𝕾𝖆𝖒

And, of course, you wanted to be just like them. A knight, hilarious joke that was no longer funny.

At one point, you disappeared for a whole year. Duncan was so devastated he genuinely thought you were dead and continued traveling with Ser Arlan in full-on emotional damage mode… until he randomly ran into you in a tavern.

He hugged you so tight you nearly saw the Stranger himself. Then he noticed all the injuries you’d collected and immediately switched to angry big brother. You calmed him down, swearing no one had hurt you, and that you had, in fact, saved some knight from certain death.

And said knight, being all noble and honorable and annoyingly skilled with a sword, offered to do anything for you.

so you took the opportunity and made him train you. You remember him laughing at first, you’re just a little girl, but then he saw how serious you were about it.

For that year, he taught you swordplay and also tried to turn you into a proper lady so maybe you could change your mind about the whole knight thing when you grow up.

Which was… torture. Actual torture, you weren’t built for polite smiles.

Eventually, you missed Dunk even Ser Arlan’s drunk rambling. So you ditched the knight and went back to wandering with your brother, never telling him a word about that time again.

The day Ser Arlan died was… strange. Heavy rain poured as Dunk dug the grave. You sat beside the body, knees tucked under your chin, silently looking at him.

You hadn’t been that close to the old knight… but Dunk had. And that was enough to make your chest ache.

You cried because he cried.

That night, he fell asleep in your arms, eyes swollen, while you leaned against a tree.. absently stroking his hair like, for once, you were the older one.

The next morning, After many thoughts about going to a city, Ashford Meadow also came to Dunk’s mind. He wanted to declare himself a knight, Ser Arlan’s sword proudly hanging at his side.

Duncan told you that he had knighted him, and although you had some doubts, you believed him anyway.

You stopped at a small inn, as usual. You hopped off your horse, gave it a pat, brushed its mane back, then noticed a bald kid staring at you.

“Oh, hello there, little one” you waved at him but no response.

Dunk stepped in “You the stable boy?”

You didn’t wait around. Just went inside and left them to it.

By the time Dunk joined you, all you could think about was how you could participate in the tourney. You weren’t a knight. Fine. But worse? You weren’t even a man. and that irritated you greatly.

You took an aggressive sip of your drink, just in time to hear.. “I saw you in my dreams… stay the fuck away from me”

When your eyes focused on his face and the dagger pointed toward you -specifically toward Dunk- your brows furrowed. He seemed somewhat familiar, so you looked at Dunk whispering “Do you know him?”

“Of course not. First time I’ve seen him”

“…strange”

Later, while Dunk went to get the horses, you stayed behind eating in silence but with busy mind.

Maybe, shaving your hair like that stable boy? Tempting. Risky, but tempting. still it would be easy to discover you.

You sighed, reaching instinctively for a piece of cloth that wasn’t there.

“…Damn. It’s been years” That knight’s with his ‘proper lady’ lessons still haunting you.

So you wiped your hands on your breeches and your mouth on your sleeve instead. Much better.

Outside, Dunk was ready to go, but the bald kid spoke again.. “So… is your wife your squire? That’s why you won’t take me?”

“Wife?” Your expression tightened as you looked at them. The tall man threw a coin to the boy and said, “She’s my sister! And you’d do well to keep that mouth shut.”

The boy didn’t move or bend “I know you’ll pick it up once we leave” Dunk added.

You mounted your horse then threw a small glance behind you, then looked ahead. And there you were, back on the road again.

You were at the small camp Dunk chose by the tree next to the river. You did your best to make the place somewhat livable until Dunk returned with the news that Ser Manfred was busy.

“Smile a little. He’ll be free tonight,” you said to his frowning face.

“What if Ser Manfred doesn’t remember him?”

“You’ll find someone who does. Just stop thinking” Then you hit the back of his head. He groaned, rubbing the spot.

“Ay, Why?” he was confused..“To make your thoughts shut up a little”

Then you started spreading his wet clothes on the tree branches while he sat on the ground, naked except for the shield on his lap.

You saw how he was looking at the ground in despair, but there was nothing to be done. Both of you had thought that joining the tournament would be easy for him, but perhaps that was a wrong assumption.

You returned again to Ser Manfred’s place at night, this time together. You were amazed by the atmosphere, and you told your brother that you would walk around a little.

The sounds of swords and shields clashing… how much you wished to show some of your skills. But you knew that if you opened your mouth even with a single word, you would be met with mockery.

You saw Dunk leaving one of the tents with a sad expression, so you went to that tent and entered, finding a red-haired woman stood there, leaning over another who was lying on a table, both of them laughing.

Their dresses were eye-catching, beautiful.. You found yourself staring for a moment.

How you had once wished to wear silk dresses… back when you were with that knight as a child. But he used to give you boys’ clothes, leaving you with the servants to teach you the ways of ladies.

You snapped out of it when you noticed their stares, you coughed lightly “Why were you bothering my brother?”

The redhead looked you up and down with pure judgment “Who’s this… effeminate boy?”

Effeminate boy?

You glanced at yourself… fair. Breeches with rope as a belt. Tunic. Leather vest. Messy hair tied back with a stick.

“Are you blind, or just stupid?” you said with angry tone “Can’t tell a woman from a man?”

They burst out laughing, even the one lying down. you felt slightly annoyed.

Suddenly, they moved closer.

You blinked, confused, until one of them pulled the stick from your hair, letting it fall loose.

You grabbed your hair and tried to take the stick back from her “What the hell?!”

“Well,” the redhead smirked “now we can actually tell what you are a little ”

The other added, “Hmm… the clothes are still filthy like a dirty stable boy”

The red-haired woman marched over to a pile of chests and threw one open, immediately starting to toss fabrics left and right like she was fighting them personally, until she finally pulled out a red dress, cut almost exactly like her own.

You were instantly in love with it just from a brief distant glimpse, but you forced yourself not to react, turning to the one who had taken your hair stick “Give me back the stick”

“We’ll return your precious little branch, if you tried this” she said casually with it between her teeth while nodding toward the dress now placed in your hands.

You blinked “…But-” And then you stopped.

Because… this was it, wasn’t it? Your chance. To wear something like this. To look like something else. Someone else.

…So why were they being this nice all of a sudden? That was suspicious, and somehow you chose to ignore that completely.

You spread the dress between your hands, staring at it.

It was… revealing, definitely enough to make any ‘proper lady’ look with disgust which, thankfully, you were not.

You took off your in the corner of the tent with little bit of shyness. The moment you slipped the dress over your head, it felt wrong and strange a little.

Too tight in places you weren’t used to noticing. too soft against your skin that had grown familiar with rough fabric and dust. You adjusted it awkwardly, fingers tugging at the fabric that barely covered your chest. like they might somehow turn back into your old clothes if you insisted hard enough.

The girls glanced at you with pleased wicked smiles just before anyone could speak, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the moment

You looked behind at the two guards stepped in with heavy boots. Cold expressions. The kind of presence that made the air feel tighter “We need someone for the Targaryens, tomorrow”

You turned instinctively and froze. The red-hair women were gone. All of them.

Even the one who had been lounging on the table just moments ago… vanished like they had never been there to begin with.

Only you remained. A mistake, very obvious one.

The guards exchanged a glance brief, silent and then their attention settled fully on you.

You took a step back “ Wait I’m not what you thin-..”You didn’t get to finish.

One of them grabbed your arm firm while the other moved behind you. You struggled, instinct kicking in, but they were stronger. Faster. Used to this. 

Something rough was forced against your mouth before you could react. Tight cloth.

And also your wrists were pulled back. Tied. Too quick. Too practiced.

Your heart pounded violently against your ribs as panic began to creep in.. not loud, not explosive… but sharp and suffocating.

Outside, the air hit colder.

They pushed you forward, forced to walk, your steps unsteady against the ground, your breathing shallow behind the cloth binding your mouth, panic sitting heavy in your chest, clawing for release.

You saw him. Dunk!

Just a few steps away. You were certain that was his back, close enough that if things were different… you could’ve simply called his name.

Your body reacted before your mind did.

You struggled harder, a muffled sound forcing its way past the cloth, your voice trapped, broken, useless. Dunk!

Your eyes widened, locking onto him, silently begging. Look behind, Just look!

He stood there for a moment, talking to another, his back half-turned to you. So close. So painfully close.

You tried again, another strained sound, louder this time, desperation creeping in.

Nothing.

The guards didn’t even slow their pace.

Your chest tightened painfully, the sound you tried to make dying against the cloth, nearly broke your neck looking back over your shoulder as his figure grew smaller… and smaller…

You were thrown into that dark small chamber. You truly had no idea how much time had passed while you remained there. They never untied your hands or even removed the gag. Exhaustion eventually took over, and you fell asleep on the hard ground.

How humiliating. This would be the last time you ever wore a dress… or trusted anyone other than your brother.

You woke to a hand removing the cloth from your mouth, another lifting water to your lips. You tried to make sense of your surroundings long enough to drink.. Then they pulled you to your feet.

“I came here with my brother! I’m not a pleasure woman just let me go, or I swear-..” The cloth was wrapped back around your mouth before you could finish.

He glanced at the other man.. “Which one asked for her? son of Prince Maekar Targaryen, the silver haired one?” Oh no, you wanted to despair so bad.

The other man gave a nod, and the two of them began dragging you again.

When you glanced to the side, you saw the sun already on the edge of disappearing, how much time had passed while you were there?

Your eyes darted around desperately as you were pulled along. Whenever a servant passed by, you tried to plead with them silently, through your eyes, but most simply looked away.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a door. One of them untied your arms, the other removed the cloth from your mouth, before you could even attempt to run, you were shoved inside.

the door shut behind you, you stood there hesitant, your back facing the man seated inside.

You started massaging your wrists where the ropes had bound them. If you weren’t mistaken, a silver haired Targaryen prince. Son of Maekar Targaryen. Who else could it be?

You knew him. Unfortunately… you knew him personally, and not in a good way.

Ser Donnel of Duskendale -the knight you had once helped, the one who had taken you under his wing for a year- was now one of the Kingsguard.

Back then, you used to spar with the princes from time to time, after being made to gather the wooden swords and shields once they were done.

And, unfortunately again… you had been better than Aerion, when he was smaller, weaker.

You remembered how you used to tease him whenever you spotted him, throwing careless nicknames his way, mocking the fact that he couldn’t defeat a girl.

Gods… You hoped he didn’t remember any of it or even you.

You slowly turned, he had grown no longer that slim boy. A prince in every sense now.. presence, posture and reputation. Cruel also, they said.

“M-my prince…” you stammered.

He rolled his eyes in boredom “I’m not in the mood for games,” he said flatly. “Just bend over anywhere so I can fuck you, be quick about it” You stiffened, thinking.. If you tried to run the guards were outside.

You saw him rise, the red robe slipping slightly from his shoulders, looking fresh out from a bath you felt like you needed a wash as well… in the river.

But this was hardly the time for such thoughts you need to stop and focus, fine what about the truth then?

Your fingers tapped together nervously “What if I told you… I’m not a w- whore? Hmm?” You know it was ridiculous.

He walked toward you, clearly annoyed, eyes fixed on you “I told you, I’m not in the mood. The innocent act stopped being interesting”

Well, he didn’t recognize you, that was one point in your favor, but he also didn’t care about your words.. point lost.

Your eyes darted around the room, searching anything, any idea.. Too late.

He was already in front of you, close, too close.

He tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes as he studied your face, your heart pounded violently in your chest, prayed that your features were no longer those of the child you once were.

You lowered your gaze, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of the dress nervously. 

Poor decision… But his reaction was unexpected as his fingers tangled in your hair in a swift motion, gripping it at the roots from the back of your head and pulling.

“Fu-..” you hissed under your breath as your chin was forced up.

“When I’m speaking to you,” he said coldly, “don’t look away” you blurted out quick apology, involuntarily and saw his gaze sharpen not with anger, but focus on your neck.

You expected him to let go after the little sorry, He didn’t.

Instead, his lips moved to your neck in a sudden motion, your breath caught, your hands instinctively pressing against his chest, trying to steady yourself more than push him away.

These feelings, these unfamiliar touches… you never thought you would experience them, and from a prince? Not just any prince… Aerion, the one you once bullied.

Your eyes closed, a sound slipping out of you without intention.. so you bit down on your lower lip to stop another sound like it from escaping.

You tried to push him, but he was solid. His other hand held your wrist.

“Please, my prince… what I said is the truth, the guards misunderstood…” Your words fell on deaf ears, he didn’t care at all, too focused on finishing his painting, while you had no idea how to deal with it after.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes lingered on your skin no longer unmarked, but dotted along your neck like a trail of stings.

Your uneven breathing, your hands still pressed against him pushing with power you have.

“Not easy,” he murmured.. “Interesting… a little” clearing his throat to command “Lift your dress”

A thought hit you, mind racing, you hated the idea the moment it formed, but it might be your only chance.

His eyes were still on you sharp. So you swallowed your pride… And played along.

You let your voice soften, forcing a tone you despised “Oh my dragon, prince of dragon blood… what if you tell me more about dragons? Hmm ? So I can learn how to be your prey?”

Brows furrowing “What?” His hands left you waiting for you to continue.

You took his hand gently, guiding him toward the bed, and surprisingly he let you. Easing him down as you moved with careful intention.. every motion calculated.

You lowered yourself kneeling in front of him, hands resting lightly on his thighs, tilting your head just enough to sell the act, you hated yourself for this.

“I want to please you the way you want… to be your lamb between your fangs… devoured as you wish…” you said with low voice, false, but convincing.

You added a small breathy sound, continuing your act “How were dragons… are you… one of them?”

He looked at you differently now. Not bored anymore. Interested, fully. 

“…That’s right,” he began slowly, “The blood of the dragon runs through my veins..”

“Yes..” you said acting curious while your hand shifted slightly heading toward what was hidden beneath the robe.

His gaze followed your fingers,“ I-..” words died in his throat when your cold fingers wrapped around his semi-hard cock.

You had always heard Ser Arlan -in his drunken words- say that this part in particular was a weakness, if handled well. So you pumped it lightly.

You watched Aerions eyes falling shut, his expression tightening as he let out a breath, his cock twitching in your hand, fully hardened now.

Your plan was simple: wear him out and escape.

You let your fingers curl more confidently, your posture changing just enough to break that fragile image he had started to question.

“Oh, you really want my cock that badly, Why the useless acts in the first place then?” A faint smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, keeping himself composed, despite the heat coursing through his body because of the movement of your fingers.

You only offered a shy smile, heavily feigned.

“Do you even.. understand,” he said voice quieter now, but carrying something deeper, something heavier “what you’re asking about?”

His gaze didn’t leave yours. Not for a second.

“The dragons…” he paused, as if savoring the last word, enjoying its taste “…are not just beasts.”

His fingers moved to your cheek, brushing over it with no softness just to remind you who in control before beginning their slow path down to your neck… tracing the reddened marks he had left behind “They were power, fire, ruler”

Your movements didn’t stop, only slowed, as you listened, perhaps he might say something useful “They were us”

“They bent kingdoms,” he went on, his tone growing steadier, prouder but breathy “Burned armies to ash. Made men kneel before they even drew their swords”

His eyes darkened slightly, swallowed his groan when he felt your thumb on the tip tracing over it softly.

“And my family..” he added trying to mask any reaction to your touch, lifting his chin just slightly “we didn’t follow that power…”

His hand, which had been resting on your neck for a while, began to move lower.. slipping beneath the fabric toward your breast.

your hand stilled, and you drew in a shaky breath “We were that power" He pinched your nipple roughly earning a surprised moan from you.

The room felt smaller and tighter, filled with something unseen but heavy, you no longer moved your mind split between listening to him and feeling the intensity of his grip.

“The blood of the dragon isn’t a story, It’s not some tale to entertain small minds”

His gaze sharpened pinching your sensitive nipple once more with greater force made your lips fall open soundlessly as your brows knitting unable to process his touch or the way your body responds to it with that unsettling warmth spreading through you.

“I didn’t told you to stop, whore” Your heart skipped, you have no idea how long he will last.

Reacting to his harsh touches, you wanted to give him same treatment you moved your hand fast and squeezing hard, drawing a muffled response before he slaps your hand away. 

“what a fucking slut!” He clamped his hand around your wrist harshly, ready to yank you onto the bed and pin you down, but your wrist caught his attention instead, especially that distinctive small birthmark.

“Fuck..” nervous whisper left you as you noticed what he was looking at. 

Aerion uttered your name without hesitation or need to recall his memories “Duskendale’s little whore” tightened his grip around your hand until it ached.

“You pathetic worm, I know it. Ones like you always end up selling themselves” Your face twisted in raging anger; you wanted to punch him hard, but what awaited in return was your head on a spike..

So you didn’t punch him.. no no, you went for the performative option: a slap.

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it!!

Thoughts??? Should i continue orr??

Taglist: @sophiane1404 @qardasngan @tvnile @br0ke-b1tch @kthcbkhj @mommyoftwoo @dreuwea @wandabillywrites @briefwinnapersona @dvmb4ssbiatch @soyvanepino @sunshineandarrow @cindlilly @mtmtnt @cupidzslvt @dragonqueen1212 @imeow33 @pickledcheesesauce @man1festation @starkleila

ೀ SingleDad!Aerion who supposedly just wanted to check on the new nursemaid assigned to the child, the one he didn’t expect much from anyway, as if he now hadn’t just “accidentally” scheduled his entire day around checking whether a you were doing your job correctly… or his son was being held right -he doesn’t even know how- or if the air in the chamber felt slightly different today.

ೀ SingleDad!Aerion who calls the boy by his name. Always flat and cold with no softness, untouched by affection. just a name, spoken like a command rather than a call.

ೀ SingleDad!Aerion who one day, heard your small voice with some childish nickname, clumsy and warm in a way he did not understand. Something that shouldn’t have reached him as deeply as it did.

Now, when no one is close enough to hear, when the silence is thick and unforgiving, he leans just a fraction closer and murmurs “my little flame” “fire dust” So quiet it barely exists. As if saying it faintly enough would make it meaningless, that he does not care.

ೀ SingleDad!Aerion who never knew how to hold a child, and never cared to learn, until, with no words, you placed the babe into his arms, leaving him frozen for a moment he refused to acknowledge. And with your small touches here and there, you taught him how to handle a child’s fragile body and how to support their head properly. Well… he was more focused on your lips while you instructing him than his son.

ೀ SingleDad!Aerion who presence appears behind you without warning, while the child rests in your arms. encircle you carefully, one hand on your belly which makes you feel strange and the other steadying the babe as if he had no intention of startling either of you, even though he did.

ೀ SingleDad!Aerion who would be deeply annoyed at being brought here, after being told it was an urgent matter.. only to find you making him watch his child crawl for the very first time, and his displeasure faded entirely.

ೀ SingleDad!Aerion when you once asked him -more like forced him and he let you- to read a bedtime story to the boy, all he had were tales of dragons, wars, and bloodshed. And yet, somehow, the child still fell asleep to the sound of his voice. As a payback, he insists that you come to his room to read to him whenever you finish your duties with the little one.

ೀ SingleDad!Aerion who loses his composure the moment he sees his child perched on your hip, the way you carry him so effortlessly and how you balance him while swinging your hips as you walk like two pieces aligning in a puzzle even though the boy is his, not yours.

ೀ SingleDad!Aerion when he steps inside and catches you pointing at him, smiling softly “Look my little prince, father is here” a strange warmth bloomed in his chest and a deep sense of belonging flickers within him but quickly buried beneath cold expression as always.

ೀ SingleDad!Aerion who began to grow attached to his child, almost unintentionally, because of the way he found himself drawn to you.

ೀ SingleDad!Aerion who never says “I love you” but makes the world around the babe grow smaller, safer… controlled, as if he is quietly bending everything and everyone just to keep him untouched.

ೀ SingleDad!Aerion who, after becoming fully bonded to the boy would break if the child ever feared him like truly feared him. Something in him would shatter, and no one would survive the aftermath.

When he cut through the wrapping from one corner to the other, his eyes widened..

A pair of breasts before him, so he quickly removed the rest, the painting was.. you.

In a dress tight beneath your bare chest and lifted above your thighs exposing your cunt.

A craving started to built up inside him, and he felt himself close to hardening from just a painting, how shameful. But what kind of ridiculous joke was this?!

Yet… it was a joke worth hanging above his bed, to wake every morning to such breathtaking beauty.

Still, he shook his head as anger and agitation took over. He called for the guards and ordered you brought immediately.

When you arrived, he wanted you alone. Guards and servants outside.

Your smile was wide when you saw the torn wrapping on the floor, so he hadn’t ignored your gift.

“Just so you know, this isn’t the only present… there’s another beneath the dress,” you said playfully, fidgeting with your fingers, waiting eagerly for his opinion on the painting, you had spent a whole month painting it in secret to surprise him.

“I wonder, should I feel insulted… or amused?” he said in an unhappy tone, ignoring what you said, still staring at the painting facing him -turned away from you- the joy on your face vanished.

Was the dragon wrong? You had read many descriptions to imagine it well…

“I apologize, my prince, if the dragon isn’t accurate,” you said in disappointment.

“Don’t act foolish. Such boldness, you must have known whose hands this would end up in” His expression was somewhat angry, his words unclear, but you assumed he didn’t like it at all.

““I was expecting scales and fire. Not… you” The confusion was obvious on your face. You stepped forward to see what made the painting so provoking.

And when your eyes fell on it, you quickly tried to hide it behind your back, nervously talking.. “Ah… husband, this isn’t the one! someone made a mistake”

“A mistake?” he scoffed, grabbing your arm and pulling you toward him, turning you to face the painting, pressing you against his body, one arm around your waist, the other gripping your jaw harshly.

“How does a highborn princess allow herself to be painted like a whore?” In truth, Aerion was deeply captivated, but he couldn’t show it, Still something in him burned too hot.

“It wa-..” You didn’t finish as he forced your chin toward the painting, pressing harder as he spoke angrily “Did you get someone to paint you bare? Did you show yourself to someone else?!”

“No, I-..”

“Then how? Answer me!”

“Will you let me show you?” you whispered, raising your eyes to the corner so you could see him , gently holding his fingers and easing them off your chin. You knew how to deal with his anger and he followed your movements.

You couldn’t stop yourself from kissing his cheek to calm him, it caught him off guard for a moment.

You walked to the huge mirror leaning against the wall and gestured beside you “Imagine the painting next to me… blank, and the paints waiting on the table”

You looked at him through the mirror, his arms crossed, watching you impatiently, but he nodded.

You didn’t break eye contact. You raised your fingers and untied the front of your dress. He began watching your reflection with careful attention.

You lowered the fabric from your full breast, to become beneath, then lifted the dress up to your waist, bunching it into your undergarments your legs already visible from the front.

His mouth nearly watered from what he noticed underneath this must be what you meant by your gift beneath the dress.

Dark red stockings, like dragon scales, hugging your legs and thighs beautifully. He focused on that, forgetting what you were explaining.

“Like this,” you said, interrupting his gaze. You mimicked holding a brush. “I look at myself in the mirror… then paint”

“You paint yourself undressed? How narcissistic,” he said with a mocking laugh, stepping closer.

“It used to be just for me… yes. Now, maybe someone else might like it too” Your eyes dropped toward the obvious proof of his arousal from just seeing you half-naked.

He didn’t miss the chance, standing behind you again, his hand sliding under your small clothe toward the wetness.

The pressure of his body against yours made you lose balance, so you leaned against the mirror with your palms, closing your eyes, sinking into the feeling of his fast movements and your soft moans.

“Did you touch yourself while painting it?” he asked, sucking at your neck, leaving marks like you were his canvas.

“You were the only thing on my mind, husband” You didn’t deny it, you confirmed it. You nearly felt him twitching against you.

His other hand moved to cup your chest, squeezing firmly, you couldn’t focus on either sensation, both overwhelming.

“Look at you… already losing control just from touching”

“Husband-..”

His two fingers moved inside you as the fabric between your bodies started to irritate him.

He pulled away, and you shot him a frustrated look, already at the brink, as he spoke in an restless tone laced with dominance.. “Strip”

You quickly untied the rest of your dress, letting it fall. He noticed your impatience and helped remove the light fabric beneath. You removed your undergarments as he discarded his tunic, all while watching him through the mirror.

When you were about to remove the stockings, he said “Those stay”

Your hands stopped. You leaned forward again, arching your back toward him, a sight that shattered his restraint.

He stared at you, your cunt glossed with moisture from his touch.

Instead of using his hands again, he lowered his breeches slightly, revealing his impatient and eager cock teasing your folds slowly with the tip.

“Ready for me to paint your walls, wife?” You nodded, with a gaze filled with desire and passion

As he entered you, a muffled moan escaped. You were feeling his body heat more now.

You closed your eyes as he began slow, deep thrusts, but his hand grabbed your chin again.

“Eyes on me, wife. Don’t miss this view… so you can paint this filth too” Your response was whines dripping from your lips.

You tried to keep your eyes open, watching him as his brows drew together in focus, his breathing controlled as he suppressed his true reactions, only restrained sighs slipping through. You almost wished for one to escape, just so you could see him lose control for a moment, to see him unravel because of you.

You pushed back against him and he laughed. “So impatient for dragon’s seed, hm?”

“My eager wife” His hand left your chin to cup one of your bouncing breasts, the other sliding along your thigh, fingers brushing along the edge of the stockings tracing your skin beneath it, the sight in the mirror thrilled him more he thrust harder, rougher.

“Bring more of these” So he liked your second gift. You smiled weakly through the mirror “As you wish, dea-ah..”

His rhythm intensified with low rumbles from his chest. His hand moved from stocking to your pearl, and you felt the warm liquid filling you and the tension coiled tighter and tighter inside you, until it snapped.

He pulled out, and a soft squelching sound followed. You let out breathy sighs, trying to catch your breath as he watch his spent spills over your thighs, unable to resist.

“Ah… no, we need for the paint to dry inside” He pushed his fingers back into you, making you gasp from oversensitivity.

“Hurts…” you whispered, pleading through the mirror.

To your surprise, he stopped, pulling you and throwing you onto the bed.

Some rest but you tried to see what he was doing, he was drinking wine.

Your fingers started to into irregular patterns over your stomach as an idea came..“Wouldn’t you like me to carry another gift… to make up for this one?”

He grasped your meaning within seconds.. “A replacement for the one you ruined? How generous of you wife”

He dropped the cup and approached again with promising eyes to fuck a child into you, he stroked his semi-hard cock while groaning lightly, opening your thighs, revealing the mess you were in, how you were clenching around nothing.

You wanted him again, but you were too sensitive. When he tried to push in, your body instinctively scrambled away, but then he held your hips firmly.

Aerion entered you, now with different angle that he could control exactly where he hit, your sweet spot becomes his only target.

pounding deep inside you, assaulting your cervix with his rigid cock while slipping your stockings off.

You barely registered anything but the bites on your chest and neck, your tongues dancing together, your body nearing its peak again..

Until he filled you once more, your body trembling beneath him as you let out shaky exhales, faint whimpers escaping.

Your breathing was uneven, both of you. He was leaning on his hands beside your head, then rolled to your side.

Minutes later, he got up, tied his robe around himself, then returned with another forcing you into it despite your weak protests.

You turned onto your side, now wrapped in his robe, seeking rest, until you were suddenly lifted from the bed, manhandling you.

You buried your face into his neck, too exhausted to question where he was taking you, too tired to care.

avoided the eyes of the servants and guards, closing your own, longing for a moment of peace before whatever Aerion had planned.

He brought you to your own art chamber, the room he had prepared only for you.

You stepped down on trembling legs, still shaken by what he had done to you, yet you clung to his arm for support.

“Did you bring us here to show you the original painting?” you said, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, your fingers tracing slow, idle patterns against his chest.

“I have something else in mind… but it can wait a little,” he replied.

Despite your confusion, you forced yourself forward on unsteady legs, still not fully recovered, leading him toward the gift that had never truly been sent. You pulled him along as you tore through the wrapping, his eyes lighting up the moment the painting was revealed.

A magnificent dragon stood before him, majestic and proud. Him in armor and a cloak red as flame. His fingers brushed over the canvas, lingering over every detail. How he wished it were real.

He studied it closely, utterly captivated, though deep down he could not deny that the painting illustrated you held more of his attention.

You watched his expression with a small smile “So? Do you like it..” You paused slightly, shaping the word with intention to his liking ”my… dragon?”

Before you could react, he pulled you closer, claiming your swelled lips in a heated kiss, the remnants of what had happened earlier still burning between you. His hand pressed firmly against your back, holding you against him as if unwilling to let you go.

“Best…” he murmured against your lips.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, the hunger between you returning “Best… wife,” he added, his voice low.

You felt his hand intertwine with one of yours as he slowly drew your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to each finger one by one.

“Best painter,” he whispered, his gaze fixed on you.

Your breath faltered under his touch. He continued to kiss along your hand, while you struggled to steady your breathing.

He rested his forehead against yours “My jewel… you worth gold… my beautiful wife”

Then, slowly, he pulled away leaving you wanting more as usual, he turned toward the room, lifting one of the large canvases and propping it against the wall.

he took a bucket from a set of paints prepared especially for you by his command, You had no idea how deeply he valued your art… almost to the point of craziness.

The first painting he had ever seen of yours was of a dragon that had captured his heart at first sight, an image he had insisted on seeing the artist for.

How shy you had been then -he later discovered that your nature was just as captivating as your art- simply because you were not prepared to meet him, you were stained with colors that day. And now, he intended to bring that scene back to life.

He loosened the tie of your robe with swift hands, letting it fall away from you, unable to keep himself from stealing another kiss before drawing you toward the empty canvas.

“Do you want me to teach you while I stand bare before you?” you teased, though your voice carried a note of curiosity at what he was about to do.

He said nothing.

Instead, he dipped both his hands into the red paint, standing behind you, his chest close to your back. Feeling the heat radiating from him once more, though something in the gesture caught your attention.

Was he intending to leave the imprint of your hands together upon the canvas… and want you to paint around them?

Warmth spread through your chest, softer than you had expected. You had not thought Aerion capable of such quiet sentiment.. “I did not know you possessed such a… gentle-..”

Your breath caught sharply as his hands found your breasts toying with your buds, sound of the red liquid was wet, sticky and filthy.

your whines wasn’t only from the touching but also the sounds.

“I have an idea for your future painting, wife,” he said as he withdrew his hands, leaving you unsettled, before pressing you strongly toward the canvas before you. pressing you more so you tried to followed his lead with your back arching slightly as you steadied yourself against the surface.

But in return your rear was pressing his erection a faint sound escaped him, betraying a flicker of reaction he quickly tried to conceal.

And to maske it more he said “Oh, you little brat… don’t you ever get enough?” he mocked, his voice low and playful as he spanked your ass all of a sudden

A few drops of paint scattered between you both, marking the canvas and adding to the lively chaos of your shared work.

You smiled, choosing your words carefully, knowing what he liked to hear “Who could ever would stop wanting, with a strong and fierce dragon like you… husband?”

His hands moved to your waist, and he couldn't resist and started humping you against the canvas, unable to control himself. He looked at the imprint of his hands on your waist, his desire intensifying. But the dragon seeds must not go to waste he reminded himself as he stopped.

Then he stepped back, bringing you back with him. He saw the mark of your chest on the canvas and how blurry it was from the shaking he did to you so you said, “Don't worry, I'll fix it later”

How can you be this kind as wife? He thought while lowering his body, adjusting the canvas so it would be level with the floor, while you watched him with slightly furrowed brows, trying to understand what he was thinking.

Today had you constantly puzzled by his actions.

He poured a little red paint onto the canvas, then looked at you. “Lie down,” he said, his voice firm. You obeyed quickly, knowing how angry he could be when he is impatient.

A chill from the fresh paint brushed against you, drawing a small hissing as you stretched your arms beside your head, watching him closely.

He stripped off his clothes -his breeches and robe- while staring at you, his prey in the dragon's lair, waiting to be devoured. Oh gods, how he went crazy at the thought... He brought the canvas bucket closer, and when Aerion lowered himself between your thighs, you welcomed it, spreading them wide just for him.

With his colorful hands, he began to move them against your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his waist so that the oversensitive, silky-pussy, would rub against his hard cock again. You wanted a little friction, and he gave it to you, moving his waist towards you slowly, so his cock was massaging against you slowly, and that act ripped some whimpers from your lips.

“My prince,” you whispered. “My desperate wife”

Seconds later he was rocking into you shamelessly until flipping over to make you on top, letting the color was on your back slash a mark across the canvas.

You felt him deep inside you, and how pleasurable it was somehow hurting a little with your sensitivity. “Come on, finish the painting. Aren't you the painter here?” he said, slapping your bottom again.

You started grinding against him as he placed his handprints on your waist again, holding you, helping you, and guiding you slowly.

His eyes were now fixed on your breasts, that were stained red, and how the color ran down your body. He was truly on the verge of madness.

You dipped your hands in the paint too, then placed them on his chest, moaning as he asked, “Who do you belong to?”

“You”

“Only you, my dragon!” He finally began to thrust, and you whispered, “Yes, yes, Aerion.. husband ah ”

His brows furrowed at his name, eyelids closed, and you heard that muffled whimper. He snapped to realize what he released and quickly closed his mouth as you endured his voice, increasing your movements and vocalizations.

Then, you moved your hand to your lips, painting them red as well. He opened his eyes, watching you as you leaned down to kiss his neck as much as you could and the canvas too until you felt his hand on the back of your neck, pulling your face towards him to violate your lips again and again. Then he turned you both over again, thrusting harder this time.

“Mine, always mine”

After many shifts and body movements, he was determined to cover every inch of the canvas with layer upon layer of color. And so he added the final touch with some white that was seeping from your deeply sensitive cunt now.

You wouldn’t know how you’ll look at your paints and canvas with innocence after today.. stained in red, drained, with both of your breath coming in ragged gasps. Beneath you, the painting looked like a battlefield soaked in blood.

“I care now,” You didn’t understand his meaning until he continued between breaths“On my next nameday, I will have your head if you don’t outdo this present” You only laughed weakly, was that really what was going on in his mind?

Cold breezes began to make your body shiver, and you whispered, “Cold..” That made him quickly pulling the robe to help you put it on, then he put on his breeches and returned beside you.

Now you were both leaning against the stone wall between old and new paintings, the paints scattered around, as you leaned into his embrace, sleep weighing heavily on your eyelids.

You felt his fingertips on your arm, he was still awake, which surprised you. Didn’t he get tired, ever? While he wondered, “was it intentional?”

“What do you think, husband ?” you said in a low voice, wanting to know how he thought, though you already expected his answer.

“You did it to provoke me, to make the dragon stir. To see if he would burn” His answer came as expected, he loved the idea that the world revolved around him, but that was fine; you still loved him and knew how to play along.

A soft hum of amusement. “Perhaps, you’re right” you teased, knowing well how he delighted in such games of power.

“You filthy whore” He laughed, and in that moment pulled you into his arms, burying his face where your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses if it weren’t for the door opening, you thought he would have started another round with your exhausted body.

What interrupted you both was your little child, walking in with cheerful steps. When the wetnurse noticed the scene, she blushed in embarrassment, she didn’t enter and closed the door behind the kid.

Aerion made sure his robe covered your body well, while he was bare-chested, the red stains dried on him, He extended his arms toward the girl quickly.

“Father, look! I finished your gift!” She held up a small canvas you had given her blank “I drew you, mommy, and me with a dragon” And indeed, it was a simple drawing, scribbles of three figures: you, Aerion, and her together in front of a huge red dragon.

Aerion smiled, a smile you knew only appeared for his little girl, then lifted her and the painting into his arms “You’re better than your mother, after all” His eyes were teasing as they turned to you.

You rolled your eyes, but your heart softened as you watched. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then another to her cheek, tender and almost unrecognizable in the man who spoke of dragons and death so easily.

And in that fragile, fleeting peace, you wished, perhaps more than anything.. that moments like this could endure beyond fire, beyond time.

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it!!

My time has come..

He treated you with a lord’s courtesy, measured and distant. He honored you, saw to your needs, granted what you asked of him… yet his touch was a rare thing. His only touch upon you had been on your wedding day, nothing more than the fulfillment of a duty, as if it were a task to be completed, not something he longed for

And so, the gowns you brought with you, silks and soft linens meant for shared nights.. were worn in solitude instead. You dressed up for yourself instead in silence company of your own reflection.

The robe prepared for you became a habit more than a comfort; you would slip into it whenever Baelor came to your chambers, a careful layer between you, as though it might spare him any discomfort.

You were alone in your chambers, no servants, no one to disturb you, just the night… the heavy scent of wood, and the silk of your nightgown. you chose to wear the one that revealed your back, draping over your body with a wide cut exposing the curve of your buttocks.

Nothing underneath, just the single piece of fabric covering you, why not? No one was around. Your gaze drifted to the wall of books, wondering which novel would claim your attention tonight.

Your eyes landed on the dark red-covered book. You rose onto your tiptoes, it was a bit high, but no matter. fingers brushing its cover.

began to slide it from the shelf, a creak behind you made your heart jump, the door swung open. Your eyes widened, anger and alarm both flaring. Which servant would pay the price for entering unbidden, for disturbing your solitude?

It was your husband, prince Baelor Targaryen, with the servant who hadn’t even dared to look up he trailing behind him like a shadow. He removed the cloak Baelor wore swiftly, and with a gesture, the man was sent away, the door closing with a soft click.

Baelor’s gaze lingered on your back, following the delicate line of your spine as it dipped and curved, the fabric fell away just enough to leave you exposed beneath his eyes drawing him in, silent and captivated.

“Lord husband,” you said, spinning around quickly after realizing what you were wearing, leaving the book hanging from the edge of the shelf. The robe was on the chair, and you were about to pull it on quickly, but his voice stopped you.

“No need,” he said, and your fingers fell to your sides, fidgeting nervously. This was strange, so late at night, and he didn’t usually come. You murmured in surprise, “Is something wrong? Husband”

“No,” he replied, stepping closer. You instinctively stepped back and bumped into the shelves behind you. The book toppled onto your head; you let out a soft groan, rubbing the spot. It wasn’t a heavy book, but it had hurt nonetheless.

Then, hands not your own touched your head, checking if you were hurt. Also the book hadn’t fallen from a dangerous height, baelor just brushed your head lightly. He spoke softly, “You’ll be fine.”

He didn’t knew these small touches ignited a storm inside you. The tiny seed of admiration, of longing, still grew within you.

Baelor continued toward the goblet and wine on the table as you realized he wasn’t coming at you; you had misread it. But the situation still felt strange, you weren’t used to this.

“I shall stay for the night i-..” he began, and you cut in quickly flustered “glad you are here, lord husband”

You were just nervous, didn’t know whether your choice of attire pleased him or not, you always wear your robes.

“Bring me that candle, wife” he said, interrupting your thoughts, pointing to the one next to the bed as he made his way to the desk, taking his seat with quiet ease. You moved toward the candle, still lightly rubbing your head, your mind spinning..

why the farthest candle? You became suddenly aware that your bare back facing him, was he… examining you?

You walked slowly then, cheeks flushed. You never thought the day would come when your husband would explore your body with his eyes like a pervert. But in the same instant, your mind questioned whether these were your own thoughts, maybe he was focused entirely on something else. You quickened your steps, picked up the candle, and glanced back.

Yes, you swore you noticed it how his eyes quickly shift to the cup from which he sipped wine. You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. If this was the way to draw him in, you would have worn your most revealing pieces from the very first night, for most of what you owned was still modest.

You picked the book up from the floor and went to lie on your stomach on bed, trying to read. You tried your hardest to convince yourself not to think about the man behind you,he was surely busy.

On the other side, he was indeed busy… but with staring at your bare skin. So bold of you lying like that before him.

How easily he could just pull that nightgown down your rear from that slit and have your body fully exposed to him. How obvious it was that there was nothing beneath it, the fabric falling along your curves, your hardened nipples faintly visible through it.

How it would grant him such easy access.

You shifted slightly, just enough to change your position and ease the numbness, but even that affected him. He wanted you, badly.. but no, this was a marriage for alliance, nothing more. No pleasure in it.

The thoughts in his mind made him feel like some a virgin boy. He was disgusted with himself, for thinking of you this way, for dishonoring you even in his mind. So he forced his gaze away, returning to the papers before him.

You tried everything to calm your nerves. This was the strangest night you had spent here.

Now you lay against his chest, his arm wrapped around you like any married couple, but in this chamber, you were two people bound without affection.

Or perhaps… that was a lie you had both chosen to believe.

“It was a tiring day, wife” he spoke, voicing what occupied his mind, but yours had drifted elsewhere. To his hand.

You felt it on your back -on your bare skin- as if leaving small stings like a bee, a wandering touchs in your field, a shiver ran through you instantly.

Then it was no longer just his fingers, it was his whole palm of his hand, your breathing quickened. Heat began pooling low in your stomach.

He continued speaking about matters of the small council, yet all your focus was on where he touched you. You answered only in soft hums.

His hand moved to your side, slipping beneath your nightgown, brushing what was hidden, what was barely covered. You felt it along your ribcage… just inches away from your bare breast beneath the thin fabric.

Your breath caught, your hand tightened on his tunic, fingers curling into the fabric on his chest, tension, desire, the need for more.

But suddenly it stopped.

His words cut off. His hand withdrew, returning above the fabric, simply holding you as if nothing had happened, preparing for sleep.

You wanted to protest, Desperately. But then you remembered, this marriage, its purpose. These small indulgences were not meant for you.

So you chose to savor the moment instead. You pressed yourself closer to him, pretending to adjust your position, letting him feel what he was missing, what he would regret.

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to sleep.

Baelor, on the other hand… was already close to losing his mind, still wasn’t sure.

You woke up alone in the bed. You had expected that. Still… at least now you knew, your husband did want you, of course his eyes and hands did not lie.

But how would you make him act on it?

Yesterday you had worn the white one. Today the same piece, but in deep red. Though you weren’t even sure he would come tonight. Just a feeling… nothing more.

Night fell.

You wore what you had chosen, but Baelor didn’t come.

You lost hope, but the fire inside you hadn’t died. You wanted release, to ease the pressure building inside you. You were about to use your own hand, when your eyes fell on the pillow he had slept on beside you the night before.

Your face buried into it, your fingers between your thighs as you breathed in his scent, a little sounds leaving you, what was wrong with him touching you? You were his wife, damn everyone.

You lifted yourself slightly, seeing the faint trace of tears and saliva you had left behind, your breath uneven, hadn’t reached your peak yet.

You pulled the pillow beneath you closer and straddled it, a soft moan escaping your lips the moment it brushed against your silky folds.

You began grinding gently, trying to imagine it was your husband, slides into you with slowness, as if savoring every part of you, feeling your walls steadily.

Then you picked up the pace, your breath faltering as his name slipped from your lips without thinking, just Baelor.

Your eyes widened instantly, as if you had committed a sin, but… was he here? what was stopping you?

You tasted his name again on your tongue, and again… until it became the only thing on your lips as you rubbed your cunt faster against the pillow, leaving behind a damp mark of your arousal, something he might see, something that would tell him just how disobedient you had been, how you had reached your peak without him.

You lowered the straps of your dress just slightly, but with how little fabric there was, they slipped all the way down to your wrists. Still, you didn’t stop, continuing to move against the pillow, against your imaginable husband, your eyes shut tightly.

You imagined how he would take you rough, forceful, after you had disobeyed him. You wanted that from him, wanted his harshness, his control.

You came with helpless whimpers of his name, but you were still so pent up, you didn’t want a pillow, you do really want the real thing, nestled inside you.

You organized your breaths, tried to forget, and lifted the straps of your dress, then adjusted your hair. Your cheeks were still warm. You wiped your face with a damp cloth from the plate by the bed, then lifted yourself off the pillow, hissing slightly at the sensation.

You left everything as it was and began moving toward the water, craving something to quench your thirst, when suddenly the door opened. You raised your eyebrows, had you forgotten to lock it from the start? Gods, could anyone have walked in while you were in that state?

It was Baelor, his eyebrows rising briefly as he saw you in the same dress but in a different color. He quickly lowered them. He was dressed in his nightwear, without his servant this time, closing the door behind him as he turned his gaze back to you.

You didn’t rush for the robe. You stood, staring at your husband, and smiled “pleased to have you here again, lord husband”

He returned a small smile and stepped toward you. You didn’t move back, correcting your mistakes, perhaps aware he hadn’t touched you yesterday because he thought you were afraid.

“Red suits you, wife” he murmured, patting and scattering strands of your hair. You let out a soft sigh, why was he treating you like a child now?

He noticed your flushed cheeks, even though the room wasn’t cold, and guided your chin toward him with one hand, while the other traced your skin. What a sensation that was for you? Warmth?

“Are you unwell, wife? Shall I fetch the masters?” he asked, acting clueless but you shook your head quickly in refusal. What you had done earlier flashed in your mind, and you hoped he hadn’t noticed the pillow in the center of the bed.

“So, the candle then, dear” he said, pointing again to the one beside the bed. What was his intent with the candle? And why was he treating you like his servant again? this being the second time, You wanted to argue and refuse, but what if this was his way to watch you without your knowledge, like a filthy pervert?

You smiled, “Of course” This time you walked slowly. As you approached the bed, you didn’t walk beside it like yesterday. You climbed onto it, placed the pillow back, and crawled toward the candle in a subtle attempt at seduction.

You arched your back slightly, adding your final touch of allure, and glanced at him. This time he didn’t avert his gaze, showing he was neither shy nor ashamed. You lifted a finger toward the candle, speaking in a playful tone “you mean this one? Husband”

He advanced toward you, faster than how you walked. Rising on the bed with one knee, he reached you. You felt his hand around one of your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed, so masculine, so thrilling.

“You already know what you’re doing to me,” he said in a husky voice, still gripping your ankle. You shed all shyness, propping yourself again on your knees but this time lowering your head until your face pressed onto the cover, arching your back. He could see your stretched skin, your hips pressing on his obvious erection, eliciting a little moan from you.

You lifted your eyes, feigning innocence “Maybe,” you whispered. Then a spank landed on your backside, making your body jolt forward. You let out a sound, eyes wide, unaware of what had just happened.

“Brat” he said, releasing your ankle to deliver another spank. You gasped at the sting, a few tears forming in your eyes.

He leaned toward your nape, teasing you with his beard, leaving marks you never thought he would. You felt him pressing against your rear as you moaned, while his hand traced every visible skin, claiming you.

“Husband” you moaned as his hand slipped beneath the fabric toward your chest, squeezing them between his hands and pinching your nipples. You clutched the blanket beneath you tightly.

Small kisses traced down your spine until reaching the base of your hips, and he pulled your dress down as he desired and wished yesterday. Your skin was flushed from his spanks.

But your cunt was red and glistening from the acts you did alone, you were ashamed while he was looking at it.

“Did you play with yourself, little wife?” he asked in a rough voice tracing your core lightly.

“I needed you, ah-I needed you, and you weren’t here. I didn’t think you’d help me even if you were” you admitted softly.

Then what you never expected happened, Baelor licked you once between your folds, making you shiver violently, and with no warning two fingers entered you, moving quickly, impatiently, just like you.

“Don’t touch yourself again… I’ll be right here. I’ll make sure to fill you properly” He growled just from the thought.

“Oh, Husband… please”

Within seconds, you reached your peak for the second time tonight and he didn’t stop still could feel him working you, his fingers with rings. If you had the power, you would have licked them clean.

He didn’t wait for you to recover your breath… releasing his aching cock, guiding himself toward you as you shivered in anticipation.

But how delicious he thinks when he saw your lubricated cunt swallowing him easily until he was fully deep in you, you were sensitive but you wanted him, and the moment he thrust inside you a pleasurable pain spread into you.

Hands now on your hips his movement was measured, slow, and precise, knowing the right spot to hit to make you cry, steadily letting you feel every inch.

“Please… don’t s-stop” as shameless moans bleed from your lips, you waited for this too long and when he heard you oh you felt how he twitched inside dose he also waited like you?

“Never even crossed my mind to stop, not for a second, wife” he answered you between his breathing and soft grants filling the chamber with your louder voice.

Between his rocking into you and your complete focus on them, you felt his hands lift you, his fingers tilting your chin toward him. The strain tugged at your neck, almost aching, yet you found yourself yearning for whatever he would do next.

he kissed you.

The brush of his beard caress skin as the kisses were uneven, unsteady, sloppy… both of you chasing more, craving one kiss after another.

“Bael-or” you said with dazed mind between the messy kisses and his raw name unleashed something within him.

He stopped, getting you back into position, this time pressing your head down firmly.

His thrust became brutal, rougher, faster he was close, letting out those low, strained breaths as he pressed your head further into the mattress.

He knew you needed a little more friction to reach your peak, with him… so his other hand slipped beneath the fabric to fondle with your clit.

Moaning desperately all you could do while tightening your grip on the sheets again, quivering with pleasure.

A tingling warmth spread across your skin with other warmth spilled inside filling you fully and stealing your breath away.

Once again, You both lay across the bed, resting your head against his chest, only now you were very satisfied, your fingers roamed freely over his chest, as he let out a soft murmur “How many shades of this nightgown do you have, dear?”

“Tons” you respond bitting your lips excitingly.

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it!!

This literally, heavily need to be edited but my bed is calling 😴

“Aerion!” you spat his name sharply, dropping all formalities. This time, he had crossed a line. Did he accuse you of betrayal, even carrying an illegitimate child?!

You had been sitting alone, stitching the blanket for your little one, when he appeared, seizing any chance to poison your peace with his words. You flung the blanket aside and left the room.

Heading toward your quarters, tears ran freely down your cheeks. You stopped in the center of the room, hand on your belly, feeling the weight of every cruel remark. You had grown used to Aerion’s harsh tongue since your first day in this family, trying to tell yourself it was his nature.

But the tears would not stop. It was not only his torment, your hormones made every word cut deeper, leaving your mind in chaos. You tried to calm yourself, convincing yourself he meant no real harm, that this was simply his way of venting, a defense mechanism against the memory of his mother.

Your heart pounded violently, your throat burned with sorrow. This time, the bitterness was overwhelming, almost unbearable, your hormones magnifying every sting.

You had thought time would dull the pain, that you would forget his words as usual. But everything appeared gray now; every insult replayed endlessly in your mind. Your joy was gone, replaced by a hollow sense that every cruel description he had ever given you was true, you were nothing.

At first, Maekar noticed the pallor of your features, but having lived with six children, and with a seventh on the way, he understood that pregnancy twisted emotions in ways beyond control. He did not want to add to your torment.

But day by day, you remained as you were quiet, withdrawn, glued to your bed, eyes empty, mind wandering.

He brought you gifts, as he always had, delighting in your responses. Usually, he left them beside you on bed while you slept. This time, however, he found the box untouched. The servants told him you had refused food. It was then he knew something was wrong.

You were sitting on your bed, hand on your belly, staring silently out the window. You did not even move when he entered and took a seat before you. Your eyes flicked to him, whispering, “My love,” though you couldn’t summon even a semblance of a smile.

“What troubles you?” he asked, cutting straight to the heart of it. But you did not speak, why stir discord between a father and his son? Aerion would only hate you more.

“I’m tired from carrying the child.”

“I know how a pregnant woman is meant to be, you are far too pale and sorrowful to be merely that” he tried with soft tone, noting your pallor, the sadness far deeper than just fatigue.

You didn’t answer, but felt his warm hand on your cheek. As you rested your head against him, longing for this touch for some time, he whispered.. “Have I done something to upset you?”

“Have you stopped touching me because I look like some filthy, huge buffalo?” It was one of Aerion’s words that kept echoing in your mind.

“What?” Maekar was deeply puzzled, startled by your words, where was his lively, self-assured confident wife? As for his touch, it was because of your pregnancy; he left it entirely to your will, never laying a hand on you unless you asked for it.

“I’m sorry you married me…”

“What is wrong with you, woman?!” His voice rose slightly, the sharp edge betraying both his anger and concern.

You averted your gaze, curling your head slightly, and said in a hollow voice, “l’m tired”

His expression shifted, concern and frustration. He was about to raise his voice, but restrained himself. He could not bear to see you so fragile, knowing the pressure on you might break you.

Silence..

He leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his lips against your skin, so welcome, so deeply desired, yet you felt strangely distant all the same. “Get some rest” he murmured softly.

Prince Maekar carried on with his duties as expected with the endless weight of responsibility, but his thoughts wandered, circling back to you again and again.

He was on edge, his breaths restless, laced with quiet irritation at everything around him. His hand kept brushing through his beard in thought. You were not one to describe yourself that way, never. He remembered you on your wedding day, a strong, composed woman. There was something wrong. There had to be.

Your voice, your empty eyes, his jaw tightened. Where would you even hear such things?

He ordered some of the guards to look into the matter, but most of the servants either knew nothing… or chose to lie.

That night, he made his way to your chambers again and earlier than usual.

The door opened quietly, and he stepped inside, expecting to find you as you had been, curled into yourself, distant, quiet.

Your eyes met his for a brief moment… before you looked away, A pause.

“I will stay tonight,” he said simply, already loosening the weight of the day from his shoulders.

“No” The word was soft, weak even, but it struck harder than any shout.

Maekar stilled “…No?” he repeated, slower this time, as though the word itself made little sense.

“I… want to sleep alone tonight” You did not look at him as you spoke, silence fell, thicker now.

He watched you carefully, something unreadable settling in his gaze, exhaled slowly.. his patience thinning, not out of irritation, but something far more dangerous: concern.

A flicker of something dark crossed his expression.

For a moment, it seemed he might insist. Might close the distance, force you to meet his eyes, demand the truth you so clearly refused to give.

He stopped himself.

His gaze lingered on you for a long second “As you wish” The words were calm but vowed that whoever was behind it would not survive the day.

He turned, making his way toward the door, but his hand paused on the handle for a moment thinking about apologizing, but he had done nothing, he was certain of it

he left.

You awoke before the sun had even risen, the room still cloaked in shadow and silence.

The bed felt too large, too empty, you were used to your husband holding you gently in his arms, guilt pressed heavily on your chest, mingling with the remnants of restless sleep.

Maekar wasn’t the problem and yet, the act of saying no, of asserting space for yourself, left a bitter taste that seemed impossible to swallow.

Perhaps some walking will lighten the weight on your mind.

You rose from your bed quietly, hand beneath your pregnant belly for support. The corridors were hushed. Each step felt deliberate, grounding you, bringing a tiny sense of control back to your restless mind.

Your path led naturally to the children’s wing. Aegon was there, sprawled on the floor with the wooden toy he was carving. The sight of him, so small and innocent, brought a fragile smile to your lips.

“You woke up quite early,” you whispered, leaning slightly toward him.

He looked up at you, eyes wide, and grinned faintly getting up on his feet “I wanted to finish it,” holding the toy out for you to see.

“I made this… for the little one” Aegon’s voice was small, almost hesitant, the dragon-toy was crudely carved, uneven at the edges, clearly the work of a child trying his best.

You looked at it, for a moment, you simply… stared, then your breath faltered.

Something inside you cracked.

Your eyes filled instantly, tears spilling before you could stop them. Your movements unsteady, before dropping to your knees and pulling him into your arms.

You held him tightly, and cried.. not quietly.

Aegon froze at first, startled by the suddenness of it “…I-Is it bad?” he asked softly.

You shook your head quickly, clutching him closer “No-no, it’s beautiful,” you whispered, voice breaking.

He hesitated, small hands awkwardly coming up to pat your back as your tears fall harder

For a brief instant, realization nearly hit him, and he whispered “Was it Aerion?”

Your breath hitched, just slightly, but enough for little Aegon to noticed.

“He says mean things, I know..” he continued, quieter now, frowning a little. “I heard him once, he called you…” He trailed off, unsure if he should repeat it.

You pulled back a little too quickly.

“It’s nothing,” you said, a bit too fast, wiping your tears as you took the toy from him. Your hands trembled slightly “Thank you, my sweet boy. I’ll make sure it’s placed in the baby’s cradle”

Aegon didn’t move, didn’t look convinced.

“You’re crying because of him,” he said simply.

You forced a small smile, one that never reached your eyes “I’m just tired, thank you again, my prince”

He watched you for a long moment, his small brows drawn together in quiet confusion while you walked away.

Your fingers traced the rough edges of the wooden toy, holding onto it as though it were the only gentle thing left within reach.

And behind you, Aegon kept watching.

The anger had not left him, not even dulled. It clung to him, coiled beneath his skin, souring his temper, sharpening every breath he took. Irritation bled into everything, a restless, dangerous edge that made even silence feel unbearable.

He wanted to tear something apart. No, someone.

And yet, beneath it all, the truth remained painfully simple: He only wanted his wife to be happy, nothing more, nothing less.

A knock came, hesitant, the guard stepped in, bowing his head, Maekar didn’t look up at first. His fingers toyed with a carved cyvasse piece before him, turning it idly between his thumb and forefinger “A few servants finally spoke, claimed Prince Aerion was to blame, my lord”

The piece stilled in his hand.

“that they had seen him near her more than once, yet I can’t believe he had anything to do with it, your grace”

Aerion? His own son?

Maekar’s jaw tightened.

Yes, the boy was sharp-tongued, ill-mannered. Cruel, even. But this? What business did he have with you?

Would he truly dare treat his father’s wife in such a manner, strip you of your joy, dim your spirit until nothing remained but that hollow, lifeless gaze?

Or were the servants simply whispering nonsense, throwing blame where it didn't belong?

“Return to your duties,” Maekar said at last, his voice flat, controlled. The guard obeyed without another word.

Maekar exhaled sharply, his thoughts twisting. Perhaps it was not Aerion at all. Perhaps some lady of court -one of those venom-tongued women- had soured her mood, planted poison in honeyed words until she faded like this…

And then, to hide their own spite, cast the blame upon Aerion.

His fingers tightened around the cyvasse piece. Gods, what did he care for the petty games of court women?

But, she was his wife.

The piece struck the table with a sharp crack before he sent it skidding across the board in a burst of frustration.

The door opened again, this time, smaller footsteps.

His little boy, Aegon.

“May I speak with you, lord father?” the boy asked politely, stepping forward.

Maekar only nodded, reaching for his cup, clenching his fist around it, he battled to keep himself under control, A servant hurried forward, pouring wine without being asked.

Aegon hesitated…“It is Aerion”

Maekar’s head snapped toward him.“What?” Confusion flickered brief, sharp.

Why did they all speak his name now?

“He… he is the reason your w—” Aegon faltered, swallowing. “Mother is sad, Father”

“He says cruel things to her,” the boy continued, quieter now “Always jesting… but they are not kind. She tells me she doesn’t mind”

A pause.. a small, painful one. “But I think… she does, deeply”

Something cold settled in Maekar’s chest.

“Are you trying to bring trouble upon your brother?” he asked, voice low, edged. “Because if you are, you will find yourself in far greater trouble”

Aegon shook his head quickly. “No, Father. Yes I don’t wish to be like him… but I would not lie to you. Please, believe me”

And that was it, the last piece.

Everything fell into place with a clarity that made his stomach twist.

Maekar rose so abruptly his chair scraped harshly against the stone floor.

Rage, cold and deliberate, burned beneath the surface. His steps were heavy, sharp against the stone as he made his way down the corridor, each one more furious than the last.

Toward Aerion’s chambers.

The door closed behind him with a dull thud. He didn’t let the guards follow him inside.

Aerion was leaning against the table, a lazy sort of confidence on his face, though it faltered the moment he noticed his father's expression.

“Tell me, son ” Maekar said at last, his voice low and even, “how long have you been amusing yourself with this little cruelty?”

Aerion frowned slightly, feigning confusion, he had done many of things.. “What does that mean, father? ”

Maekar’s gaze hardened “don’t act fool with me, boy” The words were quiet, but they fell like iron.

Another pause.

“You mock her,” Maekar continued, “when I am not present. You liken her to livestock, laugh at the weight she carries, and think yourself clever for it”

Aerion’s mouth curled faintly.. “She is hardly graceful these days, pregnancy does that to women” Maekar knew now, without a doubt, that his son was to blame.

And for a heartbeat, nothing moved, but then Maekar stepped forward, not fast, not violently. Just enough that the air between them seemed to tighten.

“She carries my child, your brother” Each word was deliberate.. “And you chose to sneer at her in corners like a craven boy too frightened to speak when I stand in the room”

Aerion scoffed softly.. “You make it sound worse than it is, father, some jesting never hurt”

Maekar’s hand struck the table beside him with a sharp crack. The sound echoed through the chamber.

“If you had the courage to insult my wife before my face,” Maekar said, his voice dropping lower still, “I might have called it death wish”

His eyes locked onto Aerion’s.

“But hiding behind my back to torment a woman who has done you no harm..” A moment of silence “That is rot in a man”

Aerion straightened, irritation flashing in his eyes. “She never complained ”

“No,” Maekar said quietly.. “She did not” Yet all he can see is your sorrowful face and fragile, pregnant body that made his rage flared in his veins.

“You will not go near her again,” he continued..“You will not speak to her unless I permit it”

“You will apologize. On your knees… if you must learn what respect looks like” Aerion laughed once under his breath but looking at his father face he wished he didn’t but still he tried to keep up the act of being unafraid.. “Or what?”

Maekar held his gaze without blinking…“Or I will remind you,” he said in a calm tone that sent shivers down the spine “that being my son is the only reason your teeth are still in your mouth”

Silence filled the chamber again “Heed this well, Aerion,” Maekar added. “The next time I hear that you have spoken to her with anything less than respect…”

His voice became sharper.. “I will forget you are my son”

The door burst open while you were brushing your hair, trying in pull yourself together, You trembled at the sudden opening, you hadn’t expected him with your husband..

Aerion.

The weight of your sadness still clung to you, yet now he stood in front of you. From his face alone, you could recall every cruel word he had ever said.

“What… what is it?” you managed to say.

Maekar’s hands were clasped behind his back as his sharp eyes swept to his son, who let out a grudging sigh. Aerion believed you were at the root of all this chaos.

He sank to his knees, lips wet, tongue pressed nervously as he exhaled in frustration. He hated himself for this, his eyes flashing with a contained anger as he spoke.. “The things I said were… wrong. They were improper to you. I was mistaken”

You could tell he was forced into this -every gesture screamed it- but for a brief instant, a faint warmth stirred in your chest. Your husband was still here, still present for you.

Maekar cleared his throat, a subtle warning, and Aerion, biting back words that might aggravate his father further, continued, “I apologize for letting my words sour your mood, my lady. It… will not happen again.”

The words were spit out with no remorse, no sincerity, only obligation. Yet this, you knew, was what Maekar considered proper upbringing.

You found no words to answer. Still hurt, you focused instead on steadying yourself, brushing a hand over your stomach in quiet rhythm.

“I only ask that you be careful with your words,” you murmured, “they can hurt… even without meaning to, my prince”

Unnoticed by Maekar, Aerion’s eyes flicked to you, and then, obediently, he nodded like a chastened boy before rushing out, trying to erase the sting of this moment he considered a humiliation.

“You didn’t have to do that… he’ll hate me even more now,” you whispered softly, unable to meet his gaze.

“He knows better, it’s respect, nothing more, that spoiled child,” Maekar replied. “You should’ve told me from the start. You shouldn’t have had to endure his provocations”

You said nothing, letting the strands of your hair twist through your fingers, a small, quiet distraction.

Days had passed since you had refused Maekar from sleeping in your room, telling him you needed some time to calm your mind. He was annoyed but reassured, seeing you gradually return to your energy.

When you let him stay the night, overcome by how much you missed him, he didn’t hesitate for a moment, now laying beside you, yearning for your body so close, aching for your presence.

You woke from a brief dream, your cheeks flushed.

Behind you, his chest pressed against you like a protective wall, you had missed that feeling. His hand rested over your rounded, pregnant belly, shielding it tenderly.

Then you felt his soft shaft pressed against your rear, you shifted slightly, and he moved, unconsciously tightening his grip on you. The subtle vibrations between your thighs made you ache, you wanted more.

You arched your back just a little, only a little so you wouldn’t hurt yourself, and you felt him again. Then he moved toward you, humping you softly, before he stopped, and you could hear his breathing, showing he was asleep.

You were aroused and not ready for attempts to wake your husband, and your confidence was still shaky, so you decided to just use your hand for the night, so you moved your fingers toward the edge of the short nightgown and reached there, though it was a bit difficult, trapped between Maekar’s arms and your belly that blocked the view.

Wet and silk, you wanted him to wake and fill you immediately, but what he had done for you regarding Aerion was enough; you still felt guilty toward him.

You rubbed yourself slightly, biting your lip so as not to disturb him, but your movement pressed your rear against your husband a little bit more than you intended, whom you felt stiffen, and with his hoarse voice… “What a perfect time, wife”

Your hands stopped between your thighs. Was he annoyed with you? Then you found his arms moving away from you as he sat up. You slowly withdrew your hand, feeling a little embarrassed, but at that moment you felt his hand guiding you to sit up from your lying position, then slowly pulled you to sit in his lap, your legs on either side.

“Why didn’t you wake me? Are those thoughts still on your mind?” he murmured hoarsely. Indeed, that was what made you hesitate. You felt his hand on your stomach, then he said with a tender smile, “I see you as my soft warm rabbit”

He didn’t mean to insult you, but when your hands went toward the nightgown straps, lowering them from your shoulders, you quickly pulled them back up upon hearing him, frowning in annoyance, “Your son says I’m like a buffalo, and now you say a rabbit?! What? Do I look like a rabbit just for breeding?”

“Gods, no, fucking not-..” he laughed lightly, placing both hands on your waist to keep you in place as you were about to move away.. “Just in the feel, soft and delicate” Then you felt his hands exploring, his face moving closer, his beard brushing your neck before his lips.

“I’m content with the children; I want only you, nothing more. I thought rabbits were just soft like you, fuck rabbits alright?” You tried to suppress a laugh and smile, leaning in, feeling the sensation of his lips and the hardness beneath you. He moved his fingers toward the straps, lowering them, revealing your sensitive, full breasts.

He only licked your nipple, once, and you let out a sharp, excited moan, speaking as you grinding against him wildly, “I want you so badly… okay, no time for teasing, can you put it in… now? Please, please”

You were a mess just from his small lick? Oh, how much he wanted to flip you and fuck you rough with force and intensity without stopping, but the child you are carrying and perhaps his back might break too, just from his thoughts about how many times he wanted to fill you.

Your breath growing heavier, you whimper, hips rolling, the fabric beneath you soaked, as much as he wanted to enjoy watching, he chose not to make it even harder for you.

He granted you your desire, pulling his rock hard cock free from his breeches, as he caught your hand instinctively moving toward him.

You guided him eagerly, urging him faster, and he let out a low, wicked smile.

“Impatient, are we?” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement, You did not shy away from nodding, yet your eyes avoided his gaze.

As he stared at you, and a low whisper slipped from his lips “beautiful…”

“Please..” It cracks raw out of you, needy. your mouth opened in quiet, stifled moans as you felt him enter you inch by inch. You wanted him fully, all at once but Maekar’s strong hand pressed against your waist, a silent warning. He feared you might hurt yourself, feared you might strain.

“Look at me… there is nothing about you that isn’t beautiful,” he said again, each word falling deliberately from his lips, feeling your cunt around him. And you tried really tried to look at him with your cloudy eyes but couldn’t.

“Fucking beautiful woman,” he added, grinding his teeth between the words, as he was buried fully.

You rose and fell against him, lost in the rhythm, until finally your tearful eyes met his. With trembling lips, you planted a small, desperate kiss on his own.

He began to thrust with you, not to let you do all the work, guiding you slowly and deliberately, every motion measured and steady.

And then you paused, letting yourself feel him fully, savoring the sensation, feeling his fire.

The rhythm was slow, patient, yet every inch of movement sent shivers coursing through your body, as you hear his low grunts.

With each thrust, soft gasps escaped your lips, each one betraying the rising heat and tension inside you, sparks racing through you, leaving you dizzy and breathless

“My beautiful- fucking..” he trailed off for seconds “ fuck- and tender woman of all” his words falling between slowest thrusts, Maekar wanted to be rougher, faster, more demandin but not here, not with you, not now when you’re swollen prettily with his child.

And then, without warning, his finger traced a path from your hips to your clit fondling with it as Heat and shivers ran along your spine.

fingers digging into his shoulder as you whisper “husband, plea- please”

He pressed deeper, and with a careful, deliberate increase in rhythm, he began moving faster, just enough to push you over the edge.

you reached your peak body shivered uncontrollably, breath catching in ragged gasps as waves of sensation washed through you.

You felt it then, the warmth, the fullness, the fluid that had filled you with groans.

A deep, overwhelming sense of completion washed through you, body trembling as every nerve seemed to hum with satisfaction.

Your eyes met, still in haze but you smiled and he leaned in, his face moving toward yours with swiftness kissing your lips, it was loaded with unspoken emotions, every second heavy with desire, longing, and something tender beneath the heat.

At the same time, his hand traced teasing, intimate patterns across your stomach, sending shivers through you with every touch.

“My breedable rabbit..” he whispered and you hit his shoulder angrily but more playfully “ay quit it with the animal stuff!!”

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it!!

My eyesss i didn’t sleep for two days, need to come back and edit it somehow ahhhhh

+ I’d love to hear your thoughts abt this fic! Just to let you know it would truly make me happy and grateful <33

Taglist: @saltycomicsparentingfish @inlovewithrhaenicent @saturnknows @alaeratrrn

Aerion looked at you, no he stared for a long moment, anger simmering in his eyes, his mind repeating a single question: How dare you?

You didn’t look at him even once. Your gaze remained fixed on your father and uncle.

Maekar’s expression was heavy with disappointment in his son, while Baelor’s was harder to read. You could not tell how furious he truly was with you… his sweet, beloved daughter who had slipped away behind his back to marry.

“Ran away together to wed? What kind of farce is this? If you had told me you wanted her, I would not have objected,” Maekar said angrily, directing his words at his son, who was struggling just to keep his eyes open.

“It-…” Daeron tried to speak, but no words came out, so you finished for him. “We didn’t think we would have any choice in who we married”

You gently patted your child’s back while looking down at him before continuing, “So that you wouldn’t separate us, my baby is the result of our love” Daeron placed his hand over yours for a moment. “Our child”

Aerion couldn’t believe a single one of these lies. Since when had you been involved with Daeron? You had always been under his watch, always within his sight. His, and his alone.

Maekar sighed helplessly before looking at Baelor...“Do you believe this farce?”

“I will speak with my daughter” Your eyes lifted to your father immediately. At last he spoke. You had been so afraid, so uneasy, you had terrified his heart with worry. He stepped toward you and gestured to the side for you to follow.

Maekar stepped toward Daeron and struck the back of his son’s head. “Father?!”

“Foolish idiot!”

Baelor stopped halfway down the corridor before entering his study. He turned to look at you, and you spoke quickly.

“I apologize, Father” You swallowed.. “I never meant to insult you in any way, your grace”

But his reaction was not what you expected. He stepped closer and kissed the top of your head. “I thank the gods that you are safe… that you are well”

Tears gathered in your eyes. How much you had missed him during all the months you had been gone.

“I would never have forced you to marry someone you hated, my dear. Yes, I am angry with you, but only because I feared for you. I know you regret what you did, and I trust that you will not repeat it” He spoke gently, his hand moving along your arm, filling you with warmth and safety.

“I missed you, Father,” you whispered, then you lifted the child slightly toward him “Your grandson, Father. My little boy”

His eyes softened with affection as he looked at you. His little girl now carried a child of her own. He stepped closer and kissed the infant’s forehead.

“Beautiful and gentle, just like you, my little one.” The baby opened his toothless mouth in a small smile, making both of you laugh as Baelor patted his tiny head. He then called for the servants, ordering them to bring your belongings -and Daeron’s- to your new chambers.

You were walking behind the servants to return for the rest of your things when you caught sight of Aerion coming from the hall you had been in earlier. Your heart tightened, as though you had never been away from this place for a year, and your grip tightened around your child, who was playing with strands of your hair.

“You dare look at me as well?” He scoffed mockingly, rolling his eyes before brushing past you in irritation. The maids quickly lowered their gazes, pretending they had seen nothing at all.

Maekar tried to accept the situation and reconsider everything, perhaps the two of you truly suit each other but he’s still angry.

In the chamber, you sat on the bed with the child in your arms while Daeron took a small sip from the bottle in his hand before stepping closer to you.

He tried to lift the baby from your arms, but you spoke quickly, worry in your voice. “Careful, wait, you’re not steady”

He shook his head. “I’m fine, don’t worry. You should rest. I’ll hold him for a while”

You let him take the child, then watched the two of them. Daeron smiled at the little boy before whispering softly to him, “You are purer than him”

Something bitter tightened in your throat at those words. Making this decision had never been easy.

“I’m grateful you didn’t get rid of this child. I promise I’ll try not to let Aerion get near him,” Daeron said while brushing his nose against the baby’s, playfully nuzzling him.

Your gaze slowly dropped to the floor.

You remembered that night you let him have you…

How you had been in Aerion’s arms. That night he had taken you again and again, your body trembling with pain. Eventually he pulled his hands away from you and rolled onto his back, falling asleep.

That was when you decided.

You had to leave.

You had to leave this castle if you ever wanted to get free.

You stole his shirt from where it lay on the floor, then wrapped yourself in the cloak you had brought. Your mind searched for someone who could help you.

You did not want to tell Valarr. He could barely tolerate Aerion as it was, if he learned what Aerion had done to you, he would kill him.

And who was more skilled at disappearing for days than Daeron?

With unsteady steps, you made your way to his chamber in the middle of the night. You wore nothing but the shirt that reached your thighs and the cloak pulled tightly around you to hide your body, glancing away whenever you passed a guard or say that you were in hurry.

He had been surprised to see you. Your relationship had never been close enough for you to appear at his door in the middle of the night. He had been very confused.

Still, he was somewhat sober, the drink had not clouded his mind entirely.

You told him everything. From the very beginning… all the way to that night.

He told you that your only mistake had been allowing his brother to have your body. But he wanted to correct his brother’s wrongs. He wanted to help you, to take you away from him.

So the two of you prepared to flee that very night.

You also remembered the day you discovered the child growing inside you.

“Moon tea… I managed to get some for you. The choice is yours. I’m here with you no matter what” Daeron’s hand had rested on your shoulder while your tears would not stop falling.

With the tip of your finger, you wiped away the tears threatening to spill from your eyes when you heard him say, “Come on. Go to sleep. I’ll stay with him”

He carried the baby to the chair near the fireplace, and after the year you had spent wandering together, you trusted him deeply.

You laid your head on the pillow and closed your eyes.

You had decided to return for one reason, your son, the wandering life was hard for him. And he was a Targaryen. He should grow up among those like him.

You closed your eyes, yet the one person who never left your mind emerged in your thoughts.

Aerion.

You are married now, even if that marriage was also a lie. Surely he would not approach his brother’s wife… right?

Doubt crept in.

You clutched the front of your dress against your chest, remembering the way he had looked when he entered the hall earlier. You had seen how eager he had been to see you, how shocked, how furious.

But deep inside… in that sick twisted part of you that you could never get rid of… you had wanted to throw yourself, and your child, into his arms. To show him your son, the tiny version of him, his little dragon.

“Stop” Your lips moved without sound. All these corrupt thoughts, you had to erase them. This twisted longing and attraction you still felt for him had to end.

You were exhausted from thinking.

You didn’t realize when you had fallen asleep until the next day. When you woke, your eyes went immediately to Daeron by the fireplace, sleeping, without the child.

“Daeron, where is he?!” you said, your voice loud with fear, startling him awake.

He blinked a few times and answered hoarsely, still heavy with sleep. “He’s with the wet nurses in the nursery. I didn’t want to disturb you”

“You said you would watch him!”

He found nothing to say, no, you didn’t even give him the chance anyway. You had already rushed out of the room in your nightgown, barefoot, barely caring about your appearance. The only thing in your mind was your little boy.

You asked a maid for the way, following her quickly, almost running. The only thing stopping you was that you didn’t know where the place was.

“Here is the nursery, my lady,” she said, pointing to a door.

What surprised you even more was the number of guards. Not two as you remembered from long ago, but five, as if someone important were inside… or perhaps things had changed during your absence and you wish it was.

You pushed the door open, your heart trembling. Your suspicions were right.

Someone was inside, standing beside the cradle, the cradle you were certain held your child.

You were afraid to speak. Afraid to ask. Afraid to make any sudden move that might make him hurt the baby.

His fingers hovered above the child’s hand. The baby grasped one of Aerion’s fingers with his tiny ones, while his other hand played with the edge of the blanket.

Aerion leaned closer, staring at him, and the baby stared back. He was a new face to him.

“Interesting. Not cursed with that ugly dark hair. Your bloodline has improved, it seems” As he finished speaking, his eyes turned toward you.

Barefoot. Wearing no proper gown befitting a princess. Unusual for you.

A sly smile appeared on his lips.

He tilted his head toward the maid, signaling. She understood immediately and hurried out, pulling the other women with her.

He kissed the baby’s cheek, then looked back at you with unsettling eyes.

“What is my son’s name? Maegor, as I wished?”

“He is not your child,” you said firmly, watching as his steps drew closer.

“I asked for his name,” he replied coldly, “not for one of your lies”

He walked until he stopped directly in front of you, curling his fingers around your arm and pulling you toward the cradle.

Your eyes hurriedly scanned every inch of your baby, terrified that he might have hurt him, but he was unharmed.

Yet beside him lay something that made your breath catch.

One of your childhood toys, the broken one Aerion had once destroyed, Had he… kept it?

Then suddenly Aerion’s arms wrapped around your waist, his chest pressed against your back. Your breath shattered.

He pressed his cheek against yours, making you tremble even more.

It had been so long since you had touched anyone. Daeron barely held your hand or placed an arm around your shoulder, always careful not to make you uncomfortable.

“His name,” he murmured.

“Maelor” you whispered as he let a disappointed sight.

You felt his lips lower toward your neck. You shrank in on yourself, and he felt it. If anything, it only seemed to please him more.

You were still the same.

Fragile.

“You did miss me ” he said with a confident tone. He was not expecting an answer.

One hand traced slow circles on your stomach while the other crumpled the fabric of your dark nightgown between his fingers, lifting it slightly.

“What are you doing?!” you gasped, grabbing his wrist. “This is improper.. the child…”

Your words died in your throat when his fingers began stroking the bare skin of your thigh.

“My wife,” he murmured, dragging his tongue along your neck, making you shrink further.

‘You were supposed to be his wife, not his brother’s’ he knows it’s all a lie. but he swallowed the rest of the thought. Why let you feel victorious?

“Stop. I am your brother’s wife,” you protested, gripping his hand with what little strength you had.

But those words only made things worse. They fueled the fire of jealousy in him.

He released your gown for a moment, you thought he might step away.

Instead, he drew his dagger. The blade slid up, until the tip catching the thin fabric of your nightgown beside your thigh before tearing it slightly.

“You dare hide from me for a year… and expect me to forget?” His breath brushed against your ear, warm and unsettling, while the dagger remained trapped in the folds of the fabric.

“You think a lie and a brother’s name will keep me away?” Your fingers tightened around his wrist, your voice trembling despite your effort to stay firm.

“The boy,” he glanced toward the cradle. The baby shifted slightly but did not wake.

Aerion leaned closer behind you, his grip on your waist tightening just enough to remind you how easily he could hold you there.

“He has my eyes, my hair” Your heart lurched.

“Daeron’s ” you corrected, like you only wanted to anger him more.

The dagger slid free from the torn fabric, the cold metal grazing your thigh as he started to pressing the sharp edge against your skin and slowly dragged it.

A thin, burning line followed the blade, the sting blooming instantly as the metal bit just deep enough to break the skin. Your breath caught in your throat, the heat of the fresh cut spreading beneath the cold touch of the steel.

The pain was sharp but brief, leaving a narrow crimson trail in its wake as he pulled the blade away.

then he drove it into the wooden frame of the cradle beside the mattress with a sharp thud.

You flinched. The little one stirred but remained quiet.

“Relax,” he murmured. “You are the only one will ever get hurt, not my son”

Aerion still suspected it, no, he was certain the child was his. And if that truth were ever confirmed, you knew your world would go up in flames, even worse than the devastation it already was.

Your breath came unevenly.

He shoved you aside as he moved away. You stumbled, nearly falling, but managed to steady yourself at the last moment.

Your hand immediately clutched the torn place in your dark nightgown, bunching the fabric together as you swallowed hard.

Then your eyes drifted to the dagger, still embedded deep in the wood of the cradle you removed it and threw it aside, even with the broken toy.

You hadn’t noticed the passage of time, until the door opened, and Daeron stepped in with uncertain steps, approaching you.

“Maelor is well. You mustn’t trouble yourself, please rest” he said, his hands awkwardly wrapping around your shoulders. His voice wavered with guilt, he was still upset with himself for leaving the child, but he knew you both needed to adjust to this new reality.

You were still clutching the torn spot in your nightgown, pressing it against your new wound, ready to scold him, or even cry… telling him that Aerion had been here with the child, that he had returned to touch and harass you.

But your tongue remained tied, just as it had when you were a child.

There had been a lunch arranged specifically for the two of you upon your return. You had not wanted to attend; you would have rather stayed behind with Maelor. Daeron had even told you he could invent some excuse for your absence.

But no, you wouldn’t appear before Aerion like this, as though he still affected you, as though he could still leave a mark upon your heart.

You rocked your child in one arm while the fingers of your other hand twisted the fabric of the bed beneath you, wrinkling it between your fingers in restless indecision.

In the end, you rose and allowed the maid to take Maelor from your arms. The girl swore upon her life that she would protect him, that he would remain beside her the entire time, and that she would stand close to you while holding him.

You tried to believe her.

Your trust in anyone had become weak, splintered, but for one night nothing would happen. Aerion would be in front of your eyes the entire time.

At the table you sat beside Daeron, doing your best to arrange his hair before the meal began. You combed it back and tied it neatly, trying to make him appear as princely as possible with the little you could manage.

His hand rested over yours on the table.

Whenever your nails began digging into the soft flesh of your palm again, he would gently squeeze your fingers, silently urging you to stop. He spoke of small, meaningless things, attempting to pull your thoughts away from the devil seated across from you.

Aerion.

He sat directly opposite you, eating slowly, as if nothing around him concerned him in the slightest. His gaze wandered between his father and his uncle, until the soft sound of your laughter caught his attention.

You were laughing?

His cold, dark eyes slid toward you. He saw Daeron leaning close to your ear, your lips curved into a smile. Something ugly stirred in his chest.

What exactly were you trying to prove with this little performance beside his brother?

What had you done with Daeron for an entire year?

He did not believe your marriage. Not truly. And yet… some small, irritating seed of doubt forced him to wonder whether the two of you might actually be husband and wife.

His gaze fell to your hand clasped within Daeron’s.

Your hands belonged to him. Yet you made no effort to protect them. You allowed another man to hold them so easily.

And that thought led his mind somewhere darker. Had you allowed him to touch your body as well?

Yet the memory of your body trembling when he came near you flickered through his mind. Was it fear or did your body still belong to him?

“Have you heard the tales, Father,” Aerion said suddenly, his voice smooth and sharp at once, “about children born to one man but raised by another? Lord Ashford, for instance.”

The words were meant for you. To sour your mood. To burn the smile from your lips. You didn’t deserve laughter, only what he chose to give you.

Your eyes met his.

The smile vanished instantly from both your face and Daeron’s.

Aerion was the one who smiled then… a slow, wicked curve of his lips, before turning his gaze back to his father.

Maekar exhaled in irritation at the pointless subject, yet answered anyway… “If his wife had not confessed, he never would have known” Then he returned to speaking with Baelor.

Aerion watched you carefully. You had stopped eating. You even withdrew your hand from Daeron’s.

That alone soothed some small part of his anger.

He continued his meal while you rose from the table shortly after, offering a quiet apology and claiming exhaustion. Daeron followed you out, along with the maid carrying Maelor.

Aerion found the entire scene deeply entertaining.

Later that night, as you were resting beside the small cradle you had moved into your chambers, the sound of ragged breathing jolted you.

You sat up immediately.

Your eyes flew first to Maelor, still sleeping peacefully… before falling upon the figure collapsed near the hearth, one hand clutching his chest as though he were suffocating.

You rushed to him. It was not the first time you had seen him like this.

Dragon dreams.

You brushed the strands of hair from his face and cupped his cheeks between your hands.

“Are you alright?” you whispered, wiping the beads of sweat from his skin with your thumb.

He only stared at you before murmuring hoarsely.. “Is Maelor safe?”

“Do not worry, He is sleeping”

“I couldn’t save him… I won’t be able to” His words confused you and frightened you at the same time.

You pulled him into your arms, gently stroking his hair as you tried to calm him.

Once his breathing steadied, he leaned back slightly and began describing what he had seen…“There was a small dragon… barely hatched from its egg. Weak. Fragile. It could not even breathe fire yet” His voice trembled. “Then a serpent crawled around it, sank its fangs into it… poisoning it as little dragon struggled, its cries weak and broken”

“I tried to drive it away. I swear to you, I tried.. but I couldn’t” He sounded broken, as though he had failed you again. In his mind, the tiny dragon of course had to be Maelor.

“Look at me,” you said softly. “Everything is fine. Maelor is safe. Just calm down, alright?”

Even as you spoke, your own heart tightened with fear but you forced yourself to remain steady.

He nodded faintly before pulling you into another embrace, clinging to you as though you were the only place he could find peace.

You rested your chin atop his head, gently patting his back. But your mind had already begun racing through possibilities.

Should you leave again? Or face what was coming this time?

Unexpectedly, several days passed in peace. Aerion was nowhere to be seen within the castle. Word had it that he had left on a journey, though no one seemed to know where he had gone.

Daeron’s dream still lingered in the back of your mind, troubling you at times, but you tried to push it aside. With Aerion gone, you allowed yourself to breathe again, slowly regaining some of your energy. You moved through the castle more freely now, wandering its halls with Maelor in your arms.

He would remember none of it… the towers, the courtyards, the long stone corridors. But you would show them to him anyway.

This was all you wanted: just you and your child, with the world spread before you to discover together.

You sat cross-legged upon your bed, the infant nestled in your arms as he suckled quietly from your breast. You had insisted on nursing him yourself. The wet nurses had assured you it was unnecessary, that they were there for such duties, that it was not fitting for a princess.

You had refused them. Your breast felt heavy, full, and you felt a strange contentment knowing your child would have his fill.

Your fingers gently stroked the short silver strands upon his head. He looks like his grandfather, Maekar.

That was what you always said.. quickly, before anyone could question it. Yet you knew very well to whom he truly belonged.

As if summoned by the thought, a maid entered your chamber, announcing that Prince Aerion wished to see you. When did he return?

You barely had time to form the thought before she could even finish speaking, he had already stepped inside without waiting for your permission.

“Out,” he ordered coldly. The servants obeyed immediately, hurrying from the chamber and shutting the door behind them.

Your heart refused to move your child away from your breast. He was hungry, and you would not disturb him. Instead, you attempted to cover yourself with your free hand.

“What do you want?” you asked, your voice only barely steady.

Without a word, Aerion approached and sat on the bed before you. His gaze fixed intently upon the small movements of the baby’s mouth.

“A whore feeding my little dragon,” he said at last, venom dripping from every syllable. “Who gave you permeation?”

You wished he had said nothing at all.

“Insult me again,” you replied, forcing strength into your voice, “and I will not hesitate to tell my father”

Even as you said it, you knew you never would.

You felt his hand against your cheek.

Your heart jolted, fear and something else awakening at once. A painful familiarity you had almost forgotten.

With the hand that was not holding the child, you grasped his wrist, trying to push him away.

“The mouse has grown sharp teeth,” he murmured mockingly as he leaned closer.

Your grip tightened around his wrist while your eyes flickered nervously between him and the baby resting in your other arm.

“Please” His breath brushed warm against your lips. A crooked smile curved his own.

He withdrew his hand from your face, and your fingers slipped from his wrist, but in the next moment his hand closed around your own.

Then he lowered his head toward the child. Your eyes widened instantly, Daeron’s words echoing in your mind.

“Please, he’s feeding..” Your arm tightened protectively around the infant, who remained blissfully unaware of anything around him.

Something warm and wet brushed your skin above the place where the baby nursed. You knew immediately what it was, his stupid tongue.

“It seems my son is quite fond of your milk,” Aerion murmured.

“Aerion, he is not your-..” Your words were cut short when his teeth sank suddenly into your shoulder. Pain burst through you as his grip tightened around your wrist hard enough to bruise.

“Enough of your nonsense,” he said coldly. “Lies have a way of rotting the tongue, Has no one taught you that”

You looked at him through tearful eyes. Had it moved him? No.

If anything, he seemed to relish the sight.

His free hand reached to the collar of your nightgown above your other breast. With a single movement he dragged the fabric downward, leaving your chest bare. Hunger flickered plainly in his gaze as his tongue passed slowly over his lips.

Both your hands were trapped… one around your child, the other in his grip. You could not defend yourself.

Where is Daeron? The thought barely formed before it vanished.

Aerion’s mouth closed around your other sensitive nipple. His lips drew in, his tongue moving slowly as he suckled.

Your body tensed sharply at the sensation. Your breasts had become far more sensitive since the birth, and the feeling overwhelmed you.

A soft sound escaped your throat despite yourself. You could do nothing but remain still, forcing yourself to keep steady so as not to disturb the small one in your arms.

Your gaze drifted downward.

Both of them clung to you, your child sleeping against one breast, Aerion drinking greedily from the other.

His hand rose, resting over yours where it cradled Maelor.

For a fleeting moment, the sight struck you strangely.

In another world, perhaps… But that world did not exist.

Maelor soon fell asleep, his mouth slipping away as sleep claimed him. Aerion, however, continued with an almost desperate hunger before finally he let go of your wrist, his hand sliding instead to your waist near the small of your back.

Now one hand rested over yours around the child, the other at your waist.

With your free hand you touched the back of his head. You did not know whether you meant to stop him or guide him.

“Please… Aerion” Your voice fell on deaf ears. A faint line of white liquid lingered at the corner of his mouth.

At last he pulled away completely. You released a shaky breath of relief. For a moment you had truly thought you might lose yourself to the sensation alone.

Your hand pushed weakly against him as you looked at his flushed lips and the drop of milk at the edge of them. He slid his tongue out, licking it away slowly under your gaze.

You bit down hard on your own tongue to stop the sound threatening to escape you.

“I understand now why he’s so obsessed with you,” Aerion said at last.

His eyes moved briefly to the sleeping child before returning to you. But he did not look finished.

Your fear deepened when you felt his fingers brushing along the edge of your gown near your thigh.

“What… what are you doing?”

His hand slipped beneath the fabric, sliding along your skin until it reached the warmth between your legs. You had no time to close them before his fingers moved there, finding the dampness waiting.

A slow, wicked smile appeared on his face… “As expected from a whore.”

You could not answer. The sensation of his hand there stirred something bitter and confusing within you.

It had been a long time.

Eventually he withdrew his hand and rose from the bed entirely.

You returned to yourself only then, quickly pulling your gown back over your chest, trying to salvage what little dignity you could.

Aerion left the room without another word, leaving behind a silence heavier than his presence.

You kept staring at the door for long moments, as if you could still feel him in the room. After a while, you lowered your head toward Maelor, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead and pulling him closer into your arms, whispering softly, “I only want a peaceful life for you, my dear…” and he let that little sound while sleeping.

Hours passed, and you had no idea where Daeron had gone. Worry for him gnawed at you as well. You rocked your child’s cradle in silence, yet the silence itself began to torment your restless mind.

Your uncle Maekar had asked you to come with the child. When you arrived, he told you he wished to spend some time with his grandson. You could not refuse, he was the boy’s grandfather. Even Daeron, who might have been able to invent some excuse, was nowhere to be found.

You smiled awkwardly as you handed the child to him, leaving Maelor wet nurse with them. Your teeth worried at your lips, and your nails dug into the skin of your hand.

But you walked out. You had to adapt. Damn it, you had to stop worrying about everything

The dream sneaked back into your thoughts while walking back to your chamber. What if Aerion had poisoned your child while you were away for any reason?

Then another thought followed, talking. Why had you never tried, even once, to speak to Aerion and attempt to understand him? But every time the two of you were alone in a room, he never stopped touching you, never stopped trying to expose your weakness -the weakness you couldn’t control- before him in any way he could.

And yet here you were now, standing outside his chambers with a small candle in hand. You would stay beside the door, if he moved, you would run. You wouldn’t think twice. Open the door and run.

You entered without knocking.

Aerion was sitting at his table, silently sharpening his sword. When he lifted his eyes to the intruder who had come without his permission, he merely wet his lips and let out a small sigh. “Please, princess… stop being so obsessed with me”

Your eyebrows lifted in disbelief. Look who’s talking. Yet you remained calm, reminding yourself to stick to the plan.

“Can we talk?”

He let out a short, mocking laugh before answering with a nod. Ignoring his mockery, you continued.. “I just want to know… when will you stop coming near me and Maelor?”

“Is time repeating itself, or what?” rising to his feet continued sarcastically.. “Strange… this time I don’t see your naked body beneath a sheer piece of cloth”

You ignored him again and changed your question..“Are you doing all of this now out of jealousy?”

Did that question provoke him? Yes. But would he let you see even a drop of that? No.

“Jealous?” he hissed, his eyes darkening.. “Of my drunken brother you married?”

“You think I care about that pathetic heart of yours and what you choose?” The bitterness in his words struck harder than expected, and strangely, you cared.

You set the candle down on the table beside you and stepped further into the room. Your first mistake: you moved away from the door.

“I gave you everything. Can you tell me the price of my freedom?”

“So, you do know you belong to me” he said “And yet you ran behind my back with my brother? Thinking I would let this go without a punishment?” Aerion tried to mask his anger beneath a colder tone. He wouldn’t let you see you had affected him. He would break you, never the other way around.

He tossed the sword aside, walking toward you. Your second mistake: you didn’t run when he approached.

With a harsh voice he said, “You keep claiming you’re not a whore, yet the first man you ran to wasn’t even your brother”

“I’m only your cousin, Aerion.. the little girl you hated! princess from a side branch of the family. There are many others, marry whoever you want. Live your life away from me” But what if you were the only one he wanted?

He seized your wrists, pulling your body close to his. Your third mistake: you didn’t try to pull away.

“You know… at first you were an amusing toy. Valarr’s little sister. If I struck you or shoved you when I was angry even if you weren’t the reason, you would still act as if you deserved it. It was fascinating… it made one want to try everything”

A kiss brushed against your jaw. You didn’t pull away, you simply believed that if you endured it and showed no tension, he might stop.

“You became the princess everyone sets their eyes on. But deep down, you know you were only created for me” His breath brushed against your ear and neck, he was toying with you again, feeding you words he wanted you to believe.

“I was comfortable in your absence,” you said, your breath nearly ragged.. “Happier, even… until you returned on my nameday”

“So when you came to my chambers… was gratitude truly the only thing on your mind? Something you offered in exchange for your freedom?”

His fingers tightened around your wrists before forcing them down behind your back, pushing you forward until your body was pressed completely against his.

“Didn’t you feel it?” he murmured... “That you wanted me to own you entirely? To dominate you as much as possible? Didn’t you come back because you felt incomplete without the dragon who possesses you?”

Rage burned in your chest; he had struck a chord inside you that you hate with all your heart.

“I hate you,” you said, your voice trembling, your eyes burning with anger. “I hate everything about you, everything that reminds me of you”

He rolled his eyes, letting out another quiet sigh…“So you do hate your child”

You suddenly understood what he meant. Your mind rushed back over your own words, how could you have said that? You tried not to let it show on your face.

“He isn’t your son..” He tilted his head with weary disbelief, clearly tired of your lies. Releasing you, he stepped back and leaned against the table behind him, staring at you.

Yes… he had given you the chance to leave. But it was only to prove his point.

You remained frozen in place.

He gave you more time.

Still, you didn’t move.

Your fourth mistake: you didn’t run.

“And you still haven’t left,” he said quietly and dangerously.. “You only prove what’s already proven”

Your fifth mistake: You truly want Aerion to burn you all over again with his flames.

You did not know when the table had ended up pressed against the back of your legs. All you could feel were his hands everywhere. This time he was not merely hovering, teasing. He was making sure to touch every inch of you harshly, leaving his mark as if he meant to claim it.

You had surrendered to him. You wanted his touch, his painful, bruising kisses… no, you craved them.

When his lips crashed against yours, you answered with the same hunger, and how he relished that. He led you, kissing you with rough insistence, teeth grazing, tongue demanding, his hands slid to your waist before rising to grip the collar of your dress. With one sharp pull from both sides, the seams tore apart down the middle.

You gasped, suddenly standing before him in nothing but your small undergarment.

“Did you consummate your marriage before the small folks in some whorehouse?” he muttered between kisses that were beginning to feel more like bites before his mouth trailed down to your neck, leaving marks as obvious as sunlight.

You did not answer.

You had decided to simply surrender yourself to this twisted craving, hoping it would fade eventually, unaware that every moment only fed it further.

His fingers found the edge of your undergarment, slipping beneath it. Your body shivered violently, and you turned your head aside, spotting the untouched goblet of wine on the table.

Perhaps it would quiet your mind, your regret, your shame.

But Aerion had noticed.

He reached for the goblet first, drinking half of it. Yet you realized he had not swallowed it. He set the cup aside, grabbing your chin roughly, and pulled you toward him, forcing your lips open as he poured the wine into your mouth from his own.

It spilled from both corners of your lips, dripping down over your skin, yet he seemed to savor the act, more so when you swallowed what he had given you…“Obedient,” he murmured.

He did it again, this time licking the wine that had trickled from the swell of your chest all the way back up to your lips.

The alcohol made your mind lighter, hazier. His hand returned between your thighs, rubbing slowly until a breathless sound escaped you, your voice muffled by his wine-damp lips claiming yours again.

You were close, so terribly close. His fingers moved inside you in a harsh, relentless rhythm until suddenly he withdrew them. You looked at him in confusion, your breathing broken and uneven.

“My brother’s wife,” he said. Shame flooded you as if you truly were betraying Daeron. “My little, sinful princess”

Your eyes filled with tears, whether from the pleasure he had stolen away or the guilt twisting inside you, even you could not tell. Either way, he seemed utterly obsessed with the sight of you.

“You don’t deserve pleasure…” He dragged your undergarment down until it fell to the floor. Then he turned you so you faced the table, your hands braced against its surface. You could feel the hard line of his chest against your back, the rough fabric of his clothes scraping your bare skin.

“You don’t even deserve to look at me,” he continued coldly. “Someone deceitful and manipulative like you deserves nothing”

Your gaze dropped to the table beneath your hands, then to the sword he had thrown there earlier. But what forced your eyes shut and pulled a low moan from your throat was the feeling of his fingers slipping inside you again.

Two fingers, while his thumb pressed insistently against your pearl. His other hand found your breast, teasing your already sensitive nipple, where milk began to bead beneath the firm pressure.

Then came kisses along the length of your spine. How could this be punishment when he worshipped your body with everything he had?

Through the fabric of his trousers you could feel how hard he was, and without realizing it you arched your back slightly, pressing against him.

Of course Aerion felt it.

He pushed his hip forward against you, his voice rough between the shaky sounds escaping your throat.. “Go on,” he breathed. “Tell me to stop”

“Tell me you hate this… perhaps I’ll believe you” Heat was building inside you, on the verge of breaking, when suddenly he stepped back, removing his hands again. A frustrated whimper escaped you before you could stop it. You wanted to scream at him.. why?

“You say you hate me,” he murmured, voice low and rough, “but you’re still trembling in my arms. You’re still whimpering for me, like a good little mouse”

Then came the sharp slap across your rear, the burning sting forcing another helpless sound from you. Behind you, unseen, Aerion bit down on his lower lip at your reaction, stroking himself slightly against the fabric of his breeches as he released a slow breath.

Tears slipped from your eyes without warning, falling onto the table beneath you. Your gaze drifted to the bottle of wine again, perhaps you needed another cup to drown your awareness entirely.

His hand slid along your thigh, the one bearing the wound he had given you days ago. It had healed now, leaving only a faint scar.

“Is Daeron gentle when he touches you?” he asked.

And he claims he is not jealous of his brother, you thought bitterly, just before his fingers pressed hard into the flesh of your thigh. You were fortunate he did not have his dagger; his twisted mind might have carved his name into you.

“Do you think of me when he touches you?” He did not wait for an answer he had already decided it for himself. This time he took your waist and pressed against you slowly, making sure you felt the full evidence of his arousal.

Then his hand moved behind your knee, lifting one of your legs onto the table so your balance rested only on the other.

You looked down at your hands braced on the wood, your heart pounding violently as a memory surfaced, every time Aerion had shoved you when you were younger, your eyes fixed on your small hands as they caught your fall before your face could hit the ground.

The memory shattered when you felt him push into you all at once. Your mouth opened in a silent cry as the table scraped faintly across the floor beneath the force of his first thrust.

Buried deep, he started pushing with full force, each thrust aiming to reach the deepest point.

As your moans poured out without pause, you nearly wobbled, but Aerion held you firmly, one hand on your stomach, the other on your throat.

He ran his fingers over your belly.. “Did it hurt, birthing my child? You did deserve it for keeping him from me while he was in you”

He felt the hot drops running down his hand around your neck tightening it slightly, oh how much he loved your tears, now strong hips pushing against your cunt, tip abusing your cervix.. “Perhaps a second child, to make up for your sins?”

“No.. Aerion-Aer..” finally you spoke but did he care? No. “This time, I’m binding you to the bed.. no escaping.. fuck- “

His movements quickened and he removed his hands from you. Then you felt his sharp pressure on your neck, forcing you to lie face down on the table at a new angle, your hands gripping its edge.

You felt yourself trembling, caught on the brink, waves of pleasure building impossibly high so you whispered like prayer “please.. Aerion please”

“If you dare run away again… I’ll kill you” He breathed out not with his usual mockery, nor with the cold certainty you had grown used to hearing from him. Even the threat trembled slightly, the words slipping from his lips as though they had escaped before he could cage them behind his pride.

His hand tightened around your hips painfully, as if letting go might allow you to disappear again the way you once had.

He leaned closer “Do you understand me?”

You only wanted to reach your peak. You teetered on the edge for the third time, your mind foggy and unsteady, and so you whispered, “Yes… yes, my dragon- ah”

He groaned manually arching you into him more moving you to meet his cruel, firm last thrusts, sweat glistening on his brow, his breath ragged, while you moaned and whimpered helplessly clinching around him.

You finally came with him painting your inside, the tension shattering all at once. Heat and trembling coursed through you, your body shivered uncontrollably.

He kept pumping until he spilled every last drop with no care how sensitive you were.

You drew shaky breaths, feeling him withdraw from you, and a pained sigh escaped your lips at the sensitivity and emptiness.

You thought it had ended, yet his grip on you remained tight “Not done,” he murmured harshly.

It wasn’t your tiny child at risk in Daeron’s dream, it was you, and you still couldn’t quite grasp it.

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