CROWN BURDENED

Baelor propped himself up on one arm, the heel of his hand scrubbing down his face in an effort to finish waking him up. The warmth of a summer's night was thick in their bedchamber. Soft rays of morning sun crept in through the pretty glass windows. His eyes gradually focused — taking in the room, and the dawn, and the figure of his wife slumbering next to him. Smiling blearily, the royal leaned in. Baelor's knuckle traced the curve of her shoulder first. A simple hello before his fingers moved lower. Months ago, he would have pulled her toward him with the greed of a dragon hoarding its golden treasure. Now, though, he brought himself to her — out of consideration for the baby, which was supposed to arrive so terribly soon. Baelor's palm cupped her breast and then the swell of her pregnant belly. He nuzzled into her neck as he gently overwhelmed her. Angela was intoxicating to him. The sweet smell of her, the flutter of her eyelashes, the sound of her breathing ... the gods had never made anything so beautiful. ❝My Queen.❞ Baelor kissed the shell of her ear whilst he whispered to her. His fingertips drew lazy circles across their child. ❝Come back to me ... I must have a kiss to survive the day.❞

even in the golden queen’s early morning haze, the sensation of her husband's skin against her own, of his skilled hands gently working along her oh-so-sensitive frame, and his body pressed up behind her was perfect. right here, in this bed, she felt completely and utterly content, as if she could stay right in this moment forever — and when the whispering in her ear began, angela shivered softly despite the warmth of the room.

“ you are terribly demanding, my king, ” she replied. of course, they both knew she was doing nothing more than teasing. a gentle rapport, established through a love that came easier than breathing.

beneath baelor’s hand, their little dragon stirred as if in greeting — a sensation that drew a sharp intake of breath from its mother. the child was strong ; a fighter, just like its father. angela's hand shifted, moving to rest against baelor’s for a moment atop the baby targaryen. it was only once the moment had passed that she then shifted in the king’s arms, rolling over with effort so that she was instead on her back, propped against their pillows.

baelor’s eyes swept over her bare frame as the blankets, due to the change in position, fell from their place around her — angela’s teeth sank into the inside of her cheek at the sheer amount of love and want she saw in his gaze. baelor had always looked at her as she were the most beautiful thing in all the lands, and it had not lessened since she had grown soft and swollen with his child. if anything, it has only deepened the desire she saw, and for that, angela was grateful.

She was everything.

They eventually parted at Baelor's insistence. He had to see her, in all of her glory, nested in their bed. The King propped himself up on his arm further, which allowed him to better loom over her. Purple and brown eyes held her gaze for just a moment, teasing, before they swept across her body again.

❝I thought — when I met you, my Queen — there was not a sight more wondrous in all of our land.❞ Baelor smiled, grabbed the edge of the blankets, and flicked them off of her entirely. ❝I was wrong, Angela.❞ His palm cradled the bottom of her bare belly. ❝Look at you ... now that I see you, full with our prince, I know this to be the most beautiful thing I have ever beheld.❞

He ran his fingers down, following the darkened line on her stomach until he passed through her fine hairs. Baelor kissed her once, fleeting, as his calloused hand nudged her thighs apart. He could not see over the crest of her belly from this angle, but he knew his way as sure as he knew to breathe. It was instinctual. A fingertip traced along the inside of her legs first, pressing gently into smooth and sensitive skin.

❝I think that I shall have to give you another as soon as our prince is born.❞ Baelor lowered his head, lips pressing into the hollow at the base of her throat. ❝Angela ... I could not bear to be without this.❞ As his mouth kissed there again, and then met each of her swollen areolas, Baelor's fingers found their way to the middle of her legs. He drew them over her folds quickly — just a brush, a promise.

Baelor headed toward the dining hall, dark robe loose around his ever - changing frame. His gray curls were pulled behind his head. Multi - colored eyes swept over the halls, purple and brown taking in the servants shying away. Perhaps, they sensed his mood ; the other royal's usual kindness was absent from him. Come to dinner, he was told. — as though any of this were normal. Even for their strange, cursed life, these days were not the same as all those before. Baelor's hand drifted to his belly when the doors opened. He supposed, really, it wasn't the child's fault. A pain lanced up his back when he sat, and the size of the beast's offspring forced it up into his ribs ( Baelor would have sworn so ). Air puffed out of his lungs after he winced. Gingerly, he leaned to the side. The stare he fixed Adam with, or not - Adam, or - whatever - he - was, was duller than it used to be. Obviously, he was exhausted. ❝You have not called on me in two days,❞ Baelor said softly. Food graced his plate, but he did not move to eat it. His statement was a poorly disguised question.

since the moment that baelor entered the room, adam's eyes had not left him. no, he had watched with an intensity in those blue eyes, one that only lingered when the other prince finally took a seat. there was almost always a treacherous feeling of pride when he watched baelor now, heavy with child — adam is not exactly sure how to feel about the sensation, no, but he supposed it was to be suspected.

after all, princes were raised to want heirs and the other half of him, the one driven by an instinct not entirely of his own ... well ... let's just say it was more than pleased to see that the job had been done, that the seed had finally been sown.

“ i thought you might need your rest, ” adam finally replied, one claw absentmindedly leaving marks in the wood of the table. “ was i wrong in such an assumption? ”

despite the ironic tone in which the beast prince spoke, there was truth to those words : after all, baelor looked far more tired these days as the child within him demanded more and more, and contrary to what is believed, adam was not entirely heartless.

❝You make a very diplomatic point,❞ he finally said. Baelor pressed his hands into his chair in order to position himself more comfortably. Once he was satisfied, he leaned back. This took some of the weight off of his aching spine. The pose, though, pushed his belly forward and emphasized it beneath the old robe. He was tremendously round, and soft, and his palm atop the baby to soothe it was almost sweet.

He used his other hand to pluck up a fork — which he only employed to push the well - seasoned deer around on his plate. With the beast's young this active, it would be impossible to eat without feeling sick. One of the servants brought tea that smelled of fresh mint ( trying to help the foreign prince who was as trapped as they ).

❝I think it will occur very soon,❞ Baelor said, voice quiet. There was no question of what it he referred to ; his pregnancy ( and the questions of what would happen when he gave birth ) had been the talk of the castle for almost a year now. ❝The pains, they come and go ... but, truly, I do not think I can grow larger.❞ A thin attempt at humor, one that forced him to look over at the creature and smile.

He still could not call the beast Adam, but there was a strange affection in his breast when he looked at it these days. The nights that it used to hunt him, to make twisted love to him, were even growing pleasant to remember.

the running is nothing but a glorified game to the both of them.

on all fours, the bestial prince had stalked through the trees, with a silence uncharacteristic of a creature of his size. adam knew these woods better than baelor did : after all, a childhood was spent on these castle grounds — he knew every little pathway, every nook and cranny worth hiding in. there is no scenario, too, in which adam will not catch him ; the scent on the wind is too prevalent, stoking an already burning fire.

baelor's scent was all too familiar, and the beast growled lowly in the back of his throat. it was not born of aggression, no, but rather that of want. the chase added a thrill to this whole exchange — and regardless of whatever complaints the other prince might offer, adam knew that baelor felt the same. otherwise, why else would baelor flee through through the woods that surrounded the castle? after all, there isn't any leaving this place — the curse and its rules make sure of that.

he followed that familiar scent though the dark night, the moonlight shining down through the canopy of trees and onto the ground below, and when those bright blue eyes finally landed upon the familiar figure ahead, adam wasted no time in closing the gap. in a flash, he pounced, pinning baelor to the forest floor beneath them. there was no care taken to be gentle, for he knew that the other could handle it — after all, that was what he was made for, was it not?

His hope was cruel. Fleeting. Adam's weight crashed into Baelor's back, and his world fell apart all over again as he went down. The smells of blood and dark earth mixed with the sweet soap he used this morning. Baelor cursed Adam for catching him — and he cursed the hunger in the pit of his belly that was glad Adam had. This monstrous beast's breath blew the graying curls ( which he allowed to grow longer and wild in their confinement ) off of his neck. A shudder ran along Baelor's spine, which arched. Inside of him, his loathing and wanting intensified in equal measure. Adam's proximity made Baelor's nails curl into the ground.

He despised how much he ached for the beast's body to capture him further. ( ... but that was what he was made for, no ? )

Baelor turned his head to the side. A bright, bright purple eye looked up at the hulking shape that filled his vision. ❝You sound as though you did not enjoy yourself,❞ he said. Soft, low, with a tease as dark as the look on his face.

      PREGNANCY -

❝ We’re going to be parents! ❞ ❝ Did you feel him/her/them kick!? ❞ ❝ Do you want to feel the baby? ❞ ❝ I’m pregnant…and it’s yours. ❞ ❝ Do you think I’ll make a good mother/father? ❞ ❝ What are you hoping for? ❞ ❝ I feel so nauseous today… ❞ ❝ What should we name him/her/them? ❞ ❝ How many diapers do you think we’ll need? ❞ ❝ You’re crying over a puppy? ❞ ❝ Is just strawberry okay? They didn’t have strawberries and cream. ❞ ❝ I’ve read this book four times I’m basically an expert by now. ❞ ❝ Boy or girl? ❞ ❝ Wait, do we have everything on this list I found? ❞ ❝ Can you put the crib together? I’m so tired. ❞ ❝ This kid can come out anytime it’s ready. ❞       ❝ You’re glowing. ❞ ❝ How far along are you? ❞ ❝ Please don’t freak out…but I’m pregnant. I SAID DON’T FREAK OUT. ❞ ❝ Hospital. Now! ❞ ❝ I think that was a contraction… ❞ ❝ The due date’s not until next week! ❞

     NEW BABY -

❝ S/He’s your kid before five in the morning. ❞ ❝ We need to go on a diaper run again. ❞ ❝ We’re out of formula–where’s the other can!? ❞ ❝ Ugh, s/he spit up on my good shirt! ❞ ❝ S/he won’t stop crying, I don’t know what to do. ❞         ❝ Please take him/her, I’m going to go crazy with the screaming. ❞ ❝ Is it even possible for a baby to scream so much!? ❞ ❝ Should they be breathing like that? ❞ ❝ I need to go check on the baby. ❞     ❝ If you never put him/her down you’ll spoil him/her. ❞ ❝ Daddy/Mommy’s little girl/boy! ❞ ❝ Good morning, little spawn of Satan! ❞ ❝ Shhh, they’re finally asleep.  ❞     ❝ Dammit, I just got them to sleep! ❞ ❝ Be careful, s/he’s a hair puller…. ❞ ❝ Where’s the pacifier!? ❞ ❝ I can’t find his/her blanket, please help me. ❞     ❝ I’ve been up since four this morning, it’s your turn. ❞ ❝ I found you and the baby sleeping in the recliner at six am and it was so precious. ❞ ❝ Stroller, diaper bag, playpen, blanket, bottles, what else do we need before we go to your parents? ❞ ❝ A babysitter!? Are you insane!? ❞     ❝ You’re going to spoil them. ❞     ❝ We can’t go out with the baby, that’s just asking for trouble. ❞ ❝ Baby’s awake… ❞ ❝ S/he’s so precious…. ❞ ❝ This is our son/daughter…. ❞ ❝ We make damn beautiful babies. ❞ ❝ Look at his/her little feet… ❞ ❝ S/he has your eyes. ❞ ❝ Do not dress him/her in that! ❞     ❝ Be careful with him/her! ❞ ❝ Did you remember to pack his/her toy? ❞ ❝ His/her first tooth came in today. Already bit me.❞ ❝ Did you hear that? That was a cough.❞           

        CHILDREN -

for muses that need a little love. 

❝  i’m here for you.  ❞

❝  let me help with that.  ❞

❝  i’m here.  ❞

❝  nothing’s gonna hurt you.  ❞

❝  if they do it again, you tell me.  ❞

❝  i’ll protect you. ❞

❝  i’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you.  ❞

❝  let me take a look…  ❞

❝  i’m a phone call away.  ❞

❝  you should have called me.  ❞

❝  here, sleep.  ❞

❝  if you wanna talk, i’m here.  ❞

❝  hey, shh, it’s okay.  ❞

❝  i’ll never let you go.  ❞

❝  you’re with me now.  ❞

❝  nothing’s gonna take you from my side.  ❞

❝  i’ll do what i have to.  ❞

❝  i need you to stay here, okay? i got this.  ❞

❝  it’s safe here.  ❞

❝  i’m fine, let me see your face.  ❞

He'd had Baelor's little ball on his lap before, and so it stood to reason that he could have him sat there without the ball, too. Questions about Baelor's change in make-up and density rose in Dunk's mind, but as the Valyrian's weight pressed itself onto Dunk's thighs, what measure of control he might have had faded away. He had imagined Baelor would be cool, considering his propensity for warmer conditions, but the creature that pressed into him felt like a star condensed in human form.

Dunk's face warmed, even as found himself laughing around a "what are you doing". But between Baelor's easy slaps and all the fidgeting he made in discomfort, he couldn't not laugh, not when he was so happy.

"I know you always have a lot to say," he started, setting his hands on Baelor's waist, "but it's bloody unreal hearing you keep goin' like this, you know that?"

The touch on his middle felt too intimate, so Dunk moved up to Baelor's arms, then shoulders, then gave up entirely to cup either side of his neck and rub at his jawline with his thumbs. Gods, his skin was soft.

"You're wearing clothes 'cause it's inappropriate for humans to go around without." Dunk's thumbs pressed gently into Baelor's cheeks, watching the flesh dip under the pressure. "Do you see me take my clothes off around you? No, 'cause I'd look a right fool if I did.

❝Dunk keep there,❞ he sniffed. ❝ — better secure.❞

There was also a preference for the weight of Dunk's hands on that part of his body that Baelor couldn't deny. It was almost comforting, as much as he could understand that notion. Perhaps, he thought, it was similar to the way his Jena used to coil up with him. Whether they were their natural selves or devoid of limbs to be nearer to each other, to be physically connected to her brought a sense of safety that nothing else inspired. The world was alright, and they were alright.

Was that what he liked from this ?

Baelor's eyes locked onto Dunk's. One purple, one brown, matching the strange pools of color from his dragon - ish shape. They were pretty : the shade of violet there was unlike any found on Earth. Even bringing it to this shape had not dulled it.

The alien abruptly leaned forward. His arms wrapped loosely around Dunk's neck, as he saw humans do in the moving programs Dunk displayed for him. Baelor's torso pressed to the engineer's. He settled in with another low grumble, curls tickling the underside of Dunk's chin. Idly, his brow knocked into the proper human's chest — but Baelor remembered that produced a duller pain he was not fond of. Another hiss, another much softer bump, and with that he seemed satisfied with his display. This was no different ( to him ) than when he had cuddled up against the edge of his ball in Dunk's lap.

Baelor laughed, demanded, and Dunk grinned, fingers spreading the soft walls of his king's cunt open just to admire the gape. He was so pink inside, so wet and wanting, and the shine of his slick made his own cock throb with need.

"I know it," he said, hand lifting from the side of Baelor's throat to slide his thumb over the swell of his bottom lip. It dipped in, briefly, then swiped, then pressed inward again.

"But I don't want to break you, now..."

The thrust of his fingers persisted, buried to the last knuckle, and quickened in pace to stretch Baelor proper. He felt the drool of his juices, listened to the dirty squelch of him, and in his shallow thrusts shook his own wrist to feel every inch of Baelor's core. The first time they'd done this, Dunk had been so careful he used three fingers to prepare him; now, though, he'd made love to his king enough times to know he could take it.

So, pushing his thumb into Baelor's mouth, Dunk hummed, "Least not so early."

That last bit of resistance melted around his fingers, and Dunk felt it in the smoothness of his thrusts. Baelor stayed open, and even as Dunk pulled out all he saw was the neediness of those walls clenching around nothing. Each time they fucked it made him feel drugged thinking of how badly Baelor could want someone like him, but nothing was quite so potent as feeling the proof of his arousal drooling against Dunk's own skin.

He'd drawn the top of his trousers down just enough to pull himself out. Hand around the base of his length, Dunk traced the line of Baelor's sweet core with the tip of him, twitching there and leaving a line of pre-cum in his wake. His hips angled, the tip of his length spread Baelor's lower lips apart, and Dunk pushed.

"Gods" -- the moan he let out was shameless, wrought with pleasure as he fed himself into that heat -- "yes."

Dunk's stomach tightened, his hips rolled, and he sighed as each thrust pushed him deeper: past that first resistance, and second still to make them whole again.

He remembered, briefly, the conception of Valarr — how cold, removed, and embarrassed he felt by it all. The way the maesters carried out the rituals they deemed necessary at the time had caused Baelor to be ashamed of his blood.

Here, with Dunk, was starkly different. Baelor's body was on fire, trembling with pleasure, and the smell of his own need was so strong that it overwhelmed all ellse. The sound of Dunk's fingers stretching him wide, puncturing in and out of that wetness, seemed to come with the thump of Baelor's heart. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip.

Baelor raised his head, craning his neck to see what he could of Dunk's actions. It was then that the knight chose to take himself out of his trousers — and the whimper that left Baelor was pitiful compared to his earlier, deep sounds. He needed it. That first tease around his entrance produced a shudder and gasp. A please almost came, but he was grateful to swallow it back. Dunk was perhaps as eager as he ; he did not make his beloved royal wait.

Even with all of Dunk's efforts to make their union comfortable, Baelor still clenched his teeth against the pressure of it. He had heard rumor from the maesters who oversaw the Lord Commander's physical health that Dunk was ... greatly blessed by the gods. To Baelor, who possessed no other comparison, that meant little. There was no denying the sheer size of the man's endowment, though, especially as it slid along his walls. Baelor's nostrils flared with every breath out through them. His spine curved, showing the tension in his body. Deep down, he knew he could take it — take all of it — and the relief and pride that came with Dunk being fully seated was the same he once knew after great battles.

Baelor wiggled his hips, unable to help the sharp whines that came with the motion. He was full, almost painfully so. The world was bright, and dizzying, and Baelor was nearly drunk on the sensation of lying in the grass amid its beauty with Dunk's cock pushing into where he fancied his womb lay. What debauchery, what bliss, what sweet promise of life to come ( no matter how cursed it could be ). Hot tears pricked at the corners of Baelor's bright eyes as he stared up at Dunk.

❝You're there,❞ he breathed, awed. ❝ — go - go on, Ser Duncan, claim them. Claim your hatchlings ... and their mother.❞ Baelor was sick with the desire to lay an egg that belonged to the knight ; in such a short time, the idea had possessed him entirely.