Fruit Of The Vine

“when Bobby?” kat rocks on her heel, raising an eyebrow as he sinks down further into the cushions. asking a question she already knows the answer to.

he coughs loud, stupidly loud, rubbing at his chest as you stifle a laugh from the other end of the couch, tissue still in hand.

“later.”

but just her luck, she’s usually the last one to get sick, still standing on two feet brewing everyone tea while you’re both stuck mindlessly watching re runs of some old tv show. bobby has the blanket draped to his knees, hand splayed over his naked chest like a plague victim. though you have to hand it to him, it’s not all for show, his face is a clammy pale, his eyes are rimmed red and glossy, and his sneezes grow larger in pattern every hour. even though he’s still whining over everything.

now, no matter how badly you’re sick, or how you act when you are, you can’t be as bad as bobby, and that’s comforting to kat. taking care of you both. it’s something kat takes pleasure in, in the quiet moments. something she might even snap a polaroid of when you’re both passed out, hands wrapped around eachother and curled in a mess over the blankets. but there’s something therapeutic when it’s just you both, when you’ll let her place the mug of soup to your lips, or rub vicks on your chest just to help you breathe.

she’s softer, less sarcastic in these times, curling your hair gently behind your ear, draping flannels and washcloths over your foreheads’, refilling your water and grabbing simple things to snack on. though it doesn’t change her completely, she pushes you carefully, helping you move about, inching you toward the window just to get whatever fresh air the suburbs can buy you. and it works, taking it day by day, holding you through the stuffy long nights, and nursing you through the tiring days, she’s there, at your side. without a fuss and usually without worry, though she always has an eye on you, and you’re able to be well again way quicker than before.

the same can’t be said for bobby however. if you and kat, or just you are sick.. and bobby is left in charge? he’s a mess. really, he is. and not because he doesn’t want to help, because he doesn’t know exactly what to do. it just comes with the questions, frantic and edges.

“what kind of sick are you..?”

“what do you mean what kind of sick?”

“like sick sick.. or y’know, cold and.” he gestures with his mouth, coughing and spluttering, looking back up to you both with help. he can’t think of the words exactly, but the point is there even if both of you look back at him confused. kat’s arm is around you, trying not to shove her face in her hands as he just stands there, arms raised and utterly hopeless.

“just.. get meds, and tea. and more crackers.”

and he gets them, without fail, along with probably a hundred other things he figured wouldn’t hurt.

he listens though, that is one good thing. to kat, to you, to whatever you need, he is on it, even if it’s just holding you. he might grimace at the thought of it jokingly at first, worry pulling into a smirk on his face as he reaches you, but he’s slinging his arm around you and covering you up in the blanket without another word. pressing a kiss to your temple, no matter how much you tell him he’s going to get sick to. because it all means one thing to him, if he has you both.

“it’s just us now.” He explained, keeping his voice low but you could still hear that it was dry from all his coaching and guiding throughout the night.

“thank you.” You exhaled some of your muscles physically going slack and you sunk into the wooden chest some more. “Thank you Master-“

Aerion shook his head as he leaned over, kissing the back of your head and unclipping the collar. “No more of that tonight baby, no master.” He slid the leather off of your neck and his hand gently rubbed the sore skin. “But you did such a good job for me…yeah?” He kissed your shoulder. “We’re such a good girl.” He praised. You always got a lot of praise after this. Both of you enjoyed the stark difference between the degradation and complimenting.

“yeah?” that was really all you could get out because your mind was literally mush at the moment. “I did good? Thank you.” Your cheek turned against the wood to try and see him more.

“These numb baby?” He asked fingers grazing up the back of your legs. When you nod he squeezes the skin some to get the blood pumping there. “Okay arms first then.” He decides and start to expertly undo the ropes that kept your arms pinned together and to your back.

“Did you enjoy that bunny?” He asked, and smiled at the affectionate name.

“I came so much…” you say sleepily and almost moan again when he chuckled lightly because that’s just how much the sound of him being happy and content gets you off.

“Oh I know.” He gently tucked your arms back to your sides and rubbed your sore shoulders. “I was keeping count. Have a guess?”

“um…I don’t know. A lot??” Your hands brace under you to lift up just slightly, you can turn your head some more now and actually see him, see him unlocking the spreader bar and delicately closing your legs to a more natural position.

“a lot?” He grinned and his hands gently smooth over your sides, giving the curve by your hips a little squeeze. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he love this part. When you were fucked out, all warm and fuzzy and disoriented. When you legitimately needed him to take care of you.

“Seven.” You flushed when he kissed your shoulder and then scooped you up bridal style and walked you over to the bed.

“s-seven is so ma-so many.” You whimpered as he laid you down the bed coming into contact with your raw ass stung some. He hadn’t applied the numbing cream yet. You knew he would, he always made sure you were as comfortable as you could be.

“so many.” He hummed in agreement and kissed your forhead. “Just lay down, I’ve got you baby.” He promised and started with gently wiping between your legs. Slowly easing the beaded anal plug out next and then gently rubbing your inner thighs to try and calm down the muscle that was still twitching uncontrollably there. “So worked up still baby…gods your so good to me.” He praised and you nodded against the pillow a soft sleepy smile on your face.

“ready for some water?” He asked you because you were breathing oddly anymore and he’d learned quickly that trying to rehydrate you while you were still so shakey always caused a coughing fit.

“mhm. Yes please.” He left you for a second and was back beside you, this time joining you in bed while holding a cup with a long straw so you could drink without needing to sit up fully.

“there you go, good girl.” He nodded as he watched the water and electrolyte mix get sucked down and when you finished it he pecked your lips and put the cup to the side before pulling your face to his chest. One hand soothingly rubbing at the back of your head as he muttered little compliments and assurances so how perfect you were, of how wonderful you did. How proud he was of you.

It made the discomfort of feeling him rub the thick cream onto your paddled ass slightly less uncomfortable. His sweet words soothing you as his hand made sure that the slightly broken skin there would be protected.

“I’m sleepy-“

“Close your eyes then baby…you know that’s okay. I know you are tired after that, after that good job.” He pulled your in closer and your hands wrapped around his waist.

“I really did well?” You looked up at him, your chin pushing into his sternum.

Both of Aerion’s hands cupped your cheeks and he rubbed them while nodding. “Yes baby, you were my perfect little slut today. Thank you.”

That had you blushing as your laid back down properly and he knew he’d done well when you fell asleep with a soft smile on your face.

Aerion Targaryen Masterlist, lmk if you want to be on his taglist.

The neon pink light felt like the back of a club in Max’s ‘den’. You were behaving like someone found in the back of a club— lips stretched around his length, lashes teary as you bobbed up and down. One of your hands cupped his stones, the other gripping on Max’s thigh.

He was sprawled out, long legs stretched as the blonde lounged, blue eyes hazy and lidded, his pink lips curled up. Max hummed as his hand moved to your hair. Gentle at first. You hollowed your cheeks more, thighs trembling with growing arousal.

The smell of him, the stretch of your lips, how he sat on your tongue? Your hips squirmed helplessly as your neglected cunt ached. Your pretty dress was shucked up your thighs with every shift of your body.

Max’s long fingers got a handful of your hair and he pulled, hard. You whined around your boyfriend, eyes shutting as your hands shook and a hot spike of arousal hit your belly. Yet he kept pulling, pulling until you were off of him.

You blinked, eyes watery, lips slack and swollen as confused fell over your features. Max’s lazy expression shifted into something mocking. His voice dropped as he spoke, “I don’t need my mum seeing you on your knees like a common whore. Be quiet.”

You blinked, nodding as you rasped, “I’ll be quiet.”

Max gave you a smile and leaned back. He gestured towards his slick length and stones, “Alright, back to it then.” His grip guided you down onto the tip of him, leaking salty pre. You kitten licked at it, aching even more. Max scoffed, shoved you down further as you breathed in a timed manner, throat relaxing.

“No need for that grade school shit, you know what I need, babe,” he cooed, head falling back as the blunt head of his cock slid down your throat. Max huffed a breath, holding you until your nose hit trimmed light brown hair at the base of him.

You breathed through your nose, cunt dripping into your panties. Max’s grip on you released, only to relocate to the back of your neck, hand big and warm. Warmth flooded your body at the touch. You looked up through your lashes.

“Going to fuck that slutty throat of yours,” Max murmured, eyes dark with arousal. He squeezed your neck, adjusting you as the blonde began to shallowly thrust into your throat— the slick noises and Max’s stuttered breathing had your soaked cunt clenching on nothing. You bit back a whimper, breathing through your nose.

Your boyfriend watched you with pale eyes and an open mouthed smile. His hand slid to your cheek, giving it a pat. Max’s voice cut through the stagnant air, the low thrum of his music.

“Take me like you were born for it. Fuck- fuck babe, goddamn whore throat. That’s what you love, huh? Taking my cock like a dumb slut. Drooling. Cute.”

Your breath hitched, catching your breath again when he eased out. Your belly was a mess of knots, pussy throbbing with how fucking hot you were. The breaths through your nose grew sharp, frantic. Max’s big hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing at the sides.

“Tight, fucking hell, you’re squeezing me, fuck- hah, babe, riled up over some talk.”

He squeezed harder, you felt your vision begin to blur. Your hands scrabbled at your boyfriend, body thrumming as the lack of oxygen made pink and black swirl in your vision. Max shoved you down once more, gasping on a curse before spilling down your throat.

You watched your vision dim completely and ecstasy rolling up your spine before he let go, you reeling back coughing. Max watched you, eyes bright, his lips spread into a self-satisfied smirk.

He leaned forward, smoothing your mussed hair down as the deviant greedily drank your state. Shaking, sweaty, tears and snot and drool. Max grinned, thumbing your swollen lips. His voice softened a hair, thumb lazily tracing the puffy flesh.

“You came huh? Soaked your knickers in your garden dress from choking on cock? You’re so fucked up, you know that?”

He looked proud of you. You swallowed that sentiment down.

Max cupped your cheek. You instinctually leaned into it, wet eyes on him. Shame suffused your face with heat. Shame of how much you loved this. This being however Max Hastings had ripped into your brain and let loose something once unconscious.

Max always got what he wanted.

His voice dropped again in a simile of a coo, “Go clean up babe. No detours, right to my shower. Mum needn’t see that.”

Max’s lips grazed your ear as he whispered, “She still thinks you’re that prissy society girl. Go now, bun. Can’t have my family know I date a girl so easy.”

He grinned as you tucked him back in his trousers. You stood up and turned to the door, Max giving your arse a smack as you tugged the dress down, legs trembling. It wasn’t much longer after the door shut did Max come to follow along.

He taught you to be his pretty pet in the first place. Max was proud of how far you’d come along.

One little stall selling painted glass birds had caught your eye while your fellow ladies chatted amongst themselves. You had wandered only a few paces, stopping to admire how the afternoon sun caught the tiny wings.

When you turned your ladies were gone.

“So strange…” you murmured to yourself, standing on your toes to try and get a better look. There were too many people.

A fishwife shoved past you carrying two buckets. A butcher dragged a squealing pig through the crown. Merchants shouted over one another.

“Fresh bread!”

“River trout!”

“Fine Dornish silks!”

You hurried in the direction you thought your party had gone. Only to find yourself somewhere entirely different.

“…Gods.”

Your heart began to pound. Every street looked the same. The towering walls hid the Red Keep from view, and the city swallowed every landmark you’d thought you’d remembered.

You stopped beside a fountain, turning slowly. “I was just…” you whispered helplessly. “It was this way… was it not?”

A whistle echoed somewhere nearby, then shouting.

“Move aside! Gold cloaks coming through!”

The crowds parted almost immediately.

Men in dark armor trimmed with gold strode though the street with practice confidence, their golden cloaks billowing behind them.

At their head rode a broad shoulder knight atop a dark bay horse. Even seated in the saddle he looked imposing.

His armor was immaculate despite the dusty streets, polished until it caught the sunlight. A trimmed beard framed a stern face weathered by years beneath the sun, while sharp brown eyes swept over the bustling marketplace with quiet authority.

The commander. You know him at once from whispered conversations, you’d overhead since arriving.

Ser Luthor Largent. Commander of the City Watch.

He noticed you almost immediately. Perhaps because every other noblewoman hurried from the streets with their escort.

You stood completely alone.

His horse slowed and the men behind him halted without question. Ser Luthor studied you for a long moment before speaking.

“My lady.” His voice was deep and calm. “You appear rather lost.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. “I…” You attempted a smile that quickly faltered. “Perhaps only a little.”

“A little?” he questioned.

“I do know I am somewhere in King’s Landing.”

One corner of his mouth twitched upward. “That is quite the remarkable deduction, my lady.”

You couldn’t help smiling despite your embarrassment. “I became separated from my fellow ladies.”

“I gather as much.” He responded. He swings easily from his saddle. Up close he seemed even taller if that was even possible. His cloak settled heavily behind him as he approached, removing one leather glove. “You are no common merchant’s daughter.”

“No.”

“The embroidery on your gown gives you away.”

You glanced down. Your traveling gown bore your father’s sigil stitched in silver thread across your sleeves as typical of a daughter of a noble house.

“I am the daughter of Lord—”

He nodded before you finished. “I know of your house, my lady”

That surprised you, “You do?”

“Your father arrived yesterday.” He replied.

“Do you mayhaps remember every visiting lord that comes to King’s Landing?”

“I tend to make it my business.”

Of course he did. He commanded the safety of the entire city.

“You are fortunate.” He paused looking around the crowded streets. “There are worse place in Flea Bottom to lose one’s way.”

Your stomach dropped at hearing where you were. You heard the tales of Flea Bottom and were told to stay far from there. “This is Flea bottom?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You did not know?”

“I thought I was near the Street of Silk at least.” You said sheepily.

One of the Gold Cloaks behind him let out an unmistakable snort. Ser Luthor cast him a look. The man immediately found the ground suddenly fascinating. Luthor returned his attention back to you.

“The Street of Silk is several turns away.”

“…Oh.”

“You wandered quite far it seems.” He spoke.

“Yes. I noticed.”

Another faint smile touched his lips. “So, you did.”

For a moment neither of you spoke. The noise of the city rushed around you. Finally, he inclined his head. “If you permit it, my lady…”

He offered his arm to you. “I shall return you safely to your father’s apartments.”

You looked at the offered arm. At the commander standing so patiently before you. “I would be most grateful.”

Your fingers rested lightly against the leather covering his large forearm. His armor was warm from the afternoon sun.

Without another word he began guiding you through the city and up to the red keep. His men followed several paces behind.

You discovered quickly that Ser Luthor knew every inch of King’s Landing. Every alley, every shortcut, and every merchant greeted him with respectful nods. He acknowledged each with a brief inclination of his head.

“Do you know everyone?” you asked.

“Not quite everyone.”

“It certainly seems that way.”

“I know enough or who matter.”

A little boy darted between them carrying stolen apples. Before anyone else could react, Ser Luthor reached out, caught the child gently by the shoulder, removed two of the apples from beneath the boy’s tunic, and handed them back to the furious fruit seller.

He looked towards the boy giving him a stern look, “No more stealing today. Do you understand?”

The boy nodded miserably and Luthor released him from his grip. With that the child sprinted away.

You asked, “You let him go?”

“I did. He was hungry.” The fruit seller grumbled but accepted the two silver coins from the commander in exchange for a couple of the apples.

“Why did you pay for them?”

“The city is quieter when hungry boys become honest ones.” He replied.

You stared up at him with that answer. “You are kinder than your reputation lets on.”

“My reputation?” he asked.

“They say the Commander of the Gold Claoks is stern and does not falter.”

“I am.”

“But they also seem to neglect the fact that he is also generous.”

“I try not to advertise it.”

You laughed softly. His eyes flickered towards you then. It was the first time you saw genuine amusement there.

“You laugh easily, my lady.”

“I’ve always been told that is one of my better qualities.”

“I would agree.”

The words came so simply and so matter-of-factly. Yet they sent warmth rushing to your cheeks that you had hoped he did not notice.

By the time the familiar banners of the Targaryen’s came into view, servants were already searching the street in a panic.

“There she is!” you heard your father say. Your father came rushing through the courtyard before dignity could stop him. “My sweet girl!”

He pulled you into a fierce embrace. “Seven save us! We feared—”

“Do not worry. I am well, Father.” You looked toward Ser Luthor. “The Commander found me.”

Your father’s expression transformed immediately. He released you before bowing respectfully. “Ser Luthor.”

“There was no harm done to your daughter, my lord.”

“You have spared me a terror I shall never forget.” A Lord though he was, your father clasped the commander’s forearm with heartfelt gratitude. “I owe you and thank you greatly.”

“No debt exists, my lord. It was my duty to make sure she was brought back to you safely.”

“Nonsense. There most certainly does.”

Your father looked towards the keep up to where your apartments were located. “You must allow me to thank you properly.”

“There is no need.” Ser Luthor said.

Your father was not having it. “But I insist.” He smiled broadly. “You will dine with us tonight and I will not have any more disagreements about it.”

Ser Luthor hesitated, “My duties—”

Your father cut him off before he could finish. “They can survive for one evening. I will ask Prince Daemon to approve this.”

At this point you found yourself speaking to the large knight standing next to you. “I would very much like to thank you as well. Please.”

For the first time since meeting him Ser Luthor looked almost uncertain, but only for a heartbeat. Then he inclined his head.

“I would be honored.”

Dinner passed in easy conversation. Your father asked endless questions about the city and Luthor answered each patiently.

“The crime has lessened this year.”

“And the prince supports your patrols?”

“He supports results. Prince Daemon was the one who gave me this Gold Cloak and I do not try to disappoint him.”

“And the people? Do they also agree?” your father asked.

“They tend to complain less when they feel safe.”

You watched him far more than you contributed. How carefully he listened before speaking. How respectfully he addressed your father despite their different stations. How his laugh—rare though it was softened his entire face. At one point he caught you looking.

Your eyes met then. You looked away first.

Gods… how embarrassing.

That night, long after the candles had been extinguished sleep refused to come.

You laid there staring at the carved canopy above your bed. Your maid thought you restless from the fright. She was wrong. Every time you closed your eyes you saw golden cloaks sweeping through the marketplace. Brown eyes meeting yours.

“You laugh easily.”

“I would agree.”

You remembered the warmth of his arm beneath your hand. The quiet confidence that followed him like a shadow. The way everyone in the city seemed to trust him.

You smiled in the darkness. It was ridiculous, you had known the commander for scarcely half a day. And yet… The handsome commander of the Gold Cloaks had become the only thing occupying your thoughts.

Somewhere beyond your chamber window, the bells of King’s Landing rang in the late hour.

You wondered if Ser Luthor was still awake. Whether he had already returned to patrolling the streets. Whether he had already forgotten the young noblewoman who had gotten hopelessly lost amongst painted glass birds and winding alleys.

You rather hoped he had not.

The Red Keep was infinitely easier to navigate than the street of King’s Landing. That did not make it any less lonely though.

Your father had spent nearly the entire morning preparing for his audience with Queen Rhaenyra. Every ribbon upon his cloak had been straightened twice over, every word of his oath rehearsed until even you could have recited it to her.

“It should not be long,” he’d assured you.

It had nearly been two hours at this point. You had watched squires hurry through corridors carrying messages. Lords in rich velvets passed one another with carefully measured smiles. Ladies whispered behind jeweled fans while servants moved as silently as ghosts.

You had explored nearly every gallery that was open to visitors over the last few days. Admired tapestries depicting Aegon’s Conquest. Paused before narrow windows overlooking Blackwater Bay. Counted the dragons carved into the stone columns simply to pass the time.

By the time you reached one of the long galleries overlooking the inner ward, you rested your forearms upon the stone balustrade with a sigh.

“I should really have brought a book.”

Below, knights crossed the yard. Stableboys hurried after horses. Gold Cloaks entered through one of the gates.

Your attention drifted lazily across the courtyard until one familiar figure appeared.

Black armor edged with gold and a heavy golden cloak. His broad shoulders that seemed impossible to mistake. Ser Luthor.

Your heart gave an entirely unreasonable leap. He crossed the courtyard with purposeful strides, disappearing through one of the council entrances.

“He’s here…” You smiled to yourself before quickly looking away, as though someone might accuse you of staring.

It had been four days since you saw him last. Four days since he’d escorted you safely back to your family. Four days of finding entirely too many excuses to wonder what the commander of the Gold Cloaks might be doing.

You wondered whether he remembered you at all. Surely, he met dozens of noble ladies. Surely you had been nothing more than another duty for him.

You sighed softly, “Foolish girl.”

Not terribly far away, Ser Luthor emerged from a chamber, the heavy oak door closing behind him. His conversation with Prince Daemon had been…productive.

Daemon has wanted additional patrols around the harbors after rumors of the greens coming in by ships. Luthor had given his reports. The prince had argued and Luthor argued right back.

The meeting had ended precisely as most conversations with Daemon did—with mutual respect from decades of friendship that was hidden beneath sharp words.

He rolled one shoulder as he walked the corridors. Then he slowed.

Something made him glance toward the gallery above. A familiar laugh, one that was soft and warm. His eyes lifted to the sound.

There you stood near the balustrade, sunlight spilling through the tall windows behind you. You were the vision of the Maiden herself, he thought to himself.

You were looking out over the courtyard completely unaware he’d seen you. For reasons he couldn’t entirely explain and yet his feet changed direction.

You had nearly convinced yourself to continue wandering when a familiar voice sounded behind you.

“My lady.”

You turned so quickly your skirts swirled around your ankles.

“…Ser Luthor?”

He inclined his head. “It is good to see you again, my lady.”

“And you!”

Gods. Was that too eager? Judging by the faint smile that touched his lips…perhaps not.

“I trust you’ve managed to avoid becoming lost again?”

You laughed then. “Sadly, I have remained entirely within the Keep to avoid such things.”

“A wise precaution.” He said with a smirk.

“I thought it would be.”

For a moment neither of you spoke. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but merely quiet.

“I hope,” he said at last, “That your stay has been pleasant.”

You nodded, “It has.” But then you hesitated. “Although I confess I have grown rather bored as of late.”

He looked a bit confused by that. “Bored?”

“My father has attended meetings nearly every day.”

“The affairs of lands and kingdoms are rarely exciting for those waiting outside of the room.”

You realized you nodded in agreement a bit too quickly. You tried to change the subject hoping you haven’t proved yourself boring to him as well.

So, you blurted out, “I’ve begun naming the ravens.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “You’ve named the ravens?”

“Yes. There are six I see most often lately.”

You two slowly began to walk down the hallway relishing in each other’s company.

“I should like to know what you named them.”

You wrung your hands together before you spoke, “Well there is Lord Peck.”

Ser Luthor blinked. “…Lord Peck?”

“Yes. He is the one who seems to carry himself most importantly. There is also Lady Feather. She is a very distinguished bird.” You couldn’t help but giggle then. You drew another rare smile from him.

“You truly do laugh easily.” He spoke.

“You remembered.”

“I remember many things. Especially the sound of a lovely lady’s laugh.”

The words settled warmly inside your chest.

He looked toward one of the open archways leading outside. “Have you had a chance to visit the gardens?”

“No, I have not actually.”

His gaze returned to yours then. “If it would please you?”

He offered his arm once more. “I could show them to you.”

Your answer came before propriety had the chance to interfere. “I would like that very much.”

The gardens were unlike anything in your father’s lands. Stone pathways wound through flowering hedges. Roses climbed up white trellises. Lavendar swayed in the breeze while bees drifted lazily from blossom to blossoms. Somewhere nearby water trickled from a marble fountain.

“It is beautiful.”

“Many princesses from prior years favored this place.” Ser Luthor said.

“I can understand why. I would too if I had a garden like this.”

You both walked side by side beneath flowering trees. Neither of you felt rushed to fill the silence. It surprised you how comfortable the quiet could be when enjoying someone’s company.

Eventually curiosity won.

“May I ask you something?” you asked.

“You may.”

“Were you always commander or did it take years for you to get to?”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “No. I have only been commander over the last few years.”

“Huh. I cannot imagine anyone else doing it.” You admitted.

“I began as any other gold cloak, but I have the pleasure of having Prince Daemon to be the one to give me this cloak nearly twenty years ago.”

“I’m sure that was an imposing sight a younger you with Prince Daemon.”

“One could say that. I was also considerably less patient then.”

“I find that difficult to believe.” You jested.

“I assure you, it is true.” He spoke.

“Well, you are patient now.”

“So, I’ve been told.”

“By everyone?” you asked.

He looked sideways at you.

“Only by one lady in particular.”

Heat blossomed across your cheeks hoping he was meaning you. You lowered your eyes with a smile trying not to make it obvious.

The gardens eventually gave way to a stone overlook. The wall overlooked the cliffs below. Far beneath, waves crashed against black rocks. Beyond stretched Blackwater Bay, glittering beneath the afternoon sun. Ships dotted the horizon with various colored sails.

The sea breeze tugged gently at your hair.

“It feels…” you searched for the words. “Peaceful here.”

“It is.” He agreed.

You rested your hands upon the weathered stone. “I think this may be my favorite place in King’s Landing.”

“It is mine as well when I can get the chance to see it.”

You looked up to him. “Do you come here often then?”

“Not usually. Being commander, I do have more time to patrol all over King’s Landing. So, whenever I get a chance to come see the gardens I try to. Just for a few moments of quiet. King’s Landing truly never sleeps.”

For several moments you simply watched the sea together. Then, quietly you gave yourself enough courage to finally admit your thoughts.

“There is something I’ve wished to tell you, Ser Luthor.”

He turned towards you. His brown eyes are fixated on you now. “What would that be?”

You swallowed. “I fear it may sound terribly foolish, but I believe I must get this off my chest.”

“I do not think it would be possible for you to sound foolish.”

You laughed nervously while wringing your hands together. “I’ve scarcely stopped thinking about you.” You blurted out.

There was a long stretch of silence between you two.

Gods. Perhaps you should not have said it, but you only continued. “I know we have met only briefly.”

Your words tumbled over one another again. “And perhaps it is terribly improper and perhaps I ought not say such things. But after you found me and after dinner and now seeing you again…”

You looked down at your hands. “I simply wished you to know how grateful I am.”

Before you could continue, he broke the silence. “You’ve been thinking of me?”

You nodded once right away. “I have.”

A long silence followed this time. It wasn’t awkward or uncertain. Only thoughtful.

When he finally spoke, “I had hoped I was not alone in my feelings.”

You looked up quickly. Almost shocked that he said that. “What?”

“I’ve though of little else these past four days.” He admitted.

Your breath caught. “You have?” you asked taken aback.

“I have found myself wondering whether you had returned back to your home.” He smiled faintly. “And whether you’d become lost again.”

You laughed through your surprised “I have not thankfully.”

“I wondered whether I’d imagine how easily conversation came between us and I wondered whether inviting you to see the gardens today was inappropriate.”

“I am glad you invited me.” You said with a smile on your face.

“So am I.”

The breeze stirred between you. He took one step closer as if the breeze was pushing him towards you. It was close enough that you could see the flecks of gold hidden in his brown eyes.

“I am no prince,” he said quietly to you.

“I know.”

“Nor am I some great lord and my life belongs largely to this city.” He added.

“I know it is.” You said reassuringly.

“And still…” his gazed searched yours hoping it would reveal what he was looking for. “You’ve occupied my thoughts from the moment we parted.”

Your heart felt impossibly light now.

“So we have both been equally distracted.” You quipped.

“It would seem so.” He agreed.

For a moment neither of you moved and then very gently he lifted one hand. Not to seize yours, but only to brush a loose strand of hair back behind your ear that the wind took. His fingers barely grazed your skin.

“If this is unwelcome, my lady you must only say.” He said comfortingly.

“It isn’t.”

His eyes searched yours one last time. Giving you every opportunity to step away.

You didn’t. Instead, you closed the small distance left between you. You stood on your tiptoes to reach up to his face and as he leaned down, he kissed you and it had been impossibly soft. Barely more than a brush of his lips against yours.

When he drew back, you found yourself smiling before you even realized it.

“So…” you whispered.

“So.”

“I believe,” your smile widened. ‘I shall be thinking of you even more now Ser Luthor.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. “I am afraid the feeling is mutual my lady.”

Behind you, the sea continued its endless song against the cliffs, and for the first time since arriving in King’s Landing, the great city no longer felt quite so overwhelming.

“Are you mad?” His jaw clicked when he tenses the joint.

“Are you?” Your brow raised and you positioned yourself to face his side of the bed where the matters dips “Is it not normal for a child to meet their grandsire and grandmother?” You challenge.

“You won’t go.” He settled, “I’ll not risk you.”

“Risk?! I want a real reason.” Your arms cross over your chest. “A good one as well.” You mutter with a dramatic exhale through your nose.

Maekar, who had worked hard to let you adjust to your new reality without sight, was struggling with the idea of you outside of Summerhall navigating these challenges was hard enough here, where he felt you were safe, where he trusted people to assist when needed and then there was the other concern, the one that ate had him more than you taking a turn incorrectly. “There will be many lords there…”

Your brow raised “yes and what would be the problem with that-“

“They will look upon you!” That sounded honest, it sounded like his throat had struggled to let the truth out. “Other lords. They will look upon you and if they hold desire for you in their eyes you shall not know!”

That was far too flattering. “Any lord will surly know I’m a taken lady…the child holding to my skirts may tip them off husband.”

“no…i cannot go and therefore you will not either. I must be there with you for these things now Wife, I trust not in the men of this realm. They’ll see you, recognize that you cannot view their intentions and-“ his voice cut out. It came back deeper when he cleared it. “ if I am not there they will think you easy to harm, they will think my wife is theirs to peer at”

Maekar rarely gave you that much insight.

You were still frustrated, but at least now you knew why this ate at him. “I won’t go, this time” You relent shifting onto your knees and crawling over the bed until you hit his legs and move to straddle him. Your hands rubbing up and down his chest. Bare. Just as you preferred. “But you will one day need to let me beyond this hall. Into a world where there are other men.” The entire time you’re telling him this you also are leaning forward to kiss at his neck.

“You are mine.”

“I am aware.” He could hear the smile on your lips as you kissed below his beard. This was no chuckling matter to him.

“who,” his hand grabed some hair at the spot behind your ear and pulled you from his neck brining your face up to his. “Who is your husband?”

Your smile faded as his grip trembled.

“you.” You exhaled, hand rubbing his wrist and down his arm until your reached his head and your fingers gently ran through his beard. “I’m yours Maekar.” You swore to him as he leaned to you to kissed roughly at your jaw.

“Aye, you are mine.” He kisser your lips finally and you melted into his chest, his hand not releasing his hold on your hair but is other did grab at your night dress and gathered it up, tucking it up between both of you and your hand reached down to his lap. He was quite hard, and also sticky against your fingertips. His breeches already opened. Perhaps he was right? There were still things happening around you, in the same bed as you that you had no idea was happening.

“Come here, up.” He grunts, hand giving your bottom a mild swat so you’d rise up on your knees, giving his cock just enough room to be able to hook against your wet slit. His possessive tone always made you embrassingly aroused.

“I cannot suffer you being away from me so long. From our home- our life.” He glides his tip against your clit. “I wager neither can you? Hm my wife? Can your cunt go without me?” He taunts and you shake your head no. Eyes squeezed shut and nose wrinkled while your stomach knotted.

“n-no!” You got out, having to put more force behind your words when they started to come out in a wavering tone. The loudness of your assurance earned a light chuckle of amusement from your husband as he directed his cock to your dripping core. You were more than prepared for him already.

The desire that was constantly strung between you both was so intense, so deep, it was wonder that either of you managed to get anybting done throughout the day.

“oh gods,” you exhale as he helps guide your hips down. You were no maiden, nor new to your husband’s manhood. He was large and the fit was snug but you took all of him, that was how you both enjoyed it. His tip barreling against your sore cervix and his stones half smushed against your bum. “F-fuck!” You only swore in the privacy of your chambers, it was a habit you got from him, the fowl language. You just did not know any other words that indicate what you were feeling in these moments better than that sort of language.

Your head leaned back when you felt the neat blunt bottom edge of Maekar’s beard nestled against your neck, one of his strong hands curled around your hip and his other braced your weight at your arse to help with the riding motion. It was more of a frantic humping in truth because both of you kept to tight it a grip for you to really move that far up and down his veiny length.

“gods woman-“ he bit at your collar some, his grip getting tighter and you groaned feeling how he twitched within you. “You’re so good for me, feel so good for me.” He slured out quite a few more vulgarities, and his words got more possessive the closer his release got. “You belong here, around me. In my bed.” He grunts ramming his hip up against your thighs now. You were half limp fighting to be able to keep a grip on his shoulders because you always got soft and weak as a climax tore through you.

“filled with my babes,” he kissed the side of your mouth and you let out a long low moan of agreement. “My wife, mine…m-my woman.” You cried out when he finally filled you, his seed plugged within you as you clenched around him and shook in his lap as your peak was rode out as well.

You remained in his lap. Breathless and sweaty and when he eventually kissed the top of your cheek and started to do the normal, In his head, discreet checks to ensure you were alright you trailed kisses over his shoulder.

“When this next babe is born,” you smiled. “You’ll take me to my family’s seat and let them meet their new grandchildren.”

Maekar smiled and his hand ghosted against your stomach. “The next babe?” You could hear the pride in his tone.

“aye, husband.” You giggled fingers moving to feel his lips, confirming he did currently wear a proud little grin.

Maekar Masterlist, Prompt Masterlist

He turns, sharp and pointed, like a blade sticking at war table and his eyes the piercing point that shoves into your heart. It makes you freeze.

You’re standing at only three paces behind him. Your cheeks burn, violets reaching you through the dimly lit hall, sconces flickering onto your faces.

Neither of you says a word, but you feel the weight of it. The way he’s staring at you, waiting.

“…Forgive me, my prince.”

You step back on instinct, bowing your head the way you have been taught to, the way you ought to the second he turned the corridor and you should have gone the other way. Ought to.

He waits still, never once removing his gaze, only clasping his hands at his front, the cloak of his doublet draping from his back. Somehow it makes him look greater, intimidating in a way you hadn’t bothered to notice before. Until now.

“I thought…”

You stop yourself. You don’t know what you thought, not truthfully. It just seemed to happen. All of the corridors intertwine with one another, it was simply a matter of coincidence. Even though you needn’t be out at this hour, nor tracing every pattern do his footstep to stay closely behind—

Aerion studies you for a long moment, taking you in as you rock on your heel, the cloak hanging around your nightdress pulled on so impulsively. There’s satisfaction on his face from that, a distant smirk that doesn’t meet his eyes, some sort of piece puzzling together.

One that you don’t understand.

“…Are you quite well?”

All he asks. Not without caution, but not quite with effort either. It’s calculating, reserving every emotion that crosses your face with consideration. His head tilts as he does it, urging you on, encouraging, testing.

But the words don’t come. For a moment it seems you’ve even forgotten where you are.

And the question comes again with a, “Are you or not?” Harder this time, quicker on his tongue.

But you can’t answer, because aren’t even sure about that. Only the faint buzzing in your fingertips and heart quickening inside of your chest, and the thing you do know, by some tell.

“The prince Baelor.” A guard announced to one of your ladies at the door and the room was cleared quickly moments after he entered and you remained stood there before the looking glass.

“the color suits you,” he smiled approaching and your grimaced as you saw his hand reach out to touch your side.

“it look as though im playing dress up.”

He chuckled and kissed the tension in your jaw. “I suppose you are, we all are really for these sorts of things.” He kissed again, this time at your slightly exposed shoulder. “You look lovely regardless. I’m glad for this feats if only you get to see you like this.” He admitted. He did not see anything amiss with your appearance.

“I do not feel well.” You huffed and suddenly pulled your shoulder away from his lips. “I think it best that I do not attend.”

Baelor frowns and the back of his palm presses to your forhead. “You do not appear unwell?” His eyes search you for some reasoning for your discomfort.

“I do not wish to go.” You double down shoulders raising as your tension grew.

“My wife should be there with me, the woman who will help guide my hand as a rule this realm one day needs to be stood beside me.” The words were flattering, he wanted you to be known and respected, but the idea of being presented, especially when people were used to seeing Lady Jena, beautiful, kind, womanly Jena at his side. It made your stomach turn!

“they’ll think me a joke.” You muttered. That had baelor’s light lopsided smile falling. This was more than not wishing to attend a tiresome event.

“you will be queen.” He offered, “a fool would think you a joke.” He grabed your cheek making you look at him. “Tell me now, what plagues you?” His voice gave you no option other than honesty.

“I look childish.” You whispered, eyes hung down even though he kept your head up. “I-I cannot even fill out my own bodices, ones they’ve fit me for over and over again. You will present me and people will wonder where the woman you speak of is!”

Baelors eyes dropped to your chest. He thought you filled the fabric out well, you had teets, they were just…small. But he saw no issue with that.

“your breasts are not of the realms concern.” He said seriously, thumb stroking your cheek he leaned down some to kiss your head. “If this was not a style you were comfortable in I wish you would have told me.” He had suggested the styling, he had selfishly wanted to see her in it. But he knew how to bottle his own desires up, and he gladly would of done that had he known the distress this gown was causing you.

“Jena had large tits.” You sniffled. It sounded so silly being said outloud but part of you wanted him to know that you were struggling with not measuring yourself against his deceased wife. It was not simply her shape either, it was everything.

“Aye, she did.” He sighed coming behind you and putting you back infront to the looking glass. “But that is not why I cared for her.” He pointed out. Fingers pulling at the knots of your corset to loosen in. You would wear something that caused you less stress.

“but you enjoyed them?” You grumbled.

Baelor lowered his forehead to your shoulders. “I enjoy a woman’s body….yhe warmth, the smooth skin, the way a cunt flutters before reaching climax.” He kissed your neck. “I love how a woman’s breasts feel in my hands, how a nipple reacts to being licked.”

You were flushing deeply, especially as he worked your gown down to your feet and began to pull your chemise off. He did not comment on the bits of fabric you’d shiver under your small breasts to lift them more. His hands simply cupped at you. Both palms flat to your chest, fingers caging in the warm soft meat there and he left a mark on your shoulder.

“I’ve failed as a husband if you think I do not love this part of you.” He admitted. Thumb grazing over the buds and you leaned back against his stable chest just a bit. Eyes fluttering at the feeling.

“I love how sensitive they are.” He breathed feeling how your nipples got hard and poked up at his fingers. He adored how they got big and thick, he thought you knew how much he enjoyed them because half the time when you two laid together they were sucked into his mouth.

“y-you do?” Your voice trembled some and you melted against him, letting his body support yours as your head laid back against his shoulder eyes drifting up to his face as his stayed locked towards the mirror so he could see all of you.

“Seven save me,” he breathed two fingers pulling on your right nipple. “Yes, gods yes I love you..,,love them.” He bent to the side some, your arm slinging over his shoulders and his beard tickled against your tit as his warm, and long tongue, dragged itself against the peaked flesh. Lips sealing for a few moments and his eyes closed savoring the feeling and taste.

“I will make my love for every inch of you very, very clear moving forward my love.” He told you as his head pulled away and he shifted to stand between you and the mirror. “We shall go do as we must, and then I’d enjoy you laid in our bed with nothing hiding your pretty chest from me for quite a few hours.”He explained hand stroking your cheek again before planting a delicate and assuring kiss on your lips.

Baelor Targaryen Masterlist, tags list: @zai-targaryen, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @mimisa2000, @mariaxxxxx, @ghostlybfgf, @faelinda, @clumsycopy, @arkadiaphilosopher