stepped away from the shuffling group, making his way back to his table, Marlena in the corner of his peripheral the entire time.

“I think that one likes you,” Osferth chimed, nodding towards the blonde Finan had danced with as he handed over his cup.

He took a gulp, watching the princess leave the ballroom in the direction of the gardens, followed by Sihtric, “She can like all she wants, it’ll never happen.”

Quickly refilling his drink, he kept close to the back wall, inching closer to the gardens while dodging the hopeful eyes of young ladies wanting to enjoy an evening of festivities.

Pushing through the large door, the barely cooler air hit his skin, stagnant fountain water and drying plants filling his nose. Sihtric was unshocked at his approach, simply pointing him in the direction of Marlena perched on the fountain wall, leaning back against a stone pillar with her fingertips skimming over greening water.

“Your Highness.”

She didn’t look at him as her words stopped him in his tracks, “That’s close enough.”

“Nice ring,” He sighed, leaning on the pillar opposite.

“No, it isn’t.”

The gold band was bulky on her slender finger, and the large ruby was cut in an inelegant style that didn’t match the smaller emeralds.

“You’re right, it’s not but I was being polite.”

“I wish you wouldn’t be,” Marlena scoffed, finally meeting his gaze, “What do you want?”

A multitude of answers sat on the tip of his tongue. To ask if you’re alright, tell you to rest, apologise, and say I miss you…

“I’m leaving for Westwatch Fort soon, things aren’t going too well down there and I was hoping you’d be able to mention a small matter to the council.”

“Ah, so this is about politics?”

“Not quite, I’ve mentioned it to the king but he dismisses it. They still haven’t replaced you for patrols on the northwest coast, I’m worried about what might happen in Nordale if no one’s watching it.”

Water droplets dripped as she pulled her hand away from the water, disturbing the still surface, her look contemplative before finally responding, “I’ll mention it, can’t be ignored if the council is made aware.”

A light breeze stirred Marlena’s hair, the hanging pearls glistening, the scent of bergamot reaching Finan over the stale lily pads.

“You look beautiful,” The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

Her eyes stayed fixed on him as her head turned in the direction of Hal’s voice.

“Uh, you can’t be out here alone, especially with him.”

“We’re not alone,” Marlena clipped, pointing at a silent Sihtric who pursed his lips.

Osferth quickly rounded the fountain and dipped into a bow, “Prince Hal, Princess-”

“Don’t bother, I’m going to bed.”

“Shouldn’t you tell Wihtgar?” Hal’s question had Marlena roll her eyes as she stood and motioned for Sihtric to follow.

“You deal with him, you’ll have kinder words. Talk to Osferth.”

The three remaining men watched her figure disappear, leaving them alone in the late spring night.

Hal sighed, putting himself in the spot his sister had just left, “You may ask your questions, mage.”

“Thank you, I’ve been struggling to locate records for when your father stepped in as prince regent. There were quite a few councilmen not mentioned again after Isobel’s last council session, I was wondering if you knew what happened to them?”

The prince looked at Finan for reassurance, and he nodded to say Osferth could be trusted.

“That was before I was allowed to attend court, they probably died in the early days of the war as my mother had. I was just a boy when this happened, I was kept away from it until after the coronation,” Hal spotted Finan’s drink and unabashedly took it for himself.

“I wasn’t aware your mother was a fighter?” Osferth’s brow furrowed, hands clasping behind his back.

“She wasn’t. When the shadows broke their peace treaty they did it inside the city walls, that’s how she- and probably the others- died.”

Finan stood up straight, bewilderment painting his face, “I’m sorry, Your Highness, did you just say - when the shadows broke their peace treaty?”

“Yes, that is usually how a war begins…”

In all his time serving King Helier not once had anyone mentioned the reasons behind the shadow walker attacks. It was never discussed in full; Finan had always been led to believe it was just in their nature to be violent towards the West.

Osferth stammered, the unexpected information breaking his thought process, “Wh-where was Isobel when this happened?”

“Already isolated for treatment, not that Pyrlig was any good at quietening her pleas. He was equally useless with Marlena too, I don’t know why my father kept him around,” Hal sipped the infused wine, his nonchalance the exact opposite of the other’s expressions.

“Isobel was pleading?”

“Yes, begging to be let out because of a promise that was made or something. It was so loud you’d hear her from the bailey, poor soul.”

“And what was wrong with Marlena?”

Hal stopped swilling his cup, a flicker of confusion in his eyes, “That’s not in the archives either?”

“No…” Osferth breathed.

“Then I can’t help you there I’m afraid. I only saw her on her good days a handful of times before she was properly presented to the court. Now if you don’t mind, I have a lovely lady waiting inside for a dance,” He handed the wine back to Finan, slipping away from the pair who stood in a state of shock.

“I don’t have a good feeling about-”

“Not here,” Finan cut Osferth off, motioning to the gardens surrounded by doors that led back to the keep.

As Marlena’s furious steps carried her through the halls of the keep, her head spun with the whispers of Adalyn, “I heard him say that it should be the Lady Sigunn wearing that ring and not you.” and Rypere, “He speaks of her too fondly to Yahya, princess, he is angry that Aelfric refused to allow her to travel here.”

She ignored the bowing staff as she climbed the stairs of the south tower and Sihtric’s quiet pleading that she should wait until he could intercept a letter as more proof.

This was her way out of the betrothal, and as she burst through the door into Helier’s chambers, her voice didn’t waver, “Father, this marriage cannot go ahead.”

“And why not?” He asked calmly, writing a letter undisturbed.

“I happen to know on good authority that Wihtgar is romantically invested in Lady Sigunn, the woman they intend to have as my handmaiden.”

“You are hardly one to pass judgement for that type of behaviour, Marlena.”

“A behaviour I have had to change, but I’m sure you are already aware of that. This is different and I refuse to allow this wedding to take place.”

Helier sighed, placing down his quill and standing from his chair, “Have you considered looking at the bigger picture for once instead of sitting in that chamber with a solemn face while wearing your ridiculous gowns that everyone knows the meaning of, and sulking in the training yard? I do not need to explain how men of nobility behave and treat their wives as a secondary object, Marlena, you know this! You have been a witness to this your whole life!”

“I have always been looking at the bigger picture! I am to marry Wihtgar to save these lands, a decision you made and one I did not fight against as much as I could have. I will not ask your forgiveness for telling you the hard truth, he IS in love with another woman and I AM in love with another man but the difference is I have to suffer through his love being around me, constantly reporting everything back to him and my love-”

She took a sharp inhale realising how easily her emotions for Finan fell from her lips, “You think what you have done is honourable. I only see this union ending in disaster, and yes, I may be a queen for a time if I survive that long, but at what cost to me?”

Helier barked a laugh and shook his head, “You are in no position to be selfish. You forget you are property of the crown and as KING I say what happens to that property. As for your love, you are giving him the chance to survive, we are closer to perishing than you realise.”

“Then request aid from the east!”

“I ALREADY TRIED!”

She didn’t shrink away from his anger as he caught his breath, taking slow steps towards her.

“Alfred refused. Aethelred refused. Edward is still not of age to give authority. Time was against us, so I couldn’t ask the other covens. Aelfric was the only choice. Believe me, when I say I tried to ensure you could remain here, I truly did. I know the north will not be easy for you Marlena, but you must do this,” His voice calmed as hands reached out to hold her arms.

Shrugging away from her father's touch the reality of her circumstances started to sink in, “Fine, I will tolerate his insults, but whatever comes of this, it’s your burden to bear.”

Marlena had hoped to relieve the growing stress by training, but it only increased once she reached the yard.

As she went through spear drills with Sihtric, she had to suffer through hearing thick iron arrows thump against the practice boards. Wihtgar wasn’t even dressed for training; he wore his finest clothes, a thick cloak draped over his shoulders while showing off a ridiculous crossbow he was too lazy to load himself.

He prattled on about the glorious design to Finan and Marlena knew him well enough to tell that he didn’t care for Wihtgar’s contraption, feigning interest as he oversaw the yard.

“I don’t have any skill with a crossbow, Your Highness,” Finan clarified, again.

“I don’t suspect you do, you strike me as more of a shield wall man.”

“The best place to lead from.”

“And what of you, Princess? Any skill with a bow?” Wihtgar called out over the yard, blindly taking back the loaded weapon.

“No, I was trained by the lord commander.”

“Of course you were,” The prince muttered, taking aim and shooting at the target once more.

Marlena came to stand beside him, her head tilted as she took count of all the arrows stuck into the board. Not a single one had hit the centre target. Correcting her stance, she twirled the spear in her hand before hurling it at the board, the wood cracking slightly as it struck the gold.

She caught the smile Finan failed to hide by looking to the floor as she turned to Wihtgar.

His unamused stare filled her with a small sense of joy, and his voice laced with venom helped it bloom further, “Why do you still insist on training? You have no men to lead.”

“If we continue to lose these battles and our enemies make it into the city, do you expect me to sit in my chambers waiting to die?”

“Princess!” Clapa’s booming voice prevented Wihtgar from responding, and Marlena was glad to have an excuse to leave his presence as she walked towards the giant on the edge of the yard.

“Is everything alright?” She asked, following him through the bailey to the smithy.

“Yes, Your Highness. I have something here for you.”

Inside the steaming workshop, she was directed to a table with two smaller-edged blades on top of it.

“What’s this? Your version of an engagement gift?” She smiled.

“No, they were commissioned by the lord commander, he said you’d need them.”

She carefully picked up the black steel handle, admiring the silver inlay flowing through the curves, her brows raising at the glinting tip of the stiletto dagger.

“They’re beautiful, Clapa.”

“And deadly in close combat too. They may look fragile but that steel is strong, they have a much easier time penetrating armour and here, look,” He picked up the second and rested the bolster on one large finger, “Perfectly balanced, even in dainty hands like yours, princess.”

The bailey was busy with horses being readied as Finan headed to the stables for his own mare, his eyes narrowing as he spied Marlena struggling with a clasp on his saddle bag.

“Sabotaging my saddle, princess?” His accusation was playful as he came to look over her shoulder.

“No.”

She huffed and held up the perfectly folded square between her fingers, not looking at him as she stroked the hazel horse with her other hand, “It’s a thank you note, nothing more.”

“Nothing more?” He smirked, feeling her annoyance at being caught as he took the small letter.

Turning to face him she left little room between them, melancholy glittering in her dark irises, a sombreness in her quiet voice, “Not as long as duty exists.”

He dared not watch her as she slipped away, intent on burying the unneeded emotions as he continued readying his mare, throwing out the odd order to the men waiting for his direction.

Please don’t do anything foolish, he thought as he gave Marlena one final look before leading his forces out through the gatehouse.

After riding out, Finan paused at the top of the hillcrest overlooking the black sands littered with the carnage of recent battle stretching up to Westwatch Fort, torches burning along the tall walls and corner towers facing the sea.

Ship sails dotted the horizon line, many more than he had expected to see, but he kept a brave face as he stood in the courtyard listening to the troubling reports.

“Even with your arrival we still have fewer than what we first came with and there are no trebuchets left, commander.”

Finan stared at the young soldier, his armour shockingly clean compared to the others around them, “Outside that gate is a forest, did no one think to get out there with an axe?”

The group murmured and shifted from foot to foot unsure of how to respond; Finan’s impatience got the better of him, “What’re you standing there for? Go!”

Standing in a watch tower under dancing firelight, Finan watched as the number of approaching sails grew. The fort would only withstand a siege for so long before he’d be forced to meet the sea barons in battle, or he could face them straight away.

Looking across the bay, he could make out the faint lights of the keep's towers in the distance. He finally turned his attention to the folded paper in the palm of his hand. Carefully peeling back the corners to reveal petite forget-me-nots, the blue petals pressed flat against an inked sketch of his family crest.

Marlena stared at her reflection in the bronze mirror, a deep blue silk draped around her form and pinned in place. Adalyn’s gentle touch added the pearl embellished material around her neck, careful not to prick her skin as she slid another pin into the fabric on her shoulder, idly passing comments with the seamstress as they worked.

As far as wedding gowns went, Marlena believed the finished garment would look beautiful, but it brought her no joy. Her head turned to the door before Sihtric knocked and opened it, concern written all over his features.

Her quick steps, half running, half walking, carried her down the echoing steps and through the windowless back corridors as she bunched up her unfinished billowing skirts and entered Helier’s private office.

“Your Highness, this is hardly appropriate-” Yannic started to berate Marlena for her appearance.

“I was sent for with urgency and there is no safe way to get out of this quickly without damaging it,” She barely looked at Wihtgar who sat in the corner with Yahya, turning her attention to the king, “You asked for me, Father?”

“I did, Westwatch Fort is under heavy attack and it’s likely to get worse by nightfall,” Sighing heavily he picked up an item from behind the desk and placed it down, “This was sent over the sea wall along with the message that the city is next.”

Marlena picked up the bloodied helmet, running her finger along a split down its centre, her stomach sinking as Helier continued.

“Prince Wihtgar, when can we expect the rest of your forces from the north? We’ve been waiting for some time, they still haven’t been spotted by Nordale.”

“They’re coming, but I am unsure of an arrival date,” The prince responded too calmly for anyone’s liking.

“I suggest you send a messenger to find out. Yannic, would we be able to divert Hal from Haywood?”

“Westwatch will be lost by the time he arrives, Your Grace.”

Finan will be lost, Marlena’s mind rapidly spun through the horrific ways he would meet death and the possible ways they could prevent that from happening, “Send me.”

“I would advise against-” Yannic attempted to speak but she cut him off, throwing the helmet on the desk.

“Westwatch is too important to lose. It’s our largest defence on the coastline, if the barons take that fort, King Aelfric and Hal will be stuck between them and the south fighting on two fronts. We’ll have no army left.”

Wihtgar stood from his seat, “She is not permitted to patrol.”

“It is not a patrol, it’s warfare. Father, please, You named me a protector of the realm and duty is all you speak of now. Let me do what I was trained for and lead my men still here while I can.”

Marlena placed her hands on the desk, willing her father to look up from the map and meet her desperate gaze. She may have had ulterior motives for wanting to go but she was right about the fort being too important to lose.

Helier rubbed at his temple, “You go only to bring it under control, understand?”

Determination had Marlena back in her chambers quickly, ridding herself of rich silks for thick leather trousers and a linen undershirt.

Grimacing under the weight of her mail collar she helped Adalyn as best as she could, holding plates of armour in place as they were fastened. Cuirass first, then pauldrons, rerebraces, and vambraces.

Before picking up her sword she harshly tugged Wihtgar’s ring free from her finger, tossing it onto the vanity table.

“No greaves?” Sihtric asked on their way to the stables.

“We’ll be fighting on sand, I don’t want the extra weight.”

Marlena addressed the gathered warriors under the rising moon, her voice carrying with ease, “Let me remind those of us who may be so inclined, do not feed from the barons! You never know which ones are under the influence of their potions until it is too late.”

Wihtgar quietly sidled up to a horsed Sihtric, “Be sure she returns in one piece.”

“She always does, Your Highness.”

Without a glance back, Marlena gently eased her mare into a walk, passing through the gatehouse to the sight of the city’s occupants peering out of windows, some opening their doors to get a better look at what was happening.

It didn’t take long to travel from the city to Westwatch, and as the cohort arrived at the thick treeline running parallel to the sloping hills and dunes Marlena dismounted, “We continue on foot. I don’t want them to know we’re here until we’re on them. Get the archers some fire, tell them to focus on the ships and anyone trying to reach them.”

“They cannot flee without ships…” Osferth stated.

“Fleeing isn’t an option, they will die on this beach. If that’s something you oppose, I suggest you carry onto the fort and wait it out behind the walls.”

She watched Osferth look at Sihtric and Rypere nervously. In normal circumstances, she wouldn’t be so brutal but the more sea barons they took off the field now, the less they’d have to fight at a later date.

“I’m coming with you, princess.”

“He’ll be fine, he can handle himself,” Sihtric reassured, patting the mage’s shoulder.

Marlena ensured the leather straps holding the freshly forged daggers to her thighs were tight before removing her clunky sword belt, her grip flexing on the handles of her sword and axe. With her fighters following, she crept up to the hillcrest, jaw clenching at the sight below.

Her feet sunk deeper into the black sand the further she descended the dunes, eyes flickering over the unsuspecting bodies engrossed in hard battle, ears trying to block out the overwhelming onslaught.

Taking a long inhale, Marlena gave her sword a single spin and ran out into the crowd, rapidly hacking through sea barons.

Swords clashed, pikes pierced chainmail, screams gurgled, cries were harshly silenced, and commands were cut short underneath a flurry of burning arrows flying through the clear night sky.

As Marlena twisted her blade through the guts of the man lying at her feet, she was sharply yanked backwards by her thick braid, hitting the ground with a grunt. A heavy boot slammed into her chest forcing her back down. She didn’t see the determined face of her would-be killer, their blood already wetting the sand.

“What’re you doing here?!” Finan bellowed; His hand gripping the neck of her armour and pulling her to stand.

“You are overrun!”

“You should be at home,” He spun her away, slicing at another body, “PLANNING A WEDDING!”

“FUCK THE WEDDING!” She retorted, picking up a discarded spear and launching it through the air, seamlessly hitting her target.

“This isn’t the time!” Sihtric called from behind, axe and sword chopping through enemies.

Bright flames engulfed the ships, their wooden hulls creaking and groaning as they crumbled into the calm waves, their unruly passengers now stranded on the shore.

Salty air, charring wood, sweat, and death mixed created a pungent aroma that carried on a light breeze, along with a distinct screeching spilling over the hilltops.

Everyone stilled. Vampyres, changelings, and mortals, all stared at the crest.

The tall figures slowly descended, followed by hulking four-legged creatures, their shimmering grey veils shifting around their forms, shadow walkers.

“Marlena, get to the fort…” Finan breathed beside her, tightening his grip on his weapon. She’d never fought shadows before, and none of them had fought their latest additions.

“Not without you.”

“I’ll call a retreat but let me buy you some time-”

The men in front were unexpectedly barrelled through by wolf-like shapes, their screams cut off, a separate attack from the dunes.

“Go!” Finan barked, pushing Marlena back and so she turned to run.

The world was in chaos around her, wails, snarls, whistling screeches, bodies shining with gore falling to the ground, burning arrows hitting any target they could as she ducked and weaved as fast as she could towards the gates at the far end of the beach.

“Fall back!” She cried, picking up a young squire hiding behind a stack of beechwood and dragging him along as he sobbed. Her command echoed through the others, relieved they could attempt to flee to safety.

Air was knocked from Marlena’s lungs, her feet were no longer on the ground as she was severely rammed from the side by a solid mass.

She spat the sand from her mouth, quickly rotating onto her knees coming face to face with a grey shimmering beast. Saliva dripped down its canines, growls rumbled in its throat, and dark eyes focused on her.

Marlena’s eyes flickered from the hulking hound to her sword just out of reach, her chest heaved calculating her next move, “Fuck.”

And with that, she launched forward, hand just grabbing the hilt of her sword as the beast lurched at her, burrowing her blade into its belly with its jaw savagely biting into her shoulder taking them both down to the floor.

Sharp incisors and claws tore at her armour, ripping through her skin with ease. Reaching for her daggers with gritted teeth, she punctured the snarling beast over and over, its dark ichor seeping into her worsening wounds. The pain became unbearable; the blood-curdling scream ripped from her lungs and filled the open sky, contorting into a shrill cry matching the calls of the shadows, silencing the beach.

The ground thudded beneath her, a deep guttural roar sounded, a flash of burly fur collided with the dying wolf on top of her, and she was free of its clutches.

Through ringing ears, Marlena heard the order of protection called and the sound of a shield wall raised, the softer clinking of chainmail coming closer, her ragged breaths and Finan’s voice.

“I’ve got you,” He soothed shakily, lifting her into his arms and carrying her away, flanked by Osferth and Sihtric.

They quickly made it to the end of the beach, through the gates and into a small back room. Sihtric wiped everything clear off a table where Marlena was gently placed down, her shaking body beginning to convulse, eyes squeezed shut at the increasing pain while Osferth instructed the pages to place a trunk of supplies down and leave.

“Marlena?” Finan brushed the messy strands of her hair away from her face.

Her eyes flew open with a grunt as a viscous shudder gripped her body, revealing a jet black stare, the whites of her eyes non-existent and a strange grey current moving beneath the surface of her skin.

Finan stared back at her in shock, “What the fuck is happening to her?”

“I don’t know,” Osferth glanced away rummaging through the box for comferi leaves and linen dressing.

“Could it be poison?”

“Maybe, I can’t be sure.”

“Infection?”

“I don’t know!” The mage shot back, coming to the table with his supplies and shaky hands, “I have never seen or heard of this happening before.”

As Osferth moved to unfasten the crimsoned pauldron crushed into Marlena’s shoulder she weakly slapped him away, sobbing in protest, warm tears streaking the drying blood on her face.

“Look at me, focus on me,” Finan instructed her calmly; His hands gently cradling her jaw, watching the black waters shrouding her eyes ripple away and the murky current under her skin still, “We have to clean you up, alright?”

Finan hushed her noises of discomfort as he sat her up, his hands making fast work of unclasping her armour.

She gripped the edge of the table, bracing herself as the splintered steel embedded into the wounds was pulled free, fresh blood trickling down her shoulder and spilling from her chest and waist, no longer able to be soaked up by the already drenched linen shirt covering her body.

Taglist: @deandoesthingstome @arcielee @gemini-mama @persephones-journey

#the last kingdom fanfic #finan x oc #finan fanfic #tlk fanfiction #tlk fanfic #tlk au

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maddiesbookshelves · 1 year

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Hello, my dearest ✨️ how's the end of the year going? What are you top 5 favorite fantasy books you've read this year?

Hello my darling ✨ the end of the year is very stressful right now, I have university deadlines and socializing deadlines (people are visiting from across the globe and leaving soon) but I'm doing my best 🥲 I hope the end of the year is treating you well, though!

I have a post about my favourite books of the year scheduled for December 31st, but that's all genres included (though it is mostly fantasy), but I can do a fantasy top 5:

5 - A Magic Steeped in Poison, Judy I. Lin

4 - Zachary Ying and the Dragon Emperor, Xiran Jay Zhao

3 - Spear, Nicola Griffith

2 - The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, V.E. Schwab

1 - A Thousand Steps into Night, Traci Chee

Although it's a bit of a tie between #1&2

#my betrothed 💜#asks #maddie talks #fantasy books #favs of 2022 #books #booklr #booklr community #i am incapable of ranking things #but i tried

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arcielee · 8 months

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And you told me I should concentrate.

Summary: Aemond makes a mistake. Paring: Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 2050 Warnings: Just some smut. Smidgen of Targcest in the beginning, definite voyeurism, marital cheating, oral (f receiving), p in v, breeding kink if you squint. Author's Note: Here is part 2 of Only if for a night. You wanted sad boi Aemond and here he is, wholly confused and just fucking things up 😂 Thank you to my beta reader @f4ll-for-you, you always help me to give the best version of our baby girl Aegon. 💜 lēkia is brother Banners & dividers by @cafekitsune Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @sylas-the-grim @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9 @bucknastysbabe

His sister had once said that it was fate to crave what is given to another, but for Aemond, it was a dull ache that reverberated within his ribs as he dragged Aegon to the Iron Throne.

Aemond was first and foremost dutiful, his steadfast devotion extended to his brother and his crown, and it led his steps towards the confrontation on the Sept steps. But it was now a distant memory, along with the initial hesitation he had felt, as he was pleased that Aegon not just carried their ancestral crown as a decoration, but showed pride, thriving with his kingship.

He had no qualms to follow through with the expected betrothal that had been made, as your dowry had allowed them their victory. But Aemond could not help the relief that washed over when you had been formally introduced; you were poised, you were beautiful, and you had no compulsion to fill the air with incessant chatter, as he often found the other ladies of the court always were compelled to droll on.

It truly seemed to be a favorable match; you were not blatantly besotted with your intended–as Aemond knew this to be expected, Targaryen or not, he was always aware of the scar that burned across his features–but you were courteous, and he admired the touch of pink to your cheeks whenever his attention was solely on you.

The ceremony had been modest and you seemed grateful with how he threw the crowd that crowed for proof of your maidenhead from the chambers. It left you alone with your new husband and the unease that filled the air between.

Aemond was aware of your slight tremor, and he was mindful of every noise that spilled from your rosy lips, his hands were gentle to touch, guided by your soft sounds. With the proof of your purity spilled on the linen, and before he had left, he called for your handmaidens to have a warm bath drawn to help the ache between your thighs.

His dutiful nature followed into his role as lord husband, though perhaps not in a romantic sense, but he would escort you to break fast with his siblings and mother, or he would suggest a stroll in the gardens of the Red Keep if the weather allowed it. Aemond was also certain to allow your time apart, allowing you to keep the company of your handmaidens, but also he would come in the evenings to do what was expected of a man and wife.

But despite the time spent together outside of the marital chambers, there still tarried a trepidation in his bones. You were still reserved, the very embodiment of the perfect lady wife, but he was almost uneasy with how you responded to his touch, to his kiss. Aemond had hoped against hope that you would eventually bloom in response, but you seemed content to remain encased within your petals.

So Aemond sought advice from his sister Helaena, as he knew she allowed him a candid honesty and he could trust whatever insight she had to offer. She had always been a resounding comfort for him, something that began with his dismemberment when she faithfully visited him as he healed.

Their bond was something that knitted tightly in the marrow of their bones, something that naturally gave into an intimacy they shared when she first married Aegon. At first, resentment boiled beneath as Aemond watched how his brother disrespected his lady wife, how he was lost in his whores of Fleabottom and neglected fulfilling his marital duties.

This was when Helaena noticed how his gaze lingered and she called in her singsong voice, “it is our fate, I think, to crave always what is given to another.”

It was a thrill, her touch both familiar and unfamiliar, something that stirred a warmth in his lower abdomen, curling at the base of his spine. “The blood of the dragon must thrive,” she had whispered against his lips.

There was a sense of pride with how his legacy showed in the features of Jaehaerys’ that sharpened as he grew, and in the silk, silver texture of Jaehaera’s tresses, as well as the shade of lavender in the wide eyes of Maelor.

But this had not been his intention when he came to her that night, though he found it was too easy to fall back into her warm curves and embrace; her lyrical hymn that was coy to coax him–may the gods forgive him, but Aemond relished in being desired again.

He knew it was a lustful moment of weakness, and as the post-coital haze lifted, a sense of shame settled over in its place; Aemond had no intention to whore around on his wife, that he wished for her to carry his legitimate child, his legacy, as what was expected, as what was their duty to the realm.

“You just found your confidence again, lēkia,” Helaena remained bare, curled beneath the duvet, and watched as Aemond dressed. “You already know what you must do.”

Aemond knew he had to see you.

In the days that followed, the routine was broken by the bliss that now engulfed you, your tiptoes tumbling on air as you flit throughout the Red Keep. Aemond saw how you glowed, as did anyone who dared to compliment his wife, but he also noticed how the sugared words drew a knowing smirk across the king’s face.

Aegon knew the real reason behind your changed disposition, but played coy to relish in your reactions. It was a childish tease with a sharp pull to your shirts if you passed him by and the tug of fabric jolted through you, a warmth rekindled in your core, or how he would place his palm on your lower back, leaning until his lips almost touched your ear with the soft words, “How lovely you look today,” and that warmth would spill into your features, crimson with his praise.

You were flushed, your eyes bright, and this sweet demeanor was not missed by your husband, but Aemond hoped this meant you would be more receptive to coupling. The thought fluttered through his mind, propelling his steps forward that night as he made his way through one of the many ingresses that weaved the walls of Maegor’s Holdfast. He was quiet to enter your room, greeted by the golden flow of the tapers lit, by the sounds that spilled from your bed.

He could not press further, cemented to the cobblestone at the sight.

You were lovely and you were bare, sinking into the mattress with the top of your head towards the end of the bed, towards where your husband was rooted but you were unaware of his presence. Rose hues intimately stained your skin and the peaks of your thighs, your back arching with a mewled cry. Aemond watched your delicate hands reach to comb through the traited silver head of hair that was dipped between your flushed thighs, trembling with your building pleasure, with a hold to anchor him between.

“Aegon, my gods…”

And then Aegon broke for a moment of air, pulling from your grasp and your hands trailed the planes of his chest to his abdomen; his mouth and chin glistened with your pleasure, and his hooded eyes fell to Aemond for a moment.

You did not follow his gaze. “Aegon?”

Aemond felt the blood rush to his cheeks, to his cock, and he took a soft step backwards while Aegon held his steady stare, bringing his fingers to wipe his face and suck lewdly on his digits. “Sweet girl,” he cooed, his gaze dropping to admire your flushed features, “I wish you to come on my cock.”

Before you could protest, his large palms wrapped around your wrists, pulling you towards him. “Do not take your eyes off of me,” his lips pressed to yours, bringing you towards his chest to straddle him, your plush thighs caging his lap. His hot mouth captured your nipple, his tongue tracing your areola with a familiarity that caused you to cry out.

“Aegon, please,” you panted, trying to squirm and feeling his girth against the slick of your cunt. His large palms grasped the softness of your hips, pulling you closer until his arms could wrap around your waist, his lips following the curve of your chest and licking the column of your neck, placing a noisy kiss to the underside of your jaw. “Aegon, you cannot mark me, what if it is seen–?”

“Let them see,” his voice was dark, his hand dipping between and lining the flushed head of his cock to press into your entrance, wet and wanting from your prior peaks of the night. “Let them hear you,” his command was husky.

Pitiful sounds poured from your lips as you lowered onto him, an indescribable fullness as he stretched your velvet walls. Your eyes fluttered into the back of your head, your hands coming to bite into his broad shoulders and hold yourself upright, still flushed against his chest.

Aegon kept his hold on your waist, his palms pressed onto your skin, his lips ghosted the junction of your neck to your shoulder and you giggled from the sensation. “Your king commands you to stop clenching,” he hissed and you felt the hot exhale of his low voice

You giggled again, finding his lips for a kiss, your tongue curling in his mouth to taste him, to taste yourself. “Forgive me, my king,” you whispered, meeting with his eyes, the violet almost completely swallowed by his blown out pupils; your lips curled upwards with the slow roll of your hips against him.

It was his turn for his eyes to disappear into his skull, with a low, guttural groan in response to the pace you set, and the lewds sounds that accompanied the sensual movement. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he dipped his head forward to press his lips against your breast, leaving welts that flushed dark against your skin, his teeth dragging to the other with the same assault of his mouth.

You gasped at the sensation, with how it spilled into your bloodstream, coursing to the ends and fluttering back to the coil that tightened in your lower abdomen. You were slick between, your legs burned with the motion and, as if he could read your mind, did his grip tightened and Aegon met with a relentless pace, his hips rutting upwards into you.

“I will only forgive you,” he was breathless with his unrelenting tempo, “if you come undone.”

“Aegon,” you gasped, the flashes of color that sparked in front of your eyes and the tears that pearled in the corners, “I am so close.”

“Touch yourself,” his voice was thick with the command and your hand pulled away, your fingers trailing his shoulder blade and coming around to follow his collarbone; Aegon dipped his head again, capturing your fingers in his mouth, his tongue wettening the pads before it fell between and pressed against the bloom of bundled nerves above.

Your cries echoed the room, already so close to the precipice and your own touch is what pushed you over with a rush of blood towards your heart and your cunt, the coil bursting within and the pleasure unfurling, pressing against your seams. It was if you were drowning in this sense of bliss, something all-consuming as his thick member pulsed inside your cunt and you clenched in response, a vice, and still so very unaware.

Aegon, however, held you close, his cheeks ruddy and eyes still dark as they looked past and towards Aemond, watching how his neck bobbed when he swallowed before falling another step backwards and disappearing where he came from, the entrance closing quietly behind.

He moved towards his chambers, his palm adjusting the crotch of his slacks, his long gait to remove him. They had not married for love, and he always knew this; it was hopeful–it was foolish to think it could grow beyond the duty that was expected of them.

And as he had done for Aegon, it was returned; in the end, all that mattered was that the blood of the dragon would thrive still.

arcie's masterlist

#hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon x reader #aegon x you #and you told me I should concentrate

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