Untitled

You found it easier to leap into the princess act expected from you when on the ground. But on the back of your dragon, a mighty creature you, alone, tamed, the well of bottled up feelings broke its walls. You felt powerfully and powerful.

"Don't you love this, Attor? Freedom," you closed your eyes to feel the moonlight, smelling the scent of air before rain. The dragon whispered its roar of agreement, longing his neck for a pet on the head. You happily obliged.

Poison. It caused reason to gossip when you named your dragon such. What ill intentions could hide behind? But you simply thought it fit him. A dragon with no fire, only the venom that should lit it. A silent dragon whose roars aren't heard and who is sneakier than even some spies you've met.

"Yes, I can't get enough of this."

"Y/n!" You couldn't stop the sigh escaping your lungs. You love your bigger sister more than the lengths all the dragons in the realm could take you. But you didn't want to go back just yet.

"Now? Really? Can't I stay a bit more? Please."

The night was young. Barely a few hours passed evening. Rhaenyra usually came to take you home only shortly before dawn. When you would complain about wanting to see the sunrise like you used to do together as children. She'd put out a small opposition, just for show as she wanted to do it too. Then you'd return together to the castle, tiptoeing your way to bed.

This time, however, Rhaenyra seemed to be on a rush.

"No, y/n, come on."

"But why?" You whined.

"I have something to do tonight and I'd rather know you out of trouble."

"What troubles can I possibly run into in the sky?"

"You'll find a way. Come."

"Fine, but only if you tell me what's so important that you have to take away my last few days of enjoyment until I shall be wed."

Rhaenyra's face fell. Your father has been trying to find you both a proper suitor. He agreed to let you choose your husbands if you do so in the time he desires. You and Rhaenyra have been travelling around the seven kingdoms for that exactly purpose, but none of the men either of you saw raised your interest. Now, you were waiting anxiously for your father's picks.

"Don't be like that. Father might come around. He haven't eyed anyone for either of us."

"Yet. But don't try to evade me! What are the mysterious plans of tonight, Rhaeny?"

"I- I'm not sure, actually. Daemon wants me to accompany him. In the guise of a boy. It's like an adventure!"

Another too big smile for a proper princess spread your lips. Rhaenyra's happiness made you happy as well. She rarely took time for herself. To feel, to explore - her own personhood if anything else was off limits. Unlike you, who had your nightly rides above storms or through peaceful stars.

"Swear to me you'll tell everything tomorrow."

"Thank you, y/n!" Rhaenyra flew her dragon closer, enough so that the both of you could hug. "I will tell you all of it in the morning," she beamed. And you descended.

You and Rhaenyra were making your way to the palace after you took care of the dragons for the night. She had to meet Daemon and change and you... well, you didn't know what you'll do, if you were to be honest.

"Princess..es." A soft smile made its way to your lips, heating you cheeks before you could even comprehend the stumble of words. Your body reacted on its own accord to the low, sweet voice. Ser Criston Cole was on patrol duty, it seemed. Or at least for the first half of the night, when another guards would replace him and his fellow.

You never missed it, the change of guards. Whether you were spending the first hours of moonlight watching Ser Cole laugh with his companions, stretch or jump and do push ups to keep sleep away until eventually his features loosened, his smile but a fading ghost lost in a yawn and he stumbled over his words to say goodnight on his way to bed, or you were swirling around the palace roof on the nights he'd take the second shift to see him run energically to the other guards, patting them on the back and cracking some jokes you never heard, you took the habit to sight the handsome knight as often as you made it possible.

Rhaenyra smiled back at him, wishing him an easy night as she moved past. She was the one he noticed first. The first to call after. You were a mere second thought, you mused sadly.

"Good night, princess y/n," he said politely as you walked past him. But he spared you no glance. Your smiled was tight when you lightly bowed your head to him in recognition and moved on.

How come him and Rhaenyra were friends, but he acted around you so... proper? Back straight, eyes fixed in front of him as if he were a statue only coming to life to serve and protect when ordered or needed, arms folded behind and chest flaunted proudly, representing the royal family. Why couldn't he be himself with you too? Like he was with Rhaenyra: laid back, easy going, speaking his mind freely, even allowing himself to be her confidant. And he would share with her too, like friends do.

Ever since the tournament, your heart skipped a beat every time you saw him. With time, your breath caught in your chest even when you heard his voice, or long, joy filled laugh echoing in the halls. You couldn't help the jealousy rising in your bile every time Ser Cole and Rheanyra were together. They get so close in such short notice! Meanwhile you and him were still on title before names basics.

"How did you do that?" You asked out of breath as you ran to catch up with her.

"Do what?" Under any other circumstances you would have thought she's teasing you. But tonight Rhaenyra was distracted.

"Forget it. It's nothing important. Where are you to meet with uncle?"

The older Targaryen princess, as big sisters often seem to, fell pray to the need to offer comfort to - and brighten the mood of - her little sister. Even not knowing what issued such ache in your weak tone.

"Would you like to come with us?" She said, instead of answering your question.

From where they have fallen in self pity, jealousy and despair, your eyes surged forward to meet Rhaenyra's in excited surprise.

"It's only fair," she shrugged in answer to your silent question of approval. "I ruined your night, so you might as well pay me back."

"I won't ruin anything!" You protested, seemingly offended. But a large laugh bubbled in your chest, hard to contain.

Your excitement was chipped, but not bend, when Daemon faltered for mere seconds before reluctantly agreeing to take you with them. Rhaenyra and your uncle were walking fast in front of you, never once unlocking their hands. You struggled to keep up. Perhaps they were trying to lose you? That wouldn't make any sense, you argued to your own mind. They wouldn't leave you alone in the city at night. And what for would they even be tempted to do so?

All thoughts emptied your brain as you came to a sudden halt in Daemon's heels. He led you and your sister to a brothel! Rhaenyra's pupils dilated in the night. Curiosity, raw thrill and pure joy buzzed through her body. You could feel it even a few steps behind. To be in such a place, dressed as a boy, should have been a matter of fantasies. But here you were.

"You don't have to go in if you don't want to," your uncle said, turning to face you quickly before turning his attention back on your much more eager sister. "I can call for a guard to keep you company in a tavern nearby. One I know will never speak of it."

You bit at the inside of your cheeks with your canine. Though a virgin and a princess, you were aware of the activities that went down in a pleasure house and what they entailed. Sort of. You used to eavesdrop conversations between guards as a child. Sneak and steal some of the forbidden books your tutors warned you about being unproper for your delicate, feminine eyes. You read them in the sky, feet dangling from Attor's back as he floated easy too high up to be seen.

But standing in front of the brothel's door right now, close enough to smell the too sweet odor of mixed perfumes and scented candles you felt your heart constrict painfully in your chest. The slapping sounds of skin on skin contact, the loud groans and breathy moans chilled your blood and sweat that begin to form on your skin.

Unexplainable fear overtook your senses. You couldn't do it! Of course, a part of you wanted to. March inside, pick a handsome man and get it over with. Pop the flower everyone told you to nurture and save for your husband. But the feeling that this wasn't how it's supposed to be wouldn't evade you. No matter how much you'd try to convince yourself that you can't possibly know that, your mind wouldn't let go of the maddeningly aphrodisiac love making reaped from promising pages.

"Yes, please."

Daemon looked relieved. He ordered both of you to stay still, hidden in the shadows nearby, and rushed to get the up mentioned guard.

"Are you feeling... well?"

"Yes, Rhaeny, don't worry for me. Worry for yourself. You seem like you could become addicted to this place and you haven't even entered."

"It feels freeing."

"I know."

"Then why won't you come in? I'm quite scared too of the unknown of it. But it's not a panic worthy fear. Like when father married Alicent -" you both winced -" it's more of a thrill. I want this. Whatever this is, wherever the night will lead me to do."

"You're excited."

"Aren't you? We're actually in the town. On our own. Without thousands of eyes judging our every move. People didn't even recognized us!"

You smiled at your sister's happiness. Once again, it was enough for your own to surge as well. You shook your head. "Have fun, Rhaenyra. But don't do anything stupid. I'll get drunk waiting for you. I've never been drunk before."

You both burst in incontrollable giggles. That's how birds must feel when they fly around the world, freed of any cage, following only their instincts, you thought. And their bellies, the growl of your stomach added. It made you laugh even harder.

That's how Daemon found you. Teary eyed, voice hoarse from laughing, bodies trembling with shakes of hiccups, remains of wild, sister with madness, joy.

"I see, my prince. This is how you got them to agree with such an idea. You got them drunk."

If you were, indeed, intoxicated, his voice was enough to sober you up. Ser Cole, in all his tall, polished glory, smirked next to a confused Daemon. It wasn't a mean smirk, nor a teasing one you saw on you dearest knight's lips. His eyes, so dark as the deepest nights, seemed even bigger now. You realized his pupils grew in size, flooding the warm black of his irises with something more feral.

The same look was in your uncle's eyes, fixed on Rhaenyra. But where Criston was wearing himself like a calculated predator, a dragon if not of blood, then of demeanor, Daemon had a goofy, adoring smile in the corner of his lips.

"I haven't done anything, Ser Cole. They are here on they own, sober, accord."

Not wasting anymore time, your uncle grabbed your sister by the hand again and stormed inside the pleasure house. Alone with Criston, your care free spirit from earlier grew heavier. You noticed the look in his eyes, which you concluded to be lust, but you thought he sighted your sister. And the thought weight more than it should have.

"I was told to stick at your side, princess, in your nightly adventure. And to never speak of what shall happen. Please, don't pay me any mind and do as your heart desires."

You turned on you heels with not a single word uttered to your guard. What could you have said? You are what my heart desires, but you act so distant and cold I'm afraid that will never be? You wouldn't dare. So you choose the safer option: silence. And because of that you missed how his shoulders, held high and proud, slogged at your behavior. How he closed his eyes and bite back a sigh, bowling and relaxing his fingers at his sides.

You reached a small house that smelled like piss and shoved your way inside. Cheap bear stinking like dragon food crumbs splashed from knocked together in cheers cups. Dirty dishes traveled from table to table, not once being washed or changed for the clients. But at least the food looked good.

"Are you sure you want to be here, princess?" Ser Cole eyed the tavern with warry distaste.

"I want to see what life truly feels like," you said in earnest as you sat at a shacking table. Criston scoffed.

"You live in a palace, wear clothes adorned in jewels and gold and ride dragons for fun. You do live the life. The good one."

"I am locked in a beautiful prison, but prison nonetheless. I wear dresses I can barely move in so nobles could approve of me. Gawk at my figure, judge my manners and my speech and bid for my hand to my father. But the dragons are the good life, indeed. I cannot - and don't want to - argue with you about that."

Your hushed blurt out rendered Ser Cole to silence. It wasn't until your food came when he spoke again. Much to your delight as you couldn't believe the first time you had a chance to befriend the man you have fallen for you poured your heart out and scared him.

"I must apologize." You cringed as he went back to the cold, dutiful speech. "I assumed... I didn't know."

"I suppose I overreacted as well. I know nothing of your life before King's Landing. I know these are struggling people, who seek oblivion for a night and would gladly take my place. It's my first night to experience freedom. And soon to be the last. I am to marry one of my father's chosing, but there are so many things I want to try!"

Criston's jaws clenched at the mention of marriage. He stuffed his mouth with the game's meat to have something to focus onto in his attempt to regain composure.

"And you pick the dirtiest tavern in town?"

"It was the closest," you smiled at his teasing tone. Feeling an iced wall finally breaking down between you two. "I was hungry."

"I can see that," Criston laughed. He, then, took a handkerchief from a hidden pocked in his armor and leaned over the table. His movements were wry, doubtful. So much unlike his confidence in battle. Locking his eyes with yours, he brushed the material over your mouth.

You tried to hide your surprise, block the instict of jerking away from his touch. You didn't want him to believe you didn't enjoy it, like he seems to think you dislike his self appointed lesser company.

"Thank you," flustered and happy beyond understanding, you leaned your cheek in his touch. E/c eyes burning in pits of mysteries and lust. Though there was something more you didn't want to decipher. Didn't want to hope. Could it be love? Affection? Admiration, like Daemon watched Rhaenyra with? It was better to hope than to be dissappointed by the truth.

As Criston broke eye contact, breathing more loudly than before, kicking his leg under the table and druming his fingers on the shacking wood, you considered your options. Tasting alcohol for the first time in your life, possibly even getting drunk sounded good. Fun, even. But standing face to face to Ser Cole, having the chance to bond, or something more...

You still trembled a bit at the thought of the brothel. Except now it was mostly with regret. You have wanted to see what happens. Understand why people want it so badly. And you beat yourself up from chickening out. Just that now, you could place a reason next to your hesitation. You didn't want simply anyone willing to take you. You wanted Ser Criston Cole.

"Maybe I can take you riding one day," you spit out before you could overthink it. You, Criston and Attor, alone in the sky. It sounded like peace should feel like.

Ser Cole gulped, stopping his body to a still statue. "Ride," he cleared his throat, eyes bulged in his head, "riding, princess?"

"Yes. With Attor. Dragonback riding. You seemed to be taken by them earlier."

On the word taken, he chocked again, brown curls spasming around his head as he denied it. "I mean, yes! Please!" He seemed to come back to his senses from a chaotic dream. "I would like to fly with you."

Your small, hesitant smile brightened the dark tavern. It looked like Ser Cole was just as nervous around you as yiu were around him. Perhaps, then, he saught your friendship as you did his. Or maybe even more.

The next of the meal happened in content silence. At least on your part. Criston brushed his teeth together, resuming his hectic body movements, avoiding to look at you at all costs. Specifically avoiding to see the way your mouth wraps around bite impaled on the fork between taking it in your mouth. How your throats bobs as you swallow. Closing his eyes against the satisfying sigh you let out once you were full.

Ser Col couldn't be more thankful for thick armor he had on. Nor could he be more annoyed by it. The layers of metal and cloth painfully strangled the bulge growing in his pants at the mere proximity of you. He shouldn't have clean your mouth. The touch of your lips, even through the material of the handkerchief sent shivers down his spine. He would have come in his pants if he hadn't remind himself you were to be wed soon. Criston knew he stood no chance for your hand. But hope is a cockroach. It always finds a way to survive, no matter how many times it's stomped on to.

When you pushed your soft cheek into his roughened palm, the dreams of a day when he could snake a hand around you and catch your lips with his in a long, passionate kiss, freely, were born anew.

"Is something wrong?"

"Hm? No! No. What could be wrong, princess?"

"Y/n, please. I have to confess I jealous of my sister for quite the while now. I cannot stand these formalities from you."

Skies above! What you were doing to him! When he arrived at King's Landing, princess Rhaenyra has been a friendly voice in a sea of steel strangers. But it was you who took his breath away. With your sister he found his words easily. He could relax. Around you? He needed to impress. To hear you were feeling the same warmed his heart, dangerously so.

"Y/n. Very well, then, please call me Criston. No more 'Ser Cole'."

"Deal."

"Where to next, y/n?"

You bit your lips and his eyes fell immediately to the white of your teeth shining against the flesh of your mouth. He licked his own. It gave you the confidence you needed to ask what you wanted of him.

"Take me back to the palace."

A crease at the bridge of his nose. "You're done with the adventure tonight?"

"Not even close, Criston. I was just thinking of a different kind of adventure." You tried your best to mimic the suggestive looks you read and heard about. But you didn't know what those were or how they were supposed to feel like on your face. You only hoped you managed to pull off an inviting, sexy demeanor.

Your handsome knight gulped, reaching for his helmet to stand up. Hesitation playing in his eyes. You could tell he was trying to find the rigt words to tell you off.

So you snatched the heavy, shining helmet from his fingers while he was lost in thought.

"Princess – y/n," he corrected himself shortly. You only beamed at him, a fleeting smirk beginning to blossom on your face. Blinking innocently at him, you took short, but many, steps back. Not once breaking the innocent haze staring in his lustful one.

"What is it, Ser... Criston?"

"My helmet, please," he extended a hand, speaking with difficulty. It encouraged you. Despite its weight you twirled it to take a better look at it.

"Oh, this little, old thing. You want it back?"

"I need it, yes."

"Well, if it's so important, come and get it." And you took off running.

That bubbly laugh you could only allow at night echoed in the crammed streets of King's Landing. You bumped into people who paid you no mind, other than, perhaps, here and there, some angry mutters or bitter warnings to be more careful.

Every now and then you'd steal a brief glance to your back. And you felt yourself become even lighter with joyous spirit each time you did. Criston was tailing you. A bashful smile creeping on his face when he, not able to take his eyes off you, ran into passer byers. As soon as the path was clear, though, his lips spread in a large grin from ear to ear.

"I can do this all night, y/n. How much can you hold up?" He teased.

"I guess we have to find out. Or..." you trailed off, coming to a quick stop. You held the helmet in front of you with both hands, urging Criston to step closer.

You stood beneath your chamber's window, where a thick tangle of ivy climbed from the ground to the crenels. You used it to climb down your window for your nightly getaways with Attor. Or climb up to avoid the guard and fetch your silent dragon from there. The window was open.

Criston neared in. Still keeping you at arms' length he tried to get the helmet without entering your space. Sharply, you brought it closer to you, forcing Criston to stumble over you.

Both if your hands were now on the helmet, but neither seemed to notice. Your chests heaved under heavy breaths, almost touching, if not for the layers of clothes between. Matching smiles worn on your faces, but you wouldn't notice, gaze locked in each other's eyes.

"Or," you breathed out, his proximity setting your already tired heart on an even quicker beat. "We could tire in a different way."

Saying so, you touched his cheek. Warm skin met your ghostly brush, sweaty from the run. You tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and once you found your fingers linked with the soft, rich curls, you couldn't move it away.

Criston's head fell on yours. Tired to fight desire any longer. The brave knight, the winner of all battles he took part in, found the one he wouldn't have a chance against. You, on the battlefield of love, lust and need.

Foreheads still touching, Criston brought his hand to your face, cupping your chin in his large palm. Large enough to cover your frame and brush a thumb over your lips.

"Are you sure? I don't think I'll be able to stop once I have even the smallest taste of you."

"Yes. I want you, Criston. Whatever it is you have in mind, do not stop."

His grip tightened on you – not enough to bruise, but enough to tell you the effect you had on him and his self restraint – as you felt the vibration of a groan passing through his body.

"You aren't aware of what you do to me, y/n."

Likewise, you wanted to say. "Than show me."

And before you knew it, his lips were on yours. The soft touch tingled your whole body and instinctively, you plucked your own lips to meet his. A satisfied moan of his was swallowed by the kiss as you let your head fall back and lids closing over your sight.

You pulled back for air, goofy smiles plastered on both of your faces. And, as if there was a thread sewed between the two of you now, you clashed your moths again. And again.

This time, his hands roamed over your body, feeling every curve, every softness of it. You sighed, pushing yourself more and more into his hands.

"Skies above!" He exclaimed in a rushed whisper of admiration. You smiled sheepishly, catching your breath.

"I want to feel you too," you said, walking your fingers over the polished grey of his armor. He stepped back, only enough to have space to untie the strings keeping his panoply in place. With slow movements, Ser Cole pulled it over his head.

He took your hand, then, placing it on his chest. You passed your palms over his upper body, feeling his muscles through the cloth hiding his body from you. When you reached the hem of his shirt, you snuck your hands underneath. He gasped, but circled your wrists with his hands to keep yours in place when you, in the panic surging through your veins, tried to remove them.

"Keep going," he rasped out. You stepped closer. The feel of his hard skin, warm and sharp under your touch, his scent - a surprisingly pleasant mix of steel and beer - filled your being. His presence possessed you, consuming you with need and want. And that you caused the same to him only strengthen the feelings.

"We can climb to my room. Window's open."

No sooner said than done, carried in the arms of Criston, you found yourselves in your dim lit room. Only the clear night sky, bright with stars and moonlight shone above the two you, illuminating your steps towards love.

Ser Cole lowered to the ground, dropping his head on your lower belly, inhaling deeply before lifting your shirt and tracing a line of light touches of his lips, forehead and nose on your bare skin. Your hands flew to his hair, threading through it as an overwhelming pleasure like you never felt before took over you.

Now Criston lingered under your breasts. Each time he exhaled a ticklish breath of hot air, your toes curled in your shoes. You pulled at his hair, grazing the skin at the back of his neck.

"Impatient, princess?" The amusement in his voice would usually melt your heart, but now it had the opposite effect. Annoyance bit bitterly in the back of your mind. So you pulled away a mere half an inch to push your clothes away. In a moment of bold desire, you stripped of every piece of material covering your body.

The sight of your naked form wiped the smugness off Ser Cole. Lips parted slightly, swallowing hard and breathing heavy with awe sparkling in his eyes, Criston grasped your arms, rubbing up and down their length slowly. His eyes searched every part of you with grateful respect: from the blissed out expression on your face, to the perched up nipples against the cold, from the bump hooding your sex to the toes rolling against the floor.

You closed in the gap, hot skin brushing against rough clothes. You tipped on your toes, circling his neck. A shiver passed through as his one of his palms came to rest low on your back, the other one digging in your hips. Partly to steady you, partly in attempt to sooth the insatiable growing need to feel you.

Your fingers danced around the hem of his shirt. Making sure to touch more of his heated body than the piece of clothing. Eventually, you traced the knotted laces, pulling softly at them until they came undone. Criston took his shirt off and, in doing so he arched his back, pushing his hips and torso into you.

A moan escaped you, stumbling over your feet in surprise. Criston caught you, letting his hands descend to your ass and squeezing it lightly. It earned him another moan, music to his ears.

Your head was resting on his shoulder, too heavy with pleasure to keep it up. An idea bloomed in your mind. Without thinking too much of it, you kissed his neck. Criston groaned and you gained confidence. You let your hands travel on his back as your mouth explored his front. Collarbone, chest, shoulder.

Criston's pants tighten against your thigh. On cue with the gasp you released, Ser Cole fell to his knees. As his hands knitted your breasts, his lips tickled your body.

When his mouth touched your pubic mound, you involuntarily pushed from him.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately, getting up and giving you more space.

"No, don't be. I just... can we take it slower?"

Criston nodded keenly. "Of course."

The next time he approached you, he waited for you to make the first move. You pressed your body into his and kissed him hard. Soon, your moths were open, tongues pushing against each other, twirling in one another, teeth clashing in desperation.

He begin to suck at your neck, sloppy open mouthed kisses leaving a wet trail behind that, when wind blew from outside, rose goosebumps on your shivering form, hardening your breasts. Criston looked for permission, or any sign of hesitation in your eyes before taking one nipple in his mouth, massaging the other with his hand.

Your nails sunk in his shoulderblades, your breath coming out in hitched pants, turning your moans in cries of bliss. "Criston," his name evaded your lips. The knight froze for just a moment before straightening up and telling you to jump, driven by the sound of your pleasure speaking his name.

Criston secured your legs around his waist. His hardened erection throbbing against your wet folds. An itching sensation arouse in your pussy as your insides lit on fire. While Criston attended to your upper body, licking, sucking, biting softly, all making the knits in your belly tighter and the empty feeling in your cunt more annoying, you rolled your hips against his.

"Y/n," he groaned, somewhere between want, delight, and needy distress. His palms seized your sides, keeping you in place. An unsatisfied scoff, that sounded more like a whine, made Criston chuckle.

"Criston," you moaned, trying to escape his grasping fingers digging in your hips. "Please."

"Patience, princess, my sweet y/n. Patience. I want to make this special for you."

And how he did it!

He walked you to the bed, lowering you on the rose scented mattresses. He kissed you once. A long, slow show of love rather than lust. Then he untied his pants and let the drop to the ground. Criston wanted nothing more than to climb over you and worship your body how he knew best. But he resisted the urge, giving you a sight of his naked body.

Just as he thought, you prompted on your elbows, taking him all in. Then you crawled to the edge of the bed. Eyes piercing his own, you touched shyly the hard member between his legs. A whimper he'd never admit to echoed in the room, causing a giggle from you.

More sure on yourself, you closed your fist around his cock. You pumped it, enjoying the twitch it gave in your hands, the reactions you caught from Criston. Whose hands were now playing with threads of your hair, trying to stop himself from rutting into your fist.

In a spur of confidence you dropped your head and kissed the tip of his leaking dick. "Y/n," he yelped. "Tease." He could barely talk.

"Not at all. Just turning back the favor." You winked at him, lying back on the bed, pulling him over you.

Criston's hands trapped your head between them as he lined himself with your entrance. "Are you sure?"

"You beamed up at him, pushing your chest into his to capture his lips. "Take me, Ser Cole, Criston, I'm all yours," you said before letting your head fall on the pillow.

A small laugh broke the silence, speeding through your knight's body. He laced your fingers with his, spreading your bodies for each other. Then he touched the tip of his cock to your aching, pulsing walls. Your body reacted as on cue, clenching around it, not enough to fill you but enough to leave you wanting for more.

You raised your hips in an invitation to go deeper. Criston obliged. Listening to every shift of your body, he took his time pushing inside you, giving you time to adjust to him spreading you. Once again, your moans turned into blissed out cries as he begin to move, scratching that itch just right.

Ser Cole wasn't silent himself. Biting his lips to contain the sighs and groans, tightening his hold on your fingers to keep himself from going too fast.

You set the pace. He thrusted into you and you clenched around him, as if your pussy wanted to grab to his cock and never let go. You rolled your hips to meet him as he moved his own as if dancing.

The fire knots in your belly grew tighter and tighter and with them the strength with which your walls pulsed around him. "You're close, aren't you?" He whispered sweetly, cleaning your face of hair stuck to with with sweat. You did the same for him as you urged his head closer to yours.

"Let go, y/n," Criston murmured in the kiss. "Let go for me."

And you did. Arching your back, releasing the loudest cry so far, you came around him as he rode you through your orgasm.

Criston was still hard inside you, you noticed, even though he stopped moving. An urgent twitch spasming against your folds. He wanted to pull out when the highs of your pleasure calmed, but you held him in place.

"You didn't..."

"I know. I don't want to risk it."

Of course you knew how children were made. The thought simply didn't occur to you so far. "The maetrons have ways to prevent pregnancies," was all you said before dropping a hand to his lower back and pushing him inside your pussy.

"The things you do to me," Criston groaned. But snapped his hips again. "You feel so good," he murmured. Or rather, he wanted to. But it came out as a content scream as he shoot his own orgasm inside you.

Panting, chuckling, pecking each other's lips, none of you wanted the night to end. You couldn't agree to be empty again, not after he fit so perfectly in your body. He didn't argue too much. He didn't want to leave either. He'd live in your bed for the rest of his life, if he could. And you'd gladly let him.

You went down again when his cock perked up inside your cunt. This time, Criston switch you over, guiding your hips as you straddled his wait on top of him.

Ser Cole came faster the second time and only from watching you bounce on his cock, back arched, breasts jumping on your chest, hair flying around your head and whipping his face when you kissed.

"... ser criston cole!"

your breath had caught in your throat as the young knight shed his helmet and blinked up to the royal box, respects paid to the king before he looks to you.

"i would like to ask for your lady's favour, if she would be so kind," he spoke, voice smooth, eyes never leaving your own. if it weren't for rhaenyra's elbow in your side, you're sure you would have stared all day.

"best of luck, ser," comes your wishes, leaning over the wooden rail to drop your favour over his joust. you had spent a whole day on it, the princess on her's too, weaving daisies and lavender into a pretty ring. "i hope that you win."

"as do i," criston muses, smirking. "if it means speaking with you again, my lady."

a blush burns at your cheeks, hurrying to sit back down. you ignore rhaenyra's teasing and watch the knight mount his horse, readying himself for the competition. he knocks down lord after lord, knight after knight, even defeating prince daemon. the heat in your chest has your heart beating quicker, head somewhat hazy as you watch on in delight.

the chaos of a tourney day sweeps you up from your daydreaming, ushered behind the princess to dress her for the feast. though she speaks to you as you braid her hair, it's barely audible past the heavy thoughts of the knight in your ears. eventually, when rhaenyra is summoned to her mother, you find the time to catch your breath in an empty hallway. leaning against the cold stone, your eyes squeeze shut to urge any romantic ideas from your mind.

"my good luck charm."

the sudden voice startles you, turning quickly to ready yourself in defence. but there, only a few steps away, is your knight. for a moment, you think he's talking about you. noting your furrowed brows and slightly cocked head, he raises the favour you had gifted into view.

"ah," you breathe out, a smile growing on your lips. "i'm glad it was of use."

criston mirrors your smile, steps closing the space between you, his armour clinking as it still rests on his bones. his arm reaches out, offering the flowered ring back to you. "it is custom the knight returns the favour to the lady, if they have survived."

glancing at the branches and petals your hands had tirelessly woven, then back to the warm eyes that watch you so carefully, that strange feeling creeps back into your chest. you shake your head.

"keep it," you urge, cheeks rounding. "perhaps it will bring you luck again."

cole's brows raise, interest obviously piqued at your suggestion. his smile turns crooked, eyes sparkling with a life you'd only seen outside of the walls of the keep.

"and will you be present, again? in case it is you, and not the favour, that has blessed me." his tongue is playful and teasing, but his eyes hold a sincerity you daren't question.

"i cannot promise my presence to be so virtuous." you giggle breathily, eyes darting to the ground for a moment to spare yourself the dizziness that comes from his gaze. "and i should--"

"a kiss then."

the blunt but hopeful proposition snaps your eyes back to him, unsure of whether to be more shocked, offended or delighted. criston smirks, obviously enjoying your surprise. "as a precaution, of course."

stomach jumping with nerves, heart dancing with excitement, you watch his eyes carefully in an attempt to gauge whether he was taunting you or not. but no, still only genuine.

shuffling forward, close enough now, you slowly stretch upwards onto your tiptoes. eyes locked, your lips journeying closer to his cheek - slightly stubbled, but littered with freckles. they barely brush his skin before he turns his head, quicker than you can notice, replacing his cheek with his lips.

the surprise that overtakes you is quickly subdued by the sweet taste of his kiss. his lips soft, just relishing in yours. not desperate or rough as you had seen with older lords and ladies, but delicate and kind. he only parts when he feels you swoon a little in his arms, smiling against the aftertaste of the kiss. breathless, you look at each other, caught up in the warmth between you.

The glint of her unusual pupils were the only light you saw in months. Perhaps years? You didn't remember the last touch of sun rays, the last taste of warmth before you were thrown in the dungeons.

You've waited in a cold cell, counting the rhythm to which water dripped from the walls with nothing but darkness surrounding you. When the dim torches appeared like spirits of the realm of passing life to haunt you, Rhaenyra shushed the dry scream from your lips and offered you water and food.

"I'm so sorry," she said, voice heavy with guilt.

You grew up with the dragon queen. Served along your mother to her chambers as a little child. Then, as you reached the age of schooling, the king has been so nice as to have you seated at his daughter's side before the tutors. Taking care of every need you had. Books, clothes, money and food.

Rhaenyra has been your first kiss (and you, hers). Now you couldn't help but be afraid of those same sweet lips that made your body tingle, fierce eyes you respected religiously and soft face that melted your heart with painful adoration.

Criston has warned you. Ser Cole, the man who promised to marry you the night he taught you bodies can love too. The man who turned against his queen.

You remembered his pleas to go with him. His begs of devotion and vows of love. He kneeled at your feet, his beautiful wild curls barely out of reach from your fingers, his round dark eyes searching the hiddenmost parts of your soul. And Criston beseeched you to trust him.

You wanted to. From the day he won that first turnament until the day he swore off Rhaenyra and stood behind Lady Alicent, you wanted to trust him. Have him. Love him. But how could you betray your queen?

"She'll hurt you. She'll burn you to get to me and I cannot allow it."

"Then stay. Stay here, with me. Be her knight, her friend as you used to. Repent and ask forgiveness. Rhaenyra is good, my dearest love. She'll listen."

Criston rose to his feet then, shacking his head, urging a waterfall of brown locks to bath his shoulders. "Rhaenyra would fight 'til death for her birthright. And not just her own end."

"Why, then? Why choose Lady Alicent over her? Over me...," you whispered slowly, chocked by your own tears.

Ser Cole ran to your side, cupping you cheeks – that fit perfectly in his hardened by fights hands – and brushing his thumbs over your face. His eyes were bigger now, as if to bare his soul to you. A reassurence of what lays deep in his heart: you.

"I would never choose against you, y/n. My sweet, dear y/n." He closed his eyes. Dropped a kiss to your forehead. And whithout taking his lips off your warmed skin, Criston spoke with such sadness in his voice you tightened your arms around him in a comforting squeeze. "Rhaenyra isn't the princess you think she is. She is reckless. Won't learn or listen. She can't be queen."

You toyed your bottom lips between your teeth in thought. Your lover was right, came the unwanted conclusion. But the bond you shared with the dragon queen was too strong to be so easily ripped to shreds.

Slowly, dragging your feet lethargically as if you stepped on shards of dragon glass and not on the soft carpet of your chambers, you detangled from Ser Cole.

"I'm sorry, Criston. I can't."

That was the last you saw of him before the civil war. Rhaenyra and her younger half-brother tore through the seven kingdoms in a dangerous game of thrones. And the poor civilians paid the price, trapped beneath the feet of dancing dragons.

You helped as much as you could. Housing orphaned children, putting down fires, even learning the art of healing at the extense of your abilities. And in the midst of all of that, reported dutifully to the queen.

But every night your heart wittered like a crisped flower. There were plenty of those around lately. You dreamt of Criston, his bright smile shining at you after a win. Eyes darting over the audience filled with pride and daring confidence. But his smile was reserved for you.

Each night Ser Cole would visit in your dreams. His dashing form spread over you in the dim lit bedroom. The same happy grin from the morn' turning into a seductive smirk as he caressed every inch of your body.

Even in your sleep, your body would respond to the ghost of his touch. Goosebumps forming where Criston's fingers teased: at the base of your neck, the collarbone, around your aroused nipples, travelling down, down, down to your entrance. His body was cold, ice against the fire burning within you. When he pinched your clit you sighed, trembling alone in your bed.

In your dream, he laughed. A colorful sound playing the chords of your heart. "Stay still, my lovliest. Let me take care of you."

"Criston," you moaned. Unable to fathom any other thought, your mind consumed only by his presence.

His body, lined with mucles that flexed and unflexed as you ignited shivers of pleasure down his spine, pushed slowly into you. You could feel his ragged sigh as if he trully was there, cold on your heated neck. Then his mouth would leave open mouthed kisses on your neck, or he'd burry his head between your breast, tickling you with his messy hair.

You'd sneak your hands to his back, dugging your nails in his flesh as he rode inside you, hitting every spot that mattered. You'd moan his name so loud your voice pushed between sleep fantasies.

"Shhh," Criston would say, covering your mouth with his to swallow the sounds. "You have to be quiet, my love, my y/n. You have to be quiet or someone will catch us." As if it wasn't just a dream.

In the morning the bed would be a mess of sheets, tangled and knotted as you shifted. White fluids spilled on the rich materials. A frustrated groan would be the way you started all your days since Criston left with Aegon's men.

Sometimes you had a strange feeling you were followed. A shadow in the corner of your eye, a looming presence tickling at the back of your neck. But there never was anything when you checked.

So you'd go through your day, having the nights to hold on to – Ser Cole, the steadying wind in your wings even miles apart.

One night, though, your dream ended quicker than usual. Worked up, breath hitched in your chest, you eyed the guards curiously through the blurry veil of lifting sleep. That's when you were dragged to the dungeon.

"I can't take this anymore. Please," you cried. The rasp of your voice took you by surprise. You felt your heart skip a beat at the realisation you had no tears to shed. All dried, like your chipped lips and peeling skin.

"I know. I'm sorry. I thought Ser Cole would come from you rather sooner than later."

"Rhaeny, please." Your sobs sounded pathetic even to you. "What– what will you do to him?"

"Extract information. Secure my reign. Give him as example for those foolish enough to question me again."

Your breath grew hectic, panting with sobs and wails you couldn't keep locked behind your lips no more.

"You still love the traitor."

Your body shivered. It could have been the cold catching up with your health, finally rusting it. Or it could have been fear and pain. You were too tired, to ragged up to make sense of it.

"Rhaeny," you didn't know what you wanted to say. Ask her of your own fate? Beg for Ser Cole's?

"Why are you here?"

The queen's eyes softened. Head down, a curtain of white strands shielding her face, Rhaenyra whispered. "I had to see you. Make sure you were alright. I didn't want to get here. None of this should have happened."

"But you can't stop." It wasn't a question, nor a sudden realization. You felt like you knew Rhaenyra better than anyone else. Understood her better than anyone else. As if you were one and the same blood.

"Not yet. Aegon doesn't know how to be king. I filled the cups at my father and his lords' table. I learned the ways of the crown. I was named queen. His only claim is the difference between our legs."

Even in your dazzed state, you nodded sympathetically. She was right, of course. And you harbored only the deepest hatred for Lady Alicent for what she did. The three of you were supposed to stick by each other's sides.

You were raised next to high ladies and the princess herself. But the only ones to ever accept you were Alicent and Rhaenyra. The three of you vowed to see the latter on the throne. How the loyalties changed!

You impressed – or surprised – them both when you managed to ride a dragon on your own. The magestic creatures acted so tame around you. Until the king forbade you for ever going close to a dragon. You missed it. Them. All too much – an inexplicable pierce of grief in your heart, as if someone has sown a thread of iron through your blood and connected it to the dragons. The furthest you were from them, the more it strecthed. So painfully a reminder of how wrong the distance was.

"Rhaenyra... don't hurt him. Please."

"You know I can't." She said after a long pause, right before she left.

From then on someone brought you food and water regularly. But no one came to take you out of the incospicuous place.

Until the next time you heard a human voice. His voice.

Torches, so many you couldn't separate their lights to count properly, lit the small dungeon room. "Y/n," Criston screamed. And pushed aside the shorter figure fumbling through keys in an attempt to open the door.

"Y/n," he said again, muttering your name like a prayer until he reached you. "Oh, y/n," he sighed once he could pull you in his embrance. It was a weird feeling. Criston was the cold one, usually. Now he warmed your iced body against the burning flames of longing and desire.

"Come on, let's get you out of here. Can you walk? How do you feel?"

A sinister smile crept on your face. Then you broke into a loud, maddening laughter. How normal it all seemed! Ser Cole again in your arms, worrying over you. His scent flooding your senses, his body pressed to yours. Those dragon glass black eyes turning in wells of love as he watched you. The familiarity of his voice. It was too much for your silenced mind.

"I'm fine now that you're here," you managed, capturing his lips with yours. "I missed you."

"Not as much as I, you."

You let Ser Cole guide you through dark halls, a suit of men following swiftly behind, yet offering the pair of you enough space to mime intimacy. Your head rested on the biceps of the arm he had wrapped around your waist. Eyes clossed, knowing nothing will hurt you with Criston there, at your hip. A content hum left your lips; his hand on you in an iron grip, fingers touching every inch they could, making sure you're real.

As the sun blinded you even through closed lids, a question you should have been concerned with way earlier, popped in your head. "Criston?"

"Hmm?" He mused, nuzzling his head into your temples.

"How are you here?"

You looked up just in time to see one of his winning smiles blooming. "Long live the king," was all he said. "Come on, let's have a healer take a look at you."

But you couldn't move. The ecstasy that flourished in your body sunked too soon for you to process it. All you understood was the cold sweat drops forming on your body and a quickening heart beat punching at your rib cage.

"Ho– How? And the que– Rhaenyra? How is, where is she?"

Criston frowned. "She evaded us. But the throne is Aegon's now and we will find her soon."

"Then what?"

"She can either bent the knee or die with her choices."

Ser Cole's extended hand fell limp to his side when you shook your head and shoved your lips between your teeth. "Criston..."

"I know this is hard for you, y/n, my love. I'll speak to the king to let you talk to her once she's brought in. Maybe you can make her see reason."

You breathed out what sounded like a combination of an annoyed scoff and an amused huff. As if you hadn't tried to talk to her before and during your imprisonment. And look where that led you.

"Y/n..."

"I know. The healers."

Perhaps he wanted to say more. Maybe he would have. But the defeated look in your eyes made him decide against it. Criston, much like anyone else, didn't understand your bond with Rhaenyra. It was obvious it was deeper than a friendship or a shared childhood. Once he even suspected you still had feelings for her. It caused such an argument between you two. And it took a long night to convince him he's the only one for you.

It didn't made sense not even for you. All you knew is that you had to protect her. Like an older sister would a younger.

Later that day bells rang through King's Landing, celebraiting the end of the war more than Aegon's coronation. All the Greens looked so happy. Smug. Untouchable.

Until a last storm of fire rained on their party. Rhaenyra. Riding her dragon in all its majestic glory, with white hair flying behind her in snakes of ivory and purple eyes burning like magic of old fixated on Aegon.

Her supporters rushed in behind her, charging the Greens for battle.

"Protect the king!" Ser Cole shouted. "Capturing the princess alive isn't a duty tonight."

You were pushed to hide in a corner. Forced to watch the chosen of your heart and your queen facing each other on opposite sides of the battlefield. And yet neither love in your heart could surpass the other.

Rhaneyra aimed for Aegon. It was her sole focus as her dragon stomped over knights and kingsguard men to reach her half brother.

"Hello, sister," he smirked. If it annoyed you, the Targaryen queen must be seething with anger. "Came to bring me the gifts suited for the king I am?"

"The only gift you shall revieve, brother, is the final sleep."

Rhaenyra launched towards Aegon, the dragon's head elonging like a snake about to bite its pray. You vaguely spotted Alicent picking up a sword with shacking hands and such palor in her face you would have thought her a ghost. But she was not a ghost. She was a mother seeing her baby in danger.

"Dracarys," Rhaenyra ordered. Once the flames died out and the smoke cleared, you were surprised to see the self proclaimed king still standing. Instead, his mother burned to a crisp.

Aegon saw it mere seconds after you did. Tears picked at his eyes – of grief and anger as well – before a heart ripping shriek came out of him. "You will pay for this, you murderous cunt," he spat, charging with his sword against his sister, still seated on her dragon.

Criston, you spotted sneaking from behind. He traded the sword for a bow, a single arrow in his hold. While Aegon distracted Rhaenyra, Ser Cole would have one shot at killing her.

It all happened so fast. It only took as long as Aegon's battle cry lasted. You ran to your lover, clapping his hands into yours. "Please, Cristone, my sun, my soul, my life. For me. Spare her."

"Y/n," he started, but couldn't finish. Aegon's voice stumbled over a chocked sound. And when you looked at it, all you could see was a body ripped apart in tow halves.

"No," Criston breathed out at the same time a relieved puff left your lungs. Criston's fingers curled in between your still united hands. You looked at him, ready to convince him it wasn't all lost. To convince him to join you in every way known to man, even in this gorrish happiness.

You were ready to agree on what he proposed a long time ago: leaving the court to a peaceful life, to wed and live like a happy, normal couple.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I can't. Nor Rhaenyra, nor her bastard sons can rule the seven kingdoms."

"Why do you care so much?" You wanted to yell, but discovered you didn't have the strength left in you.

"I took a vow as kingsguard. I cannot go against it. Please, understand it."

Before you could make your case, that his vow would also be against you, your relationship – marriage, children, even you sleeping together – Criston pulled his hands from yours, knocked the arrow and shoot.

Rhaenyra fell off the dragon. The poor creature was left in a frenzy without its mistress rider. With one last disappointed glance to Criston, you ran to calm the dragon before it'd cause serios damage.

You couldn't bare to look at the body of your queen. Bathed in blood, resting in a pool of fast spreading red. The arrow has hit the neck.

So you focused on the creature instead. Heard the fearful rhythm of its heart, which you found unnerving. Such a large predator, lost without a human to guide it.

"Easy, boy. It's alright. All it's fine."

The dragon turned towards your voice, much to the people who struggled to escape being stepped on relief. For a second you thought you did it. You locked eyes, hands thrown forward, urging the creature to trust you. And it did. It laid its forehead against your palms.

Then, in the awed silent watch of the present people, the dragon pulled away and fixed you with its look. You barely had time to register the orange ball that formed in the back of its throat as he opened its mouth and bestowed its fire over you.

"Y/n!" You heared Criston's roar, pushing through the mob, his sword back in his firm grip. You could feel the embrance of flames, eating at your clothes and hair. Burning and burning until nothing remained in their stead. Not even crisped remnanted like Lady Alicent's body, or cinder.

But the flames didn't eat your flesh. They danced on your body, swirling higher and higher as warmth kissed every inch of your being. You threw your head back, euphoria taking over. You weren't dead. You weren't dying. You felt good! More than good, magical.

A strong want to twirl in the flames overtook you. So you did. You've nver felt so free, so happy. Well, you had to be fair, the way Ser Criston could make your heart tingle and your brain lose track of thoughts and meaning could compare.

Speaking of Ser Criston Cole, you searched him through the fire. It was hard to see anything behind the wild cooccoon around you. And what a right word cooccoon was. For when the fire died down, you were born anew.

"What has just...?"

"Did you see?"

"What is she?"

"How did she...?"

In the chaos of voices you tried to make sense of, Criston appeared at your side, the comforting presence he always was. You didn't realize you were naked until he threw his coat over you.

"Careful," you wanted to warn him of the dragon being unstable. Then you noticed the creature asleep at your feet.

"I think I'm the one supposed to say that. Are you alright?"

"Oh, Criston, better than ever! I feel so... alive!"

Ser Cole could only nod. Still to shocked to fully understand what has occured.

"Is she a Targaryen?" A voice in the sea of people around you arose above the others.

A gleam lit in Criston's eyes. "Of course she is! Only the blood of dragons can survice their fire."

"What...?"

"Shh, follow my lead. Trust me, please."

You frowned, but kept quiet. Let him deal with the people, Aegon's and Rhaenyra's alike. Soon to be yours.

You took a peak at Rhaeny's body. Knelt next to it, not caring about staining Criston's coat or soaking your bare knees in her blood. "I'm so sorry," you said and, as you spoke, you realised you sounded like her when she visited you in the cell she threw you in.

Were you seeing her death as a neccesity then? One you mourned and felt guilt's slick hands wrapped around your neck for, but you didn't regret? As you look up at your lover with troubled eyes, not caring to listen and try understand what he said to the mob, you came to the conclusion the answer was yes.

You didn't have time to make out how you felt about it. If you should consider yourself a disgusting human being or if you should revel in the new found power – after all, didn't Rhaenyra do the same? – that you were whisked up in the embrance of strangers and carried on their shoulders to the iron throne, whistles of celebration and shouts of 'long live the queen' errupting all around you.