#dh!aegon

Aegon: 

There’s a softness in him that nobody else but you can see. Sharing a warm bath, the chirping of birds as only sound breaking the silence. You were currently admiring Aegon's peaceful traits. His head leaned back, resting back against the bath, eyes closed to take as much advantage of the calm as he could. The lines of stress that usually creased his forehead were gone, the frown of his perpetual pompous air left its place to the soft and natural smiley position of his lips. One of your fingers, that until then had been busied drawing nonsensical forms on his chest, made it's way up to the corner of his lips, to trace them. 

Aegon opened an eye. “Careful, my love, your gaze will make me melt at this rate,” he teased in a hoarse whisper. His hand coming to hold yours and he pressed a kiss to your fingers. 

“I cannot melt what is already made of fire.” You sputtered, lowering your gaze to his chest, startled by the intensity of his gaze. You'd tried to make your tone teasing, as his was, but the fatlering of your voice had you wince a little. Aegon simply hummed a breathless chuckle, adjusting himself under you, hips grazing your behind momentarily.

“Admit it, you wanted to touch me.” And seeing as you started to shake your head, trying to deny his playful accusation, Aegon placed a soft hand to your cheek, now looking down at you. “That’s alright. I cannot fault you for it.” 

Aemond: 

“I can feel your gaze, Qelos.” He was sitting at the very front of his cushion seat, a heavy and dusty volume sat on his knee, a position he’d held for hours now. You’d abandoned your own activity to look at the man’s form, appreciating him. Aemond had tolerated it for a while, but after half an hour had passed and he could still see your body half turned to him, the dragon hybrid couldn’t resist teasing you about it anymore. His purple irises rose to meet your. 

“Can’t I just admire you?” You asked. Not teasing, it was an earnest question, and somehow, that took Aemond by surprise even more. And when your eyes trailed his figure, as if to prove your point, the man nearly broke.

A heat overtook him, creeping it’s tingling fingers on the back of his neck, burning a path to his face and down his spine. The book on his knees nearly tumbled down, shaken by the jolt echoing through his body. Aemond closed it, a sharp thud breaking the flustered silence that had overtaken the room. 

“You’re speaking nonsense.” The prince managed to say, his gaze hardening, as if it would distract you from the flush of his cheeks. Your lips curled into a smile and his own raised to mirror your expression, on a smaller scale. 

“I would argue that it makes perfect sense, my prince.” You rose from your seat to instead kneel in front of Aemond, removing the book from his laps and letting your hand take place on him instead. Your eyes met his, nothing but love in them as you spoke. Aemond swallowed harshly, hands coming to rest upon yours, his eye roaming your face, unsure, but not unpleased by your words. 

You could still see the dark scale that started to cover his jaw, his embarassment very visible now.

Baela:

“Such a high praise it is, my Rider, to have your eyes follow me as I train.” Baela’s words were loud, teasing you publicly as she’d caught you looking at her flying. Her wings still strained against the wind, hands on her hips. The help working in proximity all looked at you both, in turns, stilling for a moment. You groaned, running a hand to your face.

“Baela…” But your concerns went unheard as Baela walked up to you, large grin breaking her usual stern but lovely face, wind-wiped cheeks darker than usual. 

“Did the sight please you? Was my spectacle worthy?” The princess took one of your hands in hers, eyes shining as she asked. The other rested against your hip, were her mark seemed to warm up, spreading a comforting heat throught your body. You had always enjoyed watching her fly, and the figures she’d manage today, you gathered now, had been to show off to you. A wave of embarrassment crawled up your spine, tingling to the base of your neck. 

“You know it always does.” You muttered, making Baela laugh out loud, her head thrown back, throat exposed. She rarely let herself go this much in public. You smiled, eyes taking in the sight of her now, too. “You’re always perfect.”

Baela wings fluttered behind her, and brought your hand to her lips, kissing your fingers softly. “I’m glad, then.” 

Daemon:

He caught you by surprise, a grin carving his face, and the glint in his eyes made your stomach drop. He looked like a predator having found his prey, stalking closer to you softly, purposefully. 

“See something you liked, Azantys?” His deep tone send shivers down your spine, but you cannot bring yourself to lower your gaze from his face. 

“Maybe I have.” You answered him softly, your hands coming to fumble with a piece of your outfit nervously. You monitor his movement, watching him creep closer to you until his chest nearly touches yours. 

It’s like a battle happening, quietly as you study each other’s gaze, his smirk getting bigger with each seconds. “Have you? Pray tell, what.” He purred, one hand coming to the small of your back to press you closer to him. You could feel the warmth of his body seeping through his to you, and you weren’t sure if what you were feeling was embarrassment or it was just… him. 

A chuckle left Daemon as you lowered your head to hid your face against his shoulder, yet, it didn’t deter him from teasing you further. “Now, Azantys, you have to say. I want to share your likings, how mean of you to keep them from me.” The rumble of his voice made your heart spike up. 

Helaena:

“Is their something you wished to talk about?” Helaena asked softly, raising her head to look at you. 

For the first time in weeks the princess had time to be alone (or as alone a princess could be) to do whatever she please. No meetings to hold, no party to attend, no children to keep, no mother to entertain. Only her, her embroidery and you, to keep Helaena company. 

At the sound of her voice, and once her gaze met yours, you jolted, sitting straight in your chair. ‘’No, my lady. I was simply admiring your work.’’ 

You hadn't strike to fluster the princess, but you achieved it nonetheless. Her pale skin flushed, from the part of her neck that wasn't covered in grey-ish-blue scale to the tip of her ears, in a pinkish hue. ‘’You flatter me.’’ She mumbled, raising her legs to tuck them underneath her, a childish habit she still hadn’t got rid of, no matter how hard her mother had tried to train her into forgetting  it. You smiled. 

‘’It’s the truth.’’ You shrugged. The new colours on the princess’ skin gave you an odd sens of pride. But your words proved to be the wrong one to bring back calmness within Helaena’s demeanor, as her blush darkened and she hid her face with the curtain of her hair. 

Jacaerys:

He’d done nothing particular, and yet, found you looking at him with enamoured eyes, a daze expression and a soft smile on your face, as he came back in your quarters, all sweaty from his sword practice. 

‘’Have I done something, my Crown?’’ His expression mirrored yours, as a smile bloomed on his face, raising an arm to remove the layer of sweat from his brows, raising one quizzically, trying to get an answer out of you. 

‘’I find that you have nothing to do more than be yourself for me to be in awe, my prince.’’

You never called him your prince, except when you wanted to rile him up, or tease him a little. His lips curled into a full smile now. He got closer to you, gently, measuring his movement not to make you suspicious of anything, prefering to bid his time with a teasing banter.

‘’Do you, now. Such luck I have to be married to such a loving mate.’’ He purred, stalking closer to you before wrapping his arms around your middle. 

‘’EW! Jace.’’ You complained automatically, felling his drenched body press into you, the sulfur scent of his sweat now sticking to your clothes. Pushing him away didn’t work as he stayed encroached to you like a monkey to a branch. 

‘’I thought you loved me as myself?’’ He pouted, rubbing his face to your neck, making you groan. 

Laenor: 

‘’You’re not listening.’’ Laenor accused, laughing. The ship that held you both was still docked, because Laenor had been adamant in showing you how to knot properly, which his father had thought you both when you were younger, but who were you to refuse you lover of spending time with you?

‘’I was!’’ You countered loudly, punching his shoulder, weakly, but still driving your frustration of his teasing across. 

‘’No, you’re not, you’re just looking at me with big, dreamy eyes, and drooling.’’ He scoffed, tone playful, rubbing his own chin as if to mimic your supposed drooling. And you knew for a fact that you had never drooled in your life, not even for him. 

But you pass a hand under your chin anyway, for good measure. ‘’I don’t drool.’’ You muttered, lowering your face toward the rope Laenor and you shared to practice your knotting, already working the one he was showing you, intending to prove Laenor wrong. But a finger under your chin stopped you, forcing you to look up at the smiling man once more. 

‘’Whatever you say, Nūmio.’’ He smiled and leaned closer to kiss your lips softly, for a short moment. ‘’I find it endearing.’’ He whispered against your lips. 

The words : ''You're terrible.'' Came out as a huff, mumbled against Laenor's lips also. And it made him preen harder, leaning against you completly now, the little crest of scale and nerves potruding from his jaws now extending with pride.

Rhaena:

‘’You’ll do marvellously well.’’ You repeated to Rhaena as she was pacing the room nervously, wrenching her hands with every breath. 

‘’You don’t know that. Maybe they’ll rescind their protection. Maybe my offer won’t be enough to keep us here.’’ She denied, shaking her head, walking back to you. She was paler than usual, and you knew that this meeting would prove essential to keep Rhaenyra’s youngest children safe until you could find a way to go to Pentos undetected. 

You ran your hands over her arms, up her shoulders until you reached her neck, thumbs caressing her jaw softly. ‘’You will do just fine. They are our allies. Why would they not agree to offer us protection?’’ You ressoned with her, eyes scanning her face. Even in the depth of nervousness, she was the prettiest sight your eyes had ever landed on. 

‘’Don’t look at me like that.’’ Rhaena murmured, her hands coming to cover yours, eyes casting downward now. 

‘’Like what?’’ Innocent enough, but you wanted her to say it, she always tried to deflect how you saw her, and now, now, you knew she needed to feel loved and supported more than anything. 

‘’I don’t know. Like I hung the moon or something…’’ She whispered, ducking her head to lean her forehead against your shoulder. 

‘’You didn’t?’’ You exclaimed, faking surprise, which made her chuckle, and look up at you again. 

You’d accomplish your mission. 

Rhaenyra: 

‘’You look pretty, my lady.’’ You told her, wrapping an arm around her middle, supporting her very pregnant belly. Legs on each side of her tail, you were glad that her wings were not out as they were earlier today.

Rhaenyra had been on her feet for most of the day, going about war strategy and plotting letters for her allies. Today was the first time since the morning that you actually were in the same room as her, and you would use this to your advantage. 

‘’I am the size of a ship, wearing the most boring dress of mine and my hair is a mess, Beloved. Do not lie to me.’’ She complained, ordered your softly, letting her head fall to your shoulder as you took some of the weight of the baby growing inside of her, 

‘’I wouldn’t dare lie, Nyra. Your’re always pretty. I just wanted to make sure someone told you today.’’ You hummed, kissing her shoulder. The mirror reflected you both, letting Rhaenyra see your face even if her back was pressed to your chest. 

She chuckled, kissing the side of your face. ‘’You’re the first one to tell me. Thank you.’’ 

You smiled at her, looking in the mirror to catch her eyes. ‘’You are most welcome.’’ 

taglist: @lady-dragon-rider

Aegon would instinctively rub himself all over his lover without a care in the world, having you sat underneath him on your shared bed. Wings wrapped around you like a cocoon and little chirps leaving his throat as he’s unable to otherwise communicate what relief and pleasure the simple act of scenting you brings him. You’ve known him long enough not to ask about this sudden bout of physical touch need he was fulfilling now, preferring to let Aegon get his fill. Questioning him usually made him mad, and he would retreat into a grumpy silence you didn't care to entertain most nights. And Aegon is only too please to have you so pliant under him as you let him have his fun. He would never admit that he likes th subtil whiff of his smoky, sulfuric smell tangled with yours, and sweetened by the oils you use to bath. That’s a secret he’ll bring in death with him.

Aemond is more sneaky about it. He’ll leave his hand on your shoulder or back, have you were his cape when he deems it too cold (he doesn’t even need a bloody cape!!) He also uses sex as ha way to feed his need of scenting you so as to not have to answer questions he cannot give intelligent and thought off explanations. However he’ll have you, you can be sure that Aemond’s nose will be nuzzling your neck sometime or another, his body pressed so close you thing he wants you to merge with him, truly become one. The scales of his skin leaving visible indentations onto your skin when your both done. And Aemond relishes on his scent, like a lit incense, that follows you around for the day afterward, mixing with the other scent that makes you, well, you.

Baela is confident enough in herself and your relationship that she would not hide the scenting. Sure, she would keep it to a minimum around others, but she wouldn’t keep you in the dark about it either. Having you wear one of her scales, rubbing her hands on your body, covered or not, letting the burnt rosewood that was her smell seep into you, mixing with the more unique smell of you. Maybe she would have you wear one of her (numerous) ribbons, somewhere on your person, just because she likes having a visual reminder of her ownership (that’s a dirty word, but is nonetheless true) of you. And she dislikes leaving traces of your intimity for others to see. The burnt marks of her hands in your skin is a reminder enough of how fragiles humans are, and what physical/visual marks can spur on.

Daemon would be very quiet about scenting. Not letting you know exactly why he keeps touching your neck and wrists and ankles. But he would get mad if you dodge him, or worse, wash his scent off. It would take, I imagine, some time before he’s comfortable enough with you to explain (a bit) about scenting. His touches would also become more affectionate, less hidden. Mornings where Daemon would let his hands caress your body, waking you up gently until you’re all but drunk off of him. Having you writhing with pleasure, lust or not, simply because he can and he wants to. Scenting, to Daemon, is the hicky of royalty. People get thrown off by something, they don’t quite know what, but he does, and most importantly, you do too. Daemon would never admit to liking the mix of his burnt-meat-smell with yours… Caraxes is more talkative about it then him.

Helaena scents you very rarely. She scents her children more than she does you, which, to a point, is understandable. The insulting part is that you’re with her more than her children. Helaena was not taught the dragon ways, and Alicent didn’t encourage the scenting between her children either, even if it’s a formative part of packbounding and childhood in dragon hybrids. Helaena tends to scent you when she gets overwhelmed by something. Too many people, a stressful moment, after a tea with her mother. It’s her hand placed in the crook of your arm, a brush of her hair tangling with your own, or your clothes. She does it in all settings of her life, private or more public (or as public as Helaena goes, anyways.) the smell of burned grass mingled with the smell she associated with you calming her more than any potions the maesters had ever given her. That’s usually when Dreamfyre takes over her mind to sooth them both.

Jacaerys likes having you smell like him, like too-warm sand on a too-hot day. He likes having you touching him in any way, shape and form possible. He doesn’t really shy away from scenting you when people are around, even if he tries to stay princely around strangers or in official meetings. But could you really blame him? If he doesn’t scent you, then he has to contain Vermax (more than usual), and appear normal when doing it, and he’s expected to be alert, too. So he just… scent you, whenever the urge takes him. In the garden after playing with his siblings? Done. While lazing around in bed? Easy. Because some lord of a small house looked at you just a bit weirdly for a bit too long? Bet. Jacaerys is proud of his dragon traits and won’t shy away from it, so what makes some people weirded out? They just have to avert their gaze when they see his arms encircle you.

Laenor is more discreet about it. Sure, he’ll rub himself like a cat on you in private, but there are apparences to uphold, unfortunately. Laenor cannot scent you whenever he pleases, and this is his tragedy. It does not deter him from giving you presents! Clothes (his), and congratulations!! You now share a perfume. Something akin to encens and the sea air that he’s so fond of, and mixing to you, Leanor would roll in it himself if he could. Seasmoke is particularly proud when you wear a piece of his clothing in public, and Laenor has to reign them in so as not to smother you in affection. But Rhaenyra could tell you about Laenor’s micro expressions that he cannot hide well. The little tremor in his hands when you walk past, the way his eyes search for you in the sea of people when your intermingled scent floats to him. How his scaly tail raises to alertness when he recognizes a familiar shirt on your shoulders.

Rhaena would like to scent you, but lacks the instinct to need it. She knows that not scenting you should bother her, is bothering her, but she cannot bring herself to do it, as it brings her no satisfaction. The urge of having you be hers completely in the most innocent and intimate way cannot be filled. Her nose cannot pick up on the scent that should be hers on you. It’s a subject she is not willing to bring with you, or anyone else, for that matter. At least not for a long time. What you don’t know won't hurt you, and gods know how hurt you become in knowing her to be unfulfilled.

Rhaenyra is unbothered in scenting you outrageously. Younger, she would make a small show of pressing herself against your body, making people’s gaze falter from you, a small, satisfied smirk tugging at her lips as Syrax’s purrs echoed in her mind and out of her throat. The heavy smell of melted metal soaking up your skin and clothes, not that you notice, anyway. As she grew, Rhaenyra found that she didn’t need to express her possessivity so harshly. You were hers completely, without a doubt or the shadow of reticence. Yet, having you prowl around smelling both as yourself and her made the dragon spirit sharing her mind preen harder than anything else. Clothes were now kept with hers, in the same chest, washed with the same care, by the same hands. Individuality of bath time now non-existent after all those years, but if it kept your queen smiling, who were you to refuse her?

Taglist: @lady-dragon-rider