+ 21 Sideblog

Despite the success of that first encounter, circumstances prevented you and Aegon of meeting again. Specially with his rise to the throne, political uncertainties oppose him and his half-sister Rhaenyra.

You are still struggling to find your spot especially with recent scandals at court. Princess Helaena and Prince Aemond eloped and rumours had it at Aegon’s support at it, much to the queen’s dismay.

You care not for politics. You are too lonely, left on your devices for that. Resisting the urge to go after him, specially aware of his scars, you believe to be prudent to be kept away.

But little do you know that you have been at his thoughts. That you’ve been the object of his misery. Yet there’s only so much a man can take to be apart of the one his heart genuinely wants.

It is twilight. In order to avoid the embarrassment he’s been put through with the recent scandal he helped concretize, he wants you. Aegon has been watching you, reading the mix of sentiments that’s been arising in your unreadable composed face.

But you don’t fool me, Y/N.

You are watching the rain pour from the empty corridor, melancholy taking the reins of the situation. But even marked by sadness you are alluring. Dressed in the dark shades of green, your breasts are almost falling out of your tight gown and this view could just awake his poorly concealed lust.

My lady is in need.

Like a knight prompted to save his damsel, he moves silently to stay behind you. You shiver when feeling the firmness of a stronger body so close to yours. You do not freak out though because you know it’s him.

“Your scent gave you away”, you smile, eyes closing when feeling his arms wrapping around your waist.

Burying his face to your neck and pressing further his rigid pants against your bum, Aegon groans in your ear.

“You know me so well, don’t you?”

You shiver, specially when his eager fingers run to cup your breasts, impatiently rounding your nipples over the gown.

“I’ve longed for my lover even if royal as he is now, I feel so unworthy of him”, you speak in between heavy breathing when he carefully lifts the skirts of your gown and you feel his throbbing manhood against your skin. You rub your ass against him, and Aegon moans softly.

“These are words of your mind, not of your heart”, and as his lips kiss your neck, biting it gently, he gently bends you over. “Mine lass.”

“Your wench”, you speak amused, trying not to sound too eager in being corrupted by him. He nuzzles against your neck and steals you a kiss before unlacing your gown and so satisfyingly cup your loose breasts at last.

You whimper when his callous hands play with your nipples, defeating your moral resistance—if yet you have any. You are bending to be fucked in public and what do you care?

“No. More than that”, he groans when kissing you hungrily.

You’d gladly turn, but Aegon is so domineering. Next thing you know he gently, very gently indeed, begins to thrust from behind all the whilst resting a hand in your womanhood only to finger you. And here you desperately drip wet.

“I want you”, Aegon moans in your ear, pleased to be the cause of your shivers and sounds that he hopes to make louder. “Be mine.”

“I am hopelessly yours, Aegon.” You throw your head back and before you know, you indecently give it to him. “Take me.”

“May I?”, he whispers, unbearably aroused as you soak his fingers.

“Fuck me”, you order him.

He chuckles before gently sliding inside you. You bend over again, feeling nasty and dirty. But you like it. You and him are the same. And he possesses you, finally making you his.

So every tension dies as each knows the other carnally. Though painful may it be at first, you like it. And you let him have his way to you.

But before that you are turned abruptly and pressed against the wall, your lips clash and a mess is made.

And it’s when you don’t mind sliding to your knees. One long exchange of glances occurs before you swallow all that he can give you.

***

Next time you know he comes to visit you at night . It is rather an unexpected one even though he’s been making sure to visit you day after day— it is not only to copulate since the feelings one have for the other are growing strong daily.

Yet here he is. And here you are, dressed in a line nightgown.

“Aegon”, you gasp out of surprise when he opens the door and by the same manner he locks it behind him. “Are you well?”

“I missed you”, he runs to you and gladly holds you close.

You sigh in content, smiling as he buries his fingers in your back, embracing your frame as he smells your scent of roses.

“I missed you too”, you play with his curls, already feeling warm as he lies his head in between your breasts. “Has anything happened?”

It usually starts with confessions, but today Aegon isn’t much talkative. He wants you and by the way he leads you to bed, you make no complaints.

“I want you, lady Y/N. I want you so bad”, he says in his husky voice.

There’s something about seductive in his voice, his manners, his vulnerability in coming to you. But it’s all about you tonight, which shows your vulnerability in turn.

Aegon lifts your nightgown and thus spreads your legs. You are burning for him, he can tell. His eyes spark with lust when looking at your hardened nipples and then going to your belly and your pubic hair.

“Fuck. You look so gorgeous, Y/Nickname”, he leans forward and rubs the tip of his manhood into your entrance, and this bit makes him feel your dripping juice. “Hmmm, so wet for me. Gods know we’ve been holding back for so long.”

“Aegon”, you moan, pleading like the needy wench that you are. “Please.”

He kisses your cheek, rubbing his nose against it before pursuing your lips. The king likes to take his time, so the kiss is slow, achingly slow. As you taste his tongue, you feel a hand release your wrist to slide to your hair, your face, neck…. Until so softly, painfully softly, he grabs your right boob and there it stays.

“Aegon”, the despair in your voice makes him grin as you two share a kiss.

“Your needs are mine”, he bites down your lip, passing his tongue over yours before sliding to your neck. “And I shall tend them.”

You have your hands released as Aegon starts to go down below your breasts, caressing your skin all the whilst gently lifting your leg, until his eager fingertips find way to your core. They slip through your entrance and…

“Oh sopping you are, my lady”, his head is buried in your neck then going to your chest. His eyes are mesmerized by your nipples, so hard and sensitive at the soft lick he gives each.

You moan sensually, so wet, so warm inside.

“Aegon….”

“Are you mine?”, here his possessive tone makes you look at him and here your eyes meet in a longing gaze, where souls are exposed by lust and something far-fetched.

And he doesn’t tire in getting his fingers wet, soaked as juices begin to drip to his skin, sensing your body tremble, starting to shake as you moan as a result.

“Yours, yes! Oh Aegon!”, you cry out, and this is the very moment Aegon looks to it.

Then famine as he is, his mouth finally cups a nipple, twirling his tongue and biting it gently until your cries get louder and… then…. You burst it out in his hand.

But the king doesn’t have enough with you. Aegon holds your hips and when you start to catch your breath, the man begins to go down further below.

He spreads your legs and there you find indecency looking at you.

“I will make you my queen.”

“Don’t make promises you cannot keep”, you tell him all the whilst lifting your legs and almost pushing him down to your womanhood.

Both of you chuckle. He knows you need him. You know he has you.

Oh fuck.

And then you arch your back because his tongue slides inside you, claiming your clit with such thirst, inconceivable to know this pleasure before. Aegon knows he’s your first—and only one, for he is not a man to share.

The deeper he gets, the louder you are. And so it goes, until you….

“Fuck me! Oh Aegon, I beg you!”

This is not time to think. Just as you collapsed, Aegon is risen above. One exchange of glances is enough… until, that is… the door is knocked.

You and Aemond are friends for a very long time. In fact, you know him since the day you were admitted to Princess Helaena’s retinue. At first you and him didn’t see eye to eye—both of you were shy and silly, as most toddlers are. Then something started to change… whatever that was neither of you can tell even to this day, but it is probably that books have something to do with it. After all, both of you always liked to read.

As years begin to pass and you and him start to grow, affinities flow and now here you are. You’ve become his trusted friend, probably the only one worthy of such a privilege. Specially because you tended him when he needed the most—that day where he lost an eye certainly played its part.

But now… as your curves become more visible and reinforced by the gowns you wear, as you gladly share dances with Princess Helaena, Aemond has come to realize that he doesn’t like when you are the center of others attention.

Oh no. He wants to keep you to himself.

Possessive by nature, he cannot conceive losing the only one he trusts to a stranger—that he’s heard his mother already planning to marry you off has annoyed him and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

Then… then maybe an idea, a selfish idea comes to his mind. If he ruins you, then no one else will want you… thus you’ll be his to keep. What he doesn’t know is that this game may be deadlier than he knows.

For you too have been noticing what a handsome prince he’s become, how strong he is, every inch a desirable match. But due to your position, regardless of the nobility running in your veins, are you a proper match for a royal liege? To shut these unwelcoming thoughts, you opt to live far from this reality. So you flee to your books.

*

It is in the gardens that he finds you. Reading in that secretive spot that only he knows, little surprises him that you are there. Aemond stops for a moment to admire your heart shaped face, with so angelical and delicate features that earns the epithet of innocent.

The mere idea of corrupting you, kissing your red-ish lips and running his hands over your breasts and your womanhood already make him feel warm inside. He’s always wondered what’s like to have you crying out his name… and to think he fucked a whore the other day thinking of you is almost blasphemy.

You are lying down in the grass, believing to be unseen. Today you’ve picked a book that rather writes in improper details the ways a knight treats his damsel.

And then his hand runs over her waist, fingertips grabbing every piece of skin, moving to cup those firm, loose, round breasts that…

“What are you reading there?”, Aemond’s voice comes out as a whisper, and he’s very amused by how startled you are.

“N-Nothing”, you are quickly to sit and hide the book.

Aemond is now sitting at your side and you’ve noticed suddenly that his shirt is partly open. You blush before looking away. He’s so close to you now that you can smell his scent and something about this proximity makes you wet.

And yet you are forced to repress your desires. Again.

“Aemond, don’t”, you snap at him for trying to get your book.

“Come now, you have nothing to hide from me”, and here he flashes you a seductively smirk when holding your gaze. “We have no secrets, do we?”

Seeing how crimson your face is, Aemond is now assured of his influence over you. In a moment of weakness he thus grabs the book and when opening the page you’ve been reading, he quickly raises his eyebrows.

“My Gods, Y/Nickname. And here I thought you were such a holy creature”, now he’s sitting closer to you like a snake surrounding its prey. “What has come to awaken you such sinful thoughts?”

“You cannot accuse me of it when you have been fucking whores, Aemond”, you know you cannot hold your tongue longer and the unexpected sincerity makes the prince smile genuinely at you.

“Y/N….”, and gently he makes you look at him, his longer fingers holding your chin as he gazes very indecently at you. “I fuck them thinking of you. For I could not conceive the mere idea of being worthy to your affections.”

You freeze before the confession and whilst you are chewing its meaning, Aemond starts to kiss your neck slowly and softly all the whilst his hand slips to your waist.

You shiver, unsure what to do. You tilt your head to the right unconsciously, then when looking for his eyes, you say:

“I am unworthy of you, my prince. But you know I’ve always been attached to you. Such attachment has grown to…”

You leave a moan out of your lips when he bites your neck gently, and you find yourself in the very happy spot of the protagonist of the book you’ve been reading.

“I am ruining you”, he warns you in his husky voice, as his right hand begins to pass over your breast and then quickly going to the skirts of your gown,lifting it so he caresses it over your thighs. “Do you understand me? You will be…”

And his voice is cut by the moment you turn your head and kiss his lips. The clash of it dissolves every tension at last and makes his domineering presence almost irrelevant by yours when you took the courage to pursuit his lips.

Tongues now mix together, pairing perfectly and intently, until that is his finger finds way to your core.

“Aemond”, you moan out his name the way he wants you to.

“Sopping aren’t you?” He hisses at your ear, making you aroused as he pumps his finger inside of you. “Dripping wet. Scandalously horny for me.”

When were limits crossed? When innocence was so swiftly corrupted? You have no answer for this question and you find no resistance to be pulled from his embrace.

Yet it is so tender to experience his touch, to be under his skillful fingers.

“My little wench”, he groans against your ear, biting your earlobe, pleased to detect in you the exact reaction he’s been dreaming. “Mine and mine alone.”

You throw your neck back against his shoulder, digging your fingers to his thighs as you spread your legs further.

“Oh Gods! Aemond!”, you cry out loud, wishing he could just take you there.

And he sees in you, the moment your eyes meet and your gazes lock, how reciprocal is this lust, this desire, fueled by something deeper. Aemond wraps his free hand around your neck, going faster in his pull-in-and-out finger, twirling it around your clitoris and before you know when you’re about to scream, levitating your heavy legs, he kisses you passionately.

Though he burns with you, his manhood dripping wet in his pants; though he moans with you, feeling your juices, Aemond is patient.

“Trapped you are in my nest, princess”, says he, so seductively that you pout.

Aemond smiles and when the heat cools down, you dare to break any barrier… You kiss him slowly and he is surprised to read in it the deepest longing of his heart which is to love you the way a wife deserves to be loved by her husband.

However, the wayward prince is not ready yet to profess his feelings.

*

You try to act in a nonchalant manner when, days after he fingered you just as he explored your naughty sentiments towards him, you don’t spot him at the court anymore.

You dance and smile because it is best to play the rules of court than being so open about it, as you’ve been instructed by dear Helaena. But it is so difficult.

So damn difficult.

Tonight you are in your private chambers, which are sided with Princess Helaena’s. You are wearing only a line nightgown and you are warm, too warm in fact.

Just as you toss away the blankets and begin to stroke yourself, your nipples unbearably hard at the thought of your mischievous prince, a knock on the door scares you out.

Blushing, you are about to leave your bed when y the door opens. You fear for yourself but the candle lights the unexpected visitor. It’s Aemond.

“For the love of Gods! Why coming out in this wolf hour, Aemond?”

“I see you are angry at me for disappearing”, he muses it rather amused, much to your consternation.

Aemond steps forward and what he sees making him ache for you. He spots these full large breasts underneath the line nightgown and how it shows your well shaped legs.

Fuck.

But he keeps composed.

“Apologies, dove. I’ve been busy.”

You fold your arms, not minding how a breast slipped out of your lose nightgown as you do so.

“Busy? Busy doing what? Chasing after your whore?”, and suddenly you are angry and far from sleepy.

“I quit with it”, he whispers under his breath, gently leaning his body over yours, his slender fingers running over your thighs.

“Please”, you try to flee out of his touch, but his firm grip prevents you to. “Aemond…”

“My sweet Y/Nickname…”, he whimpers so sensually that you find yourself aroused. “Come here. Don’t play coy with me.”

“I don’t play… coy with you…”, you speak in short breath as he starts to remove your nightgown and knocking your pride so easily. “Aemond!”

“Yes?”, the prince bites down your lip, eyes locked still as he places his hands over your shoulders, going down to your breasts. “So good to me. My lady.”

You moan so hotly that Aemond struggles to keep himself under control. Eyeing you like a hunter about to capture his prey, his slender fingers take time in cupping each breast, caressing it slowly, playing with your nipples until they harden under his touch.

You throw your head back, spreading your legs almost unconsciously as you are invaded by a lascivious sentiment too strong to be repulsed. Aemond side smirks as you subdue to him easily, the way he’s always wanted.

“Aemond”, you moan his name out like the devoted mistress you are, eyeing now at him with utmost desire. “Aemond…”

You’d gladly explore his body had you known how, so almost moved by instinct your hands go to his chest and slowly go down his belly and…

“No. Not now”, he whispers, stopping you right there even if he has an erection. “Wait.”

And then he lies you down, moving his body to match with yours. He lifts his nightgown and you feel the tip of his erection so close to your entrance. Aemond smirks as you rub your womanhood against his, desperately needing him, forgetting every moral as he overpowers you.

“My lady is in need, uh?”, the prince bites down your bottom lip before kissing your jawline and going to neck. As he leaves traces of kisses in your skin, he begins to mumble very dirty words that make you shiver.

When his tongue finally gets to the tip of your nipple, you moan loud in desperation.

“Aemond, this is torture!”

“Torture is, my dear, to be daily tempted by your presence and never be able to fully enjoy you”, then he turns his head only to capture your gaze. “I fucked a whore because I wasn’t certain of how you felt for me.”

As a response, you grind against him. Aemond smirks.

“Possessive now are we?”

“Aemond Targaryen, don’t you dare.”

“I have not finished with you yet”, and here he slides a hand to your core, groaning as he feels your inner walls so soaked. “No other woman possesses your virtues nor shares your vices. No body is a temple like yours is, and fuck… I want to fuck you so good. I shall never let any other man to owe you.”

And as you roll your eyes, he finally does what he’s dreamed of doing: sucking your nipples. It is when desperation has turned this private room dangerously loud.

How can it be when his tongue so eagerly pursuits each hard nipple, biting it gently all the whilst his fingers fuck you nice and… fast? Aemond smiles as you enjoy this sinful pleasure, and though he wants to make you as naughty as he is, he needs still to do something first.

His lips move now to your belly and, still not letting go of his fingers inside of you, his eyes are now looking for yours. The transformation is almost complete. And you know you are ruined.

But it doesn’t feel any wrong. On the contrary, you realize this is better than your wildest dreams.

One sweet smirk of his is enough. Aemond has you. Aemond possesses you.

And when his tongue runs to your clit… you are damned. He buries his mouth to your womanhood, eating you out like no other—if yet you’d dare to draw any comparison. No other man has been the center of your desires and lusts. No one but him.

His thirsty mouth drinks your juices as his hands slap your bum and dig their fingers right to your skin. And you ride his face, wet and horny, belly completely out in the air if yet it is possible to say so.

You bury your nails in the sheets, legs beginning to levitate. You burn, your chest is heavy, your belly is with butterflies. You try to shut your moans, but something inside you wills to break free, wills to be let go.

And so suddenly you arch your back and you pull a pillow to cover your face all the whilst Aemond holds your legs and drinks a river pouring to his mouth as you shake not once, but possibly thrice.

Only then he lifts and removes the pillow out of your head.

“Aemond…”, you don’t mind rules, you want him, you pull him for a kiss, tasting yourself in the process.

“Fuck”, he groans.

The kiss is slow and with different tons that Aemond knows he should part. Reluctantly as it may. But when he does so, when darkness embraces the emptiness provoked by a sudden separation, he knows not that you are planning to get in his trap.

***

It is afternoon and the castle is empty. At least only partly since the prince has been tasked in guarding it on behalf of the king. These are trying times and tensions are managing to keep Aemond separated of you. But this is the opportunity for you to ascend once for all and reclaim him for you.

Dressed in a very tight and sensuous green gown, your hair is let loose in two separated braids. Aemond has noticed how you’ve been turning many men’s heads which only fuels his jealousy. So he retires earlier to the office, where he can discount his frustration at work.

But what is he surprised when seeing you are already there? And dressed in such a way that he’s automatically aroused.

“Y/N.” His voice comes out colder than intended.

“Aemond”, you walk to his direction. “You fucked me in many ways and now am I nothing but a dust memory? Do you think I am Alys Rivers?”

He at least has the decency to blush. Leaning against the table he cannot look at you for a moment.

“So you’ve heard.”

“Indeed”, and you stop right in front of him. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Y/Nickname…”, he sighs, when looking at you, seeing a little too late where this is going. “I could never play with you.”

“I am too proud to be messed with. So…”, and here you start to touch him. Aemond is surprised, gasping as you unlace his pants and pull out his hardened manhood, feigning a confidence that he knows you lack. “What is going to be?”

Aemond is also aware that you are his weakness. He cannot look away of your breasts and not remember the night he suck each nipple and the sounds you made. He cannot forget the taste of your pussy. And he cannot fight the urge of being pleasured by you.

As you stroke his cock up and down, Aemond realizes he’s been trapped.

“Y/N…”, he moans.

To his frustration, you stop.

“What?”

“It’s me or her.”

Aemond blushes again. He didn’t count on your bluntness. But he doesn’t need to think too much either.

“You. My little wench.”

It’s when he’s surprised again by you. He didn’t count on how naughty you’ve been this entire time. He corrupted you, and the thought in fact pleases him.

So you stroke him good before sliding to your knees.

“Fuck me”, you smirk at him. “I know you want this.”

“So good to me…”

And dominant as he is, Aemond now regains the room. He lets his pants being completely pulled out before sliding his cock right to your mouth. And the sensation is so good. He holds your hair and caresses your face as you engulf his large length. Aemond guides you, but you are so naturally good that he sometimes forgets himself.

“My Lords”, he groans. “Fuck! Ah! Fuck me, Y/N! Yes, my lady! So good to me! So naughty, my little whore!”

All these dirty names make you wet and when your eyes meet, when he pulls your hair firmly , when his length reaches your throat and defies your self control, both of you know nothing ever will be the same.

It’s so good to feel his power, you want to be fucked, you want to be ruined, but so far… all you have is… his seed.

And thankfully it is well spent for a few minutes later, you two are almost caught by a very distressed Queen Alicent.

*

Aemond marries you following the old rites of Ancient Valyria. It is only then you are finally deflowered.

To feel his cock straightening inside you before pumping almost to your uterus is too good to be true.

“My beautiful wife”, he whispers in your ear, holding you near as he fucks you nice and slow. “Finally mine to claim.”

“Finally yours to belong.”

With legs now wrapped around his waist, you instigate him to go further. Now holding his face whilst two bodies tangle as one, you know this couldn’t be different.

As each smiles, a soul recognizes the other.

“My very half”, you whisper in between moans as you kiss. “I love you.”

You and him have been once rivals, friends and further to it, you share blood. After all, he’s your cousin via his mother and since cradle you’ve been raised together.

Aegon knows you well. And too well in fact. He’s been keeping an eye on you since you’ve flourished to a woman few could be compared to. And that you have noticed that he’s been lingering in his gaze towards you only makes you dress tighter gowns to reinforce your curves.

One of these days, he comes after you. You are reading in the library in that typical secretive spot where no one knows you like to spend your leisure times, but him.

He watches you from afar. Your auburn locks are falling loose and your heart shaped face looks stern. Your eyes are focused in the lines that have your full attention.

“So beautiful”, he whispers to himself, remembering the night before when he touched himself thinking of you.

When looking at the swell of your breasts, his wanting for you only pains his manhood. He still recollects your teasings too. The day he saw you bathing in the lake… Oh please, the smirk you gave him when he saw you. And yet you played coy, didn’t you?

Aegon wants more than this constant sexual play: that’s been happening with the two of you. So here he is, to get your full attention he steals your book away of your hands.

“Aegon!”, you protest, blushing at his intrusive.

“Come on, let me see what you’ve been reading…”

You panic, because what you read is…

“Oh!”, Aegon raises his eyebrows, eyes glinting with mischief. “Looks like someone here is reading a forbidden nov about two lovers doing… unholy things.”

Indeed his eyes capture the description of the act. How the knight makes sure to ease the lady’s needs. As he reads it, Aegon not only goes red, but he’s also painfully more aroused than before.

You read his expressions and you share his sentiments. You come to realize that there’s no more time to play this game. And yet… what do you know about it?

“Well…”, He puts the book on the table before going towards you, pressing you against the wall. As he touches your face, he sees how tense your body is now. “If this is what you wanted me to do, you should have asked me…”

“Aegon, a lady does not request.”

“Nay”, he agrees mischievously, smiling at you in a way that every pride you have left is knocked down. “She commands.”

And so he kisses you at long last. His lips press against yours in a fervent kiss, despaired after long years repressed under false rivalries. It burns and it aches, but thankfully here his experience is an advantage for you.

As he lips go to your neck, you permit his hands to slide from your neck to your breasts before lifting your skirts.

“Please, Aegon”, you beg him, even though you know you shouldn’t. Your conscience admonishes against the sin of whoring, but when his tongue does wonderfulness to your neck and chest, where has it gone?

“To my lady, fuck. I shall be the most devoted master.”

Finally his fingers find way to your womanhood. And when feeling the warmth in it, Aegon groans so low that you feel so more aroused. You burn and you shake as he moves with his two fingers, deep and slow, soaked as a result.

“Oh Gods be good! I’m damned.” You moan, pulling him hair and making him look at you.

Eyes locked for one moment and Aegon cannot look away of the sight of you, begging for him. No more the prideful and shrew lady. No. A very humbled damsel.

“No. I’ll take you to the paradise, my lady.”

Right as your legs shake and you are about to come undone, he goes to his knees. And before you know, his tongue replaces his skillful fingers and sucks every juice that comes to his mouth. His poor shaved beard tickles and you find yourself struggling to keep yourself composed.

Reason has little need to hold the reins of your rioting heart. Your hips move almost unconsciously against his face as he dives his tongue around your clit, swirling around it and sucking it, sucking it, over and over until…

“AEGON!”

You shouldn’t cry out like that, so unlady like, but your legs shake and you feel so good when feeling this very long tension being turned into butterflies in your low belly.

And devoted as he is, he takes every bit of your juice, stroking your legs kindly, and not quaking away of your sensual moves, for now you feel so confident about almost twerking into his mouth.

“Gods, I love the way you are right… right there”, you moan sensually, ignoring that all the whilst you do so, he’s pulled his length out of his pants and started stroking himself.

And it’s when somewhere you are coming again that your eyes meet. Now bonded by lust, you and him share a secretive smile.

“Rise, my love. Let me reward you.”

It is so unnatural flattering to be looked at the way you look at him. And here you lean and start stroking his manhood as you kiss him, ignoring every rule of decency.

It would all go to worst, indeed, had a noise not been heard.

So abruptly and mostly unfortunately, you and him are forced to part and quickly fix yourselves. But one last look leaves an unanswered question in the air:

Another night comes by and you are there, sitting by the fire. You hear the steps, familiar with their owner. What’s worst, though, is that you are uneasy by another sound that follows his.

He’s not alone.

Ignored like usual, you sit there, occupying your fingers nervously with the needle. It’s when the sounds suddenly die.

To your dismay, Aegon notices you. The daughter of his uncle, his charming cousin, rider of Silverwing. He stops whatever he’s doing to watch your heart shaped face, the red lips that form a pout as you furrow your eyebrows, frowning at the embroidery you are working with.

Aegon cannot help his gaze, noticing your heavy breathing. Your pink gown reinforces your curves and his hunger eyes are staring at the swell of your breasts. The sight of you makes him warm on the inside.

Feeling the weight of his gaze, you look up at him and both of you look startled by this unexpected meeting, where neither thought possible to happen.

Aegon knows your feelings for him, of what nature these are—but the silver haired king to be is hopeless about it. Flawed as he is, he feels unworthy of the purity of your affection for him.

“Princess Y/N”, and just like that he ignores his companion and dismisses her with a wave of his hand. “What are you doing up to this wolf hour?”

“Nothing”, you lie, perhaps more to yourself; you know his doings and yet somehow they draw you to him. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Aegon isn’t drunk enough to escape the lines of your features that indicate you are not speaking the truth. Deliberately taking a seat next to you, the prince takes away the embroidery work you e been working on and says:

“Lying is only amusing when it’s used to those who are unfamiliar with habits one might judge to be indolent.” He smiles that kind of smile you know so well. “It doesn’t work with me, Y/N. Quit trying.”

You detest how accurate is his reading of you. Aegon knows you well, just as well as you know him.

“You are drunk”, you use the obvious to conceal your lack of reasonable points.

He sees it. He laughs of it. And yet he is holding your hand, playing with your fingers.

“Aren’t I frequently in this state?”

“Why have you dismissed your whore?”

Aegon knees before you, a way he finds to protest against your sudden cold. A dragon like him needs another who understands him. You are the only one to fill such arduous task.

But what do you know?

“Y/N…”

“You should be with her.”

Ah, there it is. The jealousy that he’s been looking for. Aegon holds your thighs as if to prevent you to stomp off.

“No. I should be with you.” And sobriety comes out behind his usual carefree eyes. “I am not the most dutiful of men, I’m afraid.”

Fearful of losing control, you try to regain your composure, but it’s too late. Aegon has had the glimpse of the reflection of his own longing.

“Which is why you should stay away”, you say.

“Come here.”

He stands and pulls you against him. You’d refuse him, but he is taller and stronger than you.

“I failed you, didn’t I?” Aegon cups your heart-shaped face and you realize you are not as strong willed as you have judged. “How can I be redeemed of my wrongs?”

“Aegon, you are out of your senses”, you protest rather weakly. His breath is close enough to mix with yours, you fear that his tight grip around your face might be the end of you. Your body is already warm, your chest is full and your womanhood aches. “Preserve ourselves of this if you may.”

“I am nothing without you, Y/N.” He barely breathes out your name, and this is when he removes his shield. “I may be moved by wine, the sweet flavor does let go of protocols, but this is me trying to reach you.”

“I am not your whore, Aegon”, your voice betrays you. Aegon knows he’s won, but it doesn’t sound like victory.

He rests his forehead against yours.

“No. You are my wife.”

You sigh. But finally getting to your senses, you take his hands and lead the way. Aegon follows, unsure what to interpret of your comportment. He senses your distrust, though, which leaves his uncomfortable.

“You can stay… if you behave.”

You nod at the door of your chambers. Aegon smiles, but nothing on him punctuates other than innocence itself. He aims to be loved, and you are ready to love him.

*

These casual encounters start forbidden-like but they have nothing other than mutual comfort, friendly silences followed by the forge of a bond so deep that becomes sacred to you.

Eventually though, this doesn’t suffice to either of you. One of these nights Aegon comes at your bed, needy, but sober.

“Y/N”, his voice sounds even too eager for his ears, but it’s too late to step back. “Y/Nickname.”

You are barely sleep when his voice awakes you—and it’s not only that, but your line nightgown is suddenly a burden your body wishes to remove. Somehow under these poor candlelights Aegon spots, when you remove the heavy blankets out of your body, pink hardened nipples escaping your nightgown.

Indeed, an indecent view that makes him burning inside. Astonished by how innocence evokes the rather opposite in him, Aegon struggles to hold back the long termed desires he’s been nurturing, even though it’s nothing to be mistaken to his sincere affection he feels for you.

His eyes scan your messy curls, your red-ish lips, your sleepy face that makes him smile. And then moving down to your chest, your legs, he feels tempted again.

His evident desire does not go unnoticed by you. You should not surrender to it, but since the day he and you were betrothed, the struggle to remain cast and pure escalates to another difficulty you find impossible to bare.

Casting sinful thoughts aside, even though you do nothing to pull back your breasts back to the nightgown nor to conceal your shaped legs, you say:

“What is the reason you awake me this hour? My love, are you having nightmares again?”

Aegon is now back at that state which you can perceive his fragility, but it’s shielded with a pride that his mother has long planted on him. You soften and pull him against your chest, playing with his hair, intertwining his locks with your fingers.

“You know these are only bad dreams, nothing more.”

Aegon is quiet at first, but you are acutely aware of his discreet moves. His head is now on your right shoulder, which makes his breath too close to your neck—and that in turn makes you… uncomfortable somewhat.

To defy your reason, he wraps his arms around your waist, placing one of his hands close to your left breast.

And he knows it. He can tell your body is tensed, rigid, but warm. He takes his time, though.

“How can you be sure these horrid dreams are just that?”

When your eyes meet, you say:

“Because dreams did not make us kings. Dragons did.”

And suddenly it is as if the dragon blood boils. As a result his lips look for yours and to his delight, you welcome his mouth, perfectly moulded with yours.

You finally quit the fight against your long desires. You want more, you want all of him. Aegon too thinks the same. His tongue pairs in a very intense, warming rhythm, muffling the sounds coming out of your throat.

And if he parts the kiss, you find yourself groaning in protest. You hate not to know what comes next, but Aegon is more than willing to teach you.

“Oh my flower, do not look too eager to flourish”, he chuckles, leaning his lips against your neck, before getting his left hand to play with your left nipple.

It feels electrifying, it feels so close to be burnt by dragon fire. What words can do justice to the moment you discover the pleasure he gives you? You ache for more, and under your hardened nipple, Aegon knows how to get to you.

He’s already rigid in pants, but he takes his time. He wants to take a taste of you, he needs that. To get to his redemption, he must put some effort to achieve such ambitious goal.

And the sounds you make lead the divine path he’s taking.

“Mm”, Aegon sighs and takes a moment to contemplate the mess you are now. “How far we’ve gone, eh?”

You answer his rhetoric question with a kiss when you pull him against your lips not minding to surrender to his will at last, less so to be his whore , his only one.

Your morals die the moment you let him push your nightgown above your head and allow him to contemplate your nudity.

“We should wait for our first night”, you smirk at the lascivious look he gives you; you bite his earlobe and help him remove his own robes. “But I’m afraid I am not as righteous as I should be.”

“Fuck morality. You are my wife”, Aegon growls under his breath possessively.

Lips are clashed, tongues dance relentlessly before his hands begin to work out with your breasts. Aegon’s rigid manhood aches as a result. His touch, his grip, his softness in rubbing your nipples with his thumb all of which make you lay your head back at the pillow and experiment a new sensation. One of the kind you hope to linger…

“Aegon…”

You call out his name, begging for him to proceed with whatever he intends to do with you. The prince smirks victoriously before dropping his mouth on your breast.

And the moans echo throughout the chambers, much to his delight. When looking up at you, Aegon knows he cannot take longer—thus a hand slides automatically to his manhood, stroking it, releasing the pressure that has become unbearable.

“Gods!”

He bites and twirls his tongue around each nipple, sucking it like the famine boy he is. Now seeing what’s he’s doing, you are moved by a strange instinct in taking his manhood with your palm and replace his hand with yours.

“Y/N…”, he throws his back in bed. “You…should not…”

You feign confidence in what you are doing. In truth, there is something powerful in subduing him, in being the very reason why he’s groaning in pleasure.

“You do it so… well! How can it be…”, he gasps in small breaks. “Oh Lords! So good, so natural!”

You sit on your knees, aroused at the view of his well built muscles, some scars in his abs and his silver pubic hair. His pink-ish manhood throbbing against your palm, pumping it hard, gives you precum right to your fingers.

“Come to me, my prince”, you order him softly, in your sweet voice.

You delight at the view of his spread legs, his aroused cock finally releasing a white liquid that comes to your hand, your arm, getting everywhere messy. His arching back, his heavy chest makes you wetter in your legs if possible.

“Good grief, woman”, he takes some time to catch his breath. “What a mess we made.”

You’d think this means the fun is over and you are ready to clean your sheets when you are surprised to find him behind you.

His arms around your waist, his hands purposely resting below your belly and right on top of your pubic hair, playing with it as he whispers in your ear:

“Where do you think you are going, my lady?”

You freeze… like a victim to his prey, right under his trap. And yet you ache, longing for him, but your inexperience is quite evident in this matter.

“I was meant to change the sheets since my lord looked… tired.”

Aegon can tell the devil is playing in your lips, but he knows this is all to mask your lack of… proper knowledge if he’s to put in words.

“Not done with you yet, princess”, he bites down your earlobe, parting your legs as he presses his body against your back.

“Aegon…”, but your head drops back to his shoulder, willingly spreading your thighs as his hand finds way down below in what’s between.

“Shush”, and now he’s the one to overpower you, a sensation that arouses him…and you can feel his manhood get erect. “Mine you are, I possess you.”

Your eyes are barely open when his index dives into your core, slowly, gently. Despite his words, Aegon is careful with you. He presses soft kisses over your head, watching your reactions as his finger is discovering where it is being placed.

Indeed it feels like this is his first time too. He wants to make it perfect for you—and here’s why it’s different than former occasions where he bedded other women. Unlike his former paramours, you hold something far more sacred: his heart.

And though he claims you, he’s the one who has been claimed.

“This is good”, you moan lightly, already gripping the sheets. You are more than pleased when his lips are going to your cheek and his left hand is back to your breast. “So good!”

“Is this what you’ve been looking for?” , somehow Aegon looks for your approval; somehow he needs you to confirm it.

His thumb is encircling your clit by the time you open your eyes and let a cry out. Holding gazes, you touch his face and say:

“It is much… b-better than I’ve hoped for.”

To feel the juices within these walls makes it difficult to hold back his impulses. As one eyes the other in these recent disclosures, all Aegon can do is to smirk upon you, victoriously.

And when you gasp louder, you know it’s your loss.

*

Indeed it is an arduous task to play pretend at a court where it is indecorous to engage in activities that are only lawfully and religiously associated to blessed unions.

But you and Aegon somehow enjoy this mutual teasing. Indeed your betrothal has been surprisingly welcomed by the king and his wife, and whilst a date has been stipulated to celebrate this union of House Targaryen, the two of you are too occupied with secretive, coy games of your own.

“You have been too naughty for your own good”, says he.

It’s early today and to your surprise, Aegon has managed to follow you up to the library. You pretend not to notice him whilst you read a rather indecent tale of a queen who falls for her knight—but regrettably your smirk betrays your countenance carefully posed.

“Have I now?”, you ask in a nonchalant posture, eyes focusing in the lines of the story you are reading—precisely the one about secret lovers (how convenient, isn’t it?). “Please, would you care to enlighten me, dear cousin?”

Captivated by your alluring presence, Aegon is amazed by your effortless beauty, how stunning you look just by reading. He starts stroking your long locks, which are tied in one braid; then his cold fingertips move to your back, carefully rising to your shoulders, almost if he fears to break his fragile thing—you.

“Oh don’t play coy with me, princess Y/N”, his voice is husky and too warm to your sensitive ears. It does not go unnoticed by the prince how you react to him.

He can tell your chest goes full, and the mere remembrance of your hard nipples in his mouth makes him erect already. To disguise his discomfort, Aegon takes a proper seat next to you. Resting a hand over your knee, much to your dismay he slowly starts to lift the skirts of your gown.

“What do you think you are doing?”, you hiss under your breath at him. “We are at a very public space, my dear husband to be.”

As much as he appreciates this title you give him under some hint of sarcasm, Aegon doesn’t quake in embarrassment. His smirk gives you the victory he has over you.

“Oh come now, we are alone in this old library.”

His hand on your thigh defies your attention in the lines your eyes begin to struggle to focus. Aegon’s lilac gaze is fixed on your features, carefully studying any changes in them.

And here he parts your legs with no resistance on your part. It’s when his thumb begins to trace circles around your womanhood entrance that you are finally showing some discomfort.

“Mm-hm. Where is your pride now, dear Y/N?”, Aegon whispers in your ear, very aware how much he affects you.

“Aegon, you should not… you wouldn’t dare”, you shoot him a glance, but in truth you don’t want him to stop, do you?

“Just say the word”, his thumb pressing against you, about to entry into your womanhood makes you sinful. Much to your own horror. “Just say it and I’ll stop. I assure you I will not be hurt.”

His voice is sweet as honey and his touch, gentle and respectful. Aegon knows he’s victorious when you cast your book aside. Interpreting it as a silent form to express your consent, the prince is found welcomed by how you close your thighs around his hand.

“Well?”, with his free hand he strokes your cheek, placing a loose curl behind your ear. Aegon likes to watch you experiment this bliss, to give you pleasure, and he smiles as you struggle not to make any sound. “Is it good?”

“Aegon”, you discreetly turn, enjoying the movement of his thumb around your clit, soon joined by another finger. It is difficult to keep yourself composed. “We may get caught.”

He brushes his lips against yours, aroused by the air of lust that involves you both. Moving his head to your neck, every decency is forgotten when he pumps his fingers against you.

“I care not about it”, he mumbles against your skin, soft and smooth. “You are mine, mine alone, Princess Y/N. For you, I left my wayward manners only to be yours, a slave devoted to his mistress.”

You try not to close your eyes, fearful of being interrupted by the presence of Aegon or Helaena, both of whom love going to the library. But it is so good, to be this treated is like a safe passage to Heavens.

And then his lips going to your chest, Aegon slides to his knees make your mind going blank.

“Do not”, he commands you, suddenly breaking this lustful silence. “Do not come undone yet.”

“What d-d…. Aegon…”

Your voice, shaken, mirrors your state. A mess you are, and there is a part of you which fears for the consequences if you let this go further.

Whatever fear is troubling your conscience, however, no longer does so when suddenly Aegon’s lips are felt on your skin. Tickling softly in touch with your pubic hair, his kisses makes you smile.

“Aegon…”, but you dare not to voice out your morals. None seems to matter when his tongue is inside you. “Oh!”

He gives you a long glance, as if he’s defying you going louder. A smirk on his lips, well read in his eyes, oh a sight to behold indeed! You try tomorrow swallow your moans, indecent as they are, but as he pulls your hips against his face… what certainty is there that you are able to hold back yourself?

You roll your eyes, putting a hand on the chair you are sitting on whilst you use the other to stroke his silver locks.

“Gods!”, you whimper as lowly as you can, shivering as his tongue pursues your inner walls, twirling around your clit before sucking it so gently that it hurts. “Aegon!”

You may hear steps somewhere, but these seem so far and you want more of him. Aegon likes the view of you—once so delicate, now wild and corrupted, riding his face with such a taste no whore can be compared to.

It gives him satisfaction that he’s the one to give you that, this immeasurable pleasure, indecently and sinfully so. He who seeks redemption is the one to corrupt.

Fuck.

And yet he gladly drinks every juice you provide him, eyeing you going insane, feeling the wave of pleasure drowning you to his lips further if possible.

What a view to behold indeed. Aegon is besotted. The woman he desires, the object of his affections, the one he aims to please… this is not gold nor lust.

For when your eyes meet him, something alights. What is it?

A great delight that does not torment souls nor bodies, above all else that is mundane. And he licks his lips afterwards.

*

Later that day, you still have energy to ride Silverwing. And Aegon is already flying Sunfyre when he meets you.

“Restless now, aren’t we?”, you let a cry out over your shoulder the moment you spot him.

Aegon looks handsome with his beautiful golden dragon, the warm breeze of summer blowing his hair as he smiles widely towards you. Here he is in his natural state, not under court demeanors or play pretends. Not a broken boy nor a tormented man. But a joyful prince, who, with light and shadow, you love the same.

When Aegon sees you, there is no more the rivalry that once were—if yet can be claimed it has always been so—; when he looks at you, memories spent at every house of pleasure are unsuitable and unfit, overshadowed by the glee you provide him.

When he looks at this damsel riding her dragon so vividly, so freely, the prince is provided with a hope he never nurtured before.

“It could not be otherwise”, he answers you at last. “We are above men and gods.”

You smile at him, warmly so. Silverwing, feeling the state of your heart, cries out a beautiful sound, one of the joyful kind. And Sunfyre does the same.

Soon, both dragons meet. And they dance.

***

All eyes are set on Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra’s oldest daughter. Princess Y/N, the Bold is how poets describe the beautiful, vivid and blunt spirit of yours.

You, who, against all odds, have successfully tamed the rogue prince. And now there you are, dressed magnificently in an elegant mix of vibrant red and discreet green; emerald jewelry embellish your ears, neck and fingers. A light make up reinforces the delicate traces you inherited from your mother, whose youth beauty reminds most men of. And your silver locks are tied in a long loose well elaborated braid.

Aegon cannot look away as he dances with you.

“What are you, Y/N?”

“Mm?”, you play coy as you hold his gaze. Melody may be slow, failing to quiet the riots of your heart. “What do you mean by it, dear? I am a woman.”

“That I know”, Aegon rolls his eyes. “But you are too handsome made for being a mere mundane creature. Nay. Me thinks you are a goddess in flesh and bones.”

A fainted crimson colours your cheeks, obliging you part the gaze even though Aegon spots a small smile on his lips.

“We are expected to be lawfully married within days. Mother told me about it.”

As you turn and switch partners, following the dancing tradition, you finally respond him when your hands barely touch his.

“This will be the happiest day of my life.”

In turn, Aegon blushes. It feels as if there is just the two of you in this ball room.

“No gold could make you say that…”

“I am not common as you said yourself. No ordinary, nothing to be mistaken to your… former paramours”, you smirk. “Only a dragon can love another, Aegon. For a Targaryen alone in this world is a dreadful thing to see…”

One more exchange of words. For the first time in a long while, the prince experimented bliss. A genuine bliss.

So this is what it feels like. To be genuine loved and accepted in spite of all flaws and vices.

***

A night so warm and feisty hardly keeps you restful. You are aware that this is not the time to play deadly games—where your reputation is concerned anyway—with Aegon, but can you help yourself? Can you content easily to wait for the great night? Can your inexperienced hands do the work?

But this is not about lust. You’ve grown used to him. More than that, more than what defines affection. You’ve always wanted him, this is not to say that you aimed high like your mother-in-law once teased you about.

It is neither to conceive that he is broken and unloved, like Aemond pointed out. (“What is that he can offer you, dear Y/N, besides a rich inheritance and a cold bed?”)

You wiped away his tears since you could remember, you fought off his demons countless times. His smile, his dirty jokes he saved for you.

No. Certainly you are not in the mood to dream about him only. You cannot conceive to be far from his presence—and you also pray that he has not found solace elsewhere for this evening he didnt come for you.

You throw green robes over your shoulders, dressing a line nightgown; your curly silver hair hangs loose behind your back and you hold a candle carefully as you move barefoot. Corridors are empty and silence and the guards seem to pretend not to see you.

You praise the Gods for their discretion. Finally you stop by his chambers. The door is closed and here your confidence dies.

What if he does not love me? What if his desires have died? What if…?

You hesitate. But after all this way, courage is back again. You knock at the door. To your surprise, he quickly opens it.

Aegon stands on the other side, holding a candle too. He’s dressing the usual robes when he slips under blankets with you. His startled look doesn’t take too long to be dissolved in a genuine bliss.

“Y/N. You came.”

“I did. I…”, you blush.

“You feared I’d have gone somewhere else because I took some time to get to you?”

Your blush deepens for you realize your jealousy hasn’t been tamed nor reasoned as you had expected. But Aegon does not laugh away such sentiment. In fact he appreciates your concern for him.

As he leads you inside, you are told what he’s been up to. Viserys in fact took his time to tell Aegon about his duties as a husband to you, which, in your opinion, took a while for the king to dote on his son.

Better late than never, uh?

“But I told you that I would… settle for you. Not because I was asked, but due to my affection for you and…”

Suddenly his voice dies because Aegon is surprised when you steal him a kiss. This is when he understands that it’s how you tell him that you’ve missed him.

His heart mewls inside at it so he makes sure to reward your efforts. Aegon takes your heart-shaped face with both hands, kissing you slowly, letting your tongue slide softly beside his, pairing together in one same rhythm.

He moves his hands over your face, never ceased to be amazed at the cascade of your heavy hair as his fingers play with your curls only then to rest at your waist.

It’s a passionate kiss, filled with tons of emotions. Only then you part it to caress his face and rest your hand over his shoulders, slowly untying his shirt.

“I want you as who you really are”, and saying so you kiss him again, letting your tongue slide to his neck and get him a few goosebumps.

“Y/N.”

He takes a seat, you light the way. Leading it with a newly found confidence, you help him undress first before Aegon’s eyes set on you.

You let the nightgown slip of your body. You want his eyes over your breasts, your nipples, your hips and thighs. You want to see unthinkable thoughts dancing behind his lascivious gaze.

Thus you go on your knees, hands on his thighs. Aegon barely breathes before the view. He’s mesmerized, he’s petrified at what’s about to be done. Bursting through the limits of what’s morally acceptable—even if it’s only by appearances since it’s known how many ladies and lords copulate, frequently not with their lawful espouses—, he cannot respond for himself when his bone becomes painfully visible.

What arouses him further is the way you glance at his manhood, the hesitant touch, experimenting touching it with a genuine lust. Nothing feigned, nothing to be just part of the game.

The idea he’s your object of affection and desires is new even now. No whores, no lowborn woman to follow his lead, to take his gold, but his equal, his partner in life and business of the realm, his soon to be wife… the lover of his lifetime.

“Fuck!”, Aegon throws his head back the moment you start to touch him, to play with the tip… until your thirst makes you engulf it with your pink mouth.

This night you know is not about you. It is not about your disclosures, nor detecting how much you are as concupiscent as him. It’s about giving him what he needs, to be satiated with him.

And you love taking it all, don’t you? Going as deep as you can, hearing his sensual and loud moans, feeling him play with your curls… to be under his power.

Aegon doesn’t intend to waste his seed but when your gaze meets him in the peek of the moment, it’s too much.

He lets go. And with a lascivious smirk, you drink all that he gives you.

*

You and Aegon contemplate the state both of you are now. Smiles here, smiles there; sensual kisses that do not content to these teasings.

“We should best wait”, Aegon purrs as you start kissing his neck. You are already rubbing your womanhood against his manhood, perhaps acutely aware that this is not the most prudent behavior. “For… for our… Ugh, Y/N!”

You giggle at his struggle as you give small bites around his neck, sensing his erection as you leave him bruises.

“I must mark my man”, and here you hold his face, pulling his hair gently.

“What have I turned you into?” Aegon smiles warmly, and he is indeed aroused upon seeing how you react at every word, every thing he does.

“My love, what do you know?”

This night you make your call. Your lips glue against his and your tongue snakes to his mouth, pairing perfectly with his. It is slow at first, but it deepens the more it seems unfit to what happens next.

It grows fervent. It grows impossibly feverish. Soon positions are swapped and you are under his strong body and your eyes are closed, enjoying this intimacy when his lips are all over your neck and chest.

His hands do not content with your nipples and they slide to your waist before settling at your hips. Only as you spread your legs and lift each to let him fit in between is that Aegon looks at you.

You are playing with his messy hair when your gaze meets his.

“I love you, Y/N”, says the prince. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes. Yes, it is”, you say breathless. “Will you be mine and mine alone from this day on?”

“Aye”, and to ensure he vows it, he takes your hand and kisses your knuckle. “May the Gods be our witnesses. That you are my wife from this day on, mother of my children.”

One kiss. One promise. Hearts beat as one; bodies blend and souls amend what’s been finally bent.

The king is on the throne room, listening to the babbling of his nobles. Today’s topic concerns the marriage of his sons. Since the queen only delivered him boys, Viserys is not inclined to search for a bride that is not a Targaryen. And despite the strong protests of his wife, there is a good solution for it that might also appeal to his brother, Daemon, as well as that follows the Targaryen tradition: betrothing his daughter to Aegon.

In the meantime this occurs, whilst the solution is agreed between the king and the council, no one can foretell what a simple arrangement might result. And so whilst they are leaving in discussions concerning Aemond’s betrothal, let us take a look at what is happening outside these quarters.

Notwithstanding the fact that you are the daughter of the feared and powerful Daemon Targaryen, who took residence at Dragonstone with his sister-wife Rhaenyra Targaryen, you are everything he is not.

Sweet tempered, gentle, kindhearted and good. Your wit is as sharp as any sword, your tongue, when provoked, cut as hard as any iron. You are patient, often tolerant to others flaws. This makes you a great companion to all.

As the only daughter of Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra, it does surprise to those who know them for a long while that you came up with a different personality. Regardless, they spoil you and only want the best for you. And Daemon knows that by the time of your marriage age, he is not marrying you to anyone. Perhaps your father is aiming higher than you know.

You’ve grown close to your brothers: Jace being close to you in age has always been your twin. But you were also close to Luce, a sort of mother to Joffrey, Viserys and Aegon. Being the only lady amidst these men also meant that you were very protective by them.

Now years went by and you are a well formed women, whose uncle requested you to spend some time at court—probably in ignorance of the plans arranged for you between him and your parents.

Your oldest brother, Jacaerys, is already married to his cousin Baela Velaryon, all the whilst Lucerys is married to her sister, Rhaena. Joffrey is betrothed to Sara Stark, and even Viserys and Aegon are about to be betrothed to some good noble lady. You remain unmarried, though.

This idea does not occupy your thoughts for many times since you prefer to spend your time helping your mother, with whom you are very close, and flying your dragon, Dreamfyre. Due to your introspective and intense nature, it is in the air where you feel mostly… free and wild, a side you like to keep to yourself.

But ever since you’ve been summoned by the king, you suspect your liberty and wilderness are about to be end. Resigned to your sense of duty—for duty means to sacrifice who you are, or part of it anyways—, you speak nothing of the matter.

“Remember, my daughter, who you truly are”, your mother, who is carrying another child in her belly, speaks to you in the day you are departing to King’s Landing next to your father. “A Targaryen, no more, no less. Equal to all.”

You understand that she and the Queen Alicent do not always see eye to eye. The subtle warning is there, but you too have your share of pride. You smile.

“I shall not disappoint you, mother.”

“I know you won’t. You are my daughter, every bit of me is in you.”

That saying, Rhaenyra kisses your forehead and you are finally ready to leave.

***

Aegon is waiting impatiently for his betrothal. With Aemond by his side, both brothers can only conjecture about the cousin whom they last saw when everyone was a toddler. Both recollect you differently: Aegon judged you as a child who had weird interests; but Aemond understood you as someone who had a very interesting side underneath a gentle demeanor.

“I hope you do your duty well, Aegon”, muses Aemond thoughtfully.

“How else should I do? I am the heir to the Iron Throne. I am not allowed to forget that”, and then Aegon shoots an amusing glance to his younger brother. “What a shame the crown cannot be shared with you, though.”

Aemond limits himself to a roll of eyes, but Aegon knows he agrees with his sarcastic remark. But soon they are distracted of their small talk for the heavy iron doors of the Red Keep are about to open, with the King’s herald announcing your name and your father’s.

Every sound dies before such announcement, but what matters is how you are seen by your betrothed. Aegon looks astonished by the woman you’ve blossomed to. Your silver locks tied in perfectly braid seem to reinforce your heart-shaped face, whose intent lilac eyes mirror innocence.

Your rosy lips open shyly in an inviting smile, and Aegon cannot help wonder what it would be like to kiss you. It doesn’t really help that your black gown reinforces your curves.

Aemond too cannot help lingering his gaze on you. A damsel in every sense of the word, you are like a character of the novels he used to read as a child. Fond memories of the time spent together in this period rush in the back of his mind.

Lovely as always, he thinks to himself, suddenly aching for the idea of never having you. But… he cannot help himself either, can he? Must Aemond be the second in everything, a shadow of his brother?

“Greetings, niece!”, King Viserys smiles down at his brother’a child. He leaves the table to greet you properly, and Daemon is smirking proudly in response. The rogue prince is more than aware of the attentions you caught, specially of two royal princes, which only fuels his ego.

His ambitions will fruit, he knows.

“Your Grace, my uncle”, you dip to a curtsy. “I appreciate your warm welcome.”

“Soon we will be united as one once again. Tradition shall follow like has always been dictated since the days of Old Valyria”, boasts King Viserys. “Y/N is such a pearl, brother. How on earth did you manage to produce a lovely daughter?”

“A question I often ask myself, brother”, says Daemon, proudly. “She is my only girl, very precious to us. We don’t expect a marriage that is below of the prize she is.”

“Father!”, you protest shyly.

“Don’t be too humble, daughter. It’s the true”, he smirks at you, gently ruffling your hair. “We must always be aware of who we are.”

“Then let us celebrate this union. I notice our sister hasn’t come. What happened?”

“Rhaenyra is heavily pregnant, in due time to labor now.”

Whilst they exchange amenities, you are heading to your seat when Aegon comes to greet you. This tall, handsome man, whose looks mirror yours, astonishes you with such a charm that your knees go weak.

It doesn’t really help your case that Aemond is promptly joined by his side. You blush.

“My lords”, you curtsy graciously. “I appreciate the warm welcome.”

“My lady”, greets Aegon, pompously. “How different you look.”

“Forgive my brother”, subtly Aemond meddles in the conversation. “He lacks gallantry when it comes to words. You have grown to a beautiful woman, cousin.”

You detest how the presence of these two men affect you. Worse, that not only your betrothed allures you, but so does his brother.

Aegon flushes, irritated with how poetic Aemond is towards you.

“How could I when a beauty like our dear Y/N stands before us? A mortal could not voice out the most proper form to express such an awe.”

“Oh, please. I am unworthy of these praises though I deeply appreciate them. Shall we enjoy the rest of the evening together? I have missed the company of you both for a while.”

You smile. And soon subtle rivalries dissolve. How could they deny you anything?

***

It’s been a curious, unspoken agreement that you arranged with Aegon and Aemond. The mornings are spent with the latter and the evenings with the former. The evening you spend by your soon to be mother-in-law, whom you manage to charm.

Today, you are flying with Aemond. You come to figure out how you two have lots in common: the same taste for history, philosophy, art and even politics. Not to mention, dragons, of course.

“You are nothing like your father”, muses the quiet prince, once you two land the dragons somewhere nearby a lake, out of the people’s sight.

“This is something I hear often”, you smile at him, eyeing his handsomeness even though part of you admonishes for desiring a man who is not going to be your husband. “But we have some traits we share. Like the taste for wilderness. We are not easily tamed.”

“I’ve always sensed you had something of the sorts in you, Y/N. You pose as the good lady, but are you?”

“I am dutiful”, you say. “I do my duties. Never claimed or aimed to be perfect.”

“Neither have I, even though my dutiful performances have been somewhat misinterpreted”, he snorts.

Before you know, you take his hand in yours. Unconsciously, fingers are laced.

“I think you’ve been misunderstood for a very long time, dear Aem. And I wish so many of us saw that.”

Silence hangs for a while. You and him share a long gaze. You find yourself wishing he kissed you, but Aemond knows his place. He looks away and withdraws his hand. Never before you felt so cold. So you sigh.

***

All the whilst you engage in conversations with the Queen, learning queenship from Lady Alicent herself, Aegon finds Aemond in the corner of the court, observing you with a mix of admiration and distrust.

“If this was about to any other man, I’d have him hanged for looking at such a manner to my wife”, says Aegon, amused.

Aemond has the decency of blush and look away.

“Pardon me for prying, brother.”

“What is there to be pardoned? She is a handsome woman, I give you that. Like honey, too sweet to avert the gaze away”, says Aegon, encouraging his brother to share. “Rumour has it that Aegon shared Visenya with his Baratheon brother.”

Aemond scoffs.

“Visenya wouldn’t play this part, surely. You must be mistaking to Rhaenys.”

“Either one, they shared her, didn’t they? And like my namesake, Aegon was no jealous man.”

The one-eyed prince turns his head to his older brother, intrigued by the subtle suggestion.

“What the fuck are you trying to say, Aegon? Straight to the point if you may.”

Aegon smirks at him.

“I think that, since she likes you too, we should both take Y/N as our wife.”

***

Aegon awaits you this evening in his privy chambers. He’s been anxious for this moment, even though with his mother’s strong presence at court, he didn’t have any moment alone with you aside of public courtship.

A knock of the door is heart, taking away of his thoughts. The prince of Dragonstone stands, concealing his unusual insecurity. When he opens it, he is struck at the thought of you.

So beautiful in the green color, your full breasts almost out of the tight gown you purposely chose to reinforce your curves. The desire alight in Aegon’s eyes makes you dripping wet in your legs, but you know this is the farthest you go to tease him.

Right?

“My prince”, you dip to a curtsy as you walk inside the door, shivering when hearing the click that locks it behind you.

“My princess”, he then takes the chair for you to sit and makes sure to pour red wine in your glass before serving you himself.

When earning you a smile, Aegon forgets that he one day was the charmer, never the charmed.

“You look gorgeous, cousin.”

“I could say the same about you, lord. Thank you. I’ve been looking forward to hearing more of you, out of the prickly ears of the court”, you tell him.

“Indeed. Formalities are not my thing, I’m afraid. But at least the king has been noticing me”, Aegon doesn’t usually open himself this way and when noticing what bursted out of his tongue, he prefers to occupy himself with wine.

You do notice, though, and try to captivate him by sharing something about you.

“Despite being close to my family, I was raised to be somebody else’s wife. I know I was not allowed to choose my heart, even if my parents did.”

Aegon reads you, you spot some early distrust despite the mutual attraction. You feel eager to please him, but you hold back yourself. Eventually he settles.

“I do lament that I am your groom and not Aemond.”

You blush, but do not fly away of the subtle accusation.

“Well, I was always closer to Aemond in age and in interests, my dear, but this does not mean I regret that you are the one I will espouse.”

His slander fingers play on top of the table, and you find yourself holding your breath. When does this tension suddenly come up?

The stare he gives you pierces your soul and you know that, if he wanted you to, you’d be on his knees before him, pledging innocence. But why does the mere image of you in this position arouse you?

“I am hard to love”, muses Aegon, resented. “I am by no means jealous of you and Aemond, but…”

And your anxiety takes your best, of course. You rush to his side and take his hands into yours, surprising him by the urge of your usual composed manners.

“My prince, my liege, you are no hard to love. Your smile enchants me, your eyes read my soul like no other. Your jokes bring a smile to my lips, your good manners give me the certainty that I am not marrying a monster.”

“How can you be certain of this?”, Aegon inquires, puzzled.

“We are lights and shadows. I saw both of them in you and I still choose you.”

He knows you speak the truth, so he lifts you and pinning against the wall, Aegon kisses you. You realize you’ve been longing for this kiss, wishing to feel the taste of his mouth, to pair your tongue with his.

Your husband to be is as sinful as you are a saint. And yet you let him have his way with you. Soon, his mouth is on your neck and sounds start to leave yours.

“My beautiful princess”, Aegon works to kiss your chest, almost ripping your gown with his teeth to get into your breasts.

“Calm down, lord. I need to get to my chambers in whole state”, you smirk at him.

And it’s when you are surprised by how easily he slips to his knees, his lustful eyes wiping off your smirk.

“L-Lord…”

“I want to hear you call my name, Y/N”, he lifts the skirts of your gown, caressing your paled thighs. “I want you to sleep thinking of me doing this to you. Rewarding for being such a good princess.”

And he at first inserts his finger in you, getting you aroused. You are surprised to find yourself so wet, as well as he.

“Never before untouched?”, Aegon asks you, sounding too anxious.

“Never”, you moan, eyelashes barely lift as you search support in the wall. Your hips begin to follow his finger, and you get scandalously louder as his finger finds deeper ways to get to your core.

Aegon watches you in awe and lust, ignoring the bone he has for being the reason you are coming undone—and not Aemond. Though he wills to share with his brother, he knows that ultimately the prize of having you like this is his.

“Let me ruin you”, he groans before replacing his fingers with his mouth.

His tongue dives into your womanhood, twirling around your clot before sucking it skillfully. You are breathless, burning, aching for this prince. Your mind goes blank and all you can think is of this blissful experience of being ruined by this man to whom you are expected to marry.

He drinks every juice he can of you, not stopping until you are about to release. And when you think you do, he removes his face away and stands in absolutely composed.

“Aegon!”, you protest, vexed to be left this way.

“You don’t think I’ve noticed how you teased me?”, he smirks, approaching to you. “We will fuck you, my lady. My brother and I. You wait and you will see.”

Never before you got so pink before.

And when Aegon smiles devilish to you, you are surprised by your own thoughts of wishing this to be true.

***

Aemond is practicing his sword this day when he spots you at a corner, unaccompanied. The one-eyed prince, who happens to be shirtless in this lonely practice, tosses away the sword to greet you in a gentleman like manner.

“My lady Y/N”, he doesn’t mind to get a shirt and dress when you stare at his perfect abs, which makes him smirk. “To what do I get the honor of your presence?”

“Aegon has departed to Citadel to visit Daeron”, you tell him, trying to control your impulses. “The queen forbade me to follow him. She said I’m under your charge, lord.”

Aemond moves from the yard to get to you. You find yourself holding your breath at the proximity of him. Suddenly both arms lock you against the wall.

“Are you now?”, and here he lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Are you playing with us, my lady? Have you been instructed to turn me against my brother?”

Though he sees he’s offended you by the suggestion, Aemond does not take back what he said. And even though you are annoyed by these unflattering words, you don’t run from a fight either.

“You may call me many things, my prince, even though I judged you to know me better than this. But I am no home wrecker.”

And here he pins you against the wall, much to your dismay. He begins to unlace your gown, completely not fearful of being caught. And you barely protest, already dripping wet by how he presses his knee against your womanhood.

“Who am I to judge?”, he lowers his gaze to your mouth, your neck and your breasts. “These are lovely nipples, Y/N.”

You’d have decency covered them, but guessing your moves have Aemond hold your wrists above your head. You are at his mercy and he knows it.

“My brother told me about the gowns you wear, aware of how they reinforce each. But he did let me take a look at them before him.”

A sensible person would have been horrified for being in this position, but you feel aroused by this. To know they wish you like you wish them makes you warm.

As if he reads your mind, Aemond starts to caressing your right nipple, pleased to see you horny.

“Aemond…”, you moan.

Naughty that he is, underneath that dutiful demeanor he puts so well to the public, it’s this prince who speaks dirty to your ear.

“You will be fucked so well, my love, that you shall not have to choose, I promise you. Aegon and I have always shared what we loved the most”, and saying so he bites down your ear. “I will fuck your pussy until you burn and you will feel it with my being. The first born son will be mine, though. I know it.”

And then his indecent tongue paces around your lips only to get to your neck and then…

“Aemond!!”

Like a thirsty prince, he sucks each nipple, biting it, craving it desperately. You want more, you are doomed, you know well. Your pious conscience accuses you of whoring, but nothing is stronger than giving yourself to this prince.

But of course Aemond has to interrupt it.

“We best not get caught”, he whispers, smirking victorious before the protest you shoot him in a gaze. “I thought you liked it, no?”

You pull him for one long kiss, though, and every lust is carefully put aside as Aemond, albeit hesitantly, kisses you back.

Not long after that, the rogue prince realizes that he left more than lust in the taste of your tongue.

***

The marriage, albeit scandalous, happens. Fortune rises underneath tradition. Some might say this is Aegon and his wives in other forms, back to the flesh in another version… certainly a good omen for those who believe in old stories.

Feasts and tournaments are thrown by the king and his brother to celebrate this unique union, never before seen until the day Aegon espoused his two sister wives.

“I hope that you know what you are doing”, says Rhaenyra at this day of your marriage. “These are wayward boys, one of whom nearly got into a fight with Lucerys.”

“I remember that night well, mother”, you try not to sound so irritating at your mother’s grudge. “This is not the time to speak of what has long been buried in the past. If I recall well, they have amended their relationship and all is well, as it should be.”

“I only worry over you, my daughter.”

You gently place a kiss over your mother’s face and smile at her.

“I aim as high as any Targaryen would in my position.”

“As ambitious as your father”, so chuckles Rhaenyra.

“I am his daughter too, after all.”

And you two smile in confidence.

***

Later that evening, bedding ceremony begins. You want both of your husbands there in your chamber. And when they show up, you cannot believe your eyes.

“Lady Y/N, you are beautiful”, says Aegon, already partially naked. He’s the one to pull you, making sure you stand between him and Aemond.

You feel Aemond’s cold hands rest in your hips, giving you shivers.

“We have all been longing for this, haven’t we?”, he murmurs in turn.

You turn your head at him, barely blinking as he is about to kiss you but this moment is stolen by Aegon, who plants his lips against yours. It’s a slow kiss, peppering for what’s coming all the whilst Aemond slowly lifts your nightgown, caressing gently your tits before removing it over your head.

“I am too fortunate, I’m afraid”, you whisper before stroking Aegon’s face. “Such handsome men.”

You kiss him back before breaking it to do the same with Aemond. Now Aegon leans to kiss your neck, whilst his brother plays with your tits.

You get hornier and naughtier, moaning softly before these teasings.

“There’s no need to play the good girl anymore, Y/N”, says Aemond, biting down your lip.

“Indeed”, and here Aegon pulls back your hair as his brother inserts his finger in your womanhood. “We will ruin you, won’t we, Aemond?”

You gasp as Aemond fucks you with his finger, trying not to lose control as Aegon kisses your neck and plays with your tits again.

“We will, indeed. But I need a reward for all this waiting…”

“We both need it”, agrees Aegon. “Show us what you are capable of, Y/N.”

So indecently you go down to your knees. Your eyes spark bright when looking at each erected manhood, unsure what to choose first until you start to caress Aemond’s all the whilst giving the privilege to Aegon’s.

You come to agree with both of them. You are hardly a saint, or divine by any means. You lust after each, and you devour these cocks with devotion. Pausing in between, you let them guide you.

It’s indecent, it’s sinful, but you like this. And so do they.

“Let us treat our princess kindly”, says Aegon, leading you to bed. “Not sparing my seed in these red lips…”

And here he uses his two fingers to play with your mouth, which you promptly devour. Only then he inserts them into your womanhood. Oh, how condemned you are. Such is the price for loving these wayward brothers.

“You may go, brother. I will watch”, says Aemond.

His voice purrs something in you and you find yourself a beggar. Where has your pride gone to? Oh, nowhere to be found.

“My lord!”, you push Aegon to your lips, so you kiss him fiercely and passionately. “Please!”

Aegon smiles like a lion, aware that he has the prey he wants under his power. Thus it is he finally makes way to penetrate you, deflowering his beautiful flower after years of repressing his desire for you.

In the meantime you and Aegon consume this flame, Aemond burns alone, touching his manhood before the scene he watches, which in turn wakes in him darkest desires. He wants to possess you, to make you his, to dispute over your flesh, to hear you call his name.

But there is something powerful in delegating this to Aegon, submitting to his brother’s will even here.

As Aegon collapses over you, he doesn’t let his brother to waste his seed. Though your womanhood is sensitive, you ache for more. They know you are as hungry as they are.

Aemond doesn’t need to be summoned. He crawls over your body, and here with no eyepatch to cover his eye, you stare at old wounds, at his taunted gaze covered by a beautiful sapphire.

“Fuck me”, you mewl under his powerful stare. “Aemond…”

He is gentle at first. Slow is his touch over your curves, taking his time in holding your face, drinking on your pleading eyes as he cups your nipples, touching each until they are hardened enough to make you beg. Only then he bends over you, kissing you passionately, prompted to release his fire.

It’s indeed a very wild evening. Soon Aegon comes to dispute you. Suddenly all of the three are sitting in bed, and you are in heaven. Standing in between them, your husbands’ mouth devour your exposed skin, and new levels of pleasure are disclosed as you are under their power.

Neither part dares to stop what’s been doing however until you throw your head back at Aemond’s shoulder and let a cry out.

“The dragon lady has burnt”, so whispers Aegon in your ear, watching as Aemond kisses you softly.

What a night. Oh what a night indeed. And you couldn’t have been happily married, could you?

***

Epilogue.

What has started as a lustful game between the three parts soon results in a successful partnership. You do love each brother and they love you in turn.

To a general astonishment, this works like in Aegon I’s days. You rule court, playing your part well. Welcoming guests with your smile and good manners, much of which you’ve learned from the former Queen, who actually cares for you like a daughter she never had.

All is well. You are Daemon Targaryen’s daughter after all. Peace is established successfully and familial relationships are restored. Soon, your brothers are back to frequent court with their wives whom you delight to call sisters.

In due time, you prove to be as fertile as your lady mother. You produce fifteen children, not many of which come to adulthood. These are:

1. Jaehaerys II, who takes as his wife his sister; had offspring of their own.

2. Rhaenyra, wife of Jaehaerys.

3. Maegor, lord of Harrenhal; he first took as espouse his sister, Daella, but she died in childbirth; then he contracted a new marriage to Minisa Tully.

4. Maekar, lord of Summerhall: took as wife his sister, Rhaena.

5. Rhaegar, died in infancy, known as Prince of Winter.

6. Rhaena, Lady of Summerhall; wife to Maekar.

7. Baela, lady of High Garden.

8. Daeron, became a Maester at Citadel.

9. Aerys, lord Hightower; married lady Gaena Tyrell.

10. Helaena, lady of Winterfell.

11. Mariah, died in infancy.

12. Visenya, lady of Casterly Rock.

13. Daenys, lady Arryn.

14. Viserys, ward of the West.

15. Alys, Viserys’s twin and wife.

***

“You are still as gorgeous as ever”, whispers Aegon in your ear.

It’s late evening and both of your husbands are found in your arms. You still shiver at how King Aegon speaks to you, how he plays with your tits. You purr lightly.

“Oh Egg, you know not what you speak”, you giggle quietly. “Despite my efforts in looking elegant to you and Aemond, I gave birth to fifteen children.”

He plants a kiss over your forehead, careful in not waking Aemond, who sleeps against your left breast. From certain perspective, you three are engulfed in one another.

“I maintain my word. When did I ever look out of our bed, wife?”, says he, once very familiar amidst brothels before marrying you.

You turn at him with malice in your eyes as you speak.

“No whore does what you taught me to do to you”, you smirk.

Aegon sighs heavily, sinking into your lips again.

“Always restless.”

You chuckle.

“Not always”, you lean against his chest. “But I have been blessed, that is for sure.”

As you stroke Aemond’s hair, you slowly drift to sleep, glad that Aegon is looking after you.

“Haven’t we all?”

Chroniclers maliciously say you’ve married Aegon out of duty and Aemond out of pleasure, but what do men know of a woman’s heart? You love them both, with no difference of affections. And you are more than pleased to know they are not jealous when it’s about you.

It’s how it works. Tradition, power, yes. But love and confidence too.

You and Aegon are nearly twins. He was born a year after you, so the difference of twelve months bears no difference in how you and him were educated together.

At first, there were too many differences to provide a genuine fondness for one another. In fact, it could be said that, until when you bloomed into a handsome young woman, there was nothing but rivalry between you two.

Such is the scenario you and him grow into. Mutual teasings developing to rivalry as years grow by. To worse all, the king favouring you over Aegon means you might inherit his throne, probably breaking the long and old Westerosi tradition where male inheritance prevailed over female’s.

Nevertheless, in spite of your stepmother’s attempt to fuel this rivarly, as you and him grow, these sentiments are slowly leaving space to let another grow.

How’d you know, when Aegon loves to tease you? It’s this kind of teasing that irritates you. The acknowledged prince of Dragonstone seems to take a delight in sweeping off a smirk off your lips whenever he has the chance.

Not to mention he does so with the support of Queen Alicent, who envies the stepdaughter’s alluring beauty. Your long silver locks and brightening lilac gaze together with your now womanly curves makes you the object of praiseful poems, overshadowing this woman your father calls wife.

“Sister, long time no see”, greets Aegon when spotting you, coming by yourself after riding Sunfyre.

His eyes linger at your curves, noticing that even your riding clothes cannot conceal the woman you’ve become.

Though you too admit he’s grown to a fine man, you’d prefer to have a knight named Criston Cole as your husband instead of him.

“Aegon”, you despise him like always. “You just saw me earlier today with our… family.”

Not in the mood to be around him further, you try to get your steps faster in direction to your privy chambers. Unfortunately, Aegon is quick too.

“Running from me?!”

“Oh, you don’t say, Master Knoweth It All.”

“Leave that title to Daeron. He’s the one to become a maester anyway”, says Aegon, not missing your efforts in concealing a smirk.

And then of course he stops right before you. You are surprised by his bluntness, but more so for noticing how taller he is.

“Aegon…”, and your eyes scan his well build muscles in an effortless move to escape his intent stare at you. “What do you think you’re doing? Mistaking your royal sister to a whore?”

Aegon dramatically sighs, but you spot amusement behind his eyes when you dare to raise yours.

“Y/N Targaryen”, and here he boldly pins you against the wall, his hands gently holding your wrists, thus impending you of leaving. “Always proud.”

“You and I never saw eye to eye”, you hope not to sound too nervous, but for a strange reason you feel yourself dripping wet. “To come after me like that… one can only presume it is hardly for brotherly reasons.”

He tilts his head, eyeing you up and down.

“You underestimate me, Y/Nickname”, and you detect some irritation in his remark.

“Your deeds, my darling, have not left me with many choices, have they?”, you tilt your head, and Aegon finds some hope in how you hold back his gaze.

You both hear steps before you find chance to remove yourself off his dangerous presence. You best avoid him—in order to preserver whatever reputation you have, or maybe to shield your pride.

Aegon, distracted by the subtle arrival of Aemond, sighs annoyed when seeing he misses you again.

“You know… I’ll never understand how the fuck you poorly disguise the love you have for our dear sister behind a hate you lack.”

“Don’t get me started, Aemond. Rhaenyra has the affection of our father for a starter.”

“Does she? Not even Laena has this amount of attention father has towards you.”

A sensitive topic which Aegon hopes to avoid. Like usual, he prefers to resolve this by changing topics.

***

Aegon’s eyes are found staring at you again as you slide inside the great hall where a ball on behalf your father’s name day is given. You are wearing in red and black Targaryen colors, your locks perfectly braided and your skin is embellished with jewelry.

You like the attention, to be the center of every man and every woman’s eyes, but nothing warms your body than the way your father’s heir—for that’s what he is now—looks at you.

And when he notices you look back, he gives you a sensual smirk that makes you weak in your knees. Suddenly the gown is too tight. But you rather focus somewhere else. Someone else.

A knight named Criston Cole extends his hand out to you, which you pleasantly take—much to Aegon’s consternation. You notice the weight of his stare, the evident disapproval in his eyes.

As melody begins to be played and you and the shiny knight dance together, you cannot help yourself but taking a peak of Aegon’s jealousy. He cannot conceal it, he struggles against it and it’s when he decides to turn his attention to something else that you find yourself fearful for losing him to his wenches.

It’s when you realize that you have grown fonder to this brat you are related to. More than your pride cares to admit.

But who’d know your darkest secret might set alight when the king stands and asks for a minute, prompted to make an announcement that will shock all?

“I am found in this delicate position upon which a king is found contemplated the two heirs the Gods provide me. In order to make my conscience in accordance with the old traditions to our house, I hereby declare the betrothal of my eldest and most loved daughter, Y/N, with my dearest son and heir Aegon.”

Oh.

You couldn’t see it coming, could you?

***

Aegon makes sure to prevent Sir Criston Cole to meet you. Having noticed what happened in the ball, the prince decides to deliver the message he’s no man to share.

“Always concerned about me”, you muse, when noticing he’s following you.

“Indeed. You are my soon to be wife”, and he once again has the control of you. “Y/N… Do not slip off me again.”

You turn at him, surprised to find yourself trapped in his needs.

“What do you think I am? A man who lives after his wenches?”, he scowls at you as you two stand right in front of the door of your privy quarters.

You tilt your head.

“Again, this speech? Aegon, we cannot evolve from rivalry. We’ve tried this before and thanks to your dear mother, friendship between us isn’t working.”

“Rivals we may be, but there’s more. Deeper, I know. Let me show you.”

With no waiting for your response he finally holds your face and dives to your lips. You gasp out of surprise, but the way his tongue pursuits yours in a domineering rhythm makes you moan rather than push him off.

You want him and your body shows it. He knows, he feels his body electrified by the mere contact with yours. As he kisses you passionately, Aegon makes clear he owns you. And you forget your pride by letting being owned.

No fear, nothing to apart one from the other remains when the dragon fire sparks. He opens the door, showing a sort of confidence never before familiar to you.

You want more of him, you let him dominate you, and when he lies you down in bed…

“We cannot…”, your reasonable self still lies awake, though breathless you are after this intense kiss and the way he looks at you makes you forget why you should give ears to reason when he’s going to be your husband anyway.

“Silence, darling. I won’t ruin you for our day”, he smirks at you.

Lying beside you, he lifts the skirts of your gown all the whilst he gazes at you. To your astonishment, you don’t find lust in his eyes, but a different feeling—one of the kind you fear to disclosure.

“Cannot I admire you?”, he asks you, no more with the prideful and arrogant mask he wears. “You look at me as if I am different than you’ve judged.”

His hands slowly caressing your thighs before resting over your pubic hair make difficult to you reason with his words, but you try to keep the reins of yourself.

“I never thought…”, you hesitate, unsure as to how to word your own insecurities.

“I never hated you, Y/Nickname”, and here Aegon leans to brush your lips all the whilst his slender fingers move to your womanhood. “I’ve always desired you.”

And as he kisses you, muffling the sounds that come out of you as you burn under his skillful fingers, you experiment a sort of delight never before tasted.

His fingers go deeper in you, wet in touch with the liquid you produce. Aegon is aroused at the way you react, like calling him to fuck you the way you deserve; his thoughts are messy, all he wants is you.

Then he parts the kiss only to gaze at you, the proud princess, humbled by his fingers. You spread your legs wider, your eyelashes are barely open at how he touches you, nice and slow at first before fingering you harder.

“Oh my…”, you turn your head at him. “Aegon!”

The prince smirks at how you call his name.

“Yes?”

“Aegon, please!”, you cry out sensually, legs already heavy, beginning to levitate as your belly experiences butterflies.

“Give in, my sweet”, he brushes his lips against yours, hardened just by how you call his name.

But to your slight irritation, he doesn’t kiss you. Yet he moves his lips to your neck, there staying until…

So suddenly.

So intensely.

So… unexpectedly.

He replaces his fingers with his eager mouth. Aegon holds firmly your hips, diving his tongue right into the core of your womanhood. He does so with no decency, his tongue licking the walls of your cunt, spinning and sucking every bit of you.

“Aegon!”, you delight yourself in this new bliss, enjoying to ride his beautiful face, pumping into his mouth, arching your back desperately. “AEGON!”

You don’t mind being loud, but when you rise yourself, you ride him all right, and it feels good, it feels sinful, it feels like paradise.

You owe him now, and when he raises his eyes to meet tour lilac ones, a smirk crosses his lips and you feel so aroused… so bloody hot, that you cum not only once, but twice, thrice even.

And he drinks every bit of your juices, still digging his fingers against your bum, slapping it nicely before dropping to your side.

“My Gods”, you lean sensually against him. “Aegon…”

“Was it good, my darling?”, he holds your chin, reading in your eyes the defeat of your pride, the victory of his pursuits. “I will fuck you like that in many days ahead of our marriage.”

Aegon likes the view of your meek smile, and he caresses your face before kissing you gently.

“I best go. I shall not ruin my bride.”

“Aegon!”, you protest when seeing him stand and adjust himself.

“What? You are my princess”, he says, “my queen to be. Not any wench I can do as I please.”

You sigh heavily, very frustrated. That night, you secretly wish you were his dear, little whore. But you had to content yourself with using your hand.

***

The marriage proves to be a successful match. The feast surprises the guests by showing former rivals in harmony. Some of them think it’s a show you and Aegon play for the sake of your father, king Viserys, but it can be said, in the words of dear Helaena:

“A joyful occasion to prevent tempest; greater kings shall come from this nest; a war was avoided, but another is yet to come… prepare yourselves, easier is said than done.”

Like usual, none pays too much to her words, in spite of Aemond shooting Helaena a meaningful glance.

You are dressing red and your now husband is dressing green for his mother, but other than that.. you are positively surprised for enjoying how this is going.

“We are great together”, says Aegon, after you two shared a dance; now sitting on the table, he wants more of you.

You give him a smirk, locking gazes as you sip your wine.

“No one can beat us, darling.”

“Truer words have never been spoken.”

And here he stands, offering his hand.

“Let us show one more time how we came to surpass this rivalry instigated by all.”

“Another dance? Never took you for a dancer”, you smile at him.

Aegon smiles the brightest when saying:

“I am many things you are yet to disclosure, sweet Y/Nickname.”

And the dragons danced.

***

Finally by yourselves, you give him the charge. Aegon begins by undoing your elaborated braid before unlacing your gown.

“So beautiful. An angel.”

“Some say that we Targaryens are above from men and gods”, you give him a long glance, smiling almost seductively as you enjoy his gaze all over your body.

Once the gown falls off your body, showing your nude state, you feel his lascivious eyes devouring your curves as he stops before you and remove his own clothes.

“We are certainly more divine than many mortals. Hence why only a dragon can wed another”.

He arches his back and messes with his hair, straightening himself as he takes a seat at your marital bed. You drink of the view: his features more manly, his chest with some old scars acquired in training, and his manhood…

Oh it has your attention, indeed.

You step forward and before you know, you get to your knees. Aegon spreads his legs, groaning, already full erect before you.

“This shrew woman is going to be tamed”, he says firmly, yet there is a sweetness in his voice when he holds your face that makes you look at him, completely undone. “My prideful wife on her knees for me.”

“Aegon…”, you moan sensually, finding unbearable to taste this fire and not yet get burnt by it.

He looks at your round, full breasts, biting his lip as he stares at your nipples. The prince wants you in every indecent manner that is possible, but his mind is blank when you, impatient, take hold of his erect manhood.

“Y/N…!”, he groans loud.

You smirk at him.

“Tell me you want me.”

“Badly. No woman of the realm can match your alluring beauty. Many I’ve fucked thinking of you. Wishing I could kiss your lips and fuck your cunt.”

You shiver at his words.

“So indecent.”

“As if you are hardly innocent”, Aegon says in between gritted teeth. “I still recollect when you let me spot you bathing naked at the lake. And you touched yourself, seeing I was there.”

You blush at the memory.

“Rivals, uh?”, Aegon chuckles before moaning louder. “So much for the narrative of the shrew.”

His moanings are so sensual, so captivating. You like how he calls you that, acknowledging your pride, your flaws, but your virtues, you as a woman of your own.

It’s when you get too thirsty and…

“Y/N!”, Aegon is the one tamed by your skillful tongue. When looking at you, seeking for his approval, every doubt of your inexperience dies. “Oh let me teach you how it’s done.”

And you take his full length, all of it, licking it, swallowing his precum and going wild with the tip of his cock. It feels so good to be commanded, to subdue to him like this…

“Rise, my princess. I want to have my cum inside you, not in your mouth. Not today.”

And you obey, having his lips clashed against yours. In this night, you and I are together the way you’ve always secretly desired.

He possesses you perfectly, throbbing carefully within you, matching his hips with yours. Aegon pins your hands above your head, treating you kindly.

When he takes your breasts with his tongue, Aegon knows you get louder and he takes his time. Getting to know you carnally is fulfilling his naughtiest wishes.

One moves with the other in a slow, soaked pace, with bodies entangled as one.

However, towards the end of it, as each finds the climax, you turn at him and find him looking at you.

No more lust, but that same something you feared to name is what lies behind his eyes.

“This isn’t about copulating”, says Aegon, sounding more insecure than he likes. “I hope you know this.”

“You are my husband now, Aegon.”

“It is but a formality. I want you to know how I feel for you is beyond titles and traditions”, and he’s on his elbows now, searching for your face as he strokes your cheek. “I love you, Y/N.”

It is a beautiful sight when you assimilate his words. Aegon sees the confusion stamped behind your eyes, moving to a slight skepticism before reasoning to it.

And you smile because you feel the same.

“My rogue prince”, you hold his face too. “I love you, you bastard.”

In between chuckles, he kisses you. Like a needy boy, he buries his head in your neck. Likewise, you cuddle onto him.

You are having a relatively complicated day when he calls you.

“Hey, Y/N! Guess what? I’m gonna take the Empire State!”

Aware of his sudden escalating fame, you giggle at his excitement, happy for sharing it—you’ve always encouraged him to pursuit the path of acting, always stood there for him. What’s best of doing your part is that Tom not only acknowledges it, but is thankful for it.

Somehow this warms your heart and makes you forget the clouds that were forming above your head.

“No kidding!! Tell me all about it!”

“I will show you for I was allowed to take someone with me and this someone is you!”

Tom knows how you will react: a stunned silence will be followed by an overjoyed cry out before you are listing every reason why he should choose someone else. Of course there will be some small argument over it, and he could foresee how bright your smile will be when he wins you over it.

The sight itself of your blush and smile makes his heart skip a beat. A perception that rises an alert by his reason, but he doesn’t pay mind to it. Not now anyways.

And it occurs as predicted, which makes him smile.

I’m glad you’re still the same after all those years, Y/N.

“I don’t care. I’m picking you up tonight, pack your things already.”

Your day couldn’t get any better, could it?

***

“We are leaving early tomorrow”, says he when picking you up and driving you to his place. “To prevent you to get late, I’m kidnapping you.”

You laugh quietly at his teasing.

“I don’t get late this often.”

“For a British woman, you do get quite late in many places.”

“I am not late, people of my surroundings tend unfortunately to arrive too early”, you snap back, pleased to make him chuckle.

“Right. You keep telling yourself that, Y/Nickname.”

Tom smiles at you before finally parking his car. You gladly hear all that he has to say, genuinely listening—a trait that he always compared to his former girlfriends, who never seemed interested in catch up with him—until he stops talking.

“You are too quiet again”, Tom notices just as you two walk in his grand, magnificent house.

“I am not”, you try not to give in, but your tone—too high—breaks your intention.

Tom holds your wrist—and it’s here that this touch, former friendly, shows other colors, previously unknown to both of you—and makes you turn at him. You hate how his eyes, so deep and vivid, dive right into yours, drinking into your soul, denuding it crudely.

Most of all, what you hate about the intensity of his gaze is the incapacity of denying him anything. What he asks, you give. You know that.

Oh, you know that.

Fuck.

“What happened, Y/Nickname? I know how supportive you are, but I can tell you’ve been distant this time.”

Saying so, stroking his thumb around your wrist, you are pulled onto him, like the Earth when it’s forced to gravitate around the sun.

Tom knows by your body language that he has so much power over you—he maybe has always known this, but never intended to explore it, for fearful he was in discovering that he may not feel it back, in order to ruin the sacred friendship you two have.

But when gazing at you, he comes to know there is so much more than surface shows. When reading this unspoken pain behind your y/c eyes, he wants to grip your face and protect you at all costs, he wants to devour your lips, he wants to give you the world.

He wants to hear his name out of your holy mouth as he does unspeakable things to you.

Oh. Damned be I.

“Well?”, he swallows his unholy thoughts, burying them alive. “Do you not think I know not my dearest and closest friend after all these years?”

“I do not intend to trouble you, is all”, you say, detesting how weak and meek you sound when you are so easily against him. “You’re having such a great time.”

“I will not have a great time when you’re like this”, he protests with a smile on his lips, too acutely aware of the effects his presence has on you. “I’m all ears, Y/Nickname. Don’t hide away from me.”

You tilt your head, letting him pull a lock of your hair that stubbornly fell over your forehead behind your ear. And then… you tell him your frustrations at work, how little valued you feel by others—your family included.

Tom listens, and not only that but he prepares some tea for both of you. There is this intimacy you’ve never had with another… and when looking into his eyes, you realize that he’s your home.

But why admitting it to yourself when you’ve shielded it behind your pride all of those years?

“Feeling better now?”, he asks you at last. How suddenly you two are cuddling on the couch?

“I am, thank you. You’ve always been a great listener”, you smile at him, not minding the gravity drawing one to the other.

Fingers intertwine, playfully at first. But electric waves are inevitably felt.

“The same can be said of you”, he too smiles, pleased to spot a faint blush rising in your cheeks. He wants to stroke your face, but Tom lacks the bold moves.

One gazes to the other, an invitation is silently posed. But who is yet to give the first steps? So suddenly aware of this unspoken and unadmitted tension, you opt to break it by giving an excuse to retire.

Which cools the spark, you know. But for how long?

Tom sighs and opts to keep to himself, even if this uncertainty drives him mad on the inside.

How long, though? For how long?

A question he is yet to fear the answer.

***

“It’s a beautiful view!”, you tell him later that day, when he takes you back to the hotel with his cast friends.

This day you and Tom, alongside dearly Olivia, Phia and Ewan and other members of the crew of “House of the Dragon”, have climbed to Empire State. Though you tried to be discreet, to your embarrassment Tom ensured you not to be excluded and suddenly you and Olivia became good friends, with each exchanging the contact to the other.

You are still wearing a green—“how thought of you to dress accordingly”, so Tom teased you when seeing you ready, to which you teased him back: “all for my favourite king!, which in turn got him red much to your delight—long gown with reinforces your curves, with your hair loose and the emerald jewelry Tom gifted you on your last birthday, by the time you and him got to the hotel bedroom.

Aegon had insisted that you two shared it—with him sleeping on the couch against your protests—so here you two are.

“Indeed it is”, he agrees, sounding more tired than his bubbly countenance allows him to show. “Very remarkable indeed.”

“You look exhausted”, you say, removing your earrings and necklace before coming at him. “Should you get some rest, T.”

He gives you one kind of glance that makes you mewl.

“You are really gorgeous, Y/N.” And then he stands. For a moment you hope for it. But… “I need a shower, truly.”

As he goes to the bathroom, you know you cannot conceal the disappointment that Tom spots. But what then?

What then? You ask yourself, sad somewhat.

***

“Y/N”, you hear him call you.

It’s dark, lights are out, and after that awkward moment where delights turned to dust with each following to each side, everyone seems to content in silently agree to sleep under the pretense of exhaustion to disguise this unspoken tension.

“Are you awake?”

Part of you wishes to pretend to be asleep. You know you are tired, it really has been a long day, but…

“Yes.”

A brief moment of silence, interrupted by his footsteps. You don’t mind him joining your side—it’s something you’ve always insisted if you’d properly shared the bed with a cushion in between—but you know there’s an anxiety in how he moves to the bed you are that hasn’t been detected before.

Tom slides to your side, thinking the same, perceiving the growing climax of this unbearable tension. He turns the light of the lamp, which soon dissipates part of the darkness that involves you two.

Tension rises when you notice he’s shirtless, the way his short hair falls, his muscles. The proximity makes you warm… specially in between your legs, a feeling you haven’t felt for a long while.

“Y/N. I was rude to you, I’m sorry”, he says, sounding desperate.

You are on your elbow, not minding the nightgown that is nearly showing off unprotected nipples. Such a sight makes Tom sigh deeply, but he keeps sinful thoughts to himself.

Though you may have noticed a naughty glimpse behind his eyes that only makes you feel unthinkable things. And may as well make you incline so a nipple purpose is out.

Tom knows he should not look, but how can he ignore the pink, hardened nipple that is so easily out of the cloth that should keep it of his sight? How can he not admire the swell of your right breast under this light, making visible the object of his desire? Is it useful to struggle with the nights he slept with other women thinking of you?

Nevertheless he holds back his lust when you say:

“Rude? How so?”

Looking into your eyes, he says:

“I struggle in vain to hold back my sentiments for you. Over the years I’ve realized that friendship is not suffice to placate the yearnings of my heart. Your happiness is mine as is otherwise. I want to make you happy, I want to be the reason of your daily smiles. I know this isn’t the most appropriate form to say this, but fuck… I love you, Y/N Y/LN.”

You pale for a moment. Heart races, you forget how to breathe—this is far more girly like than you, as an adult woman, expect. Tom for a moment fears that he’s misinterpreted all of this, until you move forward and cup his face with both hands.

“I love you, Tom Glynn-Carney. I always have and I always will.”

His face brightens upon hearing these words. Three little words that impact a great deal his well being. There is little else to say other than doing what both of you wanted to have it done for a long while now.

In this poorly illuminated room he kisses you, and gladly give in. What it starts as a slow kiss soon evolves to a passionate one. It’s enough to spark that repressed fire.

As your tongue syncs with his, perfectly paired in the same rhythm, you pull Tom over you, welcoming him with your legs. It doesn’t really help your case that his skillful hands soon lift your nightgown, slowly to your waist, gripping your hips.

But you don’t stay too far behind, taking hold of his hair before sliding your hands to his shoulders, thanking the divine for the shirt he’s not wearing. As you dig your fingers against his skin, smirking as he hisses under his breath as a result, he parts the kiss to dive against your neck.

For every built tension is finally dissolved when his hands engulf your frame, slowly lifting higher your nightgown until he suddenly stops what he’s doing.

“Tom!”, you don’t hesitate in protest.

“What?”, he gives you a mischievous look before tilting his head with a completely innocent aura. “I was just wondering if you are comfortable with where this is going.”

“Well, yes I am”, you say as-a-matter-of-factly. “I appreciate your concerns, but you’d know by now if I wasn’t ok with this.”

To ensure you mean every word, you make sure to lock him with your legs and swipe positions.

Tom gives you the look of a devoted lover that not only makes you dripping wetter—if possible—but encourages you to be bolder.

“Even so…”

Whatever he is about to say dies in silence when you remove your nightgown and let him drink the view of your bare breasts pouncing lightly as you rub yourself over his hardened cock.

“This is better than in my wildest dreams”, he mumbles in between hot shortened breaths.

You lean to kiss his lips for a few moments before sliding your tongue to his neck. In the meantime, your eager hands play with his hair, gently moving to his neck and slowly going downwards.

Tom closes his eyes, letting you have the control this time, struggling to keep his arousal in check though his bone is making him burn inside.

It doesn’t help his case when your fingertips get it delicately only to wrap around it.

“Merciful be Heavens”, he groans, already pumping into your palm.

You take your time, running your painfully hard nipples against his skin, tasting his sweat with your tongue. Playing with his neck and jawline makes you hornier—if possible: hearing his ache for you brings such a naughty side of you unknown to any other men.

“Yes, my love”, you bite down his lip. And for a moment your eyes meet in a longing gaze. “Is it good?”

“Fuck yes. You do it so fucking well.”

He throws his head back, eyelashes barely closing as you keep doing what you’re doing. You love to have him moaning, responding so perfectly to your efforts in making him feel good.

You know you want more. In other circumstances you’d scowl at yourself for these impure thoughts, sinful desires, but this is hardly the time for doing so.

You feel so good in giving what he needs that you barely recall yours. And when you go down his belly, Tom gently holds your hair, playing with your locks.

“Babe, you don’t have to do this.”

When you look up, he sees a mischievous glint never before met in such pure eyes of yours.

“Oh honey, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

When you finally replace your hands with your tongue, Tom is abruptly taken to Heaven. Every night he touched himself thinking of you is nothing compared to what you do, fulfilling his naughty dreams he often had about you.

As he pumps into your mouth, his mind goes into blank and brought into nothingness, he slips to an exquisite kind of joy. And you do your best, enjoying it to the point of touching yourself too in the process.

As he sees you enjoying doing it, eventually though… Tom knows that feeling too damn well. He’s about to…

“FUCK!”

You know he doesn’t plan to jerk in you, but you don’t flee from the task. You engulf it all, drinking it. As you sit over it, not minding the risks it may have by doing so, you lick your lips.

“You taste so good, Tom Glynn Carney.”

He eyes you like a hunter. And so suddenly you become his prey. For you are now under his desperate lips, his savage kiss destroying you all the whilst his hands cup your breasts, there staying for a while as you begin to moan.

“You will be rewarded for your devotion, my love”, he whispers against your ear, smirking pleasantly when spotting how shivering you are under his wording.

His lips burn you like fire, but you are yet to get burnt. Tom is patient, he wants to see every bit of you reacting to his command. He kisses you slowly, his tongue licking your skin in his own pace.

But when going to your chest, he says:

“I’ve always noticed your beautiful, rosy, round breasts. And often wondered what’d be like to take each nipple under my mouth”, the actor smirks when you blush. “I’ve always lusted after you, love. This shouldn’t be surprising.”

His eyes are locking with yours as he engulfs his tongue around your nipple, pleased to finding you moaning, louder each time he sucks it. Then his hand finds way to your feminine core only to be pleasantly surprised by how wet you are.

“I’ve always thought of you in the same way”, you say, messing with the sheets. “God, I’m in Heaven. Oh babe!”

Tom likes how you sing out his name, how loud you are, how wet his fingers are. He likes to taste your nipples under his tongue, aware of how much you want him taking his time there, which he does.

But to him, seeing you reaching your climax is a beautiful view his minds captures it in a mental photography. And he wants you so bad…

As he arches his back, this is the very moment he knows when to slide his cock in you, just as you are cumming he pumps in.

“OH LORD!”

Tom chuckles before letting a groan as he begins to fuck you nice and slow. Domineering you in a gentleman manner, he pins your hands above your head and hits your uterus intensely.

“Come, babe. Let us reach paradise together, shall we?”, he says quite breathless before wrapping a hand around your neck, sliding it then to your breast.

Two bodies lock as one. This is lust no more, but the consuming of long repressed flames. Sounds echo in the room as you and him find pleasure together.

When he slows down his pace, he cups your facd and says:

“I fucking love you, Y/N. You will be my wife one day, this I swear.”

Your reasonable self, experienced somehow by now, tells you not to buy this. But it’s not anyone you met. It’s Tom. Your sweet Tom.

Yours to behold and to love.

To care and cherish.

Yours alone.

“I love you, husband.”

He comes for a visit, that Jedi who once helped you out with enemies who used you as a shield against these knights. He saved you and you two ended up becoming friends… even though part of you wishes for more.

But you keep things to yourself out of respect for him and his long term girlfriend, Padme Amidala. You still keep these sparks of attraction buried deep even after they broke up.

Friendship is worthier than sentimental bullshit, you decide it. But there are moments when nights are too warm and, lonely, you use your hand in between your legs thinking of him. Wishing he’d do naughty things to you. Your friends once suggested looking for casual flings to help you out but what does it matter? You simply don’t work that way.

You then get yourself dressed casually. You pick a black shirt with strap, finding no need to use your bra, and a black & red skirt plus wearing high heels because Anakin is tall.

Just as you are preparing to receive him, bell rings. And when you go opening the door, Anakin nearly falls back. He never expected to see you like this. His eyes seem to notice your curves for the first time and he likes what he sees.

“Holy Moly”, he whistles. “All this for me, Y/N?”

Your face goes instantly red at his bold remark. Though you do appreciate his hunter look over your body—which makes your aching in your feminine parts quite unbearable—, you are disconcerted for getting his attention like this. Genuinely you didn’t expect to be noticed.

“Oh stop it you”, you slap his shoulder playfully, before being involved in his strong arms… and it’s here where your nipples go hard, much to your embarrassment.

Anakin has an indecent thought concerning you too, tempted to lift your skirt and slide his hands on your ass… wondering if you are as hot as you are presenting yourself. But when remembering how good friends you are, or even if you were not, he admonishes himself for being this naughty.

Clearing his throat, he reluctantly parts the embrace, taking a look at your apartment, in complete ignorance of your state. You quickly move after wine to serve, thinking that not wearing bra was a very bad idea.

“Nice place”, he says. “I was just wondering whether you’d ever ask me for a visit since you moved.”

“How’s work going?”, you show up with glasses and hands one to him. Again your face burns lightly when his gaze lingers at your thighs. Your heart races at the silly sensation of getting his attention. “I get that saving universe must not be an easy task.”

Anakin purposely sits next to you. He smiles at the confused thoughts and how he affects you.

“You have no idea”, he chuckles before getting serious. “It’s been exhausting, truthfully. I’ve been… tossed in a whirlwind, in a hurricane, whatever you want to call it. But let us not ruin the night talking about work. Wine’s good by the way. How’s your life, Y/Nickname? Often being the listener, never the talker.”

Anakin reclines back at the couch, watching as your face is crimson pink.

“My life is hardly as interesting as yours for a start.”

“That is untrue. Come now…”

When did it become about you? You feel suddenly shy. Hardly men in general interested in what you have to say, about who you are.

But when he looks at you, Anakin isn’t seeing only the beautiful woman you are, but the sensitive, witty, kind, good hearted lady that is so passionate about what she loves doing… he cannot help but falling in love.

However, telling you how he feels… is tricky. Specially because he’s got some scars of his previous relationship.

Even so… he cannot deny the intimacy in sharing memories, the attraction there is about you two. Then it occurs him to deal with it in other ways.

“You know what”, he downs the glass. “I think we should play this game in order to get your head out of recent disappointments.”

You laugh quietly.

“Very well. What is it?”

“Truth or dare.”

“Ani…”

“What?”, he laughs. “What harm can it do?”

You take a long sip of wine. One bottle is empty and you use it to spin. The game begins.

***

“Truth or dare?”, you ask him.

Despite the glint of mischief in his eyes, Anakin surprises you by saying:

“Truth.”

“Well… is it true that you broke up with Padme because of the whole Clovis affair?”

Anakin rolls his eyes, giving you a glare.

“Really now, Y/N?”

“Yes or no, answers only”, you smirk.

“Fine.” He sighs. “Yes. Yes, this was why.”

This wipes the smirk off your face as you gently stroke his hand as you play with his fingers.

“I’m genuinely sorry, Ani.”

He runs a hand over his hair before delivering a crooked grin.

“It’s fine. Time to move on. You, now.”

“…Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss me.”

You flutter your eyelashes before gasping.

“I’m sorry, but what?”

“Come on, Y/Nickname. It’s only fair.” He gives that kind of smile he knows it melts you.

It’s when you realize you’ve been obvious about how you feel for him. Oh shit.

“Y/Nickname… It’s either that or tickling.”

You laugh quietly, hating the other option. Ignoring the heat in your face, you lean close.

“Fine, you idiot.”

Distance is shorter now as you and him sit face to face. Never before you’ve noticed how blue his eyes are, how weak your knees are when he smiles at you like that.

Fuck, fuck.

“Well?”

“Damn it, Skywalker, you know how to make me shy.”

“Then let me encourage you better.”

His fingertips rest under your chin, drawing you closer before slipping it to your hair all the whilst using another to put it behind your neck. His lips now brush against yours before you take the initiative and snake your tongue to his mouth.

You gasp when tasting his tongue dancing slowly, synced with yours, not expecting to feel so good—and it’s definitely better than you thought in your wildest dreams.

As you close your eyes, you let the moment take you. Anakin too is surprised by how good your kiss is. His mug smirk is wiped off his lips when he realizes he wants more of it.

The kiss soon deepens, igniting a spark of something new to you both. It gets heated, it gets…

“Well, there you have it”, you say, distancing yourself of him, albeit reluctantly.

Anakin is too disappointed and he poorly conceals it, but in an attempt to change this subtle awkwardness, you spin the bottle again.

“It’s on you again. Truth or dare, Anakin?”

“…Dare.”

There is a brief exchange of glances. This is getting dangerous, a deadly game you didn’t expect to play, but the temptation has been to great to ignore.

Wine takes holds of your lips and even though Anakin knows what is coming out of your tongue, he waits almost impatiently for you to say it.

“I dare you to kiss me.”

Here comes a crooked grin that makes you knees go weak. Anakin smiles warmly at your request, even more than aware of what goes inside your head.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

You offer him a timid smirk when he leans closer to you. He cups your face with his hands, now taking notice of the shades of y/c that paint your irises. His heart almost skips a beat at what he reads in them.

He hesitates only for a moment and before seeing protest rising to your eyes, the Jedi dives in your mouth and slides his tongue inside yours. The kiss perfectly syncs, just to confirm again how much you and him liked how it went before.

This time neither part wishes to break it. The game is postponed as the kiss grows fervent and all so suddenly he is going on top of you, sighing heavily when perceiving the warmth that comes from your body.

All decency is forgotten when you spread your legs and wrap them around his waist, not minding the skirt being lifted as you do. His hands are now going down to your back before grabbing your ass the way you want him to.

Spark is about to erupt, though, when he parts the kiss to look at you.

“Bloody hell”, he mutters under his breath, far from looking regretted to you.

Your face is red with his words, but you cannot break the gaze.

“Was it good?”

“Better than I thought”, he smiles at you. “I am enjoying this game.”

“So am I…”, you agree in between chuckles.

Carefully, he parts from the embrace, though the moment he looks at you doing the same and trying to pull yourself together, Anakin nearly regrets for going back to this game.

“You’re fucking hot”, he whistles.

“Anakin!”, you chuckle quietly, embarrassed for his blunt remark.

“I am not lying, Y/N”, he spins the bottle. “Damned be me for taking a while in messing with you.”

You laugh, but to say you don’t enjoy the attention is to indulge in lies. However, the ache in your legs only gets worse.

“So… truth or dare?”, Anakin asks you.

“Truth”, you tell him, pleased to spot a disappointment look in his face.

“Very well”, and only then a mischievous thought occurs him. “Is it true you masturbated thinking of me?”

Your eyes go wide at it.

“Anakin! You haven’t been reading my mind, have you?”

By how he raises his eyebrows, you know you gave far more than he would.

“Fuck”, you curse.

“It’s a “yes” or “no” answer, darling”, he laughs quietly, more than amused by the looks on your face.

“Yes”, you grumble. “But it wasn’t this good.”

“Mm, why not?”

“Not answering you that, Skywalker.”

Anakin chuckles. It’s time for you to spin the bottle. Now you ask him.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

You make a grimace, but what comes next surprises both of you, in all honesty. Growing bolder due to the wine you ingested, you smirk and say:

“I dare you to remove your clothes.”

Anakin raises his eyebrows.

“…my clothes?”

“Every piece of it.”

“I wasn’t expecting on that.”

But he does as commanded. However, when he does, Anakin makes sure your eyes are glued on him. And he wants to take notices of how your body reacts as he removes piece by piece.

When you rub your leg into another and how hard your nipples get… those are enough signs to make him further aroused. But he is patient. So he takes his time.

And when you see his length throbbing it… you fear you are about to blow.

“Very well. Your turn, missy”, says Anakin with a mug smirk on his face.

“…Dare.”

“I dare you to give me a hand job.”

Your eyes go wide at his suggestion and Anakin would have regretted it for being so bold had you not risen and taken his side at the couch. Your eyes go to his manhood, and as your chest goes heavier, he opts to interfere.

“You don’t have to do it if you feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s not about that”, you hesitate.

“Oh”, he quickly understands what’s not being said. “None ever taught you correctly, uh? Come here and I will.”

It turns out to be more arousing than you and Anakin would judge. He whispers in your ear what he wants you to do and your hand is right over his cock, following his directions. It’s when he bites down your earlobe that makes you shiver lightly.

“Are you horny?”, he asks you, already aware of how he affects you, which in turn makes him moan.

And to hear him moan so close threatens your self control. You decide not to answer him, even when it’s clearly a positive response. It feels good to watch him like that, how your delicate hands are capable of doing up and down, playing with the tip of his manhood before caressing his balls.

Then a thought… a not so strange one, in fact, occurs you.

Anakin, a man who is hardly ever surprised by others, is surprised by the moment you slide to your knees and engulf him with your eager tongue and pink lips.

“Ah! Ah! Y/N!”, he arches his back, wishing he’d decently ask you to stop, but you are such a good girl.

You like to suck him, you know you do. To taste him, to have his precum in his mouth makes you indecently horny. You take all of it, his louder moans making you drip wet in your panties. But your mind goes blank.

Specially when you taste a different kind of drink you used to swallow. And he cums so violently after fucking your face… though you don’t mind it. You feel like a whore, but what’s worst is that you like it.

“Y/N. To the bedroom, now.”

Anakin lifts you up, holding you in your arms before carrying you to bed. Only when putting you down and kissing your lips does he say:

“I want to compensate you for being such a good girl to me.”

Saying so he removes your clothes. Denuded underneath his gaze, you lie down in bed with your legs spread.

“Touch yourself thinking of me”, he asks you, already getting hard at it. “Tell me your secretive thoughts, Y/N.”

“Anakin…”, you are on your elbows, enjoying the naughty look he gives you. “I need assistance here. Come on.”

And then you beg.

“Please.”

He bends over your side, a hand caressing your waist all the whilst his lips are over your shoulders and neck. Inhaling the scent in your skin, Anakin is completely drawn to you.

“Your wish is my command, Madame”, he whispers in your ear before his curious fingertips find way to your womanhood.

He plays with your pubic hair for a while before his index finger digs into you. When feeling how soaked you are, Anakin growls low and you shiver when feeling his erection member just behind your lower back.

“You make me so naughty”, you whimper, barely believing he’s doing what you’ve always wanted him to.

“Had you told me this earlier, I would not take such a time to get to you”, he says, already short breath cut by the sounds you make. “Fuck… Let me access your thoughts and drink into that. I need it.”

Not that he is surprised when he does, but it is somewhat more colorful when you permit him to dive in your dirtiest thoughts concerning him… or even when he accesses your sentiments.

This is not lust anymore when he turns you to him, his finger still inside you.

“Damned you are, woman”, he hisses at you before crushing your moans with a fervent kiss.

And who are you to fight his urges, which equals yours?

***

As loving as he is when making love to you, you prefer him to be on top of you. When looking at his face, his messy, shortened hair with a few curls dropping over his face… It takes all of your strength not to drown in a quick climax.

He does it so well, no lover compares to him. He thrusts in slow and deep and you feel it. You like feeling him. Oh you do.

And when he leans to you, his lips pursuing yours in an old fashioned manner you are foolishly open, making all of this more emotional than you’d have originally judged.

“Anakin!”, you whimper loudly again. “I might…”

“Yes, Princess? Come to me! Come to me all right”, he commands you to, his body linked to yours indecently so.

His hands locked to yours, your eyes close as your body arches and it feels so different… almost as if you are gravitating. There is something else compelling you to a bigger wave of pleasure that makes you so sensitive to it.

It might as well as Anakin using the Force to reach the unreachable. Who cares?

He’s yours and you are his.

When you cry out his name, it’s such a confirmation.

When you look at this man, you cannot believe how fortunate you are. It isn’t only about the looks, even though to deny these don’t play a part in how attracted you still are towards him is to indulge in lies; but how protective he can be whenever you fly with him on Caraxes, whenever you accompany him at court.

Or how attentive he can be when you are sharing your day with him. Daemon Targaryen actually listens whenever your studies get your brain sharped—in truth, he is often horny whenever you and him have this moment talking about politics, philosophy, art… because he is also aroused by your looks.

When you are not well, he is the kind of husband who tends his wife. And he makes sure to leave his duties aside to be by your side. Saying nothing, but his presence says a lot.

These are your thoughts as you miss him a great deal. Daemon has been exiled again… probably for rebelling against that douchebag who attends by the name of Otto Hightower. And you had to stay behind because he assured you he’d not take long.

It’s been three days though and to sleep in a bed without the comfort of his body, the warmth of his skin against yours… is too dreadful. You are often anxious, considering pleading to the king to give his brother another chance, even if this means to take the risk of angering Daemon, for he is very prideful.

It’s when you, trying to busy yourself with sewing a new tapestry for your household, are told by one of the maids of your trust that Caraxes has been spotted.

“Oh praise the Gods!”, you exclaim, relieved. “Please ensure that all is set to receive the lord.”

And you are quickly having another lady to help you dress a better gown—perhaps the red one with details in black, his favourite colors—to welcome him properly.

The idea of how this night might end already gives you goosebumps, for it’s been a while since you and him haven’t done it—mostly because you’ve been engaged in philosophy studies and he, with wars waged against the Tetrarchy at Free Cities.

Your y/c hair is left partially loose—you tied a few locks in a short braid—, your delicate features are painted in light make up and your curves are reinforced by this beautiful long silk sleeved gown.

It does show some cleavage, the line of your neck to that of your breasts quite exposed—as you see yourself in mirror you blush at it, specially because your nipples are getting hard, eager to pop out to his mouth. But you, as a lady and his wife, know that it’s always better when you hold your desires back.

Right?

Heavens, you don’t know. Your legs shake lightly as your pussy begins to ache. You remember still how, before he went off, he reclined your back, spread your legs and slided his length, throbbing his cock into your womanhood. To recollect is to be bit by agony, for that night he smirked when hearing your screams going louder.

“Had I known how loud you could be, I’d have tried this position before”, he said then.

Another memory flashes back, when he caught you naked in bed touching yourself. You hadn’t seen him for a few days too—because he flew to see his brother— and here you were, moaning his name with your legs indecently spread and your fingers doing poorly the job he excelled.

And all so suddenly, he removed his clothes and laid back next to you, shuddering you as he helps you getting to reach your climax.

“Is it good? Thinking of me, does it make you good?”

That same day he replaced his finger with his tongue. And Gods be damned, you loved it. And you want it again. Even if he might accuse you of naughtiness.

Well, you once told him, how can one be his wife without being prompted to lust? And you swear you’d never seen this man blush before.

So here you are, holding back your fire, waiting for the reunion. You have an emerald necklace that he gifted you last Yule as well as a pair of rubies embellishing your ears.

By the time you get to the living room, Daemon, with his hair shorter, is impatient for his wife.

“Fuck, where is…?” And he is as silent as you are, as if you two are transfixed by each other’s presence.

“Daemon”, relief comes through as you run to his arms, there staying engulfed. “Three days never before felt so long.”

He smiles to himself when feeling your frame pressed against his, smelling your scent and hearing your voice—the sentiments there being expressed making his heart race.

The rogue prince presses a kiss over your forehead before cupping your face and finally kissing your lips, a reward for a painful, long waiting.

“My lady”, he smiles down at you. “Always loyal.”

“It could never be otherwise”, you stroke his cheek, eyeing him with the utmost devotion. “Three days and yet it felt like eternity to wait for your return. My prayers were my only comfort, the balsam to my aching heart.”

“A poetess”, he murmurs in awe, “with a soul that never ceases to inspire me love.”

Daemon gives a side crooked smirk when seeing his words paint a crimson shade on your cheeks, when seeing how bright your smile is. He then leans to peck your lips before whispering down to your ear.

“I’m looking forward tonight. You are gorgeous, my wife. All of this for me?”

His voice, a quiet whisper that contains a lot more than lets it show, gives you shivers. You lower your gaze before smiling rather shyly.

“Yes, lord. All of this to my husband.”

When you raise your eyes, you know you are lost. Daemon Targaryen has just pierced your soul.

***

“Finally”, he pulls you to himself, staying right behind you as he rests his chin over your shoulder, arms around your waist. “Finally a moment alone with you, Y/Nickname.”

You giggle softly.

“I’ve been looking forward to this…”

“If I remember well, you burn as bright as any dragon fire”, recollects Daemon, smirking when in reference to the first night spent together after the bedding ceremony where he deflowered you. “Especially where weak spots are concerned”, and here he whispers hotly in your ear, pleased to see a shiver running over your spine and how weak your knees are.

You hate to be so vulnerable before him, to be so easily read, but at the same time you love that he knows you so well.

You try to find balance at the nearest object nearby, which happens to be the window. As darkness grows outside, there is little of the landscape you can spot, although it hardly distracts you of your husband’s preying eyes.

As Daemon turns at you, he denudes you with only a gaze. He drinks of the view of you, pleased to find you in a struggle to hold back the long lust he—and only he—evokes in you.

His cock goes rigid in his pants as he watches your breathing going painfully slow, as your hands hold against the wall, as your body begs him to do what you both want him to do.

But Daemon wants to take his time—because when he does, oh the waiting will be worth it.

His fingertips begin to caress your features before slowly going to your neck.

“I love the colour you chose to welcome me tonight”, says the rogue prince, secretively smirking at how you notice his small details, much like he does at you.

“It pleases me to hear it so”, you tilt your head to the side, locking gazes with him. “All was done with this purpose.”

And in this moment his index finger slides to your mouth. A glint of mischief sparks behind his eyes as you open it and welcome it with your tongue in a very suggestive gesture.

“Mm.” He sighs almost inaudibly, aroused already. “You like it, don’t you? Ever since I taught you how it’s done… you’ve mastered it.”

“Like you taught me indeed, my lord”, you smirk back, eyeing him intently. Your hands are about to buckle his bell but he soon stops you.

“No”, Daemon groans as he pins you against the wall. “Wife, I play this game.”

“Better than I”, you aquiesce, willingly so.

He chuckles before leaning inches closer to you.

“Indeed”, and when his hands move from your waist to embrace you, before grabbing your hair gently, he kisses you.

His tongue gently comes after yours, pairing synchronously in perfect harmony. You dwell in the taste of sweet Dornish wine that mixes with yours, carefully minted after dinner.

And then it gets deeper. It gets passionate. You start to burn in fever, longing for his command, to be subdued to his will. Daemon knows you, even when your breathing comes out a different pace or how your hands slowly move to play with his now shorter locks.

He knows.

A devilish smirks paints his lips when sensing your impatience. He likes to take his time, though by now your rose scent drives him insane. It’s a particular rose. He knows it.

It’s as if a dragon calls another to mate.

He knows.

Daemon finally unlaces your gown. He needs to see your nude state, to devour your curves with his eyes. So he parts his lips from yours, pleased to find in your eyes that pledge he likes so well.

And you blush before his intent gaze. You promptly try to cover yourself, but the domineering man you call your husband gently parts your legs with his knee and firmly takes your hands to pin your wrists above your head.

“Daemon!”, you whimper like the wench you are.

“Yes?”, he licks his tongue around his mouth, already with a bone at the sight of you so exposed, your nipples so damn hardened. “Can’t I appreciate my wife?”

Your face goes pink with his words. You are at his mercy, you dare not to pledge liberty. But you begin to feel dropping wet in your legs. Rubbing one to the other, you try to show some control.

But Daemon knows he’s affecting you. And he likes the view. Oh, he does.

A sly smirk runs in his lips as he pulls your hair with one hand and wraps another around your neck, all the whilst parting your legs with his knee.

“Hmm. You couldn’t handle staying three long days and nights without me, could you?”, he whispers, aroused as you whimper at the pressure he makes into your womanhood.

Your mouth barely opens, forming an “o” as you flutter your eyelashes. The torture only worsens when you whimper due to the short distance he takes of you.

Because Daemon Targaryen starts touching himself at the thought of you. So ready, so undone… right under his power.

“It is most unfair to be unkindly treated in such a manner”, you protest, already salivating when remembering what it felt like to have his length throbbing in your mouth.

Daemon smirks still at you, locking eyes precisely as he releases his pressure.

“Is it?”, he then groans, pleased to be under your intent stare. “I thought you liked to watch.”

You blush once more at the reference of the day you caught him, perhaps unintentionally, on such a private moment. You were sent by the king to look after him—the prince hasn’t courted you yet, despite his openly flirting to you, so innocent back then—and you found him rather jerking at the library.

You could not look away though you froze when he opened his eyes and found you there, watching as he came undone. And to think all of what he did next…

Still gives you shivers even after these years.

“Do you like that, don’t you?”, he places his soaked index finger into your mouth, watching you with eyes dark with desire as you suck it, glinting with mischief when doing so.

You barely come to an answer as his mouth engulfs yours, colliding lips in a passionate and deep kiss. It is as if your soul is set alight, burning with something more meaningful than merely desire.

You are his and he’s yours. He knows it, he feels it too. Never before he’s been so tamed as he is now. This dragon who was known to many women down the capital, whether high or low born, are faithful to one woman now who is fortunate to be called his wife.

And you occupy such privileged position that certainly has some envious ladies grumbling on and upon—rumour has it that Rhaenyra Targaryen is one of those heartbroken ladies who never truly accepted that you are his lady.

This certainly does not cross your mind by now when his lips pursuit your skin, deliciously devouring your neck—his gritted teeth leaving bruises all the way.

“My husband, I need more”, you whimper louder, impatiently so.

He leans back to smile at you, that way you like him to—carrying a mix of bashfulness and cheekiness— before saying:

“My darling spoilt brat”, he chuckles. “What have I raised?”

A peck in your lips and the man finally lowers his kiss. At long last your lust is satisfied and he cups each nipple, devouring you like a famine man.

It feels so good to have his tongue twisting it around your pink nipple, biting it, taking his time there. You arch your back, you want to play with his hair, but he’s still holding your wrists, tightening the grip as if saying he “owns” you.

And you blissfully give in. Specially when he stops caressing your boobs and slides a hand to your feminine part.

So suddenly you moan louder. For the moment his fingers are inside you, clutched within, digging a deep path to your uterus, your chest gets heavier and it is as if you have butterflies in your stomach.

“Come to me”, he is now standing his nude body so close to yours that sweats are mixed. “Come. I want to hear you scream my name.”

One look is enough and you are crying out his name, finally released off that unbearable pressure that has been within you.

“Daemon…”

“Y/N…”

And with no waiting for further playtimes, your legs are wrapped around his waist and he finally thrusts his erect manhood within you.

Locked against the wall, you two move synchronously, breath to breath, body to body. The fire of a dragon burns all over you an it feels good to be burnt alive.

As his thrusts match with the moves of your hips, climax seems to approach. He pulls you to his lips, before gently lifting you up only to lay you down at the table and there fucking you intently.

Hardly surprises anyone awake by that hour at the castle to hear indecent sounds echoing through it. This only means how the prince is in a very good mood indeed.

***

Daemon watches you sleep peacefully in his arms. Both of you are in his quarters now, poorly covered by a silk linen sheet over your bodies. His eyes linger in your heart-shaped face, in how serene you look with your eyes shut.

He puts delicately your y/c locks behind your ear, making sure none make you uncomfortable in your sleep. The prince looks at you with a sweet, almost secretive grin in his lips.

He loves his lady. He missed her company, her laughters, her body, her wit.

The prince holds you tight against him, drifting to sleep himself. In his mind he replays the scenes of the day he discovered you and him loved each other.