thinking about maekar's eldest daughter returning to summerhall with her family following the tourney at ashford, only for maekar to turn into a drunken recluse (not unlike his eldest son), neglecting his children and their care, hiding away for weeks on end. he didn't have the heart to send aerion away, so now it's up to his eldest daughter and the two eldest boys to look after their swarm of younger siblings.
maekar's eldest daughter who takes on a motherly role, much as she had before, but now constantly seen with children clinging to her skirts and Rhae in her arms. her father won't give the girls any love, so she must.
maekar's eldest daughter who doesn't notice the way her brother's eyes start following her more, taking in the sight of her doting on their younger siblings, instead picturing the silver-haired children in her arms as their own.
maekar's eldest daughter who thinks the way her brothers seek her attention more is nothing except a reaction to the grief of losing their uncle.
maekar's eldest daughter who lets daeron crawl into her bed late at night, his weeping stirring her from her peaceful slumber. he needs her more and more these days.
maekar's eldest daughter who converses quietly with aerion each night, the pair sharing wine as they rest from the exhaustion of the day.
maekar's eldest daughter who doesn't realise that the lines are growing more and more blurred each day with every small peck on the cheek and tender hug. they're her brothers... they would never want her that way.
maekar who finally drags himself out of his chambers after weeks of hiding away, heading towards aerion's chambers, only to pause at the sound of feminine gasps escaping through the door.
maekar who pries the door open a touch and stumbles upon a scene from his nightmares.
maekar who finds aerion on top of his eldest daughter, muscles rippling with exertion as he fills his sister over and over again with his cock.
maekar, horrified, who notices daeron sitting on the other side of the room, sipping dornish wine as he watches the scene, entranced.
maekar who realises his absence has loosened the control he held over his sons, letting them run wild in his home with no consequence.
maekar who backs away, fearing what he might find if he looks any closer at the tear-stained face of his eldest daughter.
maekar who returns to his chambers, swallowing his sorrows with more wine, falling into his bed in shame and depression. he'd ruined them all. he'd killed his brother, and now he'd unwittingly given his sweet girl – dyanna's baby – over to his sons.
maekar who realises his sons really are dragons, and his eldest daughter is the lamb.
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OMG! I JUST LOVE YOUR FANFICTION AND ALL THE CONTENT! You are such a miracle, I have already read every work! I love your Daeron so much! Especially his dark version!!!! Please more dark!Daeron... by the way, what do you think of Dark!Is Daeron in Omegaverse? In general, thank you so much for your fics!
THANK YOU SO MUCH! <3 this msg has made me smile all day, i'm serious, thank you for the message!
dark!daeron and omegaverse dark!alpha!daeron thoughts under the cut!
i really love writing dark!daeron. i like to write slightly different interpretations for each different fic or "instance", and that makes it really fun for me. i first try to think of what i want the reader character to go through, and then i decide what kind of character traits of daeron's i can play with to make that happen in the way i want.
so sometimes i write him as more resigned and guilt-ridden, other times as more sarcastic and manipulative, or so on...
in the book lore, daeron hates aerion just as much as egg hates aerion, so i like giving dark!daeron and typical aerion a kind of brotherly rivalry instead. especially if they prey on reader together lol
(i like writing all different kinds of dark!valarr too-- sometimes i headcanon him as religious from that single baelor line, other times he's a stereotypical haughty prince to me, sometimes he's possessive but graceful and shy, etc)
and now i'm wondering if my latest dark!daeron would be as pervy as my other dark!daerons! 🤭
omegaverse
dark or not, i always view omegaverse!daeron as an alpha, but not a successful one. he's everything a targaryen prince should be: an alpha, tall, handsome, etc! but just like typical daeron, he's a drunk, a mess of some sort, still plagued by his dreams. so i think maekar would at least initially story-wise be just as disappointed in omegaverse fail alpha daeron as he is in typical non-omegaverse daeron.
WITH THAT SAID, unfff, omegaverse dark!alpha!daeron has sooo much writing potential. here's some ideas off the top of my head. most are incredibly obvious/cliche but who cares, he's hot!
• i kinda wrote this into my last non-omegaverse fic; i just love the idea of daeron using reader in some way to "prove" to his father that he isn't a failure
• so imagine daeron's been missing for a few weeks, and when he finally turns back up at summerhall, he has you on his arm, the most sweet little omega who looks utterly too perfect to be with someone like him
• maekar was ready to yell at daeron for hours for presumably going off on his own and being a stupid drunken prince again, until he saw you-- well, he smelled you before he saw you-- cautiously step out from the carriage behind daeron. maekar held his tongue from the sheer novelty of it... maybe his son had finally done something right?
• aerion somehow has all the court gossip on his beloved older brother, and later informed maekar that daeron supposedly helped this sweet omega through her heat and ended up claiming her
dubcon | more ideas...
• dark!alpha!daeron plying you (a sheltered noble omega) with cup after cup of wine. lying and telling you it'll stave off your heat, it'll soothe that ache inside you. but you can't help but feel that warmth inside you spreading deeper and deeper
• you can't help but notice throughout the night that he's just so touchy and isn't backing off. it feels so improper; you feel guilty every time his fingers brush against you and you secretly enjoy it.
• even when you move his hand away, he ends up placing it right back on you in a different spot. he takes notice of how your skin feels warmer and warmer.
• and by the end of the evening (perhaps it was a feast, though he's certainly pulled you away to some secluded garden by now), you're practically sitting in his lap, impropriety be damned. even as he lifts another bottle of bitter wine to your lips, even as your instincts tell you to get up and run, something about him still makes you feel so safe. such a confusing feeling for a naive omega...
• i also love the idea of an omega who is so sheltered, she hasn't even been told exactly what will happen when she goes into heat. maybe her house is more religious, maybe she's just been kept away by an overprotective family-- either way, she's absolutely clueless. and when daeron learns of this, her innocence just tempts him completely.
he's had so many terrible dreams of death and destruction and morbidity, and suddenly here's this perfect unsullied flower right in front of him, literally ripe for the plucking. about to go into heat and she doesn't even know it. doesn't know how her body and mind will cry out and crave an alpha to hold her close and guide her-- any alpha, even a drunken, disgraceful prince like himself.
daeron could smell it on her as soon as he met her. it was more intoxicating than any fine wine or perfumed brothel.
maybe this is exactly the kind of behavior to be expected from such a disgraceful prince. maybe this proves everyone both wrong and right about him at the same time.
above all... he'll listen to his instincts and take what he wants.
Daeron and 7 for the AU game - curious to see what a dark Daeron might be up to!
Daeron in a Dark AU
Word reaches Daeron in the wilds that Lúthien and Beren have achieved their quest, and that Thingol has accepted Beren as his son-in-law. In anger and bitterness at both Luthien and Thingol, Daeron makes his way to Himring to offer his insider knowledge of Doriath to the sons of Feanor, who no doubt plan to reclaim their stolen jewel.
But he finds Maedhros unreceptive to plots and kinslayings. So he bides his time with the sons of Feanor, quietly stoking the fires of Celegorm and Curufin's resentment, wheedling away at Maglor (sexually, because this is my AU)... until at last they turn against Doriath, taking Dior completely at unawares thanks to Daeron's aid.
Wishing that no heir of Luthien should live, Daeron drags Elured and Elurin into the woods -- but he is lost and driven to madness in the wilds of Nan Dungortheb. Some say he wandered in his madness over the mountains and still haunts the waterways of Middle-earth.
pairings: dark aerion x reader, dark valarr x reader, dark baelor x reader, dark daeron x reader, dark maekar x reader, ser duncan x reader
warnings: dub-con, non-con, graphic sexual descriptions, blowjob, fondling, heavy petting, fingering, nipple play, babytrapping (debatable), manipulation, coercive relationship, exhibitionism (?), sad dunk, kiera slander (girl i'm so sorry babe, it's not personal), maekar and baelor aren't really in this one sorry
Next part here!
The Red Keep was cold. For a city as sweltering and filthy as King's Landing, the Red Keep sent a shiver down the healer's spine. She didn't know if it was the physical structure itself, or more likely, the men who inhabited it, that had her stomach churning, but as soon as she set foot inside the castle, her body was on alert.
The looks directed her way from the other bodies within the castle did little to soothe her nerves. Every noblewoman, maid and septa alike looked at her in confusion, awe, disgust – or some combination of the three, though she supposed she couldn't blame them. A new face suddenly attached to the arm of Aerion? If it were anyone else, maybe her eyes would linger too.
It had been two days since she arrived in the capital, and in those two days, she had been unable to see Dunk. Her kind knight was nowhere to be seen, and somehow, she knew it wasn't coincidental. In the new chambers she had been allocated for her stay, only little Egg had come to visit her. The first time he had appeared at her door, Maekar had been with him, standing poised behind his son. His eyes had scanned the room with curiosity, landing on her after a beat. The pair stared silently at each other for a moment, the healer feeling her heart beating against her ribcage as she wondered for a moment if he would step over the threshold. Alas, he ended their stare-off with a grunt, shoving his son forward before returning down the hall. Egg and the healer had spent most of their hours together, content to pass the time with board games and shared stories. It was there, on her second day, that she felt brave enough to ask sweet Egg more about his family.
"Egg," she murmured, bringing the boy closer to her as they sat in front of the fire. "Might you tell me more of your family?"
Egg looked up at her, taking in her expression. When they had been on the road together, she was often full of joy, widely smiling and sharing laughter with Egg and Dunk. She had made him feel warm and safe inside. Now, he noticed, she hadn’t smiled in days. Her eyes seemed duller, as if someone had stolen the light out of them.
Egg nodded.
“Well, there is Prince Baelor, my uncle. He is the Hand of the King and the heir to the Iron Throne. He is good and just and a better man than most in my family,” Egg determined. The healer nodded, his words aligning with the other descriptions she’d heard of the man, though her mind recalled the way he’d gazed at her days ago — far less honourable than he supposedly was.
“Then there is my father, Prince Maekar. Some people call him 'The Anvil' after his win during the rebellion. He can be mean to me… and to my brothers, but I think he does like us sometimes.” She nodded again at that. Maekar seemed like a scary man, and she wished to spend as little time in his presence as possible.
“I have my older brothers and then my younger siblings. Daeron was once very happy and glad, my father says, but now he is no fun. He has dreams of the future… and they always seem to come true. It saddens him,” Egg stated. Things made more sense to the healer now, with the events of the previous night tracking now that she learnt of his dreams. He’d literally dreamt of their attempt to escape.
The healer spoke quietly next, almost fearful for what she might learn. “And Aerion?”
Egg paused, a decisive mix of rage and pity filling his visage.
“Aerion is a monster! He killed my cat! And he has threatened to hurt me. He is evil, and – and I wish he were dead!”
The healer was stunned — she hadn’t expected such an outburst from her sweet little Egg, though from his words, she understood his fury. Dragging the boy into her arms, she soothingly rubbed at his back, letting him cry into her chest as she whispered sweet reassurances to him. The shudders that wracked his frame slowly lessened after a few moments until the boy pulled away.
“There’s also Valarr,” Egg added after a silent pause. She hummed in acknowledgement, her curiosity prompting him to continue. “Valarr is much like Baelor. He is good and kind, and the people like him. He is strong and brave, and he fights well too! Aerion becomes jealous of all the praise and attention he gets.”
She could tell by his tone that Egg greatly admired Valarr and likely wished for him to be his older brother instead. He sounded like a good man, and in her mind, she filed away his name in case she needed assistance. He’d already confronted her at the wine station and was alert to her presence in the Red Keep, but maybe he could be persuaded against Aerion one day. He didn’t seem to like him much anyway.
“It seems the crown is in good hands with Baelor and Valarr then," she acknowledged.
The pair talked for a short while longer before finally parting ways — Egg had been commanded to sleep in his own rooms that night, much to his chagrin. As she slept alone that night, her emotions returned to the surface, and she felt hot, wet tears sliding down her cheeks once more. During the day, she was strong enough to compose herself and hide her pain. But at night? With the silence and the darkness? She couldn’t hold it in any longer, and her choked sobs echoed around the room.
Dunk stood inside the grand dining room as his duty demanded, watching silently as the Targaryens ate dinner together for the first time since returning from the tourney. He had expected an uneventful evening, but the tension in the room had been high once Aerion had arrived, bringing his mistress –Dunk's healer – on his arm. To bring a mistress to a family dinner was against protocol, and yet no protest could be heard. Dunk had stiffened in shock, unable to stop the anger coursing through his body as Aerion directed a mocking glance his way. Dunk wished he could throttle the little cunt.
He'd had to endure a mix of false pleasantries, taunting jokes, and tense conversations between the family all night. Even Baelor seemed fed up as the hour grew long, letting his eyes unabashedly roll as he heard another squabble between Daeron and Aerion begin. But for Dunk, the worst part of his evening had been witnessing how the men at the table treated his healer. He couldn't be certain, but it seemed like all the men at the table had been letting their eyes linger on her, giving her long, appreciative looks. Some were more obvious, but he swore even Baelor had paused for a moment too long. Aerion had dressed her in a deep red gown — one clearly befitting a woman far above her station, and she sat adorned with heavy gold jewellery and rings. And yet, no one could deny that it suited her. Dunk struggled to reconcile that this was the same woman he had spent a year on the open road with, sharing stew and ale at taverns and sleeping under the stars.
Dunk's reminiscing was interrupted by a sharp screech, all attention falling towards Aerion. The prince was now upright, the healer firmly pressed against his side. Dunk's hands curled into fists at the sight of the prince's hands firm against her waist – he could see from her face that she was uncomfortable.
"Well, I shall take my leave from tonight's... titillating conversation," Aerion proclaimed. "I believe I have far more interesting things to attend to."
Aerion's meaning was clear as day to anyone in the room.
"Very well, nephew. Do be careful," Baelor said, dismissing the pair with a grunt. With a firm tug, they started towards the door, only for Aerion to halt suddenly. All watched on, curious for the delay. When he turned to look at Dunk, the healer knew it couldn't be anything good. Aerion winced slightly as he felt her fingers dig into the muscle of his upper arm in protest but ignored her.
"Ser Duncan," Aerion drawled. His tone was menacing, much like that when he had asked for the healer, back when he thought she was the knight's wife. It was clear he took great pleasure in taunting the knight.
"I do believe you should guard my mistress's chambers tonight. I would feel most..." A pregnant pause. "Pleased to know you would be close by if she needed assistance."
You could hear a pin drop with the silence of the room. The Targaryens were stunned. The weight of his actions was clear, as were the supposed outcomes. Dunk was horrified – how could he even suggest such a thing? Though, when Dunk looked for assistance from Baelor, or maybe even Maekar, he found none. The older men returned only blank stares, hands folded in their laps. He would not be saved from this, he realised. Dunk felt like a man waiting for his death, knowing the fate he was to face.
Dunk finally looked at his healer, only to quickly avert his eyes. Her face – he had never seen that look from her before. Not even when she had told him to leave the council chambers at Ashford. Pure devastation sat on her features, eyes shining with unshed tears. Aerion shrugged off the soft words she pleaded in his direction, dropping her expression more. She had already been stripped of all her dignity and control, and now he wished to humiliate her like this? To permanently alter how her truest friend saw her? To debase her as such?
"Please, my prince... do not do this, I beg of you."
Unceremoniously, Aerion shoved her through the open doors and directed her to her chambers, demanding Dunk follow them lest he grow mad. He trailed behind them, watching as they arrived at the chamber. Dunk could only get a glimpse of her disappearing into the rooms before Aerion slammed the door in his face. The knight stood still in disbelief, going to stand in his assigned spot, when the door suddenly opened again.
Aerion poked his head into the hall, landing on Dunk's frame, and grinned.
"Be good, Ser Duncan. You wouldn't want me to hurt her now, would you?"
Dunk instinctually lunged towards the prince, catching sight of his grin as he ducked back inside her chambers. He swore to himself and promised that one day he would rescue his healer and take her some place quiet and peaceful, where they could forget about everything that had happened in this wretched place.
Inside the room, the healer studied Aerion silently. In the few days she had known him, she struggled to understand what he was thinking. He seemed to switch from irritability to excitement instantaneously, and his anger and rage were well known. So far, she had managed to avoid his bad side. Maekar had kept him occupied for most hours of the day since they returned, and thus, he'd not been able to get his hands on her properly, though, she supposed, her luck had run out now.
"Hello, pretty dove," Aerion mumbled, making his way towards her. "How I've been waiting for this... for you."
His hands made their way to her waist, feeling the curves of her body under his palms, slowly exploring her body. He was so close to her now that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin and smell the Dornish wine on his breath. The scent of him overpowered her, oud invading her senses as he leant towards her neck, placing a tender kiss at the junction of her neck and shoulder. She couldn't help but shudder as he pressed up against her, continuing his warm, open-mouthed kisses across her decolletage. He was so close to her, and it made her uneasy, and yet she felt her body yearn for more.
The healer let out a sharp gasp as she found herself suddenly flipped around, Aerion's fingers impatiently tugging at her laces intent on baring her to him. He continued his kisses, occasionally nipping at her skin just enough to have her gasp and flinch at the sensation. She was left only in a delicate shift, the hands at her waist returning her to face the prince once more. Aerion's body pushed up against her, his chest pressing against hers, and at the first touch of his hand against her breast she couldn't help but let out a soft whimper. She felt warm all over, and her body began to tingle as his fingers toyed with her flesh, groping at her breast and placing a heady kiss on her lips.
After his first kiss at the tourney, she had sunk into a deep pit of shame. She hadn't enjoyed it, but she hadn't disliked it. She didn't know which was worse, but the prince was skilled with his mouth and tongue, and he knew how to draw out sweet sounds with each drag of his tongue against hers. Of course, Aerion wished for her to enjoy this – the louder her noises, the more torment the knight standing at the door would endure. She felt her hands make their way over the prince's body, letting them press against his firm chest as he continued to crowd against her body. She didn't even notice Aerion smiling into the kiss as she let out another whimper, his hands having reached down towards the fat of her ass and delivering a sharp squeeze. Part of her was shocked that he had not simply thrown her on the bed and had his way with her, and the other part of her almost wished that had been so. Maybe then she would not feel so guilty for sinking in to his kisses more than she should have.
Aerion pulled away first, and the sight in front of him – gods. She was divine. Her previously done-up hair was now loose and tousled and accompanied by swollen lips that let heavy breaths pass through them. He'd barely even touched her, and she was like this, he thought to himself. He'd wreck her one day, no doubt about it.
"Kneel," Aerion commanded. For a moment, she hesitated but swiftly let her knees meet the carpet after she met his fiery gaze. Aerion took in the sight before him, groaning lowly at her wide eyes staring up at him.
"You're going to suck my cock, do you understand?" She nodded. She felt Aerion tangle his fingers in her hair, dragging her closer to his breeches.
"Take it out, pretty dove," he ordered.
With hesitant hands, she reached for the button at his waist, slowly peeling at the fabric until his smallclothes were visible. Looking up at the prince, he only hummed, directing her to continue. His hands were still stroking her hair as she removed his cock from his smallclothes, surprise flitting across her features as it sprang free from its confines. Aerion's cock was pretty, she thought, much like him. It was currently a deep shade of red, the tip visibly darker than the rest of the length, and the precum that weeped at his tip shocked her. He had been enjoying this much more than she thought.
It seemed Aerion had little patience for her appreciation of his length as he was soon shoving her head towards his tip, commanding her to open up. She could only oblige, and she quickly found her mouth full of the prince's cock.
Aerion groaned in ecstasy as he felt the warmth of her mouth envelop him. She struggled around him, spasming as he insistently shoved himself further down her throat before pulling back slightly, only to push further on his next thrust. He revelled in the grunts and gags that she emitted as he began a punishing rhythm, feeling her hands meet his thighs, pushing against the muscles. He wondered if she thought such a display would make him slow down, pull back and let her breathe. She would be sorely mistaken if she did. Instead, he was pushing deeper, grabbing at her hair to hold her down on his cock. She struggled as her nose met the base of his cock, her face smushed in coarse silver hair that surrounded his cock. Aerion grinned as she tried to pull back, only to find herself unable to move. Her palms slapped at his thighs now, a desperate attempt to gather air into her lungs once more.
"Look at me, dove."
Aerion watched her eyes meet his, tears streaming down her cheeks as he pulled her back a fraction, only to push her right back into his pelvis. A loud gag echoed around the chamber, and Aerion laughed loudly. He knew the sound of her gagging on his cock would've made it past the door and out to Ser Duncan. Finally pulling from her warm mouth, Aerion watched in glee as she slumped forward, heaving as she tried to fill her lungs. Drool ran down her face, sliding down her chin and onto the floor below. She looked like a filthy brothel whore, and yet none of those men could ever be worthy of her affections. Only a prince. Only him.
She thought maybe it had been over then, but when his fingers tightened in her hair once more, she found his cock back in her mouth with an unceremonious shove. She knew she was not doing it properly, or gracefully, and yet Aerion didn't seem to care. He didn't even seem to care whether or not she had done this before, only that her tongue was on his length and her throat was tight. She winced as she was once more dragged up and down his length, this time with Aerion's fingers clasping at her cheeks, hollowing them around his length. She heard him groan deeply and felt his hips pick up speed, now jackhammering into her mouth. He was close to his peak, and she desperately hoped he would pull her off him soon. It seemed her prayers would not be answered when the prince's hips began to stutter and he pulled her even closer, groaning loudly.
"Stay still and take it, pretty dove. Take it all down your throat. Swallow the seed of the dragon," he rambled loudly, growing closer to his peak. "If you – ugh, if you let a single drop go to waste, I'll make you lick it up."
She couldn't even nod as her face was suddenly pressed to his pelvis a final time, and she began to gag at the feeling of his warm, salty cum spurt down her throat. He only seemed to enjoy that, grinding himself deeper into her. She felt her nails dig into his thighs harder now and knew that she had broken skin. If he felt it, he didn't show it. He kept her there for a moment until he was sure all of his cum had been swallowed, and she was sure her face crinkled in disgust at the taste.
Unceremoniously, Aerion pulled his softening cock from her mouth. He looked down at her, seemingly pleased at her efforts. She let him drag his finger to the side of her mouth, swiping at the drop of his seed that had begun to dribble from her lips. He tutted, slowly pushing his finger into her mouth and raising his brow, signalling to her to suck it from his digit. As she did, he spoke.
"It seems you know how to worship your god, dove. You did well," Aerion praised. She did not know if she wished for his praise, but she supposed it beat facing a slap to her cheek if she had not. The healer watched as Aerion tucked his cock back into his breeches, humming to himself lowly. During the ordeal, her shift had slipped off her shoulders, baring her smooth skin to his eyes – which he lapped up greedily. She truly was beautiful.
Aerion moved towards the door, leaving her weakened frame kneeling on the floor. She knew she would have bruises the next morning.
"I will come find you again tomorrow night," he decreed, his hand resting on the door handle, "though perhaps I will not be so gentle then." With that, he disappeared behind the door, leaving her to stew over his words in the silence of the room. Gentle? If that had been gentle, she wondered whether throwing herself from the balcony of the keep would be a kinder fate than the one that awaited her. Would he make her bleed? Beat her black and blue? Or would he just fuck her until she was a shell of herself?
It was only the low murmurs behind the door that snapped her back into reality, realising with a gasp that Dunk had been outside her door the whole time. Her tears returned, thinking of the pain he must have been in while listening to the wretched prince defile her as such. She froze, waiting for the sound of voices to stop – she needed to speak to Dunk, but Aerion could not catch her. She knew he must have been taunting him, recounting the way he had filled her mouth in ghastly detail and made her swallow his seed like a common whore.
Feeling filthy, the healer quickly rid herself of the now sweat-soaked shift, replacing it with a nightgown and covering herself with a heavy velvet night robe before inching towards the door tentatively. She felt the rapid beating of her heart in her chest, its beat reverberating in her skull, as she worried that Aerion would be standing in the hall. She thought that perhaps he would, just to see if she would seek out the knight. Ever so quietly, she tugged at the handle and let her head inch forward, peeking into the hallway. However, to her dismay, it was not Dunk, nor Aerion, who stood in the hallway. Instead, the hallway was empty, not even a guard in sight.
Where had they gone? She needed to talk to Dunk desperately. With a look back at her chambers, she slipped into the hall, lightfooted as she made her way down towards what she believed was the main wing of the Red Keep. Wandering through the Red Keep at night was eerie, with flames casting shadows on the walls that made her skin crawl, always feeling like someone was watching her every step. It was deathly silent as she ventured further into the Keep. With every step, she felt the panicked feeling inside her grow – she needed to find Dunk. He had to hear her out. He had to know that she never wished for him to hear that. The healer didn't even notice the way her hands had been trembling since Aerion left her chambers or how her pace had started to pick up as she began to curve around the corners of the Keep. It seemed the adrenaline had not worn off yet.
The sound of a rat scurrying somewhere behind her had the woman whipping around, catching only the tail of the rat as it disappeared down another corridor. With a start, she continued on her journey, now somewhat distracted as she rounded another corner.
"Oh!" The healer exclaimed as she collided with a hard body, only to become speechless at the prince before her – Valarr.
He looked down at her curiously, and she supposed it made sense; Aerion's mistress running around the halls alone at night in a state of improper dress was a sight to see. She'd look at herself oddly, too.
"Hello, my lady," Valarr began, pausing as he caught her taking a step back.
"Might I ask what you're doing?"
When Valarr found her in the halls, he recognised what an opportunity he had been presented with. He could tell by her ragged breathing and tousled hair that Aerion had done something to her, but to what extent? That he didn't know. But her guard was down, and with a sweet word or two, he'd managed to get her into his chambers. Now here she was, sitting timidly on his chaise, waiting for him to speak – to realise why she was brought here.
Valarr looked at her, taking in the sight of her. He needed to tread carefully. He'd let his annoyance take over at their first meeting, and he didn't want her to be scared of him – the opposite, in fact.
"Your position in this court is not safe, my lady," Valarr stated plainly, though not unkindly. "Aerion could change his mind in an instant, and you will be cast out onto the streets. Though he is... enamoured with you now, you must think ahead."
The healer was still, taking in his words. They had all heard stories of the women chewed up and spat out by the royals of times past, but for it to now be her facing this fate? Her whole body felt tense, confused and scared. She just wanted to be on the open road again, selling her tonics and sharing bread with Dunk.
"Think ahead? How – what could I do? I have no power here, my prince," she lamented.
Valarr directed his attention to his wine glass to hide the small smirk that tugged at his lips involuntarily. He knew that she had no power, obviously. She was going along with his plan so far.
"You must become useful to someone else, my lady."
"Useful?" she questioned. "As a healer, you mean? I could do that!"
Valarr quickly cut her off. He looked at her, still curled up on the chaise, her previous tremors having subsided. Gods, she was beautiful, he thought.
"Not quite... You see, my father came to me today with an interesting proposition. He spoke of the future of our house and of our line. Tell me, my lady, do you know of your family?" Valarr questioned.
She thought for a moment, pondering why he had begun such a line of questioning. She grew up in a small village in the Vale – nothing remarkable. She had lived with her family until she joined Dunk and Ser Arlan on the road.
"Yes, my prince. My mother was a healer as well, and my father a blacksmith."
"And do you have siblings?" he probed. She nodded in agreement.
"Many, my prince." That seemed to please Valarr, and he hummed lowly. She watched as the prince slowly ambled over to where she sat, setting himself down by her side. She felt her breath hitch, now being able to see the prince up close – even closer than in the council chambers. Here, she could see his mismatched eyes, the furrow of his brow, and the weariness that seemed to show in the bags under his eyes. Having him in such close proximity made her body feel alive, a warm heat spreading across her in such a pleasant way that made her inch ever so much closer to the prince.
Valarr reached out gently, letting his fingers trace the fabric of her nightgown. He had been a gentleman since he found her in the halls, but now he finally let his eyes run over her body. Aerion's doing, certainly, for the nightgown was truly indecent. Scraps of silky white fabric and lace covered her body, a low plunge highlighting her figure to him. In that moment, Valarr felt thankful to his cousin for gifting him such a pleasant sight.
"You should not have to live at the mercy of my cousin's temper, my lady."
His hand reached up to her jaw, his fingers lingering for a moment before finally cupping her face softly. His fingers brushed tenderly over her cheek, and the softness of his touch momentarily disarmed her, allowing Valarr to lean in close and press his lips to hers.
The soft gasp that escaped her lips was music to Valarr's ears, and he found himself invading her space, crowding his body closer to hers. To his satisfaction, he felt her practically collapse into his frame, limp and plush in his arms. Valarr supposed that, compared to the grunt and brutality of Aerion, he was a welcome respite, allowing her guard to drop (even if it shouldn't have). He let his other hand move lower, finding her thigh and pulling her even closer into him, feeling her own hands reach for his shoulders as if to grasp onto. The healer was eagerly kissing him back now, letting him push his tongue into her mouth with surprising agility. He could taste the need on her lips, like a desperate ache to be cared for, loved – cherished. It was when Valarr felt the first minute grind of her hips – something that he was sure she hadn't even realised she had done, against his own hardening cock – that he sharply pulled away, panting.
Valarr thought he might break then at the sight of the woman in front of him, her lips swollen from their kiss and chest rising and falling as she tried to gather spare air into her lungs. The movement only highlighted her hardening nipples to the prince, and he held back a groan that threatened to escape his chest.
He watched her open her mouth, then, as if thinking better of it, purse her lips tightly together.
"What is it?" He asked, kind and sweet as he reached to brush her cheek. He saw her hesitate again, but it seemed she finally gathered up the courage to speak.
"Did I...did I do something wrong, my prince?"
Oh, gods. She was so precious, Valarr thought. "No, my sweet girl," he reassured her, moving her off his lap gently, "it is only that I wish to move us somewhere more comfortable."
At that, she seemed relieved and let the prince lead her to his bed – a large, four-postered thing covered with deep velvet covers and plush pillows. As he lay her down, she could only think of how magnificent it was, though she quickly found her thoughts growing fuzzy once more as Valarr climbed on top of her, his warm, soft lips back on hers. Hands finding his shoulders once more, she barely noticed that he'd shed his tunic and now only his blouse remained.
The healer sank into the bed, growing more entranced by the brunette prince atop her: the way he felt and moved and how he touched her. Compared to Aerion, his touch was soft and gentle – like he revered her. It was the first moment that felt soft since she'd first met the Targaryens, and she never wanted the feeling to end. Valarr pulled away, slower this time, so as not to startle her, and looked softly down at her.
"I—gods... I promise to protect you, always. I will claim you as my own, give you a title, whatever I must do to keep you here, just like this, and far, far away from my cousin," Valarr stated, taking her in once more. The prince went to kiss her again but paused only a fraction away from her face, close enough that she could count every eyelash on his perfect eyes with him this close. She swore she saw a flicker of something in his eyes for a second – perhaps hesitation? But as soon as she put a name to it, it was gone, and he was leaning closer, moving to kiss down her neck. He mouthed at the soft skin, leaving small red marks and nipping in a way that made her gasp, tilting her neck to the side to give him better access. Valarr, pleased, let his hands wander to her thighs, pushing the silky nightgown higher until he had access to the bare skin. He groaned into her neck and slotted himself between her legs, letting his fingers wander higher and harshly gripping the flesh of her thigh as she began to wriggle under his body, the sensation of his tongue laving across her upper chest causing her to whine breathlessly.
"But there is one thing I need from you, my sweet girl," Valarr mumbled lowly, coming to rest his chin on her breastbone. It allowed him a clear view of the mindless nod she gave him in response, her body desperate for him to continue his ministrations.
"I need an heir."
That made her pause. Valarr felt her legs drop slightly, no longer practically wrapped around him. The fingers that had been tangled in his hair froze, and Valarr managed to hold back a whimper at the loss of sensation. He thought his heart might break at the sight of her face – crestfallen. Instantly, Valarr was dragging her up, gathering her face in his hands and wishing to know what she was thinking, rather than the silence he was getting.
After a moment, she spoke. "An heir? But – but should that not come from your wife, my prince?"
"Please, it is Valarr... not my prince. Not here," he requested, staring up at the woman now sitting in his lap. "My wife and I are not a love match. She has a duty, and at that she has failed. It is time I must consider other options."
The healer looked at him, stunned, still unsure of the proposition. A child was not a small ask. To give him a child would change her entire life, and in ways she could not predict. Never had she really thought too deeply of the possibility of a family, aside from knowing it would be expected of her one day, but for a long time she had been content with travelling on the open road. And now, Valarr came to her with such a proposal. A future King’s bastard to grow in her belly — surely it would not be well received by the smallfolk.
"Surely, you jest?" She asked.
"Your mother was fruitful," he began, returning his hands to her thighs, "and I see no reason you would not be too. Otherwise, perhaps I have misread this."
She looked at him in confusion, offhandedly noting the way Valarr's fingers had crept under her nightgown once more, the fabric now pushed up to bare the full expanse of her bare leg.
"Perhaps you wish to return to Aerion's side... I am certain he would be glad for it," he continued, watching as she flinched at the suggestion, almost imperceptibly. "I do not doubt he would be pleased to fill you with his monstrous child in my stead."
At that, he saw the flash of fear in her eyes, and he knew – he had her. The notion of being tied in eternity to a man like Aerion could convince even a Septa to take up his offer. Valarr let his fingers move once more, slowly inching towards her core. At the first swipe of his fingers through her slick folds, she was falling into his arms again, whimpering at the pleasure coursing through her body. He moved lower, slipping a finger inside of her cunt and cupping his hand just so to let it press against her sensitive bundle of nerves, watching as this time, she cried out. When she began involuntarily grinding into his hand, Valarr felt his own cock harden even more. Pulling her head back from its now slumped position on his shoulder, he sought an answer.
With Valarr letting his finger be joined by another, curling and rubbing against her ribbed inner walls, she spoke in between moans. "I – are you sure? You – oh! You will protect me? You swear it?"
Valarr nodded, letting his free hand squeeze tenderly at her breast, fingers rolling her nipple just so to make her squirm. With the dual stimulation, she was finding herself growing hazy with the pleasure.
"Give me a son – even a daughter would suffice, to start, and I will make sure no one ever dares to wish you harm. You would not stand to wonder whether your days would be filled with kindness or pain. You would be mine."
Valarr watched the last shred of sense leave her head and, with a sense of sheer unbridled victory, witnessed the moment she nodded in agreement. He saw the hesitancy still lingering, and yet he could not find it in himself to care. Surging forward with a passionate kiss, Valarr removed his hand and pushed the nightgown up and fully off her body, baring her entirely to him. Gently dropping her back into the mattress, he hovered over her and took in her bare frame. She was The Maiden herself, lying there for the taking.
"Oh, my sweet girl," he whispered whilst finally freeing himself from his breeches, "you will be so loved."
A sharp knock drew Valarr from his slumber, though it seemed it had not woken the woman curled up at his side. Tenderly removing himself from under the covers, he made his way to the door. Behind the wood stood Baelor, still and stoic as ever.
Baelor took in the sight of his son, bare except for linen sleep shorts. Valarr's neck and chest bore signs of a pleased woman, with splotchy red marks and scratches scattering his skin. Looking past his son, he laid eyes on the woman sleeping in his bed, tangled up in sheets and as bare as the day she was born. Baelor took in the sight, tracing his eyes upon the pieces of exposed skin available to him, and pretending that the slight stir of his cock was simply an inconvenience. That the sight of a well-fucked woman was not spurring envy in his chest.
"I see that she agreed to the proposition, then?" Baelor questioned, still not drawing his attention from her figure.
Valarr's head tilted slightly, watching his father's lustful gaze. He noted to keep an eye on that.
"She did," Valarr agreed, "though she was hesitant at first."
"Good. I suppose I shall speak to Aerion on the morrow, then," Baelor grimaced. His nephew would not take well to losing such a precious gem, least of all to the cousin he despised. The cousin with the title, the reputation, and the power that he craved.
"He will not take the news kindly, Father," Valarr uttered. He, too, turned back to look at the healer in his bed, grumbling in expectation of the new day. She was too alluring, her form too enticing – he almost wished she'd been plainer; that way, he wouldn't have had to compete with his cousin. But knowing that he could soon flaunt her in front of Aerion sent a sick shiver of satisfaction down his spine. Maybe he'd let Aerion watch next time – make his cousin fist his cock in his own hand while Valarr thrusted into her, making her cry out in pleasure. He'd probably like that, Valarr thinks.
Baelor interrupted his darkening train of thoughts with a firm grip on his shoulder. "You have done well, my boy. Return to bed, and we will speak soon."
Valarr nodded, watching his father leave with one last glance at the healer, before he himself returned to the bed, slotting in by her side. Subconsciously, her body found his, pushing herself into his willing arms and snuggling closer to his chest. She felt safe with him; that was clear. She stirred ever so slightly as he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, a pleased hum ever so quiet escaping her lips.
Tomorrow would bring chaos, but for now, Valarr sank back into sleep with his healer in his arms, content at the thought of the life they would bring into the world together.
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Warnings: Non-con. If this is triggering for you, please scroll on.
Daeron stumbled through the forest, making his way past the low hanging branches that threatened to scratch at his face. He’d stayed at the tavern too late this time, and now, somewhere between drunk and hungover, he faced the journey back to his horse. Moving noisily through the trees, he stilled upon seeing a young woman ahead of him, her face partly concealed by the bush she crouched in front of, fingers deftly picking berries from its stems.
Daeron didn’t even notice the way he inched forward to try and get a closer look at her until he stepped on a twig — the snap loud amongst the sound of birds and rustling leaves. The moment her head whipped up in his direction, Daeron couldn’t believe his eyes. It was her.
For years, he’d been having one dream over and over again: a woman, sweaty and tired from the labours of childbirth, holding out a small squirming babe with brilliant silver hair and a loud cry. She always looked up at him, tears of joy in her eyes and a small smile on her face as she presented the babe to him.
“She is your copy, Daeron,” she told him, letting him swaddle his daughter into his chest, his own tears spilling at the way she settled into his embrace.
It was Daeron’s happiest memory, despite it having not come to pass yet. It gave him hope — his own daughter was waiting for him. But he’d started to grow weary, never finding the woman’s face in any of the ladies presented to him at court. Maybe she didn’t exist, and for once his dreams were just that — dreams.
But here she was, standing frozen in fear at the sight of him. Still and rigid, wide eyes searching around for an escape, but Daeron can’t see any of that. Not when he’s within an arms reach of her, nor when he’s dragging her to the forest floor, her head colliding with a rock in their struggle.
She’s here with him! He was never crazy, not like his brother said when he shared his fate with him. He told him a woman would never love a coward like him.
She’s gone more limp now, whimpering as he starts to push her skirts up, and he's grinning, believing she recognises him somehow, maybe from her own dreams. A stray hand comes his way, and despite her using all her energy to try and scratch at his face, he thinks she's reaching out to touch him, to hold him close. To her disgust, the man atop her intertwines their fingers as she feels his other hand rip her small clothes down her legs. But her head hurts so bad, and the pain is making her drowsy, and she just can't make her limbs move more than a few inches. She finds herself left to the man's whims, him pulling her legs open wide for him to slot himself between.
"I–I found you, my love," the man exclaims to her, and with a sharp pain, she feels the moment he pushes himself inside of her. The feeling of his cock breaching her walls, the way he's spearing her open on his cock – it's agony. The cry that leaves her lips is one of pain, but Daeron believes it to be one of pleasure. She barely even notices his grip moving to her waist, holding her still for him – she supposes that will bruise. He's rutting into her now, hard and fast, chasing his own release and watching as her face screws up tightly, rhythmic whimpers and groans filtering from her mouth with every slap of his hips against her flesh. Daeron feels himself close to the edge already, having been unable to find release for weeks. Every whore he'd encountered couldn't manage to help him, but now, he realises, it was all for this. So he could give his seed to her, to bring forth their daughter into their waiting arms.
With a loud groan, one that echoes around the forest, he's emptying himself into her, falling over the edge. Daeron shudders as his release rolls over him, body involuntarily slumping forward onto the woman as his hips grind into her, feeling her twitch and writhe under him as he pushes his seed further into her womb. He sees her hands clawing at the dirt to ground herself, the sensation of their union overwhelming her. Her walls are tight around him, clamping down on him to keep him where he is, and the prince has never felt more overwhelmed in his life. She's here, really here, with him.
The woman stares up at the sky, her skull throbbing and the pain blurring her vision. The man on top of her slumps tiredly over her body, his large, heaving frame keeping her legs spread around his waist like a whore. The burning feeling of him inside her doesn't seem to dull, nor does the sensation of his seed seeping out down the sides of his cock. She’s aware of his heavy breathing in her ear and the way his hands stroke the pieces of her hair that had escaped her braid in the struggle.
The woman feels his hand move towards her stomach and she winces as he presses firmly down on her lower abdomen, pulling away from her neck to look at her. In his haze, he only sees her teary eyes and he thinks she’s as overjoyed as him.
“She’s waiting for us, I know it.”
Daeron, my sweet, sweet baby. I know you wouldn't do this! But I really, really, really needed to explore what would happen if you did.
Not proofread - just a major brain dump of writing.
That's evil. Imagine if reader enduring all of that because she believes Valarr to be helping her but instead he's just taking another path back to the castle.
Oh.... the way her heart crumbles as they exit the forest they've been walking through for hours, only to see the Red Keep in the distance. She'd turn to Valarr with tears in her eyes, but he's just dragging her forward even when she pleads with him. She's seen through his act now, and he doesn't bother to keep up appearances any longer.
To her horror, Daeron's waiting with horses somewhere nearby. Of course he'd seen what would happen. Daeron's pushing her up onto the horse with a pat to her ass, then climbing behind her and, unable to help himself, nuzzling in to her neck slightly.
"It's ok, my lady. You're back where you belong now, don't be sad."
Hey!! I just finished reading Daeron's dream, just wanted to know if you'd be willing to do a part 2. Love your writing!! Looking forward to a starved man 4🫶
I'm not sure yet about a part 2! I lowkey think it would just be very depressing and sad for everyone involved.
Though I can see Maekar being absolutely furious if Daeron was to bring her back to Summerhall and she's still kind of dizzy and out of it, with blood in her hair and not realising where she is, and Daeron's just like, "I found her!", not understanding the gravity of what he's done. Maekar would be stunned too, because he'd never expected this from Daeron and now he doesn't know what to do with either of them.
