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⛧ LITTLE SHE-DRAGON

𝓹airing: aerion brightflame x wife!reader, maegor brightflame x mother!reader

𝓼ummary: you and aerion welcome a second child, a healthy little girl. maegor struggles with the new addition, and the subsequent less attention he receives. he can be just as pouty as his father.

𝔀arnings: fluff and a tiny bit of angst (aerion is mean to maegor), pictures are for aesthetic reasons only as the reader is not physically described, small mentions of childbirth, breastfeeding, not proofread cause i'm lazy & english isn't my first language, can be read as a standalone or follow-up to this fic. 2.4k words.

𝓷otes: this is a bit rushed and i'm not super proud of the ending but i really like this pairing so if anyone has requests for this storyline, please send them!! also big thanks to everyone who voted on the poll to name the baby

A certain stillness had taken over Summerhall. The halls were empty, and the castle itself seemed to be basking in a quiet relief, like the silence that settled after the storm. The birthing chambers smelt of fresh linens, and cloth scrubbed clean of blood. A fire burned lowly in the hearth, offering warmth for the small life that had just entered the world.

Tiny fingers flexed, a delicate hand curled around soft swaddling clothes. A girl, the maester had announced a mere hour ago, when she took her first breaths wailing. Her head of thick silver hair was visible from the cocoon she was wrapped in, the soft little wisps still dampened though the maester had diligently cleaned her of the vernix. The babe slept soundly, her small lips parted and still wet with milk from her first feeding.

“How is the little hatchling?”

Aerion's question pulled you from the peace of your mind, drawing your attention up to your husband. A weary smile pulled at your lips, face still glistening with sweat from the efforts it took to bring new life into the world. “The maester says all is well.”

Aerion only nodded, pleased with your tired reply for now. His brow wrinkled just slightly, and with a touch too tender for a man of such cruel nature, he reached out and touched the newborn's forehead. The babe stirred slightly, a small, humming sound as she shifted in her swaddling clothes and settled again. His forefinger traced her soft hairs, then down the line of her nose. His nose.

“A girl, I hear,” the prince said thoughtfully, withdrawing his hand to admire both mother and child. He had never been a man fond of soft things, but something deep within his chest tightened at the sight of the fragile being in your arms. His expression showed none of his confliction, carefully blank as he tilted his head.

“Does that upset you?” Your voice trembled faintly, eyes searching Aerion's impassive expression. This was different from Maegor's birth. Your husband had taken your firstborn into his arms, declaring him a strong little dragon. Now, there was only silence — thick and dreadfully brittle.

“No.” His reply came low in his throat, a mere mumbled word as though his thoughts were elsewhere. The babe stirred again, her small brow pinching as she blinked her eyes open. Violet irises fluttered up, a silent, innocent gaze meeting his own. Aerion swallowed. “Visenya.”

“What?”

“Her name.”

“Husband, I had hoped we would decide to-”

“Her name is Visenya.”

His tone was firm and unwavering, leaving no room for discussion. Aerion knew his children were strong, fierce dragons just as he was. They deserved names befitting of their lineage and succession. His jaw clenched, a muscle jumping along the bone as he met your gaze to await submission. You sighed, but offered a weary nod. Some fights were not worth pursuing, and this was one of them. Visenya was a strong name for a strong girl.

Aerion seemed pleased with your reluctant acceptance, a small smirk tugging at his lips before he forced it away. He looked back down at the small creature in your arms, reaching out to stroke her round cheek. “She has eaten, yes?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, laying further back against the plush pillows that had been stacked behind you, the cushion a well-needed respite from some of the ache in your spine. “I've never met a newborn with such an eagerness to feed. Even her brother was not so hungry when he was born.”

“She already has the greed of a dragon, then,” Aerion said with the faintest curve of his lips. His brief amusement was replaced with a quiet concern when he met your gaze. “You should rest. I know the turmoil of your labors has been taxing. I will see to it that the maester and nursemaids attend to you both. Here, hand her to me.”

With a quiet relief, you handed your husband your new daughter. Visenya stirred lightly, whining at the change of hands, but she settled down in her father's hold. Her small lips parted slightly around noisy breaths, her head cradled reverently in one of Aerion's hands.

It came to pass that Aerion held his greatest treasure in his arms. Not gold. Not a crown. Not a scaled dragon of his own. But her.

He leaned down, eyes fluttering closed as he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Hello, Visenya.”

Evening had settled over Summerhall, and you had returned to the familiar comfort of your marital chambers from the birthing chambers. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting odd shadows against the walls as the last light of the sun slipped through sheer curtains. It was quiet and warm and serene, and you had once again grown accustomed to the weight of an infant in your arms.

Aerion sat on a velvet-lined settee by the hearth, dressed down to a loose tunic and breeches, a goblet of wine hanging haphazardly from his grip. The arbor gold had scarcely been touched, save for a few idle sips. The prince's attention was aimed towards you as you stood over Visenya's cradle. She was cradled in your arms, her small hands curled around your breast as she nursed eagerly. His gaze couldn't help but follow that loosely-fitted nightgown that slipped from your shoulder, revealing the delicate line of your throat and the curve of your spine as he admired you from behind. The picture before him was one of softness, the warm sunlight painting your figure in an angelic view, your face pulled into a tender look of love as you tended to his daughter.

Aerion exhaled slowly, his chest tightening up once again. He had never been a man prone to tenderness, but the sight of his wife and child did that odd thing it always did. It brought up warmth, like the fire within a dragon's belly.

He set his goblet down with a faint clink, rising to his feet. He approached with slow strides, careful not to disturb the delicate atmosphere that had taken over the chamber. He stopped behind you, peering over your shoulder to watch as Visenya drank hungrily. "Always so demanding, the little hatchling," Aerion murmured, though his eyes never left the baby’s face. He stepped closer, closing the small gap, his presence looming and warm. "She has her father's appetite for what is hers, it seems.”

He reached out, not for his daughter, but to catch a stray curl that had escaped your hairpins, winding the thick strand around his finger. His touch was deliberate, a silent claim. He already envied the ease with which Visenya could command your attention, much like Maegor, yet he found a twisted sort of pride in the way their newborn mirrored his own voracious nature. "Let her have her fill," Aerion commanded softly, his voice dropping to a velvet rasp as he leaned down, his breath ghosting against her ear. He placed a delicate kiss to the shell of it. "And once the little one is sated and dreaming of dragons, perhaps you might find a moment to attend to your husband. He has been quite patient, has he not?”

“Aerion,” you said his name lightly, head tilting just a bit when his lips grazed your ear. “You know we cannot do anything. The maester says it will take my body time to heal after this birth.”

“I am no fool, wife,” he said, the words heavy with a bit of sharpness at the offense he felt. Aerion knew well enough that your body needed rest, and he had not intended to imply otherwise. “Can a man not simply hold what is his? You look beautiful like this, my brave girl. Soft with motherhood, still rounded and mine. Besides, I fear this may be the one night I have until things return to as they were. Tomorrow, Maegor will meet his sibling, and once again, I shan't be able to tear him away from your side. The little wyrm is as clingy as a leech.”

You sighed quietly, a bit of tension leaving your shoulders. It was odd that your husband was not demanding anything more from you, but perhaps that was the reward for all of the hardships it took to bring forth life. A faint smile touched your lips, amused. “Are you asking me to cuddle, Aerion?”

“Cuddle,” he scoffed, repeating the word as though it had personally attacked him. “I am not asking to cuddle, I am asking to hold what is mine.”

Your smile didn't waver, but you knew better than to poke the dragon. “That sounds lovely.”

A faint, hesitant knock on the door broke the gentle moment.

Aerion exhaled lowly, pulling away from you and Visenya with a noise akin to a growl. He reached for the iron-wrought handle on the door. It swung open quietly, his hand firmly gripping the wooden edge. Whatever frustration he had felt now mounted to its peak, glaring at the nursemaid in front of him, and little Maegor holding onto her skirts. “The boy is supposed to be in bed.”

“Y- yes, your grace,” the nursemaid stuttered, avoiding his gaze like the plague. “But the prince insisted that he could not sleep without bidding goodnight to his mother.”

“Our lady needs her rest after childbirth. You know this.”

“Yes, my prince-”

Maegor stepped forward, reached to tug on the loose hem of Aerion's tunic. His lower lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout, his little brows furrowing as he looked up at his father. “Please, papa,” the boy pleaded, tugging on the red silk in his hands. “I want… I want to see mama!”

Aerion let out a heavy exhale, glancing over his shoulder to share a look with you. You relented, nodding. “Fine, then,” he said grumpily, guiding Maegor by the shoulder to enter the room. He didn't spare a glance at the nursemaid before dismissing her with a flippant wave of his hand. “Begone, wench.”

The door closed.

“You must be quiet, sweet Maegor,” you said gently as the boy approached. He appeared hesitant, his features — which were now beginning to look more and more like his father's with each passing day — were pinched with a quiet worry. He toddled across the bedchamber, violet eyes glued to the small form in your arms. “This is Visenya,” you explained, turning to face Maegor when he stopped by your side. “Your baby sister. Once she is done eating, you may hold her if you wish.”

Baby sister.

Those words lingered in the air, light on your breath but heavy as they landed on Maegor's ears. His frown deepened, his small chin quivering and something close to fear struck your heart. Your son looked seconds away from weeping, but startled at the sound of Aerion's voice.

“It seems you are no longer the one vying for your mother's attention. She won't have much time for us any longer.”

That did it. Something shattered on Maegor's small face, tears beginning to roll down his fat cheeks. He let out a small cry; high-pitched and hoarse in his throat before he turned away from you. For once in the two years of his life, he turned to his father for comfort, his arms wrapping around his leg.

“Aerion!” You hissed his name like a scathing scold, jaw trembling from how tightly it was clenched. Aerion had always been a jealous man, even when it came to your own son. He had always been prone to cruelties, but antagonizing Maegor was not something you would let happen while you sat idly by. “How dare you say such horrid things?”

“It's the truth.”

“No, it is not and you know it!”

Aerion pouted at that, one hand sliding down to rest upon Maegor's silver curls.

“Don't pout, it's unbecoming of a prince who calls himself a dragon,” you quipped, before your gaze landed on Maegor. He looked so pitiful, face hidden against Aerion's breeches. Once Visenya had unlatched, which only took a few seconds more, you settled her into her cradle. She didn't whimper or cry, clearly unperturbed by the chaos that had erupted around her. “Maegor.”

The boy didn't respond at first. He merely whined, sniffling against the fabric of the pants he now clung to. Slowly, hesitantly, he turned his head to meet your gaze. You smiled gently, approaching him. You offered your hand, a bridge between the distance that had suddenly been put between you. Maegor took it, his chubby hand slotting against your own as his tears began to slow. You guided your son to the shared bed in the center of the room, offering your arm to help him climb up onto the mattress.

Aerion watched from a few strides away, gaze darkened as you gently wiped away Maegor's tears with the sleeves of your nightgown. “Do not listen to your father. He says cruel things because they amuse him, not because they are true,” you urged, pressing a kiss to his forehead. You straightened up, one hand settling onto your son's small shoulder before you turned to adress both him and Aerion.

“My love is not a finite thing. It does not have to be split. All three of you are my family now, and I love you more than anything. You both should know that.” It was a statement mainly directed towards your husband, the last words laced with a hint of anger at his childish whims. “I will always have time for you.”

Aerion felt his cheeks flush with something he would not name. Guilt? Embarrassment? He blinked, avoiding your gaze as shame washed over him like a second skin. There were few who could tame the dragon, but your words made him see reason when his jealousy blinded him. He closed the distance between you, hands sliding down to gently cradle your hips as he stood behind you. “I'm sorry, my love,” he whispered so that only you may hear, ashamed that he had to stoop so low to begin with. He had been frustrated with the interruption, anger coiling in his chest when the quiet moment he had shared with you and Visenya had been shattered. But it was not fair to his son, and your words rang true in his mind. His lips found your neck in a slow kiss, a silent apology. “You just brought our daughter into this world. You should be resting, not dealing with my actions.”

Maegor sniffled, his hands reaching for the front of your gown. His little fists clenched around the soft linen. “Mama, I'm sorry, too,” he whined. He had no need to apologize, but he had watched with wide eyes as Aerion had done so first. You only breathed out a sigh, and ran your fingers through his silver.

“Now, Maegor, would you like to meet your sister?”

tags: @erotiicism @mary-1237 @beyond-the-ashes @baelors-widow (i think this was everyone?? maybe not 😔)

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