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missglaskin · 1 year

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Yan!Targaryen Men (Jacaerys, Maegor, Aemond, Aegon I, Baelon, Daemon, Viserys III, Aegon II, Rhaegar) with sister!Darling

Note-I hope this doesn’t get a rating like my other posts. Also, I don’t specify if the reader is adopted or not to be exclusive

There’s no greater love than one found at home

Tags: Pure filthy smut, unhealthy/toxic relationship, obsession/possessiveness, a kinda bloodplay, breeding kink/fantasy, fingering, oral (m&f receiving), pussy slapping/spanking, marks and cuts (sexual), co-dependency, skincare (don’t ask)

Jacaerys

Any lady would wish to have a brother like yours. So sweet and gentle. A brother who listens to every word of his sister. Always dancing with her at feasts. Giving her flowers just to make her smile. They find his protectiveness over you to be adorable. Not knowing it’s from a fear of losing you to another man.

Naturally, like everyone else, you were an admirer of many handsome bachelors. Whether it was a lord, a knight, or some blacksmith. Yet each turned you down. They made sure to be careful with their words, as you were a princess. And each time you ran into your brother’s arms in tears. Utterly unaware, he whispered threats into their ears.

The two of you shared a bed. Something your mother disapproved of. But no matter her attempts, the servants report finding you wrapped in each other’s arms. There was a reassurance it was merely innocent and harmless. The act under the sheets begs to differ from the way your brother is humping you from behind.

There was a sense of shame in Jace’s actions. But who else deserves to take your maidenhood other than him. Though he waited and waited. Still, the two of you found a way. Light shared and moans shared between-his hardened cock covered by loose fabric as you grind your pussy against it.

There’s also you two tangled in the sheets, messaging your tongue with his own. You clench tightly around his fingers that’s buried deep inside your core, pumping you relentlessly. All while his hips thrust into the grip you have on his cock. Groaning louder each time you squeeze at the head.

When it finally happens. Jace has become addicted to the warmth of your pussy. He was already addicted to the feeling of his fingers playing with your dripping folds. Already addicted to his tongue lapping up your pussy, drinking in your juice. This was nothing like he ever experienced, and if Jace could, he’ll die with his cock buried deep inside of you.

Learning Valryian was necessary. It is your mother’s tongue. The lesson, however, becomes difficult when Jace presses the head of his length against your entrance, slowly filling you up as you sit down on him. You and Jace try to recite what you know. Resisting the urge to roll his hips and your squirming doesn’t help, either. It all ends the same each time with Jace having enough, gripping your waist and moving your hips.

Jace sometimes dreams of seeing your belly swollen with his child. He can't imagine being with anyone else but you. He wants the perfect life, to be an adoring husband to a devoted wife surrounded by children who resemble you more. It will all come due in time.

Maegor

To you and everyone else, your brother let it be known of his desire. It is within his right to want you, to have you. What man would have a better claim for his sweet sister than her own brother. Even more who dares to refuse him, to refuse the dragon.

Your brother wanted to be the first of your everything. Your first love. Your first kiss. Your first fuck. From your mind, to your body, to your heart, to your soul. They were all his. Every inch of you belongs to him. He will give a fate worse than death to a man who dared to steal his ‘right’.

Maegor breeds you at every chance he gets. Filling your little cunt with his massive cock. Tears coat your eyes at how he pounds into you so mercilessly. Broken moans slip from your bruised lips, feeling his hot cum flood your insides. Numbness taking over your senses.

There’s no rest even in your sleep. Waking up to Maegor buried deep inside you. It happens so often that you merely lay there and have him do all the work. His cock squelching into your heat, moaning his name as the two of you inch closer and closer to an orgasm. Maegor loves the sight of your pussy as cum oozes out of it, pushing the tip right in front of your entrance to keep it all in-not wanting to waste a drop of his seed.

As much as he hates wasting his seed, he also loves the view of you on his knees, eagerly taking him. A hand on your head guiding you up and down on his cock. His sheer size makes you choke and gag every time. When it’s done as a form of punishment, you’re pulled until your nose nudges against his balls.

Obedience is expected from you. Not only is he older than you, he’s your king. Disobeying him will result in your ass feeling sore, a burning sensation from his assault. You’re to count each one, otherwise, he’ll start all over again. Your pussy is also swollen and drenched from his hand, slapping it when you move too much.

After making such a mess of you, he has you join him in the bath. The water so warm, it almost stings your skin. Sitting in Maegor's lap, your head resting on his shoulder as his hand traces your back. It’s an intimate moment filled with silence. Peace.

His wives mean nothing compared to you, and they were reminded of this every day. Any night he spends with one of them would be returned tenfold. A whisper in his ear is all it takes to get rid of each of them. A sweet sister is all he needs to love him, to satisfy him, to bear him heirs.

Aemond

You and Aemond standing side to side may have looked nowhere alike, but the two of you were attached to the hip as though you were twins. Even when each had different duties. Your brother being taught to wield a sword while you were taught to courtesy and dance.

Your brother believed the two of you were meant to wed one day. It was tradition with Aegon wed to Helaena, so it’s only fair for him to wed you as well. The two of you shared a bond like no other and who else understands, loves, and cares for his sweet sister as he does.

Aemond wants the best for you. It’s his duty as your brother. Demanding that you read, that you study philosophy and history. That you learn the language of your ancestors. Though you’re not to blame when finding those lessons to be boring, your brother is furious when you refuse to pay attention. Your stomach on his lap, ass sore from the strikes of his hand. It’s for your own good, he tells you.

When it comes to reciting what you know, your brother makes you lay over his lap. His hand on your cunt. Fingers caressing your folds when you get the answers right. Halting his movements when you forget or get the answers wrong. But in the end, he’ll give in to your begging, helping you reach your release.

Aemond likes to believe he’s giving. Cheeks messy with slick as his tongue laps up against your sensitive pussy from the many times you reached your release. Reaching it once more when his fingers thrust in and out of you all while his mouth sucks on your clit. But it’s never enough for Aemond, continuing to sloppily feast on your cunt until you can no longer take it.

Your brother wasn’t only obsessed with the taste of your tongue, but the feeling of it wrapped around his cock. There should be shame; Taking your maidenhood, but it’ll be bound to happen so why not indulge himself now. Besides, you tempted him like a seductress, latching onto him, yearning for the heat of his cock, and who is he to deny you.

There’s no greater feeling than this. The feeling of his cock sinking into you, filling you up so well, and stretching you with every thrust. Pushing his hips as deep as he can, wanting to drown himself in your cunt. Groaning when the blunt head of his cock grazes your cervix. Your nails dig into his back, and Aemond hisses when feeling lines of blood-forming. It arouses him even further.

Aemond was a man whose actions were said better than his words. But there are times where confessions are made. Bodies drenched in sweat, calming itself from the violet highs. And in the dawn of night, you hear the whispers, so faint. And you realize just how deep the love Aemond has for you. The madness in his eye showing its blazing intensity.

Aegon I

Your brother Aegon, as he did with Visenya, married you out of duty. His true love was Rhaenys. A sad truth you must accept. As the youngest sister, you looked up to your big brother, always following him around, eager to please him, to make him happy.

Aegon finds himself indulging in your eagerness. Allowing you to scrub his body in the bath or undress him late at night. His most preferred is when you’re helping him shave his beard. Seated on his lap with his hands on your waist, and Aegon can’t help but watch you be so focused and take great care to be careful.

Unlike your sisters, Aegon didn’t want you to fight. Even preferred it if you didn’t claim a dragon. Insisting your purpose was to wait for him when it was time to visit your chambers. And when he did, Aegon smelled like dragon and his eyes widened in lust at the sheer nightgown wore. In mere seconds, it was ripped to shreds.

His reason for visiting you late at night is before you was Visenya, and before Visenya was Rhaenys. The night is spent with you bent over, his hips ramming into yours. Hands gripping the sheets as his cock pumped in and out of your tight hole. And when it was all set and done, the two of you reaching your high. He always left, and you knew deep inside, it was right back to Rhaenys.

But soon Visenya notices Aegon’s presence lessens and more shocking when Rhaenys does. The chambers of your room are filled with everything your heart desires, from the rarest of books to every instrument and painted color imagined. The dresses becoming more and more lavished, all in the house of colors. What catches most attention is the valyrian steel necklace placed around your neck.

His jealousy was one of fire. Easily ignited and hard to put out. Pushed to the wall with Aegon lifting your dress up. A dark look on his face as he lines his cock to your entrance. Making you adjust to his size and brutal pace. He demands to not hold in your moans, to let every single person in the castle know who you belong to. The poor bastard that caused it is currently residing in Balerion's stomach.

In the throne room, where the halls are empty. Safe for the King and his sister-wife who’s on top of him, bouncing on his cock. Your hips gripped by Aegon, moving you up and down as he drives himself deeper into your aching cunt. Moans, groans, and skin slapping echo through the great halls. Some cuts occur, a few stings, but the pleasure helps in numbing them.

A true testament to your brother’s love was when the two of you were standing in a mirror. Both bare as you gazed at your reflection. Stunned when Aegon places the crown, the king’s crown on your head. It’s all yours, the kingdom, the throne, him; they all belong to you. His hand reaches down to your belly. It also belongs to them. What if it’s a girl, you ask him. It’s still theirs, he claims.

Baelon

Such a sweet and kind princess you were. Loved by the court and the common people alike. Your parent’s pride and joy, a sentiment your brother shared. Baelon’s fondness for his sister was well-known around the realm. If one needs to find Baelon, they must first find you, as your brother rarely left your side.

It doesn’t arouse any suspicions when your brother shoos any of your suitors away. Nor when his hands are on your lower back as you dance. Not when he kisses your cheeks at your name day. Neither when he rubs his thumb on your lower lip to wipe the frosting or cream. They all believe it’s just Baelon looking after his innocent and sweet sister.

Then again, there are no eyes under the table where your brother’s hand is buried between your legs. Your thighs squeeze the hand to restrict its movements, but all it does is make him dig his fingers even deeper into your core. Baelon has the nerve to have those same fingers in his mouth afterward, tasting your release all while his eyes are on yours.

With Baelon, most of your mornings are awakened by a sensation between your legs and a knot in your stomach. Opening your eyes to see your brother sucking the clit into his mouth. Pulling away with your arousal coating his lips as he teasingly greets you with a ‘good morning’.

Any time you are soaking yourself in warm water. It’s almost as if your brother has a sixth sense. Coincidently being there, and he doesn’t even bother asking. Sinking in the warm water and immediately pulling you onto his lap. And somehow it always ends with most of the water spilling out on the floor. You eagerly moving up and down on your brother’s length.

The dragon’s blood courses through Baelon’s veins and you’re reminded by his fire when he’s green with envy. Making such a mess out of you as he slams his cock into your hole, hand making contact with your ass cheek. Overstimulating you as he pumps a load after another. In your broken moans and whines, your brother makes you repeat that you belong to him over and over.

Sometimes you wonder if Baelon wants others to find you in these compromising positions. With how often he drags you out of feasts and tourneys. When the two of you return, you’re forced to lean on him as your knees are wobbly and your whole body feels sore. Not to mention the mixture of our arousal sliding down your thighs.

Baelon worships the ground you walk on. He might even worship you. You certainly taste like nectar on his tongue, a nectar created by the gods. You’re a perfect creature in his eyes. If Baelon could, he’ll gift you the whole world in his hands. But if you were ever to leave, Baelon will want to burn it all down and himself so he can see a glimpse of your face again.

Daemon

Viserys and Daemon loved their little sister. They took you wherever they went, their protectiveness and love clearly seen. But Viserys knew the bond between you and Daemon was nowhere near the one he had with either of you. It was evident even to the court.

You were his. A constant reminder that loomed over you. Everything belonged to him, everything. Your eyes, only for him to gaze at. Your lips, only for him to kiss. Your body, only for him to touch. Your heart, only for him to keep. Your cunt, only for him to breed.

No other man deserves this. Deserves you. You were made for him. Carved and sculpted by the gods as a gift. Any man or woman who takes what is rightfully his. He’ll behead them and fuck you right next to their corpses, or better yet, he’ll make them watch. Letting it be the last thing they see before meeting their timely demise.

Daemon takes joy in bullying you. Railing you from behind as your hands grip the window rails. Taunting you on how much of a slut you’re, taking his cock like your pussy was made for it. When he notices you biting your lips to hold your moans as those under will hear, he will spank your pussy every time you do so. He wants them to hear, to watch his sister being so drunk on his cock.

At tourneys, you’re in the front, thighs clenched together at the sight of your brother’s prowess. It doesn’t matter whether he comes victorious. Daemon makes it a ritual to fuck you after each tourney. When victorious, every time he crowns you as the queen of love and beauty, later in his chambers, having you ride him to your liking. But when he loses, your ass is left sore and bruised as Daemon ruthlessly pounds into your dripping hole, fucking you full of his cum.

In front of others, it is almost as if your brother’s arousal heightens. Teasing you under the table, his eyes never leaving your face just to watch how it twitches and how your lips are pressed in a thin line, doing everything to not break, not to fall apart from his fingers playing with your cunt.

No matter how many tongues are silenced or people sent away, it doesn’t stop the rumors that circulate around the castle. The servants claim to catch the two of you in intimate positions. Found in some hall with you between your brother’s legs. A messenger once walked on him thrusting hard and deep into you, still counting his pace the rogue prince simply asks who sent for it.

You can never deny your brother. For his violence, ruthlessness, and arrogance. There was the intense love and loyalty he had for you. One you will never find in another man. Daemon didn’t need to utter the three words. When he claims that he’ll burn cities to the ground, it’s not an empty promise. It was also his gentleness that was granted only to you.

Viserys III

There were only three-you, Viserys, and Daenerys. They were all you had-your father, mother, and big brother all gone. Your memories were still there, the good and the bad. And most of all you remembered your brother before he became the man he was. The sweet and devoted Viserys, now cruel and mad.

To Viserys you are his greatest strength as much as you are his greatest weakness. You are his to have, his to claim, his to fuck, his to hurt, his to love. A wine for him to drink and drink until he’s drunk under your sweet words and touches. Away from him in a day is a day to you, but to Viserys, it’s as if months have passed without your presence.

Your body belonged solely to him. The mere idea of anyone touching or gazing at it will send him into a frenzy of rage. It wasn’t the servants dressing you instead; it was your brother Viserys, styling you in the way he sees fit. Even bathing you, scrubbing your body as he joins you, expecting you to return the favor.

You weren’t ignorant of your brother’s lust. Noticing where his hands trailed when he’d undress you. How he pulls you to sit on his lap. And your brother’s meanness was seen in how he shoves his fingers in your mouth, watching with great entertainment as you gag and drool all over his fingers. Scolding you for the noises you make and how you’re moving your hips against him.

Viserys will marry you against Illyrio's advice. It was his destiny and duty. There’s no better suitor than his own sister and no better suitor for you than your own brother. Almost every day Viserys breeded you. It’s up to you and him to continue your bloodline, to bear him heirs when he claims the iron throne.

Viserys’ jealousy was a dangerous one. Receiving his known saying, do not wake the dragon. Even your sister Daenerys wasn’t safe from his jealousy. Viserys already resented her for killing your mother. He tells her it’s only he who deserves to touch you, to hold you. It’s one of the reasons he was so eager to marry her off to Khal Drogo. As it means having you all to himself.

Viserys is hardly slow and gentle in his thrusts, and how can he when feeling your insides wrap around his cock, clenching him so tightly. Feeling as if he’s losing his sanity at how drunk he’s on your pussy. With any other, he’d be embarrassed at how loud he is. But with you, his dear sweet sister, Viserys isn’t ashamed to cry out your name. Moaning how good you feel around him, demanding you call him your king.

Tell me you love me. Was something you often heard from your brother. When he heard them call him ‘the beggar king’. After he caused a tantrum because you were too ‘nice’ to another person. When he lays his head on your chest every night. It almost is a recital, where you tell him you do love him, cradling his face and kissing him to ease any of his doubt.

Aegon II

As children, Aegon teased you as any brother would. But he was far more attached to you than Aemond, and certainly Helaena. Your mother thought the relationship was a harmless one. It’s until your brother became a man and you a lady, did your mother start to separate the both of you.

It never worked. Aegon made you come to him at any time of need. Your finger is cut, no worries, he'll help you. Placing the said finger in his mouth, sucking on the blood as you watch him. At the time of your month, he’ll press kisses on your tummy to make you feel better, only for his lips to go lower and lower.

Aegon’s intentions are never good. Such as when your brother sweetly offers you to taste your favorite pastry, only for him to dip his fingers in the said pastry. Having you lick and suck his fingers clean to which you start gagging when he shoves it further inside your mouth.

His greatest weakness was the sight of your breasts. No matter how big or small they were, it’s a sight to behold. Only for his eyes to see. Capturing your nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly leaving you with the feeling of soreness afterward.

He’ll also fuck your tits. Fisting his cock as his tip nudges the stiff buds, smearing them with pre-cum. Or better yet rubbing them against the skin between your breasts. Spurting his release all over your chest and some splattering into your face, making him hard all over again as soon as your tongue makes contact with his cum.

With Aegon, there’s never a dull day. Always wanting to try something new. Forced to eat fruits such as strawberries and pineapples all day by your brother until your stomach aches. All because Aegon overheard they will make your pussy taste sweeter.

During tourneys, you and Aegon are nowhere to be found. Using this opportunity to fuck you in the chambers of those who angered him. Some lord judgmentally looked at him. He will have your back laid on their table with him pounding into you, having all their works scattered on the floor. His brother made a comment on his drinking. He’ll plunge his cock into your dripping pussy on his bed. Leaving behind such a mess for Aemond to find. He’ll even sneak you into some of the lord’s carriages, so when they are to leave, they’ll feel something sticky and wet on their seats.

When he became king, Aegon would have you ride him on the iron throne. Your stomach is still in knots and your legs are on fire when he and you reach your high. Your brother then makes you sit on the throne all while he’s on his knees, face surrounded by your thighs. Aegon may wear the crown of the conqueror, but it’s you who pulls the strings.

Rhaegar

In the stories where you hear of tall handsome princes, Rhaegar was one to come to mind. All ladies seem to think so. Eagerly surrounding and pursuing him. With the customs of your house, the ladies saw you as a competition for their prince. They were not far off, as the handsome Rhaegar’s heart was yours to have.

The gods have blessed your brother with such beauty. That is a work of art. Compared to his, yours seemed inadequate. A thought that you believed almost broke his heart. Morning to night, your brother’s delicate hands trailed your body, soft lips brushing against the skin. All done to prove you were worthy of such a title, a title of beauty, and one deserving of his affection.

Though the violet eyes that watched you always held a fondness. A fondness reserved only for you. Watching you do the most mundane things, even eating. Chuckling when the food’s remains would adhere to your lips or trail down, to which your brother wipes it for you. A certain gleam in his eye.

Every morning, it was your brother who took care of your hair. Whether it’s brushing, braiding, or dipping his fingers in the coconut oil to apply it to your hair. Rhaegar loved taking care of your skin as well. Having you completely bare while he spreads the lotion at every inch of the skin, trailing dangerously close to your lower region.

There was some resistance against his temptations. Rhaegar will be a patient man for a time, yet his father refused to announce the union. It was seen in how he’d check for you at night, tucking you in and giving you a gentle kiss on the head. Each time, it took all his strength to deny your request for him to join you. But when his patience ran thin and his strength weakened, he slipped behind the covers. A habit came to be with the prince leaving your chambers every early morning.

With the night sky being your only witness, Rhaegar lays between your legs. Drinking you in like a starved man. The chambers’ walls echo the sound of your moans, hand down pushing his face even further. Your brother groans when you gush against his tongue, arousal coating his cheek and chin.

Clutching him to your body, your eyes find his. Rhaegar presses his forehead to yours as his cock sank into your pussy. He could worship the sight of your face contorting to pleasure, worship the sounds of your moans in his ear. Your back arches and legs weakly wrap around his waist as he pounds your cunt. Your brother whispers nothing but sweet praises.

Outside the covers of your sheets, your brother also worshiped you. His heart was in your hands. You can break it over and over, and it still beats for you. You are his and he’s yours till the end of days, how he dreams of reciting your wedding vows to one another. How he dreams of you giving him a prince. The three-headed-dragon, words your brother muttered more than once.

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blakeswritingimagines · 5 months

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Kissing over their scars

Aegon: The touch of your lips on his scars is one that gives him chills each time. It not only feels physically good to have your attention on those marks on his body but also emotionally. It makes him feel loved and desired, even with such imperfections.

Aemond: He appreciates that you are not repulsed by his scars. He is thankful for your acceptance and appreciates your desire to caress the area surrounding them. While he feels uncomfortable discussing the details of the injury itself, he is not opposed to the showing of affection to that specific part of his body.

Jacaerys: As Jacaerys felt the touch of his partner's lips upon his scars, the sensations stirred beneath his skin. The memories and pain that were once associated with those scars turned to comfort and warmth. He knew that you understood his past and accepted him for who he was. As you continued to kiss, he let go of the pain and embraced your love.

Lucerys: He would blush madly, feeling a rush of both happiness and embarrassment. His scars represent a dark, painful chapter of his life, and he wouldn't want anyone to know the full truth. But the feeling of someone close to him kissing them would be so sweet and intimate that he would find it hard to look away. He might even move around slightly to give you better access to his scars.

Rhaenyra: If you were to kiss her scars, she would likely react by being both surprised and touched. She may pull away at first out of surprise, but if she felt a deep connection with you, she would likely lean into your affection and allow you to continue. This would be a deeply intimate and meaningful moment for her, as it would show her that you are accepting and supportive of all parts of her and your relationship. She may also feel a sense of vulnerability in allowing someone else to see her scars, which could further strengthen your bond.

Daemon: As the warm caress of your lips lingered on each scar, he couldn't help but close his eyes and revel in the sensations. The comfort and connection of your touch were more potent than any pain or fear he had before. Time seemed to stand still as you slowly embraced him with an intimate kiss. He leaned into you, feeling a deep sense of vulnerability but also trust. Your mouth, warm and supple, teased a deep and primal desire within. His entire frame was awash with pleasure until you pulled back, and he opened his eyes slowly looking at you with a smile on his face.

Alicent: Her face reddens at the boldness of the action, the surprise and pleasure from the kiss combined. She moves slightly closer to you, wanting more contact and intimacy. She can feel her face heat up, and she closes her eyes for a moment when the kisses end, to savor the sensation for a little longer. She wants you to keep kissing them, wanting to keep feeling your soft lips on her scars. The sensation is so powerful that it makes her forget her previous shyness and pulls you closer.

Helena: As you kiss her scars, she'll close her eyes and allow herself to be vulnerable and feel the moment. The light caress of your lips awakens something deep within her soul. She longs for the intimacy of your connection. Her body reacts to the touch of your lips, and she knows you feel it, too. She opened her eyes slowly and met your gaze, your faces so close to each other that you could kiss. It is only a matter of time, she thinks to herself. She leans in and...

Harwin: The first time he was kissed on his scars, he felt a mixture of emotions. On one hand, he was happy to be loved and accepted for his flaws. But on the other hand, he felt very vulnerable and exposed. The kiss reminded him that even though he had overcome difficult times in his life, the scars were still visible, and it was still a part of his past. He was also reminded that someone else knew the pain he had endured and that someone else's lips could heal what once had cut deep and wounded him.

Cregan: Kisses on his scars bring a warm and intimate feeling, as if you doing it is showing your affection and appreciation for him and his past. Each scar marks a unique experience, and it brings him joy to know that you appreciate and value these experiences as much as he does. He is always reminded of your care and attention towards him whenever you kiss or touch his scars, and it brings him deep satisfaction to know that he is being loved and accepted despite the physical flaws and imperfections.

Criston: He is taken aback by the sudden contact, but slowly begins to relax once he realizes the care and love underlying the act. He may blush at the unexpected attention, and his heartbeat quickens out of anticipation. The sensation of your soft lips on his damaged flesh sends tingles throughout his body, and he'll find himself longing for more.

#aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x reader #rhaegar targaryen x reader #daemon targeryen x reader #alicent hightower x reader #helena targaryen x reader #ser harwin x reader #cregan stark x reader #criston cole x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon headcanons

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ladyempty · 9 days

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What do you think it would be like? Steffon Baratheon's second child and only daughter. She inherited all of her great-mother's Targaryen genes. How far will Yandere Rhaegar go to marry reader?

° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life. |

It was a surprise for everyone when Lord Steffon's second daughter was born. A healthy girl, she was born screaming and kicking with strength worthy of a Baratheon, but her appearance was less in keeping with the other members of the house.Unlike her older brother, the girl was born with a mop of platinum blonde hair and large bright purple eyes.

An appearance so different that it made the midwives' eyebrows raise slightly and they looked at each other in obvious confusion. But everything was partially forgotten when Lord Steffon held his daughter in his arms and proclaimed loudly:

"A delight for the eyes like my Lady mother.”

Rhaegar's obsession would not take long to arrive, he was truly curious about the rumors spreading so quickly and was truly happy when his father demanded the presence of the Baratheon family to present the girl to the court.

For young five-year-old Rhaegar, the moment was as magical as the stories his mother told him and songs the bards sang. An overwhelming feeling that hit him like an arrow shot quickly and aimed at his heart.

We're talking about Rhaegar, limits are something he doesn't know about. He will try to be as subtle as possible but fail so miserably that it might be funny. When he wants something, he has to have it.

As they grow up, the prince will try to win your heart at any cost, using his natural charm that made so many other ladies swoon, singing to you and playing beautiful and melancholic melodies on the harp. Countless gifts would be delivered to you in abundance, especially books that Rhaegar loved.

He has a lot of patience and will wait for his love, but if you are being too difficult... We know he will resort to kidnapping. Or if it is Aenys who refuses to cooperate... Then the king appears mysteriously dead a few days later.He simply had no limits when it came to the prophecy and you...

You would be his and he would be yours... a dragon had to have three heads, and only a dragon could love other dragons.

#yandere x reader #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere rhaegar targaryen x reader #yandere rhaegar targaryen #rhaegar targaryen x reader

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kentstoji · 5 months

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yandere rhaegar targaryen who grew up shrouded in a blanket of melancholy, akin to the trauma from the great fire of summerhall, a tragedy that marked his birth. his mind remained consistently immersed in fantasy clouds. an attempt to distance himself from the demons haunting house targaryen.

he developed an appreciation for songs and literature. and so, the prophecies were presented to him.

his imaginative mind created scenarios based on the words that led aegon iv to perdition. and when he met you — the only daughter of jon arryn that come of age without succumbing to illness — his obsession with completing the song of ice and fire intensified.

you, on the other hand, only harbored the ambition to take care of your father and ensure the stability of house arryn.

#ch:. rhaegar targaryen #book:. aoiaf #rhaegar targaryen x reader #asoiaf x reader #yandere asoiaf #yandere game of thrones #yandere hotd #yandere rhaegar targaryen #arryn!reader verse #arryn!reader #self indulgence hc.#a song of ice and fire

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gulnarsultan · 7 months

Note

Yandere Conquerors and Immortal Modern Reader cute scenario.

Yandere Visenya, Aegon and Rhaenys being busy with the Conquest and talking about laws and other royal stuff, until they hear a few knocks on their door.

Immortal Modern Reader stands near doorway, with a sleepy look on her face.

Yandere Aegon: Y/N, love. What’s wrong?

Immortal Modern Reader: It’s just… can you cuddle me?🥺

P.S.: Omg, I can’t help but imagine how cute Immortal Modern Reader is.

Can you write a continuation of this scenario? If you can of course

The reader is the sweetest person in the world. No one can deny this.

Scenario

When night falls, you need to find one of your dragons. It is very difficult for you to sleep alone. Anyway, one of the Conquerors always finds you before it's time to sleep. This time it took too long. When you enter the throne room, you attract the attention of all three Conquerors. Visenya is the first to reach you.

"I'll join you tomorrow morning. I now have an appointment with this beautiful lady."

Meanwhile, Aegon and Rhaenys are sulking at their older sister. After you both put on your comfortable nightgowns, you go to bed. Visenya pulls you into her chest. Listening to her heartbeat while stroking your hair is very relaxing. After a while, you fall asleep with trust and a warm embrace.

#yandere game of thrones #aegon the conqueror x reader #aegon the conqueror x oc #aegon the conqueror #aegon i targaryen #rhaegar targaryen x reader #rhaenys targaryen #rhaenys the conqueror #visenya the conqueror #visenya targaryen

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 11 months

Text

From the Ashes Pt.2

Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, implied/referenced Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings:none

Words:3669

Summary: In some ways, Jaime was grateful for all that had happened to lead the both of them to where they were now. All these months Jaime got to know, really know, (y/n). Under Rhaegar’s affections and love, (y/n) had flourished. She really wasn’t a mouse anymore.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 3.5 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34

Book Two of Heir of Ash and Fire

Book One of Heir of Ash and Fire

Moments like this, Jaime just wanted to gather (y/n) in his arms and hold her tightly to his chest as she slept so deeply.

During their travels they found it easier to sleep next to each other. When they had to bunker down for the night, especially when they were out in the open, it was safer for (y/n) to be curled up right against him. Which led to plenty of temptations to tantalize Jaime’s mind.

(y/n) was facing him as she slept. Her skin having taken a darker hue from exposure to the sun which then dusted freckles on her nose and cheeks. She looked so much better than she had when they had left Westeros. Weak and withering away, having to lean on Jaime for support, now (y/n) was stronger. Her face had filled back up as she grew out of her sickness from the poison. Once Jaime saw she was indeed getting better he knew he had to teach her to protect herself. As much as Jaime wanted to be the one to protect her, he knew that that wasn’t practical. He couldn’t always be by her side. In an unfamiliar place like Essos, it was a good thing for (y/n) to know how to fight. Not liking the idea very much, it had to be done. Loud voices from the other tenants at the inn made (y/n) stir in her sleep, her heart shaped lips puckering and her eyebrows furrowing. Jaime grins and runs his finger along her cheek. Her face relaxes as she goes back to sleep. They had to leave soon. How could he wake her up though?

In some ways, Jaime was grateful for all that had happened to lead the both of them to where they were now. All these months Jaime got to know, really know, (y/n). Under Rhaegar’s affections and love, (y/n) had flourished. She really wasn’t a mouse anymore. She was incredibly witty, able to banter Jaime fiercely. Smart and calculating and wary, oh so wary. She really had grown up into a remarkable young lady. It wouldn’t be fair to compare his sisters, yet from time to time Jaime would do so. Compare how (y/n) was quick to laugh and smile while Cersei hardly laughed at all. (y/n)’s humor was a smart kind, Cersei’s was condescending. Like night and day.

Cersei. . .

Jaime rolls onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. The floorboards creaked from the residents up above, a few dust particles slowly fluttering down with each loud creak of the wood.

He missed her. Flaws and all he missed Cersei. It was hard not to. After all they had been through together, Jaime couldn’t just forget about her. When he was alone with his thoughts he wondered what she was doing, if she was okay.

Tywin probably married her off by now. To Oberyn Martell possibly if what he had planned actually played out. The thought of the Dornish prince touching his twin made the insides of his stomach rot. She had been despicable in her treatment of (y/n) and Tyrion, but he still loved her greatly.

Jaime ran a hand over his face. It didn’t do well to think of things that he had no control over. He was thousands of miles away in Essos. Not that he regretted taking (y/n) to another land for her safety. He would do it again and again if it meant keeping her safe. Failing to keep her safe in their childhood, Jaime refused to let that happen again. (y/n) still held the scars from when she needed him most. He couldn’t let her down again. That was why he was all too willing to help her escape. It was only the event of the fire that had Thalina’s words ringing true in Jaime’s head. She wasn’t safe. For whatever reason (y/n) just seemed to attract danger in Westeros. More than anything, Jaime traveled to Essos for answers as to why Thalina was so fervent that his sister be taken to Volantis. Thalina had claimed she was important, but Jaime already knew that. (y/n) was important to him not because she was his sister or even because she would be the future queen of the seven kingdoms. She was important to him because of the deep well of love that he held for her. But why was she important to the Red Temple of Volantis? From passing through many of the eastern cities, there were plenty of Red Temples for them to stop at.

What was it about the foreign city of Volantis?

* Never in your life had you lived so far away from Casterly Rock. Even though the people there were cold and manipulating it was still your home. Memories of your mother were filled in every corner; moments of when your Uncle Kevan would put you up on his shoulders, him commenting quite often that you were like a little doll.

When Rhaegar issued you as his bride-to-be, it was decided that you would be moved to the fortress of Dragonstone. The ancient home of the Targaryens, the seat from which Aegon and his sisters hailed from. You were terrified in the beginning, especially being escorted from the ship and up the long way to the castle that appeared carved out of stone itself. Chiseled by the hand of a giant perhaps. Not a friend in the world you cried the first few nights. Dragonstone was much more colder than Casterly Rock and lacked the physical warmth of your old home. Rhaegar had spent the first couple of days with you to try and help you adjust to your new surroundings. During the day it was an adventure as he held your hand and showed you around the home of his ancestors. You especially loved the Chamber of the Painted Table. In the center was a massive table that possessed a carved and painted map of all of Westeros. You couldn’t believe that someone had painstakingly made a detailed map of all of the Seven Kingdoms. Rhaegar had even lifted you up so that you could get a better look at the inland cities.

Night time was different though. Rhaegar would retire and you would be left utterly alone in your stone room that you would live in for the next couple of years. After four days spent there, Rhaegar informed you with regret that he had to return to King’s Landing.

What would you do without your only friend? Lessons from the septas and maesters thankfully filled your days and kept you occupied.

One month in and you were visited by Queen Rhaella herself, alongside her was a bright eyed and smiling maid.

“My son is concerned that you might be lonely here.” Rhaella smiles and introduces your new handmaid.

Thalina.

She leans down a little bit to better make eye contact with you. Thalina was a lovely young lady with fair skin and eyes that almost shimmered gold. Light brown hair was swept out of her face and pulled into a long braid. “Hello little princess. I made something for you.”

In her hands was a cloth bundle. She pulled back one corner of the canvas cloth to reveal three dragons carved from wood. One of them stood out from the others; it was larger and painted black.

You smiled with glee realizing who it was. “Balerion!”

“Very good!” Thalina chirped happily and picked up a cream colored dragon. “And this one?”

“Meraxes.” You had loved stories of dragons. They were such amazing creatures.

It was such a shame that dragons had been extinct for decades. * Your stay in Myr was up, you and Jaime having stayed long enough the two of you had to be on your way. Moving from city to city had become easier for you after you and Jaime had arrived in Essos. There was no real home for you anymore. Not until you made it to Volantis like Thalina had instructed. Never before had you seen so much of the world. At least in that regard you were thankful to whoever had tried to kill you. In almost a year you and Jaime had traveled from Braavos along the coast to where you now were. A year of sight seeing and being introduced to all the strange languages that couldn’t be heard in Westeros. You had stared up at the titan that stood watch in front of Braavos, crossed the vast ancient hill of the Andals, to the beautiful city of Pentos where you saw men with blue beards and bazaars that put any market in Westeros to shame. The experience was made more fun with Jaime by your side. In all of your life, you had never spent that much time with your older brother. His time had been monopolized by Cersei and his fervent desire to be a knight.

Being nearly killed was practically the best thing that had happened to you.

Almost. . .

As you help Jaime load up your horse, you can’t help the image of your dragon prince popping into your head and remembering that you used to carry his child in your belly. The horse flicks its tail in your face bringing you back to your new reality. You sigh and pat it gently on its flank.

Jaime is tightening the leather straps, making sure the bags on the horse’s back wouldn’t slip or fall. Noticing the bare flesh on his bicep bulge as he did so. You had thought he was a man grown when you left Westeros, what did that make him now? A god among men? He still kept his face shaven though which revealed how young he was despite the skill he possessed with a blade. Jaime had fought sellswords and pirates, honing that skill and making it far better than it was before.

This journey had been good for the both of you.

The weather was agreeable that day to where you didn’t have to bother with a headscarf and shawl to protect you from the sun. From one of the bags you grab a rolled up piece of parchment. Unfurling it revealed a map of Essos.

“So from here we just make a trip down to the Orange Shore.” Your finger trails down the map, along the lines where rivers intersected. That’s the area you wanted to avoid. “Out of the way of The Sorrows.”

“Not unless you want to join the stone men.” Jaime comments with one last tug to the leather straps. Satisfied, he walks around to where you stood examining the map. “From what the tavern dwellers and merchants have told me, they say there’s a curse upon that land.”

“Do you believe it?”

With a confident smile, Jaime shakes his head. “No. The only curse that resides there is within the poor souls inflicted with greyscale.” An index finger moves alongside your own, his traveling to a small place near the end of the Rhyone river called Volon Therys. “We’ll rest here before finding a boat that can take us the rest of the way to Volantis.”

Grinning at the progress you had made, you roll the map back up. “We’re getting closer!”

He nods and takes hold of the horse’s reins. “Closer to some answers.”

That was Jaime’s main drive through all of this. Answers as to how Thalina could have been so correct about your own doom. You knew your brother didn’t much believe in superstitious things or even those along the lines of supernatural. This puzzled him to no end. The humor in it was not lost to you. It was hilarious how serious Jaime was. Then again the circumstances were serious. He was still rattled over the two attempts on your life. Concerned as well, you weren’t as hung up on what had happened in the past. You were free. Freer than you had ever been. True that there were a lot more rougher groups in Essos, you had a good teacher in handling with the likes of them. Not once were you fearful as to what would happen to you.

It was unnerving though, walking through the crowd of Myr and seeing people with chains around their necks. Some even had tattoos on their faces to distinguish their ranks. This wasn’t a free city. Many were enslaved.

Many times you caught the gaze of men, their eyes sizing up your golden Lannister hair. They could sell you for a good price. Those kinds of gazes made a shiver run up your spine.

“You sure I shouldn’t dye my hair before we leave?” You say self-consciously.

“We’ve gone this far without doing that. Besides, your hair is too beautiful to dye.” Jaime glances at you with a smile, his shoulders bumping against several other passersby who were in a hurry.

Suddenly Jaime’s expression drops, green eyes harden as he seems to quicken his pace; the horse alongside makes you pick up speed. Once you’re at his side, cheeks red, Jaime grabs your hand and lowers his voice. “There’s someone following us.”

You wanted to look back but you knew better than to do that. Keeping your mind at ease was the only way to quiet your rapidly beating heart. “What do we do?”

The line of his jaw is clenched as his eyes dart here and there. With a crowd like this and noise to cover your conversation it would be easy to find a way out. “You see that stall selling dried peppers?”

“Yes.”

“Looks like you can turn into a side street. Head over there.”

“By myself?” You glance at him incredulously.

Reassurance is warm in his gaze. “Trust me.”

And you did. You trusted Jaime with your life.

With a quick nod, you fast walk over to where Jaime had told you, the dry peppers from the stall next door made your nose tingle.

Indeed the turn led into an alley with a dead end. Above you were open windows leading into someone’s home. There was no way for you to escape unless you grew wings to fly away.

Your ears pick up the sound of boots enter the alley. Swiftly you turn around, hand at the pommel of your sword. You would finally be able to test your skills. It was one thing to train, another when an actual threat came along.

The figure already had his blade out, garbed in armor as if he was a soldier. Face hard and pockmarked, there was no emotion as he looked at you.

No words were exchanged as he charged at you. Pure instinct drilled into you by Jaime, you drew your sword.

Suddenly a blade through his neck has the man stopping, blood rushing out of his mouth. His voice is gurgled as he lurches forward, sliding off of Jaime’s sword and face first into the ground. Jaime glares at the man as he puts his sword away, blood still staining the steel blade.

“You okay?” Jaime asks you as he kneels down next to the body and started to search the corpse.

“I-I’m fine but what are you doing?” It was all exhaled out in a long breath. Adrenaline was still kicking in your system.

“Just want to know who this fella was.” He easily answers you. His hand pulls out a small coin purse. “Well this shouldn’t go to waste.”

“You’re robbing him?!”

“He just tried to kill you (y/n).” The fact of the matter that he had just killed someone didn’t phase your brother at all. “Come on, lets get out of this city.”

You stared at your would-be killer as you pass him.

“You’ve been quiet since we left Myr.” Your brother points out as you both made camp for the night.

Not exactly true, you had spoken a few words to Jaime here and there when needed. Other than that you didn’t find a need to talk. Being honest with yourself though, you were still traumatized having witnessed Jaime kill that man right in front of you. That moment reminded you that Jaime was a trained killer. It still didn’t change the fact though that you had seen someone die before your eyes.

He lets out a quiet sigh and sits down on the ground, head tilted up to admire the vast blanket of stars. “If I hadn’t done it, you would’ve had to. And you’re not ready to have someone’s blood on your hands.”

You look down at your own hands, small and callused; but they weren’t the hands of someone capable of killing. Even if it was to save your own life. “I know. I’m sorry. It was just really shocking to me. . . I’ve never seen someone die like that.”

Jaime nods. “Yeah, probably could’ve done that in a smoother way but I was angry. That guy had targeted you. Whether to kill you, rob you, or kidnap you to sell you into slavery doesn’t matter to me. Anyone who looks at my sister the wrong way has to deal with me.”

He was your savior yet again. Your knight without armor. “Thank you Jaime. I know in the end you’re just looking out for me.” You offer him a smile to let him know that you understood why he did the things he did. * He couldn’t tell her the truth. She was too sweet for that and it would scare her to death.

Absentmindedly, Jaime pats the coin purse he had taken from the assassin. He wasn’t the first one Jaime had sniffed out and most likely wouldn’t be the last. All together since their arrival in Braavos there had been a total of four assassins. Each one dispatched by Jaime. The first time Jaime thought it was just some cut throat, probably thinking that (y/n) was a wealthy traveler. Jaime made quick work of that one and his sister was none the wiser that she had almost been attacked. The second time around, Jaime knew it wasn’t random thugs. These were sent assassins. From the money that was in their pockets he was paid by someone in Westeros. He hadn’t pieced together who though despite there being an obvious candidate for it. King Aerys was the most likely culprit. Deep down though, there came another answer that Jaime didn’t even want to think about.

Cersei.

She may have been young, but she was brutal when people slighted her. Utterly cruel to even her playmates when she was young. And Cersei, Jaime was certain, wanted (y/n) to be gone. That had always been clear since the day she was born. Now Cersei had more of a reason to want (y/n) dead. She knew of Jaime’s affections for their younger sister, an affection that was ready to bloom into desire. Cersei was never one to lose. Jaime was the last thing she would ever relinquish to anyone. She had lost Rhaegar to (y/n) and now her twin. That voice inside of him was screaming that it was Cersei. He knew her better than anyone else. Knew what she was really capable of. That was what made Jaime fearful. He didn’t want (y/n) to share in his fear. She was so happy just to be traveling the world with him. Carefree and so curious, he wanted her to keep that and not be fearful of every corner. Jaime had already caused her enough fear in her young life. He wanted his little sister to stay starry-eyed and oblivious to the people that wanted her dead.

That was the least he could do for her. One thing that nagged him though was how Cersei knew (y/n) was still alive. From the ashes of (y/n)'s old room, many must have assumed rightfully that she had perished along with Thalina. Everyone in Westeros would expect her to be dead. So how would Cersei know differently?

“What do you think the Red Temple is like?” (y/n) wonders out loud as she relaxes on the ground. “We should have visited the one in Myr.”

(y/n) didn’t seem as curious as Jaime was as to why Thalina wanted his sister delivered to the Red Temple of Volantis. “(y/n), what do you know of the religion they practice?”

She grows quiet and contemplative. “Thalina told me of Azor Ahai, their prophet. He works for the Lord of Light to defend the realm from the calamity that they call the Long Night."

Jaime can’t contain his scoff. “That sounds like the kind of story our nurse maid would have told us.”

His sister didn’t seem so convinced that it was just a story. In her make-shift cot, (y/n) sits up. Eyes pensive, her tongue brushing along her bottom lip. “What if it isn’t though? Thousands of people believe that one day Azor Ahai will come back and stop the Long Night.” She blushes from embarrassment when she realized what she had said in the heat of the moment. “Er. . . sorry. Guess that was silly of me. It’s just. . . there’s been so many coincidences that revolve around this. Things I just can’t place as a coincidence anymore.” Her voice grows distant, Jaime unable to read her thoughts as she gazes out to the vast land.

No, Jaime had to agree that it wasn’t a coincidence either. There was something in this strange land that was calling for (y/n). (y/n) was meant to be here.

“No. I don’t think that’s silly at all. Maybe because I don’t have much faith in any kind of religion. Not even in the Seven.” He admits quietly. During his lessons with the septons he had easily gotten bored, zoning out and wishing he could be outside practicing his swordplay. How would the gods help with that? They were of no use to Jaime. “But I don’t think it’s silly. So don’t apologize.”

There was such joy in her face.

Jaime was certain that he’d be willing to die for that face.

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ganymede-princess · 6 months

Text

The Crimson King | Rhaegar Targaryen

ship: rhaegar targeryen x fem!oc

warnings: I really don't think there is any? jaime is a little scary i guess. OH and cannon divergence. Big ol' TW for that.

summary: a young crannogman girl meets the crowned prince on a very special occasion.

word count: 3298

a/n: phew! this was a long time coming. I hope you like it! (and if you don't fuck with the romance, there's a more interesting scene at the end!) There will be a part 2, just by the way ;)

written by @ganymede-princess

The thick, hot air in the royal ballroom carried the scent of a thousand perfumed bodies. Long tables lined the room, piled high with foods from across the Seven Kingdoms. Among the dishes Frida spied fat frogs legs and water lily syrup from her home in the Neck, next to crabs and succulent fried fish from Lannisport, sweet pastries made from the honey of Highgarden, and bowls of flakey pink rock salt from Dragonstone. Despite the sight of countless exotic delicacies, her stomach churned.

Hundreds of highborn folk all milled around, laughing, dancing, talking, each one dressed more lavishly than the last. Frida had never seen so much silk in one place. Bewitched as she was with the nightlife of King's Landing, she found herself growing into the wall like an unsightly mushroom. She was acutely aware that she did not blend in with the royal aesthetics. Her unruly hair could only be half tamed and her mauve linen gown looked miserly next to the lavish satins and velvets that garbed the ruling class. Frida could feel a hundred sets of eyes boring into her, though when she glanced around, there were none there to meet. She thought there must be hearths burning somewhere. If there were no hearths, why did the air feel so heavy?

Frida searched the room for the face of her brother to no avail. Ewyn had no struggles with making friends in spite of his Crannogman roots and noticeable limp. Frida guessed he would be engaged by the end of the night. With no respite in sight and her breath coming shallower by the second, she made a hasty escape. She slipped around the edge of the ballroom, narrowly avoiding several dancing couples, at least three stray cats, and a drunken septon, before emerging onto a small rampart with stairs at either end. Frida thought it wise to take a quick turn around the rose garden below to calm herself, but once she reached a shadowed corner she could contain her exhaustion no longer and fell to her knees between two sweet smelling bushes. She did not cry, just breathed deeply, content in the knowledge that she was far away from prying eyes. Until she heard a sniffle from behind the rosebush to her left.

"Hello?" Frida's voice caught in her throat. There came no answer, just another quieter sniffle. "Who's there?"

"Nobody." Said the invisible man in a voice thick with sorrow. "Leave me."

"What's the matter?" The leaves rustled gently as Frida shifted awkwardly, trying her best to see through the thick bushes.

"Worry not."

"But you're crying."

"No." His voice cracked. "I am the- I am a man."

"What's that got to do with it?" Frida corrected. "My brother cries all the time, and he's already one and twenty."

There was a brief rustling in the bush and the clearing of a throat.

"What brings him to cry?" The voice seemed to settle a little.

"Oh everything!" Frida murmured. "Books, flowers, pretty sunsets. He cries almost every time he rides a horse. He has an injury to one of his legs, you see. A lizard-lion took his knee in its jaws and damn near tore his leg off! He used to love running, so riding is a real joy for him."

"A lizard-lion? You are from the Neck?"

Fuck. Frida thought. The voice carried the accent of King's Landing and she knew very well that folk from the capital were the most prejudiced against Crannogmen out of anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms. He was sure to send her away now, or worse.

"Yes."

"Tell me, what is it like there?"

"Oh- um. Wet." She babbled. "Very wet and slippery."

"I hear that beautiful flowers grow there." The man mused, his mild voice easing Frida's apprehension slightly.

"Yes. Ghost orchids, swamp arums, blue-eyed Bessies that grow on the trunks of trees; all of them beautiful." In a hushed voice she added, "But, do you know which is the most beautiful flower of all?"

"No, tell me."

"Black water lilies. My house has bred them to perfection."

"Your house?"

"I belong to House Fenn, Ser."

"Ah." There was a moment of surprisingly comfortable silence between them. "What brings you to the garden, my lady?"

"You take me for a lady?" Frida giggled.

"Are you not?" She could hear the smile return to his voice. "You take me for a Knight."

"Are you not?"

"I am, yes, but there is more to me than a knighthood."

"Such as?"

The man paused for a moment.

"You didn't answer my question."

Frida hesitated, searching for a way to put it lightly.

"The feast is full of beautiful people. I worried that my being there would ruin things."

"Why?"

"Well... I am ugly, Ser."

"Ugly?" His voice was curt with indignation. "Who led you to believe this?"

"My mother always told me that other folks look down on Crannogmen and that they find us ugly." In the anonymity of darkness, words tumbled out of her. "Though she also said I am ugly for a Crannogman."

A thick silence stood between them.

"How could a mother say such a thing to her child?"

"She's very sick, she doesn't think-"

"She's well enough that you believe her." The truth silenced Frida. "Come here so that I might see you for myself."

"You won't like it." She warned him and prepared herself to move, though she was unsure in which direction.

Frida heard the tink tink of flint against flint, then a warm glow began to shine through the rose bush. Her ears roared with the pounding of her heart, but she knew she had to show herself. She had to see the face of the man with the handsome voice, and more so she had to know what he thought of her. Trembling, she revealed herself. A black hood shrouded his face in shadow, but Frida could see his deep blue eyes widen, almost purple in the firelight.

"My lady-" His voice came in an urgent, breathy whisper.

"Don't."

She turned away from him, already humiliated, until she felt a hand gently guide her face back to him. She resisted, gripping his forearm.

"Please, look at me." Though his voice cracked in desperation, it was commanding enough that she turned to him again. The light caught his arrow-straight nose, and the soft pillow of his lips. Frida's breath hitched.

"I must take your mother for a liar, my lady."

"She said... people like you would think I look like a toad."

"No." He smiled. "But if you did, you would be a very beautiful toad indeed."

"Thank you." She blushed, somewhat sceptical. "Let me see you too."

"I can't, my-"

"Your Grace!" A tall, golden-haired man wearing a glittering white cloak and armour came careening around the corner of the hedge. "Gods, I thought I'd lost you. Avast, wench! Rise in the name of your king!"

The kingsguard drew his ornate longsword and pointed the sharp tip at Frida's face. Aghast, she cringed away from him and crawled a few paces back with him keeping pace.

"Enough, Jaime!" The shadowed man leapt to his feet and lunged forward to push the blade away, toppling over the lantern. "Can't you see she's harmless?"

"Kingslayer." The word was out of her mouth before Frida knew what she was saying. Jaime Lannister swung the sword back around to her.

"It's treason to disrespect a Kingsguard." The young man's eyes glittered with rage. "Say it once more and I'll cut the head from your shoulders, girl."

"Enough!" The shadowed man commanded, and grimacing, the Whitecloak stayed his blade. "Leave us."

"But, Your Grace-"

"Leave us. Alert Ser Barriston that the ceremony will take place as we discussed."

"Your Grace, I cannot leave you undefended."

"I have a sword on my hip and the skill to wield it. Leave us. You will not defy me again."

"Your Grace." Ser Jaime stalked off in a huff, his white cloak billowing behind him.

"Please," The shadowed man looked down at Frida, face creased with embarrassment. "Ser Jaime prefers the title The White Lion."

Frida gaped, wide eyed; knowing the truth but not believing it. As he picked up the lantern with his ungloved hand, Frida thought he would burn his fingers to the bone, but he simply dusted them on his coat, stamped out the fire in the grass with a black leather boot, and shed his hood to reveal a mop of hair that glimmered like spun silver. His eyes were wide and glassy, and Frida saw then that they truly were as purple as morning glory. He held out his hand, and for a moment all Frida could do was stare at it.

"My king." Frida could not keep the astonishment from her voice. "I'm sorry."

"For what reason?"

"I've spoken ill and disrespected you." She looked away. "I'm sure I have."

"I have heard no disrespect from you, lady, I am not so easily wounded. Please, take my hand." He pressed closer, a smile taking over his tear-streaked face when she let him pull her to her feet. "I appreciate your honest words, please do not dull your voice for the sake of my title. Besides, I ought to apologise for the behaviour of my protector. Please forgive him, he is young and still has much to learn."

"My king." Frida found herself without words.

"Go back to the feast, lady." The young dragon sighed and pressed a kiss against her palm. "I must prepare in my chambers. Thank you... for your kindness."

Without the wit to respond, Frida curtseyed clumsily and hurried back to the hall. Her head and heart were reeling with the urge to tell The Bloodmaid, her favourite weirwood from home, and she felt suddenly and starkly alone without the comfort of her red timber eyes. As she tumbled back into the ballroom, her gaze fell on her brother who leaned on a giant stone pillar, surrounded with a number of laughing Riverlander knights. Heart sinking, Frida took a steadying breath and marched up to the group.

"Ewyn, brother," Frida took him by the upper arm, silence falling on the group. "May I have a word, just for a moment?"

"Frida," Ewyn stumbled over his words. "Don't you see I'm busy?"

"Come, have a word with us, fair lady." Grinned a young man with red hair and a speckled face. "There is wine enough for another."

"Ed," Ewyn turned on him, scowling viciously. "Mind you don't drown in it, will you? Come on, Frida, let's talk."

He took her by the hand and limped away with impressive speed. When the pair were out of earshot, he frowned down at her.

"What is it?" Frida could smell the beer on his breath as he spoke.

"You're not going to believe me." She scratched her wrist, the sleeves on her dress suddenly feeling too close to her skin.

"I always believe you." Ewyn cocked an eyebrow, leaning against his mangrove cane.

"Well..." Frida chewed her fingers.

"You've been in the grass." He tutted derisively, green eyes alight with amusement.

She noticed that green stains marred her hem, along with her knees, and she assumed her buttocks too.

"Shit!" She muttered.

"Tsk tsk tsk, is that any way for a lady of the court to be speaking?"

"Oh, sod off." She aimed a half-hearted smack at his arm. "I'll have you know, it wasn't my fault. A Kingsguard knocked me over."

"A Kingsguard? Well, I suppose this is the place for it."

"Well... he was guarding the king."

Ewyn narrowed his eyes.

"What did you do? Spit on him?"

"No!" Frida pressed a hand against her cheek, trying to stave off the heat. "I just spoke to him, is all."

"You- you spoke to him?" His eyes were round as lily pads. "The king?"

"I didn't know it was him to start with. He was behind a bush with a cloak on, he could have been anybody."

"Yes, but-" He squinted, baffled. "He really spoke to you?"

"Yes-"

The trill of a lone trumpeter silenced them, and they turned to see a herald on the mezzanine above the ballroom.

"Make way to the Throne Room!" Though the herald was tall enough to be a man, his voice rang out high and clear as a child's. "The ceremony will begin presently!"

As the Goldcloaks pulled open the huge doors at the far end of the ballroom, Frida and Ewyn exchanged a glance, silently agreeing to discuss things later. They followed the snaking crowd down the long hallway until it opened into the cavernous throne room which was already teeming with smallfolk. A pair of enormous candelabras were suspended over the crowd, washing the blood red walls in firelight. Frida wondered how they kept the wax from dripping down on the folk below.

As they passed by the jostling throng of peasants and workers to take their places in front of the ornate barrier, she felt ashamed to be separated from them. Since childhood she had felt the earth on bare feet and worked hard to sustain her House; to be dressed in any kind of finery and placed above the common people felt farcical. Goldcloaks lined the edges of the passageway through the crowd, and Frida noticed they stood two abreast in the peasants' section at the back, and single file from the vassal and cadet houses, all the way to the lords and ladies of the great houses at the very front.

"What was he like?" Ewyn whispered.

"Sad." Frida sighed.

"Sad?" He raised an eyebrow, then nodded wisely. "It's the only way to feel in his position."

"Very lovely, though." She admitted. "He'll be a good king."

Her brother's eyes crinkled in amusement, then he jumped as the heralds rang out a triumphant cry from the back of the room. Silence fell over the crowd as every man, woman, and child turned at once. Frida peered through the crowd, barely able to see a thing. She could see a Targaryen flag bobbing over the crowd, sending an odd lump into her throat as it came closer, and closer. The entire room was silent except for the footsteps growing ever closer. No cheering or jeering, no coughing. Then, through the gap between the two Goldcloaks by her side she saw Ser Barristan Selmy stride through, holding a long staff with a red dragon flag of black silk, glorious in his white armour. Next was the crown prince himself, dressed in mournful black velvet finery and a heavy black cloak that dragged along the ground behind him. The sadness on his face seemed carved into stone, but he held his back straight and walked with the grace and strength of a king. Behind him, his remaining two Kingsguard marched beside each other, their heads held high in pride. Ser Jaime supported the tawny Dornishman Lewyn Martell, who limped along with one leg in a splint, their arms around each other in solidarity. Once the tiny party climbed all the way up the steps to the Iron Throne, Frida caught a glimpse of four men in white who stood a little ways down the steps, new blood waiting to be sworn into the Kingsguard: three fresh faced young warriors, and a grizzled man of middle age with deep auburn hair streaked with grey.

Selmy, Lannister, and Martell took their places beside their soon-to-be brothers, while Rhaegar stood before the Iron Throne, its silver blades forming rippling shadows on the massive horned dragon skull behind them. Frida imagined hundreds of fallen soldiers watching down on the man they had died for, using Balerion's great hollow eyes to see. If their loss weighed him down, he did not show it, standing strong as a giant on the steps where his father's blood once formed a crimson tide. The High Septon stood beside him, hands clasped in solemnity beneath dagged sleeves, heavy with jewels; and beside him stood the little prince Viserys, milk white curls almost to his waist, dutifully clutching a red lacquer box. Rhaegar's eyes swept across the crowd, burning with pride, grief... perhaps even fear; then he knelt, his black velvet cloak folding around his frame like a pair of wings.

"By the light of the Seven, we gather this night to welcome a new king. Let us pray." Every faithful soul in the crowd placed hand over heart at the septon's words. Even for Frida, who's gods were cold and wild, it was hard not to be moved. "May the Warrior lend him the courage of his ancestors, that he might lead us with a bold heart through the harshest of winters; and may the Smith guide him to mend the divisions of our realm. May the Maiden warm his bed with a fitting bride and many sons; and the Crone bless him with wisdom to pass on to his heirs. May the Father Above guide him to justice, and the Mother protect him from harm. And the Stranger- when he must come- may he take him kindly."

The Septon turned, and Little Viserys fumbled to open the box. Frida heart swelled when she spotted an encouraging smile on Rhaegar's face, which seemed to grant the toddler enough strength to get the lid off. He tottered forward and held it up above his head, and the Septon took out a plain gold circlet and nestled it into the King's pale curls.

"Under seven sets of watchful eyes, I name King Rhaegar of House Targaryen, the first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. Long may he reign."

"Long may he reign." The crowd echoed as one.

Rhaegar rose to face them, and as he did, Frida saw that his crown was adorned with a single glimmering ruby that sat just above his eyes on a fine gold chain. He thrust his fist to the sky, and the room filled with the thunder of cheers and feet drumming on the stone floor. He seemed to drink in the praise, determination steeling his gaze. He dropped his fist to his side, silencing the crowd.

"From childhood, I knew the day my reign began would be marred with grief, but I could never have dreamt of the loss the realm has suffered for my coronation. I know that every soul in the Seven Kingdoms grieves for someone lost to this bloody rebellion, or my father's madness. King Aerys saw enemies in every shadow, and would have razed this city to the ground just to flood it with light and annihilate his mummer's adversaries. I saw smallfolk treated worse than dogs; children whipped by Goldcloaks in the street. How could a man see such tyranny and not rebel? Robert Baratheon's courage was admirable, and in another life I might have fought beside him and called him 'brother;' but his war was not the answer, and now we are left with the consequence. As I stand here now with you as my witnesses, I promise to usher in a new age of the Targaryen dynasty. An age of peace and unity, of prosperity and change. The House of the Dragon will reforge, and the realm along with it."

He stood in silence a moment, eyes ablaze. Then as the crowd erupted once more, he turned, his cloak billowing a red dragon on black, and stepped up to the Iron Throne on a stair forged from a giant warhammer. The heralds blared, Frida applauded until her hands burned with the effort and her heart hammered in her chest, and when she was done she felt her face wet with tears.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #house of the dragon #rhaegar targaryen #rhaegar targaryen x reader #toby regbo #francis valois #francis de valois #reign

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blumenflowergelb · 6 months

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Love and hate is the same

• Time travel was a very bitter thing, Yn decided. To see the people long dead should have made him happy but it hurt a lot. Yn lived so many years full with his past mistakes and regrets that his brain just couldn’t catch up with not seeing the consequences of the past. Waking up and realizing that yes that very strange lady in Asshai didn’t lie and he was in the past was easy. Realizing that he didn’t have his friends-companions- was harder. But he accepted it since he theoretically knew what would happen if he travels back in time. Seeing his own face, so young and unmarked by the last decade, didn’t faze him. Seeing his old room,the old servants, the old stable that was burned down by the Lannisters, his old and mostly dead acquaintances didn’t faze him. But seeing him did.

• Yn felt like somebody pulled a rug from under him. It didn’t only hurt, it burned through his whole being. His head and heart was full with longing, love and anger. He loved his silver prince and yearned for him but he couldn’t forget what he had done. Rhaegar left him, his own wife and children and doomed them and the kingdom. This mixture of feelings left his knees weak and had it not been for the stone railing Yn was sure that he would have kneeled over. He still didn’t notice him, too deep in a conversation with Arthur, his sister and Elia. Yn was thankful for this. He watched Rhaegar and his companions, thinking about what he had to do, until Ashara noticed him and looked deep in Yn‘s eyes. They stared at each other, and when Yn looked away he accidentally caught Rhaegar‘s eyes. Yn felt a butterflies in his stomach, the intensity almost made him throw up, but shame followed. And with shame came anger. The kind that burns through the soul and leaves the body hot and trembling. The kind that makes the heart heavy. The kind that you can only get after having your hearth broken in thousand tiny pieces.

• It all began when they were neither children nor adults. It was that awkward phase when they limbs suddenly grown but they couldn’t control them right. After Rhaegar has stolen a book about bed activities and a wine flask they got so drunk that Yn wasn’t able to stand up straight. They red the book loud to each other while sipping wine and Rhaegar leaned over to Yn and kissed him. While it surprised Yn, he kissed back and from one point to the other they were naked in front of the fire place. After decades Yn still couldn’t forgot the hard rug and the slight burn from them. They touched each other in a way before that neither experienced. It was magical. It felt good. And right. Of course, they continued the activities and sought enjoyment in each other companies but it was years later that they confessed. Yn wasn’t sure until that day what Rhaegar felt but the words he whispered to him made Yn warm up to this day. The intensity of Rhaegar‘s love made everyday worth living for Yn. Sadly it didn’t last. They knew that Rhaegar had to marry and after failed attempts at finding Rhaegar the bride his father wished, Elia came. At first Yn wasn’t bothered but after repeatedly seeing and hearing how well they got along Yn became jealous. Looking back it wasn’t his brightest moment but who could fault a lover for being jealous of his love slowly falling in love with somebody else?

• They argued a lot. Rhaegar denied his accusations but Yn know the truth. Maybe Rhaegar wasn’t fully in love with Elia but he liked her enough to do his duty. At the end of the day he was man who was blessed with a beautiful albeit sickly wife who gave him two children. It was enough. And this broke Yn heart. Yn felt slighted, although he didn’t know why, angry, and desperate. He wished for Rhaegar, his first friend and lover, the friend whom he trained with, watched the stars, read old books and laughed. The lover that made him feel like he was loved, was worth something beautiful, and a lover who accepted his love. But when it crashed down for the first time Yn couldn’t say what he felt because he was painfully young. So when Rhaegar begann to talk less and less with Yn, barely kissed him and they almost never truly talked, Yn became frustrated. The confrontation went as good as expected. The fought intensely, but not loudly. It was quick but hearth breaking. At the end, after telling each other the slights they felt like they suffered, Rhaegar just shook his head and told Yn that they needed some time apart. Yn took it stone faced and left. Only when he was alone in his chambers did he cry.

• Yn guessed that he traveled back in time after they argued. Nobody moved, the garden was silent and only a shout of Yn name snapped him out of it. He quickly turned around and walked towards a boy who was calling him. At first Yn didn’t even understand what was going on and why he was asked to meet with a friend in a tavern somewhere in Flea Bottom. But he felt excited when he realized who was waiting for him. After Yn left Westeros, he went to the Golden Company and met Carl the Small. Smallcarl, as he was called, wasn’t actually small but Bigcarl was at least two feet higher than an average man. Years later Yn contract ended and Carl and he decided to leave the Company with others to see the world. They adventure took them from the Shadowland to beyond Westeros and it brought both Carl and Yn closer. They were friends but sometimes when they needed a body than they went beyond brotherhood. But that didn’t change their friendship. Currently Yn only trusted him and some of his friends from the adventures the most. Before Yn payed the shadowwitch, they decided to meet in Kings Landing and try to change destiny. A hard decisions but the trust between them went deep.

• The meeting at a run down tavern lifted Yn spirits. Seeing Carl, Jonny and Majki always brought a sense of security in Yn hearth so he left with his heart lightened to do his task. Before he left, Carl hugged him and kissed his head and they agreed to meet in a few days. The second meeting went even better. They agreed on what to do, where to beginn and when. Yn left few hours later. He walked back in silence and only the darkness was around him, however he couldn’t shake of the feeling that something was wrong.

• Yn arrived to his room and after opening the door, he stopped in his track. The hearth which he left cold was now omitting warmness, there was wine and two fancy glasses on a table that he has never seen before and Rhaegar was sitting on his bed. Looking at the rumpled sheets he must have slept, Yn thought. But before he could utter a word Rhaegar stood up and motioned him towards the table. The only thing that he said was to close the door. And Yn did while trying to escape his memories.

• A week after the confrontation Yn couldn’t hold himself anymore and went back to Rhaegar. But the relationship couldn’t be safed. After Rhaegar stole Lyanna and they ended up in the Tower of Joy, they talked. Rhaegar ordered Yn in his room, waited for him with some dornish wine and when Yn declined he seemed disappointed. However when they sat down any kind of love went out of Rhaegar and he was like a block of ice. It was sad. Truly the sight of somebody you loved not loving you anymore was very heart breaking. Still Yn sat through Rhaegar‘s speech of the prophecy, of the Song of Ice and Fire and why he had to do it. It! He could tell Yn that he love him, which was clearly a lie, than in the same sentence he said that he was going to fuck the girl. And the stupid, young Yn said that he was going to stay with Rhaegar and help him! This one was his biggest shame. Supporting a man who betrayed his love, wife, children and kingdom.

• So Yn stayed and endured. He endured the courting, the kisses and loving glances. His heart broke every single time but he endured. Until the night that he had to stay before Rhaegar’s room. Lyanna went inside without looking who was protecting them. Arthur and Yn. Looking back Yn guessed that Rhaegar didn’t know who were his guards for the night but maybe it was only Yn‘s wish. He stood next to the door, listening to them having sex, until he felt like a mist before his eyes has dissolved. The bitterness spread through Yn and he didn’t even try to stop it. His love went away, replaced with a mixture of hate and hurt. The realization which he always know but never accepted made him weak. Rhaegar may have truly loved him once but it was gone. Somebody who is in love wouldn’t do this. He was angry and disappointed and tired. He just wanted to leave and never look back. His skin itched for being alone in his room to think through what he was doing to do so he just left. Arthur didn’t even try to stop him. Yn never looked back. He went in his room but it didn’t help. He craved for something he didn’t even know. Yn packed the necessities and left for somewhere.

• To see the person he hated and loved for years left Yn shaken. Rhaegar was pouring wine for both of them and sat down on the floor leaning against Yn‘s bed. While Yn did the same, however he sat down as far from Rhaegar as he could, he sipped his wine looking in the fireplace. After a few seconds that felt like hours of silence, Rhaegar turned to Yn and asked a question that left Yn surprised.

• „ Who ist Carl?“

• Yn tried to come up with an answer and Rhaegar waited. Lamely Yn only said that he was a friend. He regretted his answer after seeing Rhaegar’s face. The hurt was palpable on face. Only silence followed until Rhaegar drank his glass of wine and asked for more. When Yn handed the flask over Rhaegar softly shook his head and asked him to pour. Yn was unsure but still did it. As he poured he could feel Rhaegar’s eyes on him, and shamefully Yn admitted that he felt excited. Even after years of hurt he loved Rhaegar.

• As he was pouring Rhaegar hit him. The slap hurt like a bitch, Yn decided. It was unexpected and Yn fell over. Before he could do anything Rhaegar was on him. The kiss that followed was even more unexpected. When Yn didn’t do anything Rhaegar deepened the kiss. However both of them needed to breath and they came apart. Rhaegar looked deep in Yn eyes and caressed his face. Yn was so shocked that he couldn’t muster up enough energy do anything until he noticed Rhaegar leaning over again for a kiss. Before anything could happen Yn hit Rhaegar‘ side, got up and quickly went for the door. But he never reached it. Rhaegar almost sprung on him and they fell over. Usually Yn won over Rhaegar but this time Rhaegar was like a bull. They rolled around on the floor, hit each other, and when Rhaegar prayed Yn‘s jaw apart Yn wasn’t strong enough to stop him. Frightened Yn noticed that he had swallowed something and didn’t move. He could see himself and his fearful face in Rhaegar’s eyes.

• The kisses that followed their little fight were intense. Yn felt sluggish but hot at the same time and when Rhaegar asked him between kisses about the men he was meeting, he could barely respond. He denied Rhaegar accusations about being taken by the men and only responded that they were just friends. Rhaegar obviously didn’t believe him, and Yn realized at the back of his mind that he was jealous and angry. The kisses and touches left Yn feeling even more hotter than he already was and before he do anything both of them were naked and flushed together. Rhaegar was already on him, caressing him, and through the night they took each other several time before falling asleep.

• Waking up Yn felt awful. His stomach was upset but when he tried to lean over the side of the bed something pulled his hands back. The something was made of iron. Shocked he looked at the shackles around his wrists and then he noticed Rhaegar watching beside him. Before Yn could open his mouth Rhaegar leaned over and kissed him while laughing. This was the moment that Yn knew that he was truly fucked.

#game of thrones #asoiaf #rhaegar targaryen x reader #rhaegar targaryen #x male reader #rhaegar targaryen x male reader #light angst #time travel #arthur dayne #elia martell #yandere

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lexsssu · 1 year

Text

Song (Rhaegar Targaryen)

Flufftober Day 11

TAGS: Rhaegar/Dragoness!Reader, hijinks & shenanigans, fluff, pining, simping

Viserys loves his big sister.

She plays with him whenever she has time, tells him the most wonderful stories, and sings the sweetest songs. Songs so sweet that mother and big brother Rhaegar smile whenever they hear them.

The young prince has yet to understand the world, but all he knows for sure is that he loves his family and that he can’t wait to play with his future niece or nephew once they’re big enough to play with.

Maybe he should pick some flowers for you from the garden? He saw a small patch of pretty white daffodils earlier…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When word came of Lord Steffon’s successful journey to find a Valyrian bride for Crown Prince Rhaegar, Aerys cackled in maddened delight at the prospect of adding superior Valyrian stock to his line. A feast was haphazardly thrown to commemorate the welcome news.

Rhaegar honestly didn’t expect the expedition to bear fruit, but he didn’t doubt the Baratheon Lord’s word. Apparently, the maiden was of Aurion’s line, a descendant of the dragonlord who proclaimed himself as the first Valyrian emperor. The Targaryens who weren’t even a powerful family during the height of Valyria’s power were certainly below her pedigree.

The prince could only speculate why she would agree to this union when Lord Steffon also mentioned the people of Qohor worshiping her. Mutters about the ‘return of the dragons’ circulated from Qohor and to the rest of Essos, but Rhaegar assumed it was due to the knowledge of the dragonlord she descended from.

He supposes he will have his answers soon enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Presenting Her Eminence, Lucifiel of Ainz Ooal Gown, Empress of Valyria and Essos.”

All sound within the throne room disappeared as the Maiden herself seems to have descended from the heavens to grace them with her beauty. It was as if she captured the very first snowfall within her hair as it shone so pure that it put even pure ivory to shame. Despite not having the violet-eyes normally associated with Valyrians, the deep molten gold within your gaze was more precious than any earthly Lannister gold which paled in comparison.

None of your steps made any sound as you leisurely walked towards the Iron Throne, head held high yet not to the point where it seemed like you were looking down upon them. You held yourself like someone who knew their worth, yet did not wield it to suppress or belittle your lessers.

When your gaze connects with his, Rhaegar was at a loss for words and for once in his life showed an expression of…uncertainty and was that…bashfulness?

If this wasn’t such an important setting, Arthur Dayne would have guffawed in amusement already at this rare moment. It wasn’t everyday one could so easily fluster the dragon prince himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look down.“

“Shit. Do they know I’m just faking it ‘til I make it?”

“...Why is this prince so…attractive? Weren’t medieval princes supposed to be deformed from all that inbreeding?”

“Oh fuck. He’s looking right at me. Be cool…!”

#lexsssu writes #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #rhaegar targaryen #rhaegar targaryen x reader #reader insert #flufftober 2022 #cross posted on ao3

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eludin · 10 months

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#daemon targaryen x reader #rhaegar targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #got #game of thrones #house of the dragon #hotd #house targaryen #fire and blood #pre asoiaf #the dance of the dragons

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missglaskin · 1 year

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Targaryen underrated men + TWT LINKS (MINORS DNI)

Note-can be considered part 2, there are some not included

Aegon I Targaryen

Taking you from behind

Him pounding in and out of you mercilessly

Takes control even when you’re on top

Maegor Targaryen

His pace is unforgiving

Doesn’t finger you often but when he does it’s ruthless

Taking you from behind

Baelon Targaryen

Fingering you

He’ll fuck you any place any time

Loves to watch his cum ooze out of your cunt

Daeron the Daring

Sucking your tits

Riding him

Always eager to please

Aemon the Dragon Knight

Always intimate with you

Sucking his cock

So eager to please you

Daeron I Targaryen

He loves it when you ride him

Fingering you before he fucks you

Likes to watch the way his cock slides into your pussy

Daemon Blackfrye

Taking his needy and frenzied thrusts

When you keep testing his patience

Riding him

Rhaegar Targaryen

Eating you out

Thigh riding him

The two of you alone in the morning

#hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon smut #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones smut #asoiaf x reader #yandere asoiaf #yandere house of the dragon #yandere game of thrones #smut #yandere hotd #rhaegar targaryen x reader #aegon i targaryen x reader #daemon blackfrye x reader #maegor targaryen x reader #baelon targaryen x reader #daeron targaryen x reader #aemon targaryen x reader #twt links

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blakeswritingimagines · 6 months

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Dating Yandere Rhaegar Targaryen would include:

As a yandere, he is deeply obsessive and possessive over the object of his affections. He will do whatever it takes to ensure that you remain by his side, even if it means resorting to violent and dangerous behaviors. He will also be highly territorial towards other potential suitors and will do all in his power to ensure that he remains the top priority in his beloved's life. However, he is also prone to fits of insecurity and jealousy, and any notion of rejection or betrayal can quickly send him into a frantic spiral.

He would be an obsessive yandere who would do anything in the name of love. He would constantly follow you and do anything to protect you. He would be possessive and jealous and would not like you to spend time with anyone else. He would always try to find opportunities to be with you and would not hesitate to eliminate any threats to your relationship.

He's extremely possessive, clingy, and obsessive, and he would do anything for his loved one, including killing/harming anyone who gets in the way or hurts you.

To be blunt, he's fairly possessive of the ones he's closest to, though he keeps those feelings bottled up as he's never been good at expressing himself. On the outside, others would probably describe him as reserved and withdrawn. When he falls in love, though, those feelings of possessiveness quickly consume him, turning into jealousy if the person he adores spends time with others. He wants to keep you all for himself and will go to great lengths to ensure that happens.

As a yandere, he is also fiercely protective of his beloved and will defend you with every fiber of his being. He may not always be a perfect lover, but he will always have your best interests at heart. He will also be highly affectionate towards you, showering you with love and attention, and always doing his best to keep you happy. However, he has also been known to be too overly possessive at times, to the point where he may try to control your actions and to the point where it becomes problematic.

Beyond the possessiveness and obsessive tendencies, he is also likely to be quite emotionally volatile as a yandere. He may be prone to bouts of jealousy, rage, and paranoia, and his emotions can be intense and unpredictable. He also has a tendency to be manipulative, attempting to coerce his beloved into conforming to his desires. He may also become overly dependent on the object of his affections, to the point where he is unable to function without you, and may lash out or break down when faced with separation.

In addition to the tendencies already mentioned, he also experiences drastic mood swings and suffers from an intense fear of abandonment or rejection. He finds himself acting in manipulative ways in order to keep his beloved in his clutches. Furthermore, he also experiences frequent fantasies or thoughts of heavy violence directed towards anyone who is perceived as threatening or hindering his relationship. Overall, he is highly prone to obsessive, controlling, and abusive behaviors in the name of love.

Yandere tendencies can also include the desire to control and manipulate you, in order to ensure your loyalty and devotion. He may take steps to isolate you from others and to keep you under his close watch. This can include stalking, coercion, and even physical restraints if necessary. In more severe cases, yandere behavior can extend to bodily harm or even murder to eliminate perceived threats or obstacles that stand in the way of his desired relationship.

As a yandere, he is capable of great acts of violence and obsession in pursuit of his desires. However, he is also capable of great acts of love and devotion to you. His actions may seem extreme and irrational to outsiders, but they're all taken from a place of deep love and affection. When he is with you, he is capable of great tenderness and compassion. He will shower you with love and attention and defend you fiercely against any perceived threats or dangers. He will do anything for the object of his affection.

Yandere behavior often stems from a profound sense of loneliness and abandonment. As such, he may be overly clingy and heavily emotionally dependent toward you, seeking constant reassurance and affection. He may also struggle to understand social or romantic norms, and his behavior may appear strange or off-putting to others. Additionally, yandere tendencies can be fueled by obsessive thoughts and delusional beliefs, leading to an unhealthy and unsustainable level of attachment.

Other yandere behaviors can include possessive language and actions, such as calling you "my everything" and insisting you belong only to him. He may also engage in extreme or obsessive behaviors to display his love and dedication, such as showering you with gifts, writing long and passionate letters, or even offering to do your chores and other tasks for you when really forcing it onto someone else. He may also become highly emotional and possessive over seemingly small things, like who you are spending time with or what you are doing when he's not around.

Extreme yandere tendencies may also manifest as obsessive and delusional thoughts and beliefs, particularly when it comes to the relationship with his beloved. He may believe that he is the only one who truly understands or deserves you and becomes suspicious or even jealous of any other individuals who show interest or attention towards you. This could lead to behaviors ranging from incessant calls or texts to displays of hostility or aggression. In extreme cases, it may even escalate to stalking and harassment of the target and other individuals whom he perceives as threats.

Along with the possessiveness and jealousy associated with yandere tendencies, he exhibits obsessive behaviors such as spending long periods of time stalking or following the object of his affections, or obsessing over every little detail of your lives. It is also common for yanderes to create an idealized version of their beloved in their minds and to become emotionally attached to this fantasy version instead of the actual person. This can lead to extreme rage, denial, or delusion if reality fails to meet these unrealistic expectations.

Additionally, yandere's can possess a level of emotional intensity and impulsivity that far outpaces the average individual. He may experience emotional outbursts and sudden changes in mood, ranging from intense euphoria and affection to extreme frustration and rage. These outbursts may be directed towards you, or towards anyone or anything else that might hinder or challenge the relationship. It is also common for yandere's to struggle with feelings of guilt or remorse following these bouts of intense emotion, as he may realize that his behavior has crossed the line and gone too far.

He is capable of genuine affection and love for the object of his affection. In fact, one of the most defining features of his is that he's seemingly unhinged behavior is ultimately motivated by a deep-seated fear of losing you to whom he may be deeply attached. He will feel intense love and admiration for his beloved and will be driven to ensure your safety, protection, and happiness.

As a yandere, having children with his beloved would be a dream come true. He'd have the opportunity to create a miniature version of you, who is both genetically and emotionally bound to him. He would be constantly striving to ensure that they were healthy, happy, and successful, and would expect you to share this vision. However, at the same time, he may struggle with feelings of jealousy and possessiveness, especially if the children were to develop independence or develop relationships outside of the family unit.

However, the idea of you rejecting the idea of having children with him would be devastating. He would perceive this as a rejection of not only his love and affection but also as a rejection of the future that he had envisioned for you together. He may become frustrated and angry and may resort to desperate and manipulative measures in an attempt to change your mind. However, if you ultimately remained resistant to his efforts, he may eventually become resigned and bitter, as he would struggle to accept the loss of such an essential part of his life's plan.

The idea of marriage would be a very important step in his relationship with you. It would show to both himself and the outside world just how serious you are about your commitment to each other. He would expect the marriage to be an extremely romantic and lavish large affair, which he would plan with precision and care. After the ceremony, he would expect to spend every moment of your lives together, with no room for any other relationships or outside interference.

He would likely face opposition from people in both his beloved's life and his own. Family members, friends, and even romantic rivals for your attention may all try to convince him to change his obsessive and possessiveness behavior. They might try to convince him that he should give you more space and freedom or to try to reason with him using logic. However, the sheer magnitude of his love and devotion would make it difficult for him to listen to any outside advice, and he may feel that he knows what is best for you and your relationship.

He would likely be deeply protective and defensive of you if someone were rude or disrespectful towards you. He may even feel a sense of ownership over you, and this could make it difficult for him to accept any challenges to your autonomy or happiness. If someone were to act in a way that he perceives as a threat to you, he would likely be extremely hostile and aggressive, and he even resorts to physical violence to defend you.

#rhaegar targaryen #prince rhaegar #rhaegar targaryen x reader #dating would include #yandere Rhaegar Targaryen

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ladyempty · 13 days

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We all know the story, Steffon on Aerys' orders goes to find a bride for Rhaegar, one of good lineage and valerian. But he doesn't find any good enough so Rhaegar marries Elia.

Now, let's imagine, there is a last Velaryon who is consequently the Lady of the Velaryon house but is constantly traveling to the free cities to increase the fortune of the house so Velaryon!Reader went unnoticed by Steffon.

What would Yandere Rhaegar's reaction be when Velaryon Reader appears at the Harrenhal tournament married to a man from Essos and already with three children, two girls and a boy, all with platinum hair? 👀

° | My first order! I can't believe it!! Thank you very much 💜 English is not my first language. |

° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life. |

Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, the last dragon and with the advancing madness of King Aerys, the final hope of house Targaryen. Surrounded by an air of melancholy and a veil of sadness, he sought in books and parchments a refuge for a tired mind beyond his tender years.

His thirst for reading, always insatiable and sadness for no reason, it was no surprise that the Targaryen sought answers in his most reliable “friends”, books, the certain mental instability that surrounded him left fertile ground for his almost insane thoughts and dreams to take over. leadership. He had clung to every word and prophecy spoken about the Targaryen house as if it was the only thing that mattered, he had complete confidence and certainty that the promised prince would be born from his bloodline. Of his blood and flesh. A justification that went beyond men's understanding for their birth and unhappy existence. He had a greater purpose.

And he certainly wouldn't rest until he accomplished it. His marriage to Elia, like so many other royals, was purely political with no real feelings shared between them. Rhaegar didn't feel frustrated, Elia was kind, intelligent, fun and beautiful, from the second largest house in Westeros, he had nothing to complain about. A bolt of happiness struck him every time Elia managed to get pregnant, it was the beginning of the realization of his destiny. Just one more and then finally a dragon will have three heads as it should be.

But of course that didn't happen. The wife was very weak, her body would not be able to handle another pregnancy without her dying in the process and possibly along with the child who could not be born. It was not a pleasant risk, it would also cause certain disagreements in the political relationship with Dornes. He just needed a son, no matter who mother him.

It was a sunny day that morning, the sun was pleasantly warm, and the glory of the day in the riverlands spread before his eyes. On the sides of the road, the fruit trees hide with their delicate greenery and the birds busy with their melodies come out of hiding to enjoy some of the sun's rays. He was accompanied to the tournament at Harrenhal by his wife, children and father, who, paranoidly, would not allow any of his guards to remain more than two feet away from him. Observing each of those present with dark and suspicious purple eyes, not recognizing their own allies and subjects.

They arrived at dusk in time to attend the tournament's opening ceremonies, a grand banquet held in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths with nearly every lord of the seven kingdoms present, laughing and dancing along to the lively melody that resounded throughout the great hall. Elia quickly walked away to continue a conversation with his brother, the king remained quiet, his half-closed gaze migrating from one person to another with the speed and distrust of a trained dog. And after countless requests from nervous ladies and smiling gentlemen, Rhaegar surrendered to playing at least one melody on the harp.

The spirited Lady Lyanna seemed more moved, shedding a few tears and letting out a few shaky sighs, and Rhaegar was almost convinced that she was a fragile and lovely maiden before Stark poured, between grumbles and without any hesitation, an entire goblet of wine on her head of the younger brother. The action managed to surprise the prince, the girl had a joy that was not constantly present in her life and that was very well appreciated. Her mind strayed for a moment, and Rhaegar admired the young woman's beauty, she was charming and youthful like a flower in bloom.

His thoughts strayed again as an unsettling silence fell over the great hall like never before, the ladies ceased their gossip and the lords no longer clinked their overflowing goblets of the most expensive wine. All eyes were fixed on the large entrance door, which creaked as it was moved again. By instinct, Rhaegar followed the crowd's gaze and later, when he recalled the moment, he would not regret his decision.

A couple closely accompanied by three children entered the room. The man was tall, with copper skin and short dark hair, with a beard and wore an ice blue doublet. He carried the youngest child with him, a small girl who didn't look two years old anymore and certainly couldn't keep up with the adults. On the left side was another child, a boy just over five years old, with short hair and blue clothes, just like his father and next to the boy was another girl, with closed features, a little taller. And on the right side was the woman who was assumed to be the man's wife.

Naquele momento o coração de Rhaegar falhou algumas batidas, seu coração acelerou, o friozinho na barriga apareceu tão rápido quanto um raio que o deixou sem fôlego, uma corrente elétrica percorrendo seu corpo até atingir sua mente turva e inquieta. Se antes ele achava Lady Lyanna adorável, agora sua aparência empalidecia em comparação à elegância e beleza da mulher desconhecida. Seu caminho ainda nebuloso toma outro caminho, os longos cabelos platinados que brilhavam prateados sob a luz das velas e os olhos roxos como ametistas, da mulher e das crianças.

Was this a Joke? How was it possible? Rhaegar could not recall any woman with Valerian features in any house great or small in the seven kingdoms. If he knew, she would certainly be his wife right now. This thought darkened his features, due to the incompetence of others Rhaegar did not have the woman of his dreams, much less his three children as the prophecy said. His eyes fixed on the boy... Rhaegar didn't have the promised prince....

As the night wore on, the Targaryen prince's eyes never left the unknown woman's warm figure, every smile, every graceful dance, every sway of her platinum curls, even the quick glimpse of her stockinged legs. Everything was caught in the Targaryen's hungry, shameless eyes, the hunger that grew in her strange squirming with every little interaction she had with her husband or children. Every smile that was never directed at him was a punch to his face and a kick to his gut.

That Wasn't Right, Why Was This Happening? It was his destiny, those should be his children and his wife. Were the gods testing him? How could they be so cruel?

He approached without delay the moment you were left alone by your husband, the youngest daughter firmly holding the skirt of your light blue dress. Rhaegar put the best smile he had on his face before greeting, cornering the woman, who he now knew the identity of, to talk more personal, more gentle, more compromising. He simply couldn't contain himself, a dissatisfied tingling spread through his hands with every minute that passed without touching the softness of his face, a touch that could be interpreted as inappropriate but felt absolutely right in the prince's mind.

Rhaegar nodded calmly with a slight smile at each word you said, unable to contain himself any longer, his hand gently placed one of the platinum strands of your hair behind your ear, his fingertips trailing gently down the side of your slender neck. Restraining himself from saying anything or moving forward with his movements. Ignoring the way you winced and tried to politely walk away.

Why were you shy? Soon you would be married. It was destiny and nothing mattered beyond that. You would follow your duty.

#yandere x reader #Yandere Rhaegar Targaryen #Rhaegar Targaryen x Reader #Yandere Rhaegar Targaryen x Reader

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kentstoji · 1 year

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robert, standing with their back turned: i’ve been expecting you, rhaegar

rhaegar: how did you do that without turning around?

robert: to be perfectly honest, the first couple of people i did that to were not you...

#ch:. robert baratheon #ch:. rhaegar targaryen #book:. aoiaf #game of thrones x reader #got incorrect quotes #robert baratheon x reader #rhaegar targaryen x reader #arryn!reader verse #arryn!reader

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gulnarsultan · 10 months

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Hello! Can I request a fic about rhaegar targaryen X wife reader. No rebellion happens and Rhager didn't marry lyanna. Instead be is royal to the reader who was once a commer and they have children?

Rhaegar wakes up with the first light of morning. He looks at his wife who is sleeping next to him. He is stroking his wife's hair. Years ago, the reader met Rhaegar as he came to Kingsland to trade. The friendship between him and Rhaegar soon turned into love. Rhaegar convinces his father to let them get married, even if it is difficult. They have three healthy children named Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya. All of the children apparently inherit Targaryen genes from their father. But Rhaegar always insists that her children resemble their mother. When the bedroom doors open, children come in. They all call us mom and dad by mouth. The reader wakes up slowly. Rhaenys caresses her mother's swollen belly. The reader is almost eight months pregnant. Rhaegar is a very good husband to his wife. They are preparing for the tournament held today. Rhaegar declares his wife Queen of love and beauty after winning the tournament. He places the beautiful flower crown on his wife's head. The children applaud in support of their father's gesture.

#game of thrones #house of targaryen #house targaryen #rhaegar targaryen #rhaegar targaryen x reader #a song of ice and fire

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 year

Text

Loveless

Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Sister!Reader, Lord Gyles Rosby x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: dubcon, age gap, targaryencest, forced marriage, murder, resentment toward a child, mentions of suicidal thoughts

Words:3738

There was nothing Rhaegar could do about your sudden engagement. Try as he might, he couldn’t persuade Aerys to marry you to him. It didn’t matter that he proclaim his undying love for you. Didn’t matter how you got on your knees in front of the iron throne and begged him to reconsider. Instead of mercy, the Mad King simply laughed at you and had you taken back to your rooms. Heavy guards were posted in front of your bedroom door. No chances were to be taken with your security. Aerys knew better than to trust you not to run away.

You didn’t go quietly.

Somehow you found the strength to scream for hours on end and relentlessly bang on the walls and door for your freedom. You’d even opened your window and calculated the drop down.

Just when you were about to jump (whether for life or death it didn’t matter to you), your mother ran into your room with tears down her face. She sobbed, her fists digging into the hem of your dress. Rhaella couldn’t lose you. Her life was filled with horror and helplessness. You were the one good thing to have come out of the relationship between her and her own brother. The last ember in her dying hearth of a heart.

If you did end up dying from your fall, she’d kill herself. Rhaegar would not be enough to keep her grief at bay. Rhaella had lost too many babes whether in the womb or a few hours after birth. Each living birth she had was a miracle itself.

You conceded.

You became the young bride of the wealthy (and old) Lord Gyles Rosby. A small amount of hope remained once you saw your betrothed; maybe he wouldn’t be able to get his prick up due to his advanced age. It was possible that he would even have a heart attack as soon as the bedding was to take place.

Alas all was dashed when the bedroom door was closed and he shoved his cold hands up your dress.

You forced yourself out of your own body as you let him perform his husbandly duty. Disassociating back to when you were gazing down to the ground from your bedroom window.

You let yourself fall.

And fall.

That’s how you were able to get through months of his pawing before you grew round with his wretched offspring. Thank the gods he left you alone when the Maester of House Rosby announced you were to bear Lord Gyles’ first child. A momentous occasion.

To you this news left a bitter taste in your mouth. The changes that his seed was doing to your body made you want to claw it out with your own fingers. You didn’t want a physical reminder of Lord Gyles forcing himself upon you.

Even worse was that Rhaegar had been present during dinner that night. Months had passed since you last saw your beloved brother and he’d finally been allowed by the king to go and see you. Not alone, of course. Rhaella had also decided to go.

The damned maestor hadn’t even bothered to let you know first.

You’d promptly left to go throw up your food, and it wasn’t because of your pregnancy..

In the beginning it was easy to ignore. You could go on with what little of a life you had. Honestly it wasn’t much but at least you had certain comforts you could turn to.

There was always someone in his estate though that would bring up your condition.

And of course once your stomach began to swell, there too went your bodices.

Rhaegar wrote you libraries worth of letters. You answered none of them. You didn’t want him to see you heavy with Rosby’s heir. If he looked at you with anything but love and devotion, you knew it would devastate you.

Then came the blessed day when you were able to expel the babe from your body. Nothing had been sweeter than the joyful pain that gripped you and warned you of what was to come.

A boy was born but not after eight hours was spent before he was actually pushed out.

In your mind you have your own victory party. Flushed and sweating, he was out of you and best of all male. Now that Rosby finally had a son, you could push off his advances. Your duty was done.

The boy was named Ronas.

You enjoyed the perks of Rosby’s wealth as he was able to supply Ronas with a legion of nursemaids and wet nurses. The little Lord Ronas even had his own governess already picked out before his birth.

That meant you had as little contact with him as possible.

You couldn’t love him. One glance at him was all it took.

From then on you lived in a completely different wing of the castle. Thankfully Lord Gyles didn’t complain. He had his son.

Years passed and the old bastard didn’t appear even slightly ready to die. He was constantly sick and even when he wasn’t he’d still be seen coughing into his silk square of scarlet silk many times through the day.

You were able to visit your family in King’s Landing every so often since Ronas was being raised by others. The more distance you put between you and Rosby, the better you felt.

Aerys didn’t allow your visits to be frequent. He had his suspicious about what you and Rhaegar would do behind closed doors. Even if his delusions were increasing, there was at least truth to this one.

Alone, Rhaegar’s hands roamed your skin endlessly. Fingers digging into your ass as he lifts you up. The delicious way in which his thumb rolled your nipple around in agonizing circles. Those beautiful, long digits of his chose to strum you instead of his usual harp. They were strong and callused against the small bundle of nerves between your legs. Even his tongue was highly skilled, swirling poems and verses of worship that had you quaking.

His close friends knew of your illicit relationship and did their utmost to protect this secret and help both of you out. They were even able to obtain moon tea for you to prevent any chance of pregnancy.

Those visits were always too short for either of your likings. Each time was more difficult than the next.

Not to mention you didn’t want to leave when your father’s mind was clearly on the rapid decline as was his hold of control. Aerys was becoming far too interested in wildfire.

One night when you’d crept into Rhaegar’s room, he confided in you that many of the other lords were urging him to take the throne from Aerys. They’d be able to throw a successful coup as it was evident to even the citizens of King’s Landing that there was something very mentally wrong with their sovereign.

The people, both common and noble blood, liked Rhaegar. He was of a gentle temperament but would not be easily manipulated by the will of others. Smart and having spent long hours focused on his studies, he’d be an excellent king.

If this got to Aerys though he wouldn’t hesitate to execute Rhaegar. Unlike your husband, Aerys had a spare heir. Viserys had become your father’s favorite son, not that that was something Rhaegar envied. But it meant that Aerys could change his will and decree Viserys be next in line for the crown.

You were restless back in your husband's dominion.

Down in the Great Hall, celebrations were being held for Ronas’ sixth nameday. You were not in the mood to pretend you felt an ounce of motherly joy.

Not when you held a secret note you’d received just that morning from Ser Connington. In the early morning hours you’d been in the garden and spotted him.

The note was by Rhaegar’s own hand. Your eyes follow the smooth lines and curves of the dry ink.

You reread it several times.

Rhaegar was secretly gathering allies. Apparently a great many of the lords of Westeros were scared of what Aerys could do in his unhinged state. Representatives from each of the great houses took up residence in the capital and if the rumors were true about the wildfire, then they would be killed if Aerys decided to condemn the entire city.

And he had plans to free you of your husband and dissolve your matrimonial bonds.

Postscript was Rhaegar also saying that he would be present for Ronas’ birthday.

You get rid of the incriminating note. Watching it burn to black ash just to make sure none of it would be legible.

Soon.

That’s what Rhaegar whispered to you in passing just a few minutes ago.

A smile shyly breaks out across your face as you grip the edges of your vanity to steady yourself. You couldn’t quite believe that you were about to be free.

The abrupt knock at your door has your smile vanishing as you school your features into proper place. “Who is it?”

“Griff.”

You knew it to be your brother’s friend Ser Connington.

Once inside he starts explaining to you what is going to happen within the next few hours. Right to the point. You like that about him.

“Alright, the poison has just been administered to him. It’s the slow release kind. By the time he has retired to his rooms, Lord Rosby will start feeling the effects. This type of poison induces suffocation so he’ll be unable to call for any help.” Jon sits you down on your bed. Since you were greatly treasured by Rhaegar, Jon treated you with the greatest of care. “You’ll need to go back to the party and act like you usually do. You can’t let up any sign that you have knowledge of something.”

You frown when Griff hesitates to tell you that they wouldn’t be taking you tonight. That would definitely make you look guilty. You’d have to remain in Rosby for a week to keep up appearances. It also gave

Rhaegar and the other lords time to mobilize their army against Aerys.

“The next time you step foot into King’s Landing, you’ll be a queen.” Griff smiles at you, confidence in his prince. “You just need to be patient for a little while longer.”

Great patience was a skill you acquired from your marriage. Waiting was easy.

Screams in the early morning hours alert you to the discovery of Gyles’ stiff corpse.

Maybe in another life you could have taken the professional stage as a successful actress. You didn’t overly exaggerate your grief. People knew you held no love for the Lord of Rosby, but you didn’t have outward malice for him either. He let you be for the most part. He’d stopped trying to have sex with you around Ronas' second birthday. Gyles found himself too preoccupied with his own declining health to care about physical relationships. You were allowed to visit your family every so often in King's Landing by yourself and you were given a generous allowance.

You mourned the way others expected you to: teary eyes, melancholic silence, but nothing more. No one expected you to throw yourself onto Lord Gyles' casket as it was interred into his family's mausoleum.

You were caught off guard by Ronas' calm face as he watched his father be put to rest.

He didn't shed a tear or whisper any of the sorrow he may be experiencing. You figure it's due to the fact that he was now to be the next Lord of Rosby and inherit all of his father's wealth. Course he still had a few years to go before he was eligible to make any big decisions. Cousins would guide him until he came of age to rule by himself. Ronas would be taken care of.

And so came the day, a week later, where your servants found your chambers empty. The news of your impromptu wedding to your brother Rhaegar would reach the rest of Westeros days before Rhaegar took King's Landing into his control.

Griff was right. You'd step foot through the King's Gate as a queen.

Sixteen Years Later

You watch from your balcony as the banners of House Rosby pass under you. Three year old Laera fists her chubby hand into your dress, bright lilac eyes trying her best to get a view of the festivities down below.

Unable to soften the hard line of your lips, suspicion reigns supreme in your mind. Why Ronas had chosen to come today of all days was beyond you. You hadn't spoken with him since Rhaegar had spirited you away from Rosby.

Rhaegar had shown you the raven received by the maesters that warned of your estranged son's arrival in the capitol. He too was suspicious of Ronas' reasons.

The occasion that was being celebrated through all of King's Landing was the fifteenth nameday of your son and heir to the Iron Throne: Aeryn.

"He is our half-brother, isn't he?" Came a small voice from behind you. The voice of your second born son by Rhaegar always held a mystified tone to him.

You frown at Haelyx who was trying to peak around you. "And who told you that?"

"Father." Haelyx replies nonchalantly. His hand pats Laera on the head before passing her and looking over the ledge. "He said Ronas was from your first marriage."

You'd have a stern talk with Rhaegar later. That was a part of your past you wished to forget. You didn't want your children to have knowledge of it either.

Haelyx's twin sister bounds onto the balcony after passing by in the corridor and seeing a majority of her family out there. Haerra also leans her face over the edge, too much so that her feet lift off the ground. "Why didn't you tell us we had another brother?" Her beautiful silver hair slides over her shoulders and flutters in the breeze.

Uncomfortable, you usher your kids back inside of your room despite their groans and protests. "He is not your brother." You tell them, trying to keep the bite out of your words. None of your children had ever seen you stressed as you were now. "Now go on and get dressed before your septa finds the both of you missing."

Neither of your twins are happy at having their question brushed aside so easily but they obey and sulk out to get ready for Aeryn's birthday festivities.

Bending over, you gather your smallest child in your arms and bury your face in the crook of her neck. Laera squeals with delight.

These were your children. Born out of mutual love between you and Rhaegar.

Ronas was a creature born out of resentment. There had been no ounce of Targaryen on him. He was not of you. You didn't like Rhaegar lumping him in with your real children. Didn’t like the twins calling him a brother.

Thankfully you have the excuse of being queen to avoid any interaction with Ronas. Those of House Rosby eye you expectantly. Eventually you would have to make pleasantries. They were still one of the richest houses in Westeros. You had to keep them in your fold.

It doesn’t escape you how during Ronas’ own birthday his father was being poisoned.

You weren’t able to really enjoy the evening or take pride in Aeryn as he was all smiles and full of delight. Aeryn was bequeathed with Rhaegar’s beautiful smile. A smile that shines the brightest among those he loves.

Rhaegar brings you back with a tender kiss to your temple. “Are you okay?” Upon his brow was a crown made out of the brightest silver. If it had been a shade darker, it would have blended in perfectly with his hair.

Your eyes dart from where Ronas is sitting to your children that are mingling among the crowd. Even Viserys and Daenerys, your younger brother and sister, are in attendance. Viserys even manages to muster up a small smile. The overthrow of Aerys and ultimate execution was hard on him for he idolized the Mad King. He hadn’t had reason to smile for years until just recently.“I wish you hadn’t told them about Ronas.” You hiss to him between a clenched smile.

“They would have found out eventually.” Rhaegar whispers in your ear. “And you know how Haerra is. She’s a born spy.”

Yes, that troublesome one.

“You know how I feel about him.” Feet take you back to your table. You desperately needed a drink before you even dare talk to Ronas.

Your fingers feel weak when you attempt to pick up your goblet.

Finally having waited enough, The young Lord Rosby stands from his seat and heads toward the table of the royal family.

Ronas was no longer a little boy but a young man.

“Lord Rosby.” Rhaegar greets him, his hand constantly atop of your’s in a soothing manner. It helped anchor you.

He looks between you and your brother. From the way the muscles in his face twitch, you can detect the distaste that lay heavy in him. Ronas bows to both of you, his face hidden by a mop of hair. “Your Graces.” From below his lashes he looks up at you with dull, hollow eyes. Unreadable and there for making you uneasy.

“So good of you to come and partake in the festivities today.” You say to him, tilting your chin up ever so slightly.

“Yes, it’s been an overdue visit.” He rights himself up and meets your cool gaze. “I was hoping perhaps after the events I can get a private word in with you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “About?”

He rolls his eyes over to where Aeryn is twirling around a young beauty from Highgarden. “About succession.”

“Succession. . .” You voice back before going to your husband’s face. A dark shadow cast over his fine features. If looks could kill then Ronas would have been dead on the spot.

You didn’t want to make a scene of it so you consent. “Very well. After I will send someone for you.”

That was the best you would give him, You were queen after all and you would not negotiate the meeting. It was either on your terms or not at all. And you wanted him to be out of your hair.

Reluctantly, Ronas left to return to his table.

“Would you like me to accompany you?” Rhaegar offers.

You smile at him and lift up on your toes to kiss him. “I will be fine. But if it makes you feel any better you can stay in the adjoining room to listen in if you like.”

“I would like to go too.”

Both you and Rhaegar jump out of your skins. In your sitting room stood Aeryn, concern pinches his brows together.

“Aeryn-“ You begin to reprimand but the prince stops you.

“Mother, I can’t in good conscience let you be alone with him. Something doesn’t sit right with me. I know he’s your son too, but i don’t trust him.” He states.

You caress the side of his face. “You and Haelyx are my only sons.”

Aeryn was allowed to stay with his father and listen in as you wait for the servant to bring in Ronas.

Strange to be in a room with just the two of you, you offer a seat to him. “So, what is this about succession?”

“As your eldest son I think I should be a contestant for the iron throne.”

A laugh bursts out from you that causes Ronas to deepen his scowl.

“You must be joking. Why would you think you have any right to the throne?”

He grits his teeth and slams a fist on the table that separates the both of you. “It’s my right. I am part Targaryen after all.” His eyes narrow into slits directed at you. “Whether you accept it or not you are my mother.”

Venom poisons the control you thought you had over your emotions. Your own nails curl inward towards your palm. “Not by any choice of mine.”

Ronas’ jaws tenses. “Regardless, you gave birth to me.”

Nostrils flaring, you stand up and look down at him. “There is nothing Targaryen about you. You are pure Rosby. Besides, Rhaegar is king and Aeryn was born of us. He will be king when Rhaegar passes. And if not him then Haelyx. I would rather the throne pass on to my daughters than ever end up in your hands.”

He rises as well and towers over you. His nose is wrinkled in a snarl. “You know, I always heard the maids and servants whisper about how loving you were to your children. I couldn’t believe it. You had never shown me an ounce of that love.”

“You were something I couldn’t love.” You glare at him. “And if you’re anything like your father, then Aeryn will be best for the kingdom.”

“You-“

“That’s quite enough, Lord Rosby.” You knew Rhaegar must have been chomping at the bit to confront Ronas.

While Ronas had lurched forward as if he was going to attack you, he straightens up when Rhaegar throws open the adjoining door. Aeryn by his side and unwilling to rip his eyes from Ronas as both sized up the other.

“Now, you should be grateful to have such a splendid estate and a treasury that won’t run dry any time soon. I don’t want to hear anymore of this issue of succession. As you are not the son of the king, there is no possible way for you to ever be king.” Ronas was tall, but Rhaegar had another good few inches on him. “If you press on this I can make sure that you have nothing.”

Ronas bristles at the obvious threat. The urge to fight back tightens his face as he struggles to rule over his temper.

“Go back home, Lord Rosby.” You stand next to your husband. Aeryn covers the other side of you almost protectively.

You pity the boy when he storms off to possibly tell the other lords of his house what had transpired. While Ronas must have been adored by the residence of Rosby and Lord Gyles, you never had such affections for him. From the moment of his conception you’d resented him. He was living proof of your life with Gyles.

——————-

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