#dil!reader

Aerion chewed on the nuts (obnoxiously) and watched you from his seat at the table. You were glowing in the fire light. Your skin, your hair, even the shiny material of your gown was making you appear almost magical.

He had always known you were beautiful, it was one of the things that convinced him to marry you in the first place, but tonight, you looked the way you did the night of your wedding. You were wearing a pretty purple dress and your hair was threaded through with pearls as you moved about the open space, greeting lords and ladies.

The annual garden party in Summerhall was in full swing, and usually he would have left by now, choosing to entertain himself in his favourite brothel in the town proper, but something was keeping him there tonight, the sight of you.

His father sat a ways down from him, slumped low in his chair and perpetual frown on his face. Some lord was at his side, speaking about something, but Maekar was not paying attention, his eyes set on you as well.

"Your wife is a rather chatty thing, is she not?" One of the lordlings in attendance spoke up, smirking as he drank from his cup of wine and looked in Aerion's direction.

"Yes, she is, and?" Aerion asked, raising one eyebrow with a dangerous glint in his eye. He would not tolerate any insult. The lordling's smirk slipped away and he shook his head, mumbling a 'nothing' and refocusing on his cup. Aerion huffed and popped another few nuts in his mouth.

Yes, you were a chatty thing, he had known that even at the time of your betrothal, and though it had become one of his greatest annoyances since the wedding, tonight he appreciated it just a little. You looked rather lovely as you moved about the crowd making easy conversation.

When you finally circled back around, you draped yourself on the arm of Maekar's chair, sitting there casually and leaning down to say something in his ear. Aerion grimaced, chastisement rising on his tongue, but he was a bit too far to bother.

He saw his father's frown deepen as a pout pushed at your mouth. He heard his father groan, shutting his eyes for a moment as he said something to you through gritted teeth. You laid a hand on his shoulder, responding, but Maekar was staring you right in the eye with a harsh look and Aerion had had enough of watching it.

"Wife!" He barked, raising an eyebrow when you huffed and then turned to look at him with a scowl that would have made his father proud. "Stop bothering the old man and come here."

You snorted, smirking at Maekar over your shoulder, then getting up and walking over to Aerion. Maekar was scowling at him from behind you, and he grunted something about having respect for your elders before ultimately scoffing and turning away to take along drink from his cup.

"What were you bothering him about?" Aerion asked as you settled down in the seat beside him, slumping a little with a frown and resting your chin in your hand.

"Wouldn't you like to know," you mumbled, and he ground his jaw, anger blazing hot within him.

Of course you wouldn't tell him that you had actually been begging Maekar to take you up to his study and ravish you. That you had seen the way he was eyeing your breasts in your pretty new dress and you thought him very handsome in the velvet doublet and you wanted him to take you over his desk.

And you of course would not tell him that his father had rebuked you, told you to stop your whining and pouting and to be a good girl and wait for the party to end. That he would take you however you wished in the privacy of your chambers later and to cease your arguing before his headache pulsed any worse. He threatened to take you over his knee for a spanking in front of everyone just before Aerion called you over, and now you were annoyed that you were pulled away just as the conversation was taking a favourable turn.

"Whatever you may need to ask, you must always ask me, is that clear?" Aerion ground out, frowning at you with distaste.

"Mhm," you hummed dismissively, "of course, husband," you responded, but you were looking toward Maekar again and irritation blazed in Aerion's chest.

+++

Since that evening, something new rose in Aerion's chest when he looked at you. It was a fire he had not felt before, or at least not at this intensity concerning you. When he caught sight of your face, he found himself wanting something very odd: your favour.

"Here," he grunted one morning, nudging the plate of blackberries in your direction as he chewed on a bite of bread.

You were slumped low in your chair, your eyes still puffy and bleary from sleep as you rubbed at them. You were sitting next to Maekar, leaning your face onto his arm as he focused on his own plate. Occasionally he would hold a piece of something in front of your face, pressing it to your mouth until you took ahold of it with your teeth, then bring his hand back and act like he had not done it.

Aerion did not even bat an eye at this display. You were affectionate with everyone in your life, even him at times though he had loathed it before. His father apparently suffered the same fate, and he did not care.

You blinked at him, glancing at the plate before looking back at Aerion's face. You smiled a little at the gesture, though a part of you was apprehensive, and reached out to pick one up and eat it.

Maekar watched the interaction with sharp eyes, wondering why his son was suddenly being so kind.

"What are you playing at boy?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at his son. Aerion scoffed, shrugging his shoulders.

"She likes blackberries, Father, I was only moving the plate closer," he answered, mumbling as he picked up one of the berries himself and ate it.

You ignored the two, simply squeezing Maekar's hand where you held it on his lap under the table and rubbing your cheek against his sleeve a little as you settled down again.

"Thank you, Aerion," you mumbled quietly, and he smirked, leaning back in satisfaction in his seat and sipping from his cup of ale.

"Do not test my patience so early in the morning," Maekar grumbled, but you just sighed and snuggled into his arm further, ignoring his ire.

+++

This odd behaviour continued on after that. It was little things at first, nudging a plate in your direction or having your glass refilled before you could even note that it was empty.

Then it was gifts, beautiful jewels and garments of fine silk, hand-embroidered and sparkling. He gifted you a brooch fashioned with the Targaryen sigil and pinned it on you himself.

You kindly accepted all the gifts, thanking him and then running to show his Father. But all the purchases annoyed Maekar, not only because of the attention Aerion was laving on you, but also the money the boy was wasting on it.

"When did you get this dress?" Maekar asked one night in his chambers, brow furrowed in confusion as he gripped the laces. He was undressing you as you had asked, holding you tightly by the laces to get you to cease your fidgeting.

"Oh, Aerion gifted it to me a few days ago," you answered nonchalantly, turning to look at him over your shoulder. "Now will you please take it off?"

Maekar grunted and undid the laces with sharp motions, almost tearing the side of the dress as he did it, an inexplicable rage burning in his chest.

"Careful, please!" You gasped, frowning at him over your shoulder. "The silk is delicate!"

He just glared at you before pushing it off your shoulders, watching you wriggle out of it and leave it in a heap on the floor. You wore only a thin shift underneath, a silky thing held on by the barest of straps, and you sighed in relief as you padded around to his bed and clambered in.

"Come, come," you called, patting the mattress beside you, "your warmth is very necessary, Father. It is cold out," you pouted, snuggling up under the covers as you waited for him to join you.

He just stood there for a moment, staring at you and then the crumpled dress on the floor. Aerion was a calculated boy, he only did things to receive something in return. Why was he gifting you dresses and jewels? Did he know of your trysts with him? Was he aware of your place in Maekar's bed?

"Father! Don't keep me waiting!" You whined angrily, patting the bed again as he growled and huffed and tore his thoughts back to the present moment.

"I am coming, you impatient demoness," he bit, shucking off his own clothes and then joining you in bed.

+++

Aerion did not bother to knock when he came looking for his father. He had a determined steeliness in his eyes, jaw set as he readied to convince his father on why a holiday to Sunspear with you would be a good idea.

When he walked in, he paused to find you already there, slumped low in a chair across from his father's desk, tapping one of your feet incessantly against the front of his desk and pouting. His father was scowling as he tried to write something on a bit of parchment, and you looked to be mid speech.

"And she truly said Cyrelle's jewels were subpar as if-" you cut yourself off, turning your head in the direction of the door and then turning back with a little 'oh'.

"What do you want?" Maekar grunted out, hand clenching around his quill. "Have you come to complain my ears off about your friends jewellery insults as well?" You huffed indignantly, glaring at Maekar.

"It is an important story, Father!" You squealed, but he just grunted and murmured a sarcastic, 'I'm sure it is'.

"I have come to ask permission for a trip to Dorne, Father," Aerion finally ground out, crossing his arms and planting his feet as he stood beside your chair.

"Oo," you perked up with interest, glancing between son and father. If Aerion were to go on a trip, you could be even more of an open nuisance to Maekar!

"Whatever for?" Maekar asked, furrowing his brow and shaking his head as he glanced up at his son.

"I'd like to take my wife to meet Mother's family, perhaps take leisure in the springs for a few days," he answered, carefully looking at you from the corner of his eye to gauge your reaction.

Your mouth dropped open and a wide, wondrous, look appeared in your eye. You had spoken to both Aerion and Maekar before about your desire to see Dorne, to travel and soak in the sun (Maekar often told you that the sun there was the same as the sun in Summerhall but you told him it was not and then the two of you argued endlessly). You resided in the Dornish Marches after all, it was not an absurdly far journey.

"Absolutely not," Maekar dismissed immediately, shaking his head and attempting to return back to his letter. "What an absurd idea," he grumbled.

"Uh! Father!" You gasped, interjecting quickly and standing up beside Aerion. "It is not absurd! It sounds rather wonderful!"

Maekar looked up then, at the smug satisfaction on Aerion's face and the pleading look in your eye. Your hands were clasped together in front of you and you were pouting (as you were more often than not).

"Oh please, Father! You know I have always wanted to go!"

"Yes, Father," Aerion drawled, smirking a little, "do let us."

Maekar gritted his teeth, nostrils flaring as he glared at his son. There was no fucking world in which he was allowing the two of you to go gallivanting off on holiday together on your own.

"Fine," Maekar finally said, and there was something akin to a mischievous glint in his eye. "I shall accompany you. I could do with a visit myself and I'm sure Baelor will wish to send correspondence."

Aerion's face fell into an aggravated frown while you squealed and beamed, hopping in place before rounding the desk and throwing yourself onto Maekar, kissing aggressively over his cheeks as he grunted and told you to get off with no real force behind his words.

Aerion grunted a thank you and swiftly left the room, hands clenched into fists at his side. When the door clicked shut behind him, you kissed Maekar properly, licking your tongue into his mouth and gripping his face firmly between your hands. You pulled back with an obnoxious sound, smirking as you slunk down to your knees.

"You have made me very happy, Father," you teased, sliding your hands up and down his thighs as he attempted to catch his breath. "Now let me return the favour."

+++

It was easier when you still disliked Aerion, Maekar thought. Before, you wouldn't even bat an eyelash at your husband, breezing past him to come find your Father and drape yourself all over him. Aerion would go off into town for a brothel or a tavern with his spoilt little lord friends, and you would eat alone with Maekar or the rest of the children, teasing him and poking until eventually you received either a laugh or a spanking.

But now, there was no peace. The boy was apparently adamant on getting his wife to love him again. He danced with you at a feast held in honour of Daella's tenth nameday, holding onto your hand and escorting you to the space for dancing, as Maekar watched on with a clenched jaw. It was pure torture to watch you smile so prettily at Aerion, to give him all the looks you usually reserved just for your beloved Father.

It did not end there though. No, then Aerion was inviting you to come watch him train with the guards in the yard. He was a skilled fighter, no one could deny him this, and you were easily convinced out of a bored walk in the gardens.

You enjoyed it far more than you anticipated, even teased him when he gave you triumphant looks after a particularly smooth manoeuvre, and you agreed to return on another day.

When Maekar heard of this new development, he glared into the fire in his study for a full minute before he announced that he would join you the next time you ventured out. He was only keeping an eye on how his son's progressed, nothing more, but the way he kept close to your side belied something far deeper...

"The boy does not hold his mace properly," Maekar grumbled at your side, grinding his jaw as he bounced his leg with impatience.

"Ooh yes, of course," you responded slyly, smirking at him out of the corner of your eye. "The Anvil would know," you teased, giggling quietly as you folded your hands in your lap. He raised an eyebrow and looked at you from the corner of his eye in return.

"Mmm, I would love to watch you display your skills, Father," you continued, biting your lip seductively and batting your lashes at him. "All big and strong, wielding your weapon." Maekar coughed, adjusting himself in his seat and shooting you a glare.

"You know very well how good I am at wielding my weapon," he spat in response, sitting up a little straighter despite the scowl on his face, and you giggled again.

"Oooh yes, I am very well aware," you smirked, "would you show me privately in your chambers later?" you asked in a dangerous whisper, leaning closer. He shot you a fiery look and said nothing in response, but you just smiled and decided to take it as an assent.

+++

From then on, it became a battle. Maekar would not allow for this farce to continue. He would not compete for your attention...

"Come, wife," Aerion began at lunch, speaking over a mouthful, "when we finish our meal let us go and inspect my new armour. It has just returned."

You opened your mouth to respond, but Maekar grunted.

"She will do no such thing. I require a cupbearer for my meeting with the lords of the Marches and your wife has already agreed to this." He did not even bother to look at Aerion as he spoke, drinking his ale and glancing in your direction. You grimaced a little, shutting your mouth and smiling apologetically at your husband.

Aerion gritted his teeth and glared at his father, going huffy and silent as he finished his meal.

"Come riding with me wife," Aerion suggested another day, taking a hold of your hand on top of the table. "It is a good day for it."

"She cannot ride, Aerion," Maekar growled, putting down the letter he had been reading and glaring at his son.

"It is never too late to learn," Aerion responded with a smirk, readying to stand up when Maekar grunted again.

"And have her thrown from the beast to break her fucking neck?" He spat, continuing to glare at his son. He reached over and grasped you around the arm, standing up and forcing you with him. "I will not let you risk your bride's life so carelessly you foolish idiot. Now come along, girl, you can write some of my correspondence. These lords do not cease to pester me."

Maekar practically dragged you from the room, heaving angrily as he stormed you away from the dining room and you giggled, skipping a little to catch up with his marching pace.

Aerion slammed his hand down on the table as he watched the two of you go, and he chewed angrily on a bit of roast, chugging ale. This was not over...

When you reached Maekar's study and he threw himself down angrily in his chair, you settled yourself in his lap and laved kisses over his bearded cheeks. You caressed him there and giggled incessantly.

"Cease your giggling," he grumbled, though his arm around your waist was tight and comforting. You quieted a little and just beamed at him.

"It is just nice to have you competing for my attention for once," you finally beamed, resting your head on his shoulder and nuzzled your face into his neck.

The party was paused only for ten minutes. One of the spokes on the storage carriage had come undone and only a moment was needed to set it in place. But in that ten minutes, Maekar experienced enough frustration and rage to last a life time.

"Father, please!"

"Sit in the fucking wheelhouse! That is your place!"

Maekar ground his teeth, glaring at you in such a way that you almost saw flames in his eyes. You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at him in return.

"I am sick of being in the wheelhouse. It is stuffy and noisy and annoying!"

"Like you at this moment..." he grumbled quietly, and you shot him another sharp glare.

"I will not ride in there any longer! I wish to ride beside you," and then you pouted, eyes widening a little as you blinked up at him. The switch was rather jarring, and he stared at you incredulously for a moment.

You were truly a master at testing his patience and restraint. You managed to absolutely ruin the beautiful scenery along the road with your whining and nagging. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining but a cool breeze ensured the temperature never got too high. It was all lovely, and he believed he could find a little peace as the horses walked along, until you decided you just had to ruin it.

He could see tears of frustration begin to build in your eyes as you stomped your foot a little and the ire in him grew even further. He stepped closer to you, tilting his chin down to look you right in the eye.

"You are not even wearing the right clothes for a fucking ride. You expect to get up on the horse in that fucking dress and show our entire party what you hide under your clothes?" It was a harsh, hissing, whisper, hurting your ears. You huffed again, wanting desperately to throw yourself at him as you often did when the two of you argued. It was far easier to convince him of things when you were allowed to drape yourself all over him and touch him. But there were far too many witnesses.

"Then I will quickly change within the wheelhouse and put on riding trousers under my dress. That is not an excuse for you to deny me!" You were still pouting, and he desperately wished to press his mouth to it, to bite your lower lip.

Maekar clenched his eyes shut, jaw so tense it looked ready to crack, and he shook his head. One deep breath, two... three...

"Fatherrrrr," you whined, grasping his arm and tugging, the only safe touch you could afford with an audience. "Pleaseeee!"

"FINE," he finally shouted, "fucking- fine." He shook his head hurriedly, pressing a hand over his eyes for one moment to steady himself before he turned away, ordering around for a horse to be brought to the front, saddled and harnessed. You beamed, rushing back to the wheelhouse to order your lady's maids to get your riding trousers quickly.

Baelor watched from atop his own horse, eyes shining with mirth though he did not laugh. Maekar scowled at him, daring him to say anything, but Baelor just turned away and trotted a little ahead to keep the horse moving.

Once you were dressed and back out, you climbed into the saddle of a pretty chestnut mare. You patted her lovely coat and stroked her mane, whispering sweet words to the creature. The party began to move once more, and you trotted her forward, sighing happily in the fresh air.

+++

You lasted longer than Maekar would have given you credit for. It was over an hour of relative peace, your eyes roaming around and absorbing all the sunshine and nature. You alternated between riding alongside him or slowing down to ride beside Aerion, though that happened far less...

It was only just before the party was due for another break to have a rest and a picnic when you rode up beside Maekar.

"...and the Lord of Casterly Rock is of course opposed, why would he ever make anything easy for anyone?" He grumbled to Baelor, his brother smiling and nodding in affirmation when you pulled up beside Maekar.

"Father?" You called, and he sighed in defeat, eyes closing for a moment while he still faced Baelor. "Father!" You called again after a moment, and he growled, turning to face you with an angry furrowed brow.

"What?" He ground out, hands tightening on the reigns.

"My thighs hurt," you pouted pathetically, lips turned downward. You were not even trotting on the horse anymore, simply sitting on the creature as it ambled.

"What do you wish me to do about it?" He asked slowly, grinding his jaw with impatience. He stretched his neck a little, hoping to ward off the tension that tightened his body.

"Could we stop for a rest? I wish to be off the horse and lay down a little. I am far too tired." You said it as if it was so simple, as if the entire party did not have a journey to complete that was already long enough. He glared at you from the side of his eye, continuing to face ahead.

"We have another hour before we may rest," he answered simply, still speaking through clenched teeth.

"But I wish to stop," you huffed. "I want a drink and a bite to eat and to be off the horse. Bless the dear thing but she is starting to stink a little."

Maekar untied the waterskin from his hip and held it out to you.

"Here, have a fucking drink," he snapped, trembling a little in his anger. "Then be fucking patient and wait another hour."

He huffed and urged the horse into a trot, hoping to escape your company by going a little faster. You huffed indignantly behind him, and that soothed him a little.

You took a drink from his waterskin, having your horse walk rather than trot and just enjoying the path a little despite the ache in your legs. You did not ride nearly enough to have justified the choice of doing it now, but you had made your bed and now you had to lie in it.

Within moments though, you caught up to Maekar and nudged his arm with the waterskin for him to take back. He huffed and tied it to his hip once more, hoping that would be the end of it, but you simply tapped him on the arm again and again until he looked at you. He was truly losing his mind now.

"Can we stop now?" You asked petulantly, shifting a little in the saddle.

"I told you we would stop in another hour, and that has not changed since the last time you asked me mere moments ago," he answered sarcastically, raising on eyebrow at you.

"But-"

"But nothing," he interjected, "we will stop in an hour and you will have to fucking deal with it."

You glared at him then, eyebrows furrowing, and he just sighed, shaking his head and turning away from you. He could not possibly keep dealing with this. It was no wonder Aerion happily shirked all responsibility with you...

"Are we there now, Father?" You asked after a few moment's of silence, and when his eye twitched, you felt triumphant. He ground his jaw but stayed silent, hoping that perhaps ignoring you may work better than responding.

"Is it time yet, Father?" You asked again, moving your horse closer to his so you could speak right beside him.

"No," he ground out, already failing on his vow of silence.

"How about now?" You asked then, shrugging a little when he shot you a glare.

"No," he responded, focusing all his energy on that one word.

"And now?" You asked again, and that was Maekar's last fucking straw. He growled loudly, fully facing you and glaring with all his might. You shivered, heat licking down your spine. There was something so immensely alluring about his anger, you could not help it.

Instead of saying something to you, he turned to Baelor and spoke.

"Continue on," he ordered, already sitting up a little in the saddle, "we will rejoin you at the original stopping place," and before Baelor could even nod in assent or ask what Maekar was doing, the man turned toward you and snatched the reins out of your hands.

"You have tested my patience enough for a lifetime," he spat, then he guided his horse off the path and deep into the forest they traversed through. He was rather lucky that this was a safe portion of the road and he could risk a trek into the woods.

You contained your smile, looking at him with wide eyes as you clutched the edge of your saddle and allowed him to guide you and the horse deep into the tree line and far from prying eyes. When the two of you hit a river and could no longer hear the travelling party, he hooked both pairs of reigns on a low branch and jumped down from his horse. He rounded the creature, gripped you by the waist, and hauled you down as you squealed, clutching him tightly.

"Father!" You yelled, staring at him with eyes full of incredulity as he shook you a little by the arms.

"You are long overdue correction," he barked, beginning to drag and shove you over to a tree. "You whine and pout and believe the world should live in the palm of your dainty fucking hand, and it will not do."

He spun you around and shoved you against a tree, your palms shooting out to catch you, scratching against the rough bark. You squealed and huffed in shock, whipping your head around to watch him. He was red in the face and you could practically see the thunder and lightning of his countenance.

But then he was behind you, rucking up the skirts of your dress in a hurry. You panted as he dug his fingers between the hem of your riding trousers and your skin, gripping and pulling them down harshly. You quivered as he shoved them down to your ankles, a cold breeze suddenly touching parts of you that had become wet the moment he had yanked the reins from your hands.

"Insolent, foolish, infuriating..." he grumbled behind you, spitting out the words as he worked on his own belts and the laces of his trousers.

He reached out and cupped your cunt with his hand, his middle finger pressing between the lips and sliding in the wetness he found there. He groaned at the feeling, pressing the pad of his finger against your clit as you closed your eyes, pressed your forehead to the tree-trunk and moaned.

"You take far too much leisure with me," he complained, rubbing his middle finger back and forth. "You think because I favour you, you can be insolent and disrespectful. I will not fucking have it."

With another grunt, he was pressing up behind you, grasping your skirts tightly in his hand and pressing the fist against the small of your back. He pumped himself and guided the tip of his cock to your hole, pressing the full thing in at a steady pace, neither fast nor slow.

You moaned again, long and low, the sound coming from the back of your throat. It stretched as long as he took to press fully into you. And once he was fully seated inside you, sharp breaths punching from his chest, he began to fuck you in earnest.

"You will learn. To fucking behave. You will learn. To sit patiently. To listen to your fucking father!" He grunted the words into the air, huffing as he bowed his head and closed his eyes.

You nodded, unabashed, barely listening but knowing you needed to assent. "Yes!" You yelled, cheek rubbing harshly against the tree. "Yes I will behave! I will! I will for you, Father!"

It was a harsh coupling, sharp and quick thrusts that knocked the breath from you as quickly as you gained it. Your hands scrabbled against the tree bark, nails filling with dirt, and you bent low, chest pressed into the tree as you pushed back against him. He groaned and huffed, the hand at the small of your back steadying you and controlling your movements.

You could feel that hot pleasure building to its high point, quick and hot and vicious, and your moans matched it. But just as you were about to reach it, he pulled out. Not a moment was left to think though as he pulled back, breathing heavily. He undid the clasp of his cloak and hurriedly lay it on the ground before picking you up and draping you on top of it. You gasped, clutching at his shoulders, eyes running over his face as he moved you however he wanted. He was focused, thinking only of getting back inside you.

Your back curved a little against the root of the tree, and you reached back to grab a hold of it as you awaited the pleasure once more. He pulled one leg of your riding trousers off you so he could spread your legs wider and settle between them. Then he was quick to re-enter you, fucking with the vigour of a man ten years younger.

You moaned and groaned, whined and squealed, hands scrabbling against the ground and over his shoulders. His pelvis pressed against your clit with each grinding thrust, and you were cumming with a yell, face tipped up to the sky as you were engulfed by pleasure.

Maekar grunted as he fucked you, an animal rutting. He came with a loud groan, the pressure releasing from inside you, and he thrusted until his cock stopped spurting his seed inside you. He could feel it forming a wet smear in the space between your bodies.

The two of you lay there for a little while, winded from your activities. He simply pressed his face between your breasts and breathed heavily, while you chose to stroke your fingers over his hair. When he finally pulled away, he did it with another grunt, grimacing at the feeling of slipping out of you, and he did not speak as he used the inside of your skirts to wipe his cock clean before tucking it back into his trousers and lacing everything up.

He felt lighter now, spent and soothed. Rather than cleaning you off, he simply pulled your trousers back up your legs and laced them up as well, patting you over your cunt with a satisfied glint to his eye.

"You can sit on my seed until we reach the tourney," he ordered triumphantly, pulling your skirts down once more and making the effort to stand up.

You followed suit slowly, grimacing at the feeling of his cum sliding out of your entrance. You wobbled as you moved, balancing against the tree as Maekar picked up his cloak and clasped it around himself again. You waited for him to lift you into your horse, grunting as your thighs quivered and your sore core pressed harshly into the saddle. You watched him easily climbing onto his own mare before grasping your reigns once more and leading you both back in the direction of the road.

It was not even ten minutes into the resumption of your ride when he heard you sigh. He could feel something akin to irritation already niggle at the base of his spine.

"What?" He asked, short and clipped, one eyebrow rising in question.

"My hands itch from the tree bark," you whined softly, pouting as you gazed down at your palms.

"We'll find you a salve when we reach the party," he answered amiably, hoping it would end there as he looked back out to the path in front of him.

"Hm," you hummed in agreement, but then you caught sight of your dress and you let out an annoyed sound. "There is dirt on the hem of my dress, Father," you complained, reaching down to lift it closer to you and clicking your tongue in annoyance.

Maekar's jaw was already beginning to clench again, the tension slowly returning to his limbs despite the lovely looseness the pleasure had given him.

"Aa! And there are leaves in my hairrrrr," you whined, reaching up and picking out the smallest leaf that could have easily fallen on your head while you were riding on the king's road as well. You were already pouting again.

It started quite suddenly in Valarr's mind. A rather normal night, slow and lazy, characterised by a cool breeze through King's Landing and halls flickering with firelight. The family was gathered for dinner, sitting around the table leisurely, utensils in hand as they dug into a roast or tore pieces of fresh warm bread.

Baelor sat at one end of the table, slumped a little in his chair as he grasped his cup of wine, sipping from it occasionally as he listened to you chatter about something with a soft smile. Valarr sat at the other end, and you and Matarys took up either side between them. The heir to the heir mirrored his father, sat low in his seat and drinking from his own cup.

"Well, perhaps you should try a squirt of lemon in your hair and sit in the sun if you want to have a streak like your brother's. I heard that is how the one brunette Lannister used to colour her hair to be more like the lion," you advised the young prince, smirking a little as you took another forkful of food in your mouth.

Matarys furrowed his brow as he looked at you and your shining eyes before glancing back to his father who was smirking behind his goblet.

"Is that true, Father?" He asked, putting down his fork in his enthusiasm. "Was there a brunette Lannister who did that?"

Baelor just chuckled and shook his head, reaching over and ruffling Matarys's hair as you giggled and took a sip from your wine.

"She is teasing you, my boy," Baelor answered softly, watching Matarys frown angrily and turn back to you.

"Why would you lie? I am being serious about this! No one will think I am a Targaryen if I do not have any white hair to show for it," he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping down in his chair in an identical picture to his father and brother. Baelor raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth ready to speak when you beat him to it.

"Do you think your father any less Targaryen because he does not have the white hair?" You asked, putting your cutlery down and lacing your fingers together before resting your chin on them. You chewed slowly, raising an eyebrow at the boy as you waited for him to answer.

He had the good sense to look sheepish, shaking his head.

"Right, then why would you feel any less Targaryen because you do not have it either? It does not matter what other people think or say. You know who you are, you know who your family is, leave it at that, you silly thing," you chastised, smiling kindly at the boy before leaning back and refocusing on your plate.

Matarys smiled too, sitting up and going back to eating quickly, reigniting the hunger of a growing boy. Baelor watched you with soft eyes, nudging your foot under the table with his and happily taking in the sight of the smile you offered him.

"And if you even think to respond with the fact that your father does have white hair now, it is only because he is getting old," you added cheekily, giggling maniacally as you attempted to take a sip of your wine and noticed Baelor's grimace.

Valarr snorted out a laugh, almost choking on his wine. He sat up, putting his cup down hurriedly and grabbing his napkin to dab away the dribbled wine along his mouth and chin. You looked towards him with shining eyes for a moment, a flicker of pride at having engaged his attention, before you returned to paying attention to Matarys.

Valarr stared at you silently as he settled back in his chair, as if his eyes had been taken out, cleaned, and put back in their place. You were glowing in the firelight, your skin shining along your cheekbones and forehead. Your eyes were like jewels, your lips pretty plush things that were always stretched in a smile.

You were thoughtful, and quite funny, not to mention beautiful. He had always known you were beautiful, but he had not known the other things. Was it his own fault? Perhaps. Did he care now? No.

That evening, Valarr found himself seeking out your chambers after dinner. He had bedded you before, on the wedding night and once a moon after, but it had not happened for a long while.

He knocked on your door, waiting for a response, but there was none. He tried again, calling your name through the doors in case you were having a bath and did not hear him, but there was no sound behind the doors and no response. When he tried the doors, they had been barred from the inside, and he wondered if you had truly gone to sleep so early.

He sighed in defeat and left, but inside, he was undeterred.

+++

"Wife," Valarr sighed happily, relief painting him when he finally came upon you in the library. You were humming as you stood just inside the entrance, perusing the shelf for something in particular it seemed.

"Yes?" You asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned to look at him for a second before returning your attention to the shelf.

"I have brought you something," he told you excitedly, hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh, how lovely," you mumbled, smiling distractedly as you continued your perusal.

"Do you not wish to know what it is?" He asked expectantly, rocking backwards and forwards on his heels. You let out an 'aha!' and picked out one of the books on the shelf before holding it to your chest and turning back to him.

"What is it?" You asked quickly, walking closer and glancing in the direction of the door. He smiled triumphantly and held out his hand, a beautiful gold chain dangling from his hold, a large ruby carefully set in a medallion down the middle.

"Oh, how lovely," you told him, lips pursed as you nodded then began treading forward, hoping you could inch around him to get to the door.

"Come, come," he murmured, gently grasping you by the arms and steadying you in your place. "I'll put it on you," he said as he moved around you, shoving your hair over one shoulder and draping the necklace over your chest. You grimaced a little but allowed him to do it.

"Wow, thank you," you mumbled, attempting another smile. You touched it delicately, nodded, then began heading for the door once more. "I must be off."

"Where are you going?" He asked, brows furrowed and hands folding in front of him.

"I must get this to your father," you answered easily, shaking the book a little and smiling brighter than you had since the sordid conversation began. "Alright then!" You exclaimed, and then hurried out the door at a speed he did not know you were capable of.

You sighed a long sigh as you shut the door to Baelor's study behind you, leaning against it and shaking your head. He looked up and smiled a little, putting down his quill and leaning back in his seat as you pushed off and walked over to him. His eyes caught on the new (rather garish) jewellery hanging off your neck. You caught the look and shook your head, sitting sideways in his lap and tossing the book onto his desk.

"Don't even, Father," you huffed, wrapping an arm over his shoulders and pressing your face to his cheek. He chuckled, running a hand down your spine and draping the other arm over your lap to hold you tighter to him. "It is ugly and I hate it."

"I do not remember gifting you such a thing," he said, tone a little questioning. You sighed again, rubbed your nose against his beard, before pulling back and pouting as you looked him in the eyes.

"Your son just gifted it to me," you told him. One of Baelor's eyebrows raised, a shocked chuckle falling from his lips before he truly perceived that you were not in jest.

"Hm," he hummed, not saying anything else for a moment. Carefully, he reached up with the hand that had been traversing your spine and unclasped the necklace, dropping it onto his desk. "Perhaps he wishes to win your favour again," he teased, smirking a little.

You snorted, slapping him lightly on the chest and looking to him with a raised eyebrow.

"Hm, that will be the day," you responded sarcastically, rolling your eyes. "And anyway, I do not care for it. I have favour enough from those I want it from."

There was a proud, almost smug, glint to Baelor's eye when you said it, and he leaned in and kissed you firmly. You moaned a little against him, clutching at his collar happily and allowing him to lick into your mouth.

"Mmh," he pulled away from your lips, "you are far too distracting to have in my study," he sighed. But you just giggled, petting his beard and leaning in again.

"Mmm," you hummed happily, grazing his mouth with yours teasingly. "You love being distracted by me, Father." He did not say anything to agree or refute, but just kissed you again.

+++

"Will you come to watch me train in the yard this afternoon?" Valarr asked randomly one day over breakfast. His eyes were earnest as he watched you pick at your grapes and fiddle with the other fruit on your plate.

"Huh?" You asked distractedly, looking up from your plate.

Baelor watched the interaction carefully, face set in a stoic manner, betraying nothing. He picked up one of the grapes from his own plate and carefully brought it to his own mouth, chewing it slowly.

"Oh, yes, might as well," you answered before Valarr could repeat his question, your brain slowly catching up with you as you sipped from your cup of tea. "The day looks lovely," you added with a shrug, and Valarr smiled brightly, nodding and refocusing on his plate with a proud set to his shoulders.

You leaned back in your seat with a huff, crossing your arms over your chest, and then turned to face Baelor with a pout.

"I do not want to eat any more grapes, Father," you whined, reaching out with your foot under the table and placing it on his lap. Baelor sighed, taking your slipper off and dropping it to the floor before allowing you to rest your foot on his thigh. He had lectured you before about putting your shoes on his clothes but it seemed the lesson did not stick.

"You must eat properly," he ordered, looking down at your plate. "Finish the melons and the berries if nothing else." You pouted still but when he shot you a stern look you huffed and nodded, picking up a piece of melon with your fingers and quickly putting it in your mouth. Baelor smiled softly at you in thanks, and you practically melted in your seat, suddenly eager to finish the fruit.

You spent the rest of the morning meandering around the gardens and reading in the sunlight. You took your lunch in Baelor's study with him, curled up on one of the chairs across from his desk and lightly chewing on nuts and cured meats as you read a fascinating novel as he continued with his work.

When the afternoon arrived, you remembered your promise to watch Valarr at training and made your way slowly out to the yard. He was already there, dressed more plainly than you had ever seen him in a simple tunic and trousers. He had his sleeves rolled up to expose his strong forearms and his hair was particularly mussed.

He was already shining lightly with sweat, but he moved smoothly as if he still had loads of energy to spare. He was wielding his sword smoothly, circling around in the pit of sand with one of his lordling friends, weapons raised as they smirked at one another.

When he noticed your arrival, he paused and ruffled a hand through his hair, smiling broadly in your direction. His opponent took the opportunity, lunging and hooking one foot behind Valarr's, sending him toppling to the ground with a harsh thud.

You gasped, eyes going wide as you slapped your hand to your mouth to stifle your shocked giggles. You heard Valarr groan, curse out the other man, then shove himself back up to standing. He went a little red in the face and glanced back at you, smiling a little bashfully when he noticed your wide grin and the laughs you were still breathing out.

"Your prince is alright!" He yelled to you, attempting bravado, but you just bent over in a fit of giggles again and he cleared his throat and shot a glare at his friend who smirked wickedly.

"I'm sure he is! You only fell in the sand," you called back, smirking. He just shook his head and refocused on his training as you spotted a group of ladies sat around tables in the shade with glasses of lemonade, beckoning you over with bright smiles and calls of your name.

Baelor could not focus in his study knowing that you were outside watching Valarr. There was something about it that rose an uncomfortable sensation in his chest. He was not jealous, for jealousy was only a thing for young men and those too stupid not to see the good in their women, but still...

Under the pretence of stretching his legs, Baelor made his way around the Keep and to the balcony that looked out over the training grounds. He assumed he would find Valarr practicing in the sand without a care in the world and you draped on one of the chairs, head back and bored out of your mind.

Instead what he found was Valarr smiling brightly, showing off silly tricks and manoeuvres with his sword, smiling brightly in your direction. And you, sitting among a gaggle of other young ladies, laughing brightly and sipping a drink, eyes wholly focused on your husband. Something dark twisted inside Baelor and he clenched his hands on the bannister, staring at the scene for a moment before turning swiftly and heading back to his study.

+++

The feast was lively, full of music and dancing and an abundance of food. You watched everything with a bright expression, clapping along when a dance became particularly lively or a song particularly vibrant. You were easily humorous with wine and did not question how odd it was that Valarr was choosing to sit by your side rather than go off with his friends.

Baelor was tense in his seat beside the King, gripping his cup of wine tightly and imbibing a bit more than he normally would. Usually Valarr would be gone now and you would sidle up into his seat, casually draping your arm on Baelor's armrest and begging him to dance with you. You always used the excuse of Valarr being gone to disguise it as proper, that no one would question a devoted father in law dancing with his son's lovely bride, but you did not need that now.

"Would you care to dance, wife?" Valarr asked, turning to you with shining eyes. You were surprised by the offer, your expression a little slack with it, and you nodded, smiling apprehensively.

"Um, yes, alright, husband," you answered hesitantly, standing quickly and accepting the hand he proffered. Valarr led you down into the fray, hands at your waist and swaying with you.

Baelor gulped harshly from his wine, fingers going white against the cup. You were giggling with Valarr, allowing him to slide his hand to a place on the edge of impropriety, twirling the way you did when you danced with Baelor.

You had accepted Valarr's hand so easily, had smiled at him, did all the things you had once scoffed at in the context of your husband. Why was it now happening before his eyes?

After two dances, the two of you came stumbling back to the table, hand in hand. You were shiny from exertion and chattering to Valarr about something or other, and he was actually listening. Just as you reached the table, one of his friends called him over, and he let you go, mumbling something about being back soon.

You caught Baelor's eyes as you stepped up, and you beamed at him. Rather than taking your seat from before, you stole Valarr's at Baelor's side, scooching it closer to his so you could press your knee against the side of his thigh under the table. You snatched Baelor's wine glass from his hand and took a big gulp from it, sighing happily then depositing it back in his hand.

"Would you dance with me in a few moments, Father?" You asked, "after I've caught my breath."

"You should enjoy the pleasure of it with your husband," he answered curtly, keeping his eyes on the hall rather than turning to face you. You noticed the clench to his jaw, the tense set to his shoulders, and you smirked a little, just a quirk at the corner of your mouth.

"I have already," you answered, putting on a pout. "Though he is a marvellous dancer, I want to dance with you now." He grimaced a little, jaw going a little tighter, but he did not say anything. You huffed, placing your hand casually on top of his. "Please, Father?"

"Do not whine," was all he responded with, but you just frowned deeply, leaning over the arm of your chair and into his space until he was forced to look at you.

"Pleaseeee," you whined in response, and you gave him the eyes that told him you were prepared for a long battle of pouting and whining and toeing the edge of propriety in a way that set him on edge more than it did you.

"Alright, my girl, alright," he sighed, draining the last of his wine before calling for his cup to be refilled. You smiled triumphantly and after a moment, stood up and waited for him to offer you his hand.

He took you down to the dance floor, smiling politely at people in greeting before turning to face you. You were beaming, pressing yourself close to him as the music began.

"You know, Father," you began softly, "that I favour you most of all." He looked you right in the eyes, his gaze unreadable. "Out of everyone in Westeros and beyond." You said it so innocently, as if it was a simple truth but a truth nonetheless.

Baelor's expression did not change, but at the next change in the music, he leaned down close to your ear and said, "if you are attempting to charm me into being particularly giving in bed this evening, consider yourself successful."

You giggled sharply, lips parting for a moment before you clamped your mouth shut and looked at him with sparkling eyes.

+++

And suddenly, it was like your life had become a bit of a whirlwind between Valarr and Baelor.

"Come to dinner with my friends and I," Valarr would suggest, stroking the back of your hand on top of the lunch table. Before you could respond, Baelor would chime in from the other end of the table.

"She cannot," he would say politely (if a little curt), "your wife has become indispensable in aiding me with my correspondence and we have much to work through this evening."

You would grimace and nod, shrugging apologetically in Valarr's direction, then turn your head and smirk with shiny eyes at Baelor. (The correspondence would surely be shoved off his desk in a hurry and replaced by you!)

Valarr would suggest you come to watch him in training again, citing how you enjoyed it so the last time. But lo and behold, suddenly Crown Prince Baelor has appeared, citing that he does not want to lose his skills of combat, wielding his sword like an expert and outshining all others on the training grounds.

Valarr would frown and attempt to focus on his own training, and every time he would glance in your direction, you would be too busy chewing on your lip and watching his father.

You were so excited to have a daughter. When the babe was pulled from you and it began to wail, when the maesters declared her a healthy little girl, you wept from joy (and exhaustion of course). You held the pudgy little pink thing close when she had been cleaned and returned to your arms. You kissed her little head and waited excitedly to show Father.

When Baelor entered the room, he took a deep breath in at the sight of you. You were damp with sweat, your hair mussed and sticking up in an endearing way, but you were smiling happily and that was all he cared about. He kneeled down at your bedside as the maesters and septas turned away and pretended to busy themselves, and first pressed a long and warm kiss to your forehead.

"Meet little Marion," you told him softly, beaming up at him proudly. Baelor caressed your cheek, kissed you there, then looked properly down at the little bundle. He pressed a soft kiss to the babe's head, whispered her name close to her, and then wrapped the two of you up in his arms for a moment.

"Well done, my precious girl," he whispered to you, sighing as he bowed his forehead against yours and just stayed there for a moment.

The two of you lay together for a long time after you had been cleaned and cared for, watching your little babe with wide and wondrous eyes. The girl already enjoyed holding onto Baelor's finger tightly, her soft little fists staying clamped on just one of his large fingers. She was the most loved creature in the Red Keep, you knew it.

Over the next few weeks as you healed and recovered, Baelor took so much joy in your innocent happiness around your baby. Whenever he came to visit you in your bed, you would chatter on happily about how she blinked, how she snuffled, how she had looked at you properly that morning. In the evenings, when he came to lay beside you for rest, the two of you held the babe together and stared at her little features and pointed out all your discoveries to one another.

It was safe to say that both of you were immensely proud to have a daughter (even if she was proclaimed as Valarr's and not his...). Valarr too loved her in his own way, though he was immensely content to allow his own father to take charge of you and her.

Once you were healed and up and about around the Keep, you took your girl with you everywhere. You showed her all the places you loved to take refuge, all the spots where you annoyed Father and made him fall deeper in love with you. And unfortunately, that also meant going to all the places where whispers of your failed duty followed you.

"A girl for an heir... tut tut tut... I hope for their sake the next one is a boy and quick too."

"Did you see? It's a girl. I suppose that is good for the mother, but for the line of succession? Well, let's just be glad there are dragons no more."

"Rather a small babe is it not? Already a girl, and sickly now too? siiiigh"

The first time you heard it was in the gardens. Baelor was stuck in a long council meeting so you chose to take your Marion for a walk in the lovely sunlight. You wrapped her up well against any breezes off the bay, and then took her strolling.

The ladies having tea in the gazebo had not known you would be upon them as they discussed your shortcomings as a wife and mother. They did not see you clutch your bundle tighter to your chest, or the way your face fell and tears instantly began burning in your eyes. You gently kissed your babe's soft downy head and turned swiftly to head back to your chambers.

You laid her down in her bassinet, then sat in the rocking chair beside it and cried. You had been so excited to have your girl. You loved her and were so proud to have created her, and it felt like that excitement had been sucked out so quickly. Had you disappointed Father by having a girl? Was he disappointed that your first babe was Marion and not a boy?

You cried and cried, and when you had no more tears to cry, you went to your bed and quietly lay there until sleep finally claimed you.

For the next few days, you kept yourself in only the company of your babe. You cuddled her close and slept, or you took her to the windows or the balcony and back, but you did not leave her side. You did not want to risk going out of doors or venturing any places people might be discussing you and your failures.

Baelor noted your odd behaviour but did not think much of it at first. When he came to your chambers, you were already asleep, and he left too early in the morning for your state to be any different. You did not come to bother him during the day, whether on your lonesome or with your little darling in tow, but he simply assumed it was because you were too busy showing her off to everyone or monopolising her with your love. Though it was odd for you to not be throwing yourself at him (especially since you were now healed from the babe), he gave you the grace required for this new period.

Then one evening, when it had been four days of your absence in anything other than his bed, he decided to come find you early. He was determined to get you out of your chambers, to convince you to spend some time for yourself rather than being wrapped up in the babe (as he assumed you were) but everything was quickly derailed when he found you curled up on the floor at the foot of the bed, knees to your chest and hands pressed to your face as you sobbed.

Marion was sleeping soundly in the bassinet, and you were attempting to hush yourself, chewing on your lip as you dissolved into your cries, shaking violently. Baelor was quick to kneel down beside you, wrapping you up in his arms and hauling you into his lap.

He did not ask anything, did not begin an interrogation or any such thing, he simply kissed you on the top of your head and hushed you softly. "Hush, my girl, hush now."

You sobbed until your chest hurt and you could not make yourself cry any more. You clung tightly to Baelor, seeking his warmth and taking immense comfort in it. Being wrapped in Baelor's arms was everything you had wanted over the past week of your upset. Why had you denied yourself of it?

Baelor kissed the top of your head then simply placed his lips there. Your sobs softened into sniffles, and then you were clutching tight to his doublet and pulling your face back. Your eyes were red and puffy, your nose shiny as you made little cries. He frowned as he looked upon your face, gently wiping your cheeks with his thumbs, grazing them over your delicate undereyes as you caught your breath.

"What has upset you, dearest?" He finally asked, caressing your cheek back and forth with the pad of his thumb. You sniffled and looked down shamefully.

"People are talking about how disappointing it is for me to have had Marion," you finally sniffled out, lower lip trembling with the threat of more tears. You looked up at him with sparkling eyes full of pain and he gripped you a little tighter. "I heard some of the ladies talking, they said it was a shame that my first babe was a girl. She cannot inherit and there is no boy yet." You sniffled and your face began to crumple again as you said, "I was so proud of my girl, but I now fear I have disappointed you."

Baelor's face contorted with anguish as you began to cry again in earnest. He hushed you and brought your face back down to his chest. He ran his hand soothingly up and down your back as the other cupped the back of your head and kept you close to him.

"Do not listen to the vultures," he told you quietly, voice steely and serious. "A daughter is a joy. A daughter brings life and love to a house just by existing, there is no failing in Marion being a daughter." He kissed the top of your head as your cries calmed again, your eyes blinking quickly against his chest. "Though I love Valarr and Matarys beyond anything, I have always longed for a daughter. And to know that you, my darling, darling, girl provided me with such a sweet and beautiful one? It is more than any man can hope to achieve. You have made me immensely proud, my sweet girl."

You sniffled and pulled back, looking hopefully into Baelor's face. He was smiling sadly at you, watching your eyes begin to light up again as you haphazardly wiped at your face and leaned in close to him.

"You are proud of me, Father? Truly?" You asked, voice small and shaky, and he smiled as he nodded and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"I could not be prouder," he whispered, kissing your other cheek, and you exhaled a long breath, smiling now too, though yours was watery and quivering. You leaned forward and delicately kissed his lips, the softest of presses.

"If you wish for more babes, to attempt for a son, then I would be loathe to deny you. I will give you as many as you wish," he added teasingly, and you giggled, nuzzling his cheek with your nose before hugging him fully and sighing by the side of his head.

"I want to have as many babes as there are rooms in this castle with you," you giggled by his ear, biting it lightly as he huffed out a chuckle before beginning to kiss down your neck. You shuddered at the feeling of his beard scraping your skin.

"A lofty goal," he murmured, and you simply hummed, cupping his face.

"Let's start now!" You told him excitedly, kissing him on the mouth as he smiled broadly.

+++

One Year Later

The Crown Prince carried a tubby toddler in his arms as he strolled through the gardens. The little princess was babbling happily, her small palms slapping against his bearded cheeks and feeling the hairs there as her mother often did. You strolled just behind them, waddling slowly as you accommodated the swelling of your belly. It was no surprise that you were pregnant once more.

The little princess was attempting to climb all over Baelor, wriggling in his arms to lift herself higher onto his shoulder, gripping at his hair or his nose, attempting to chew on his neck as she babbled happily.

"Spoilt for attention, just like her mother," Baelor mumbled, turning back to smirk at you as you gasped in offence (though you were smiling so brightly it held no bite).

“Yes, but Father-” Maekar slammed his hand on the table loudly, everyone going silent as they stared at him with wide eyes. He was practically vibrating with his rage. 

He had reached his limit with you today. After days of travelling to Casterly Rock and back where the Lannisters had hosted you all for a nameday celebration for their eldest daughter, Maekar had reached his limit with everything. He was tired, aching from his horse and the sharp pain in his left lower back from an injury during the Blackfyre Rebellion. The constant bickering of his children around him had already heightened his temper to a level it had not reached in quite some time, and now your behaviour at dinner was the last straw. 

“You are meant to behave like a proper lady, something befitting your station,” he hissed, voice low and seething with rage, his hands clenched into fists as he glared at you. “You are whining and pouting in my ear like a spoilt child, and I will have it no longer this evening. I have had enough out of you for a lifetime. You were meant to be Aerion’s bother, how has it become my problem as well?” He took a deep breath in when he finished speaking and finally looked away from you, refocusing on the venison on his plate and stabbing a large piece of it with a fork and then chewing on it quickly. 

You crossed your arms tight over your chest and slumped in your chair. Your skin burned with humiliation and you felt tears prick at your eyes with the reprimand. You did not touch your plate for the rest of dinner and retired swiftly to your chambers when the awkward event finally ended. 

It did not matter if it was your fault or not! So what if you had been bothering him, he had no right to be so horrible to you in response! Father would regret this, you would make sure of it. If he wanted a proper lady, then a proper lady he would get. 

The morning after his outburst, Maekar had (eventually) felt ridden with guilt. You did not come to his chambers that night, no use of your usual excuse of being unable to sleep for whatever reason before you wriggled into his bed and snuggled into his side. He had tossed and turned, not realising how much he had truly become used to your figure beside him, warming him up through the night and simply bringing him comfort by being wrapped in his arms. He simply hoped you would eventually grow tired of your own anger and come back to him when you were ready. 

But the entire day, there was not a peep from you. You did not come breezing into his study to complain about Aerion, to beg for a new dress or necklace or embroidery thread, or even to simply poke at him and request his presence at luncheon. He did not hear your voice in the hallway outside the door to his study, loudly calling for ‘Father’ for whatever reason. He did not even hear any reports from the servants on how you had suddenly gone off your favourite fruits and requested something brand new, or how you had sent the seamstress into a conniption by demanding another impossible gown. It was far too peaceful. 

The first time he encountered you that day was at dinner. Something clicked into place inside him at the sight of you, like peace settling. He was annoyed that you had not come to see him all day, but knowing you were at least safe and unharmed and looked well enough soothed one of his many jagged edges. At least he could enjoy the pretty view at dinner. 

You were dressed well, a beautiful lavender silk dress that made you glow in the low candlelight, and your hair was braided intricately, the perfect picture of a princess. It made his heart warm to see you this way, looking so put-together as you so often enjoyed doing, but there was something off about the picture too, and Maekar quickly realised what it was. 

The entire dinner you had spent in contrived silence. Where you were usually so talkative, chatting with everyone about anything and everything, this evening you only smiled demurely or said polite thanks, as if you were saving your voice for bigger things. You spoke in quiet murmurs to the children when you were usually as boisterous as they were, giggling with Egg, Daella and Rhae, telling jokes and silly stories and listening to their shenanigans in return. 

You smiled demurely at Aerion, accepted whatever he said to you with a small nod, and only looked where your attention was requested, otherwise keeping your eyes on your plate. You ate carefully and politely, not having more than one plate and one cup of wine, and you spent more time ensuring your hair remained in place and your necklace stayed on your chest and your dress remained smooth on your lap. 

Maekar watched you with a furrowed brow the entire time, chewing slowly as he observed every one of your behaviours. He waited for when you would beginning laughing in earnest again, when you would look teasingly across the table and offer him your shining eyes, when you would call across that “Father is just being silly!” again and he could answer with a grunt and a roll of the eyes despite the warmth and amusement that usually bloomed in his chest at your jolly attention. 

Nothing of the sort occurred. In fact, you did not even look in his direction for the entire meal. And when Aerion stood up upon finishing, you followed suit, standing and bowing demurely and following a step behind him, the picture of an obedient wife. Maekar could only watch with his eyes practically popping out of his skull. 

Had he been transported to some other world that looked exactly like his own, but one in which you suddenly became a dutiful wife to his imbecillic son? He could not understand what he was witnessing, or why he was witnessing it. All he knew was that he despised this, whatever this was. 

That evening you still did not seek him out in his chambers. He fumed all night long, waiting for the knock and your sweet face, for the sight of you in your nightshift, your hair all loose and billowing around you, your soft and warm skin under his hands. But as each hour ticked by and his candles melted to the stumps, no knock came, and eventually he dozed off without realising, rigid in his bed without you. 

The next day continued in the same fashion, and his temper continued to rise. He was uncomfortable. He was uncomfortable with the peace of it. His life should not be so peaceful. He required tension, required your voice whining in his ear, your pouts and your spoilt, bratty, requests. He did not care for the rest of the castle, for their expectations on him or whatever else they required. He cared that you did not force your way into his life, that along with all your whining and pouting, you ceased the other little caring things you did for him that he had not realised had been so important to his survival. 

No longer was there someone bugging him to eat breakfast, to cease working for a moment to eat even a speck, just so he would not be uncomfortable from his hunger before luncheon. And then there was no one breezing into his study before luncheon, smiling and humming and straightening his trinkets and papers and just forcing their presence onto him. And there was no one to then drag him to luncheon either, saying that men could not work well without food and he was in desperate need of some. 

Then there was no one distracting him from his work after luncheon, forcing their way into his lap and kissing at his face and beard, saying things about how soft he was, how his muscles made them feel so safe and secure, how they loved being his arms. No one squirming in his hold and begging him to take them over his desk, no one’s hand slipping into his trousers and no one’s cunt rubbing desperately against his thigh. 

UGH. Now he had spent far too much time thinking wistfully about you, and he was not getting any work done because of that either! 

That evening, again, you acted the demure lady. You ate quietly, sipped softly, excused yourself with your husband and remained in your chambers thereafter. But Maekar had reached the limit of his patience and could not let this go on. He required sleep, and sleep would only come when this godsforsaken matter was solved. 

Maekar stormed through halls of Summerhall until he reached your chambers and then he burst through the doors, his chest already heaving with his anger, his gaze red. He slammed the doors shut behind himself, locking them firmly before looking around for you. He found you at the vanity, humming quietly as you brushed your own hair, dressed in a simple robe. You flicked your eyes up to him when he entered, your gaze a little harder than it had been before, then you simply pursed your lips and continued humming and gazing into the mirror. 

“Cease this, whatever it is you are doing,” he spat, marching over to you and staring down at you. To anyone else, his presence may have been intimidating, his stare and stance terrifying, but you simply hummed in confusion, shrugged and glanced up at him. 

“Whatever could you mean?” You asked, your voice high and airy, fake as anything. His jaw clenched as his fist did, and he continued staring down at you with his eyes like sapphire gems. 

“This.” He said again, his voice harsher this time. “Whatever the fuck you are doing, end it at once.” You could see his nostrils flaring, and a sick thrill rose up in your stomach. You sighed, long and slow, putting your brush down and turning to face him, folding your hands in your lap demurely. 

“I truly do not know what you mean, Ser. I am doing nothing outside the ordinary for a good and proper noblewoman,” and on this you put emphasis, your gaze hardening further as you looked at him. “Something ‘befitting my station’, is that not what you said?” One of your eyebrows rose, your expression provoking a chill in him. 

Maekar went still as he stared at you, a bright red flush beginning to build at his neck. He knew you were clever, and he should have known that you would use all that power to throw his own words back in his face. Why else would you be behaving in such a way? Of course it was his own doing, and you would ensure that he felt the punishment for it every day, every hour. 

“In fact, it is rather improper and un-befitting of your station to be barging in on a young lady in her private chambers in the eve-” 

Maekar grabbed you by the arm and hoisted you up off your seat. He pulled you against his chest as you gasped and huffed at the harsh motions, and he wrapped his arms around you like a vice. He pressed his face to yours, his mouth against yours, and he kissed you like he was dying for it. His beard rubbed against your chin and cheeks and his lips were a firm pressure, his tongue pushing out and licking into your mouth, rubbing against your own. 

“Mmh,” he huffed into it, one arm tight around your waist and the other against your back, his hand splayed between your shoulder blades to keep you tucked there.

He pulled away just enough for you to breathe, his nose still brushing yours as he breathed deeply and kept his face against yours. The two of you heaved in sync, and you clutched him tight in return, anything to ground you as your mind whirled and a dazed fog settled over you. 

“You are not a proper lady,” he mumbled, and you flared a little at that, your brows contorting in a frown as you began to pull back in anger. “You are not,” he doubled down. “You are a whining, bratty thing. You flout all rules and expectations and you kiss impropriety goodbye like it is someone you will never see again.” His arms tightened around you then and he deliberately brushed your kiss-swollen lips with his own. “But I would have you no other way.” 

It was simple, sincere, so very Maekar that you paused and softened in his arms. You blinked quickly, a sudden burst of tears burning at your lashline, and your fist tightened in his tunic. 

“I want you no other way,” he continued, mumbling a little as he brushed your lips with his again. “So cease whatever torture method this is, and return to yourself at once.” 

And then he was kissing you again, firm and warm, perfect. It was exactly what you had wanted, what you had craved, and you kissed him back in earnest, allowing him to pull you both in the direction of your bed, your night shift already loosening and slipping down your shoulder. When he paused at the foot of your bed, you pulled back and blinked up at him softly, pouting a little and holding him at a slight distance. 

“You were very mean, Father,” you spoke quietly, “and it hurt my feelings.” His jaw clenched, his hands tightening in the fabric at your waist, and he huffed before pulling you in tightly again, refusing to allow the space to remain. 

DIL!B's POV

You huffed angrily as you sat down in the solar, arms crossed over your chest and a stormy look on your face. Anyone could see from a mile away that you were angry, irate even. Just as you began to huffily ask for some tea to be brought for you, the door swung open and your beloved cousin came hurrying in. She was pouting, grumbling angrily to herself and when she caught sight of you, she instantly made her way to you and sat down across from you at the table.

"Has your father angered you as well this morning?" She asked with another huff, ordering for tea to be brought quickly and some wine too.

"Yes," you pouted, blinking away your residual tears. "He will not allow me to accompany him on his trip to Dorne. He says it will not be long, that he need only discuss matters of trade with the Martells and carry some letters from the Queen. Valarr is not going with him so there is no reasonable excuse for me to accompany him he said. But... but I do not want to go two moons without him. It would be torture. But he simply dismissed me and told me that our reunion would be all the sweeter." You crossed your arms tighter and looked to your cousin for reassurance. She just shook her head, tutting.

"It seems your father and mine are in cahoots to torture us!" She responded animatedly, looking at you with wide eyes. "Mine says the same! He is accompanying yours to Dorne and will not take me with him because "that would be stupid and unnecessary". I cannot believe him! He angers me so!"

You smiled kindly at her, giggling a little at your shared woes and taking comfort that someone else understood. It was hard work loving such stubborn Targaryens, but at least you were not alone.

The two of you went quiet for a little while, stewing in your own anger as the tea, wine, and cakes were brought. You chatted a little as you ate and drink, and when the wine rendered you flushed and giggly, your cousin gasped as if struck.

"I have had a wonderful idea," she exclaimed, reaching over and grabbing your hand tightly. "What about a trip to Rosetown? They have built a lovely private inn around the springs where ladies can take rest. It is only a day's ride from here and the weather is good for it. Let us leave tomorrow! I will ask permission from Aerion and you have Valarr arrange the carriage and guard. We shall be gone less than a week and that will give Father and Uncle a good taste of their own medicine!"

You stared at her with wide eyes, giggling a little as you considered the idea. It was rather risky, and you were sure Baelor would be immensely angry with you when he discovered it. But you would also be too far away to hear his disappointed lecture. And he would realise what it feels like to be far away from you, why you were so desperate to accompany him. Yes... yes, the idea was marvellous.

"Done! I will go ask him now!" You told her excitedly, but you were not sure she heard through her maniacal little giggles as she imagined Uncle Maekar's furious face at the discovery.

The two of you rushed off instantly to find your husbands. Valarr was in his own study, a smaller room than his father's but his own nonetheless. He smiled distractedly when you came in, eyes returning to the book he was reading.

"Husband," you began softly, hands clasped together demurely in front of you.

"Yes?"

"Would you be alright with me and my dear cousin going to Rosetown for a few days? We only wish to have a bit of respite from the city," you smiled sweetly at him, blinking prettily.

"Huh? Oh, yes, of course, whatever you wish," he answered distractedly, nodding and smilling then returning to his book.

"Thank you, dear," you cooed, leaning down and kissing the top of his head before holding onto his shoulders carefully and continuing. "Would you write down to the stables to have the wheelhouse prepared for tomorrow? And perhaps an escort?"

He looked up at you, raised an eyebrow a little, then sighed and nodded, calling for his guards to enter the room.

"Send word to the stables to prepare a wheelhouse and have an escort of guards ready for a journey tomorrow. Just listen to whatever the princess requires and have it done."

You smiled giddily, kissed him on the top of the head again as he waved you off and dismissed you, and then rushed to make sure all the preparations would be done and ready for the day after.

DIL!M's POV

"Aerion!" You yelled, bursting into his solar where he was laying prone in the sun with a cup of chilled wine.

"What?" He asked with a huff, cupping a hand over his eyes and barely turning his head to look at you.

"I wish to go to Rosetown with my dear cousin. Is that suitable?" You asked quickly, tapping your foot impatiently.

"Yes, yes, and go quickly," he grumbled, huffing and turning back to lay his head back again.

"One more thing," you added, your voice going all saccharine and sweet now.

"Whaaat?" He groaned, "I wish to be left in peace."

"Do not tell Father where I have gone, will you?" You asked, twisting back and forth innocently at the waist.

Aerion perked up a little at that, eyebrow rising as he turned back to look at you. He was sure there was mischief afoot, and he was never one to deny you the chance to torment Maekar, so he simply nodded then went back to laying down.

Dual Perspective

You - italics + bold means DIL!M

That evening, neither of you went to your respective Father's chambers, keeping to your rooms to ensure the maids would pack all of your belongings. Both men just sighed and shook their heads, but did not seek you out. They knew the two of you were being huffy and petty after the earlier arguments, so they just went to their beds alone and hoped that they could resolve this amicably the next morning.

The first half of the day, neither girl came to disrupt the peace. You did not find Baelor for breakfast or come to drag him away for lunch. You did not go to Maekar's study to complain about something, or force him to come to afternoon tea.

When the peace had gone on too long, they went in search of their girls, but could not find them. Baelor could not find you in your chambers, in the library, in your spot under the tree in the gardens. Maekar could not find you in bed, nor in a bath, nor with your gaggle of ladies or your cousin.

The two brothers met suddenly in a hallway, staring sceptically at each other.

"Have you lost something?" Maekar asked, both sarcastic and suspicious in tone.

"We may have lost the same things, brother," Baelor responded, and they went silent for a moment.

"Where in the seven hells is the girl?" Maekar finally groused, hands clenched into fists at his sides as Baelor shook his head.

"I suspect she is wherever my good-daughter has gotten to," Baelor answered, and the both of them turned swiftly on their heels to go and find their sons.

+++

Baelor entered his son's study while attempting to remain calm. Worry was beginning to curl at the base of his spine but he did not want to jump to conclusions just yet.

"Son," he began, fidgeting with something on Valarr's desk as the young man leaned back in his seat and looked up at his father with a raised eyebrow. "Where has your wife gotten to?"

Valarr paused, frowning in thought.

"Uh, I am not sure, Father. If I remember correctly, she expressed a desire to go on a trip with her cousin yesterday, and requested a wheelhouse and guard, but I do not remember where it is she wished to go," Valarr shrugged, still frowning as he tried to remember.

Baelor stilled, hands going rigid as he flicked his eyes to his son.

"You do not know where your wife has gone?" He asked firmly, voice low and almost threatening. At least Valarr had the decency to look sheepish as he shrugged.

"I am sure she is alright, she has a guard and her good-cousin is feisty if nothing else," Valarr attempted humour, smiling a little, but one sharp look from his father ceased it. "Hm," he cleared his throat a little as he sat up straighter, "perhaps the stablehands know where they are. I can run down and ask."

Baelor pursed his lips and shot Valarr another angry look before saying "yes, perhaps you should," firmly and then leaving him behind.

+++

"WHERE IS SHE, YOU WEASEL?" Maekar yelled, glaring at his son as he lunged at him threateningly. Aerion dodged his father, moving quickly behind a chair as he tried to control his own laughter.

"I would tell you, Father, truly, I would! But I cannot recollect the place for the life of me," he answered, attempting to move around Maekar, but the man was too quick, hand shooting out and gripping onto the young man's ear and wrenching painfully.

Aerion yowled like a cat, attempting to release his father's grip, but Maekar just heaved angrily as he held on tight.

"Where is your wife, you-"

"Maekar," Baelor interrupted, eyebrows rising at the scene before him.

"What?" He spat angrily, only glancing in Baelor's direction for a moment before returning his attention to Aerion.

"I know where they have gone, release the boy," Baelor told him calmly, watching Maekar hold on tighter for a moment before releasing Aerion and shoving him angrily away from himself.

"Impudent, churlish, little fucker," he grumbled under his breath as he watched Aerion pout and rub at his ear as he scurried from the room. "Fucking br-"

"They have gone to Rosetown," Baelor cut in before Maekar complained any more.

"Fucking Rosetown?" The younger brother spat.

"Yes, they left this morning. They plan on being away for a week to the day," Baelor told him, moving to sit in one of the armchairs and sighing tiredly as he slumped down.

"How the fuck do you know all this?" Maekar asked, sitting down as well with a long groan.

"The maids are very forthcoming, unlike our sons," he answered with a wry smile, shaking his head as he rested it in his hand.

"The cheek on that girl to go gallivanting without a word," Maekar grumbled.

"I think this has perhaps stemmed from our impending trip to Dorne, brother," Baelor told him sagely, leaning back and twisting his rings back and forth. "I surmise that you too denied your girl from accompanying you."

"Well of course I fucking did. Her husband is not going so what possible reason could I give as to her being in attendance?"

"Precisely what I said," Baelor agreed, humming a little as they both stewed in their thoughts.

"Fuck this," Maekar finally huffed, standing and making to head toward the door. "If she thinks she can flout me so and continue to enjoy herself..." his words quieted into grumbles but Baelor stood with a sigh and clasped him firmly on the shoulder.

"Rosetown only allows attendance for women, brother. They would barr you entry."

"I am a fucking prince of the realm. Let them attempt to barr me!" Maekar roared, hands clenched into fists as he turned back to Baelor who only smiled placatingly and then guided him to sit back down.

"Allow her a day or two of respite, then we shall have a messenger sent with the royal seal to retrieve them. They cannot ignore such a summons lest everyone in Rosetown begin to wonder, and once she has returned, punish her as you see fit."

Maekar still grumbled and threatened to get on his horse, but he was placated by his brother and managed to be convinced to stay in the Red Keep. He spent the next two days prowling the halls in a wild anger and snapping at anyone he could. Aerion did not even bother to appear anywhere in his line of sight lest he get kicked up the behind (as he deserved).

Baelor kept himself to his study, burying himself in his work so as not to think about you being gone, and made sure the messenger new to make it very important that the two of you were required back from Rosetown at once.

The entire time, you two had been having the absolute best time. You lounged around all day in the sun or went swimming in the hot and cool springs. You ate lovely foods and read funny tales and got wine-drunk and silly. When the messenger came, the two of you giggled so hard you almost fell over because you saw the tactic for what it was.

Nevertheless, you agreed to go back, and spent the entire ride back to the city talking about what sort of treatment you would receive. You were sure Maekar would put you over his knee and not let you out of his rooms for a full day as he taught you a lesson. You knew to expect a lecture from Baelor about respect and worrying him, about not going along with reckless plans and being a good girl for him. He may deny you love for a while, but a firm coupling could be expected if you buttered him up enough.

DIL!B's POV

When you arrived back and went up to the solar where Baelor and Maekar were waiting, you smiled sweetly and acted all careless. Baelor just raised an eyebrow at you, choosing not to say anything yet. When your cousin followed you in afterward, Maekar was already red with rage.

"You insolent brat," he snapped, and within moments he had her hauled over his shoulder. You could hear her squealing all the way down the hall and one firm smacking sound before they got to far to hear.

Baelor waited patiently for you to say something, but you just sidled up to him, smiling bashfully and sitting down on his lap. You curled up into his chest, caressing him softly there as you waited for a response. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, and sighed long and low.

"Never leave without telling me ever again, understood?" He spoke firmly, leaving no room for argument, and it was almost scary.

"Yes, Father," you answered tentatively, trembling in his arms a little.

"Anger is not to be solved in such a way," he continued, and you nodded shakily, snuggling yourself deeper in his arms despite the telling off and the shame beginning to course through you. "We speak about such things, we do not resort to worrying those who love us."

"I am sorry," you finally whimpered out, blinking as tears ambushed you and leaning back a little to look at him. He cupped your face, running his thumb along your lips as he looked into your eyes. He did not say anything for a while, but eventually he just nodded.

"Valarr has agreed to join me on the journey to Dorne," he began slowly, caressing your cheek as he spoke. "And it would be wrong to tear a young man from his wife for such a long time when she could accompany him."

You blinked quickly up at him, a smile slowly crawling onto your lips. You sat up properly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing your face close to his.

"Really, Father? Truly?" You asked, voice breathy. He nodded, finally smiling a little.

"Truly. I do not wish for you to be upset," he murmured, and you began to cry, but this time from joy. You pressed kisses to his mouth hurriedly, soft and quick things at first, but eventually dissolving into long firm movements of your lips and the licking of his tongue into your mouth.

Eventually though, Baelor pulled away, patted your behind then carefully stood up, stabilising you as you stood as well, frowning a little in question.

"I have matters to attend to, my dear," he told you in response to the look, petting a hand over your head. "Perhaps you should have thought about how busy I might become before leaving so suddenly."

And then he breezed out of the room as you watched on, eyes wide and shocked at the denial. Oh for fuck's sake, you huffed to yourself.

DIL!M's POV

"EEE! I AM SORRY FATHER! I AM SORRY!"

Maekar grunted as he leaned back, shiny with sweat where he had rid himself of his tunic a few moments before. You were sprawled on his lap, clutching the covers of the bed tightly as he spanked your behind. You were squirming, burning in more ways than one, and had been squealing out apologies for the last ten minutes.

"Your apologies are worthless to me you whining, smack! insolent, smack! disobedient, smack! vixen." He gripped you harshly and paused to catch his breath, running his eyes up the line of your spine and to the teary-eyed face you turned back to pout up at him.

"To think, I am still bring you with me to Dorne after your recent behaviour," he grumbled, squeezing one side of your behind harshly, watching with satisfaction as you squirmed at the roughness over the irritated heat.

"You are?!" You squealed out, torn between feeling the pleasure-pain and focusing on his words.

"Yes, for some fucking reason," he growled, before rearing back and slapping you in that spot again. "When I am done with you, you will not be able to sit in the carriage and feel even a moment of peace."

"What have you done..." Maekar stared with horror into the little grimy mirror the boy held up.

His attendant was shaking with fear, the mirror showing Maekar an unsteady reflection of himself, clean and shiny from his wash, and now, missing a huge chunk of his beard.

It was most likely vain for him to think so, but his beard was perhaps one of the things he was most careful about in his life. It was always kept clean and neat, and he rarely allowed it to get too long or too short. If it looked too wispy one day, he was quick to act on it, and that was the entire point of the exercise this morning, to neaten everything up and get Maekar back to his prime.

And perhaps it came from a place of insecurity too (though he was loathe to admit it). He had pox scars, unavoidable things that consistently marred him and followed him wherever he went. He did not like the way they looked, it was simple as that, and he did not enjoy feeling displeased with himself. His beard was his greatest comfort, a wonderfully easy cover over all the things he did not wish to confront. But now...

Maekar yanked the mirror down and glared at the boy with the fire of the dragons of old. He gripped him by the collar and shook him, listening to the pathetic whimpers he let out and the profuse apologies, begging not to be subject to whatever punishment Maekar may deem fit. But Maekar could not kill the boy just yet, because now he would need to shave the beard completely off and start again, and the stupid thing could at least make himself useful by finishing the job.

Maekar sat there red in the face, seething, practically vibrating, as the boy carefully shaved off the rest of the hair. He patted Maekar's face dry gently after washing away the little hairs and then scurried from the room as quick as he could when Maekar dismissed him with a grunt as he looked at himself in the mirror.

He looked so... bare. He could see far too much of his own face, the dips and craters of his skin, the markings that were just far too obvious for his liking. He despised it.

+++

"Fatherrrr!" He could hear your voice down the hall from his chambers and he sighed as he dropped his head into his hands, eyes closed.

You did not sound particularly whiny this evening, but he was in no mood for whatever reaction you may have to the sight of him. Though perhaps it had not been conscious, he had been avoiding you all day, tucked away in his study or some corner of the library or even in the gardens. He did not want you to see him in this way.

He began pouring himself a cup of wine as you pushed the doors to his bedchambers open with a huff, a pout already formed on your lips as you readied to complain about how he had hurt you immensely by not being in your company the entire day.

But then you caught sight of him, standing there at the little endtable in just his tunic and simple trousers despite dinner not having passed yet, cup of wine already in hand and signature grimace pulling at his lips...

"EEEEE!" It was a squeal so high Maekar wondered if the dogs would start barking. His face contorted in shock and he finally looked up from the wine to find you absolutely beaming and running at him, throwing yourself in his arms, uncaring of the wine that sloshed over the edge of his cup and onto the backs of your legs.

"Oh Father, look at you!" For a moment he almost thought you sounded despaired, that the tender smile on your face was one of sadness rather than care. But then you began petting at his cheeks and looking up at him with your big sparkling eyes. "Oh Father! You look absolutely wonderful!"

Maekar still could not quite believe what he was witnessing, rigid against you where you were all smooth curves and draping yourself onto him. He reached forward and gripped your waist harshly, tightly, the kind that created almost painful indents in the flesh, and he clutched you to him, desperate for you to stay right where you were.

"I have never seen you without your beard. Why did you not tell me you looked so handsome without it?" You almost scolded him, but you were far too busy absolutely beaming and running your fingers over his cheeks and jawline. You were practically climbing on him now, running your nose gently along the skin of his jawline.

"Oh you are far too handsome like this, I cannot possibly let you out of this room now, all the maidens would swarm and you would be taken from me." You tutted as if you were serious, and Maekar let out a reluctant chuckle. He was going red at the neck already, a slow pink flush appearing under his skin.

You ran your fingers over his cheeks, feeling the pox scars softly, then you pressed up even more, rubbing your own cheek against his, nuzzling him like a cat in heat.

"Oh Father," you were practically moaning now, cupping his cheeks and pressing kisses to the skin there. Maekar had gone fully red now, even more obvious without his beard, his eyebrows stark white lines against the flush on his face.

"Enough now," he grumbled quietly, but there was no heat in it, nothing to suggest he was truly upset by the attention you were laving on him.

"I wish to bite you here," you murmured, lost in all the thoughts bombarding your head. "Just one good bite to your cheek."

"What the fuck..." Maekar murmured trying to pull back a little to look at you, but failing miserably when you began pressing kisses up and down the other cheek now, clutching his face tightly between your hands so he could not get away.

"I wish to lick your face, just lick you all over," you mumbled as you reached near his ear, and that made him turn redder, a sudden tremble in his hands that made him grip you tighter and pull you closer. You licked teasingly at the shell of his ear, just dragging the tip of your tongue along it, and he groaned long and low against the side of your head.

"Will you take me to bed, please?" You asked politely, and that truly stopped him in his tracks because you were never so polite when you wanted to bed him. He pulled back and looked at you, right in the eyes and roving over your face. You were smiling up at him, a sultry look as you continued stroking over his cheeks.

"Have you gone mad?" He asked softly, reaching up and cupping one of your cheeks himself, moving your head about a little as if he was inspecting a fresh new pup.

"No," you giggled, hooking your finger in the collar of his doublet and beginning to drag him back towards the bed. "But sometimes it is easier to catch your prey with sweetness."

He scoffed at that, the notion that he was your prey was laughable to him (it truly was not so laughable to you when you thought about how easy it was to annoy him into getting what you wanted). But he allowed you to drag him to the bed, allowed you to guide his hands around you to your laces, and most of all, allowed you to continue laving kisses and caresses on his cheeks.

"I wish to feel your face between my thighs. I wish to know the difference now that you do not have a beard." You said it so softly, a silky voice in his ear, and that was truly the last thread snapping within Maekar.

He ripped the laces from your back with a growl, grunting and groaning as he tore the dress and shift from you and got you onto the bed. He devoured you with a renewed vigour, kissing you all over, rubbing his face against you. You moaned and squealed and clutched at him so tightly that his scalp began to hurt, but he would not relent. He kissed you and licked you until you came, and then some.

Baelor Targaryen

"Please, Father?" You pouted, hands clasped together in pleading.

He was standing beside the bed, looking down on where you lay with his lips set in a straight line and a firmness to his eyes. He was already upset with you for breaking your confinement and coming to his bedroom in your state, and now this begging was only grating on his nerves.

"No, pet, not in this state," he responded firmly, shaking his head and going to turn away.

You were very near the birth of your child, yours and "Valarr"'s son, which meant you should have been in your own chambers, resting in your own bed, and not here bothering your father in law. But alas, even pregnancy did not dim your petulance (Baelor believed it actually made it worse...).

You had broken your confinement, waddled your way through the halls in your thin shift and a robe, and had thrown yourself (as much as you could in your state) into Baelor's arms. He had been utterly surprised (though he perhaps should not have been) and caught you quickly, accepting the quick little kisses you began placing along his jaw and mouth.

You had begged against his mouth, had snuffled him happily as you claimed that you were being mistreated by him, that him withholding his presence from you was a form of torture. He had huffed, pulling back quickly and holding you at arms length as you pouted.

He had done nothing of the sort, of course. He came to visit you in your chambers when he could, snuck to you instead of the other way around as you used to before the babe, and did everything as he did before but with added care for the babe. But you had only become more insatiable as time went by, and him more conscious, and apparently the two did not mix.

Baelor still remembered your last trip to the Maesters. He had accompanied you to every single one, ignoring the odd looks the man shot him and simply stating that Valarr was busy with important government matters (he was not, he was in a tavern in flea bottom throwing horse shoes with his friends) and that Baelor was there in his proxy.

At the last one, the one where the man gently felt along your stomach and told you proudly that the babe would push out at any moment, he had also carefully expressed to you that you should perhaps avoid intercourse until the babe was born and you were healed. The man had been rather awkward about it, side-eyeing Baelor as he said it, but you had just huffed and waved him off and told him it was no concern (later you had also told Baelor that as long as you could move your hips even a little, you could bed him as much as you wished).

But again, Baelor was far more cautious than you, which meant he had carefully extricated himself from your arms on more than one occasion when you tried to have your way with him and kindly told you that you could wait until after the babe.

Apparently not, though, as you had now carefully made your way across the wing to his bed chambers and frowned at him as he guided you carefully into his own bed.

"Please, Father, please!" You whined, clutching tight to his doublet so he could not move away from you. "You are hurting the babe by not giving its mother pleasure!"

At that he did turn around, raising one severe eyebrow at you. He did not appreciate any jests about the babe being hurt, however harmless you may have deemed them. You lay back a little at his expression, pursing your lips just slightly but not letting go of his clothes.

"Do you not find me beautiful anymore?" You asked then, your lip pushing out into an even bigger pout, your eyes suddenly filling with tears. You blinked up at him, lip quivering, and he clenched his jaw.

He knew what you were doing. He knew this was a tactic, knew that you were intelligent enough to know that he could not resist comforting you when you got like this.

"I know I am big, practically bursting," you mumbled softly, slowly unclenching your hands and dropping them back onto your lap. You lowered your face as well, sniffling a little in the perfect picture of upset. "I know I do not have the figure you first desired, I understand. I would not want to bed me either."

It was that sentence that broke his resolve. He knew he should have been stronger, knew he should not have fallen for the act, but he could not bear to hear you talk about yourself like that on the off chance that it was true.

Baelor sighed, cupped your cheek harshly, and the bent down to kiss you firmly on the mouth. You hummed happily into it, grasping at his shoulders and pulling him closer.

He was quick to rid himself of his clothes, carefully dragging your nightgown up your body and over your head as you waited patiently with raised arms. He kissed along your stomach, whispering about how precious you were, and then laved the same attention on your breasts. He pulled you forward to lay you flat on your back then lifted your hips onto a pillow before kneeling between your legs and pressing his cock into you.

He started slow, long and gentle thrusts that rubbed deliciously inside you, but grasped onto his arm and urged him on. He fucked you in earnest for all of three thrusts before you were gasping and slapping at his chest.

"Wait! Father, wait!" You shrieked, rising up onto your elbows with terror painted on your face.

"What, my girl?" He asked quickly, pulling hurriedly out of you and when he looked down between your legs, he saw the mess of liquid that had poured out onto his bedsheets.

He glanced back up at you as you clenched the sheets under you tightly in your hands, your hips shifting uncomfortably as your face began to contort a little.

"The babe is coming," you gasped out, pure and utter terror on your face.

Baelor was instantly off the bed, pulling his trousers on quickly then leaning over you to gently caress your face. He pressed soft kisses to your forehead and cheeks and allowed you to grip onto his forearm tightly as you rubbed your face against his beard, seeking comfort in whatever way you could.

"It is alright, my girl, hush now. All will be well," he comforted, stroking your face one more time before pulling back. He gazed down at you, smiling softly, and then grasped your nightdress from the side of the bed. He helped you thread each arm through, then carefully pulled it over your bed, hushing your softly as you keened at the first contraction.

"I am scared, Father," you whispered hoarsely, looking up at him with eyes full of tears. He felt his heart clench in his chest, and he nodded, carefully kissing you on the mouth.

"You are wonderful and strong, dearest, you will persevere and birth a healthy babe, I know it. But do not think of that now, we must get you back to your own chambers before you can no longer move."

You gasped at that, nodding hurriedly before pushing yourself up. He grasped you gently around the arms, helping you stand and bringing over your slippers. You stuck your feet in them, and with Baelor's help, you waddled back through the halls and to your chambers.

You only had to pause once in the hallway, clenching your eyes shut and grasping Baelor's hand tightly as he used the other to caress your head softly and tell you to breathe. When you finally entered your chambers, he helped you lay back on the bed and quickly pulled on the rope to ring down for your maids.

"They will be here soon, my girl. I must go," he whispered against your head, attempting to pry your hands from around his.

"No!" You argued, clutching him tighter, lower lip trembling and chest heaving with panic. "No, Father, please. I-I want you, I only want you here. Please, please do not leave me alone."

"Hush," he admonished quickly, petting you on the head until your blubbering calmed and you shut your eyes, laying your head against his leg as you held tight to his hand. "You will not be alone for more than a few moments, I swear this to you. The maids will come and they will help you far better than I can. You must allow me to go now, if only to protect you."

You were sniffing and sucking in shuddering breaths, but slowly as you regained sense, you nodded and released his hand. You continued to cry quietly, but he pressed another firm kiss to your mouth, told you to be as strong as he knew you to be, and then hurriedly left your room.

He had been right of course, the maids were not long and the Septas arrived soon after them, preparing everything needed for your labours. The babe was apparently readying quickly, and the hubbub of the birthing room and the pain coursing through you made you panicked.

You held tight to one of your maid's arms, screaming through another contraction in your belly.

"FATHER!" You screamed, sobbing as the pain dimmed a little again. "Call Father right now! Call for him! I want Father! I only want Father!" You sobbed hysterically, shaking your head when the maids tried to press cool cloths to your forehead.

"My Lady, your father is back in his lands," one of them tried to reason, whispering softly to you. "A raven has already left for your family, and they will most likely begin their travels the minute it lands. It is alright," she tried to smile, rubbing the back of your hand where you held on tight.

"No!" You screamed through another contraction, shaking your head and continuing to scream that you wanted Father.

Baelor had been 'informed' of your situation almost as soon as he returned to his rooms. One of the serving boys had hurriedly knocked on his door to tell him that the princess was going into her labours. Valarr had been informed as well of course, and was standing anxiously outside of your chambers, chewing on his lip as he listened to you wail when Baelor found him.

Baelor clasped him firmly on the shoulder, smiling through pursed lips as they both acknowledged the truth of the matter without saying one word.

The door opened, your screams getting louder for a moment, before closing behind the young Septa. She looked between Baelor and Valarr, rubbing her hands together a little nervously.

"Your grace, my prince," she curtseyed quickly then focused on Valarr. "The princess calls for her father, my prince. She is agitated and it is not helping the process. Her screaming and wailing is only tiring her out and she will need all her strength to push when the time comes."

"What?" Valarr asked, face contorting in confusion as he tilted his head at the Septa. "She calls for her father?"

Baelor froze beside him, body going rigid as he stared right at the Septa. His heart quickened and he glanced back to the door behind which you lay.

"Yes, my prince. She keeps saying that she 'wants father', will only have him. We have tried telling her that her father is back in his lands and will only arrive after three day's ride, but she does not listen, keeps telling us no and to go call father right now."

The Septa looked helpless, wringing her hands together as she glanced back at the door. As if on cue another of your screams rang through, this time sounding faintly around the word 'father'.

"We know it is not done, but we hoped perhaps you would come and comfort her. Mayhaps the sight of her husband will serve enough." The Septa tried to smile, to encourage Valarr, but he just frowned and shook his head.

"What am I supposed to do?" He asked, looking between his Father and the (now rather despondent) woman. Then Valarr refocused on Baelor, eyes lighting up with an idea. "Why do you not go in, Father?" He suggested, clasping his hands together and nodding happily to himself. "You are as much a father to her as a real one, perhaps you will do the trick."

"Uh, sire, that is highly unusual-" The Septa began quickly, frowning as she looked between the two men, but Valarr was waving her into silence.

"She values him as a father, it is practically the same. Go on, Father, help her."

Baelor was not quite sure if Valarr was giving him this gift on purpose or if he was truly oblivious, but either way he would not waste the chance.

"I will go," he said simply, and without waiting for the Septa, he pushed through the doors and hurriedly walked over to where you lay, curling in on yourself as you were wracked with another contraction.

"Father!" You sighed out, eyes widening and a little smile appearing on your lips as you saw him hurry up to you, a tense smile on his mouth. You smacked the maid's hand away and reached out for him, quickly grabbing onto his and snapping at the woman to make space for him.

He kissed the back of your hand, hushing you softly, and all the women in the room averted their eyes. They did not need to know more than they knew...

Maekar Targaryen

"I said no, you pest!" Maekar snapped, slapping your hands away from him as you attempted to unlace the ties of his tunic. "You are ready to burst with a babe and somehow you still find the energy to be promiscuous." He huffed, shifting a little away from you in the bed.

"Ungh!" You grunted in frustration, slapping your hands down on the bed beside you and turning to land your glare against him in full force. "Please, Father! I will die if you do not bed me right at this moment."

Maekar gave you the most disgusted look at your drama, taking both your wrists tightly in one hand and holding them down in your lap over the large swell of your stomach.

"I will die if you keep up your whining, and who would you bother then?" He grunted, rubbing one hand over his face for a moment. "You heard the maester yourself, girl, no fornication until you are healed from birthing the child."

"But-but... it is fine! As long as the babe is not popping out of me, you can still bed me!" You whined, pouting so hard he could see the pink flesh on the inside of your lip. Maekar said nothing in response to that, and you could almost see the cogs beginning to turn in his head, and you were sure they turned in your favour.

"I will think you do not love me any more if you deny me," you added slyly, going limp in his hold. He unclasped his hand from your wrists and turned to look at you with a scowl. He may have been a gruff grump, he may spit rude words more often than kind ones, but he loved you to his core and he did not wish to jest about that.

"FUCK!" He yelled loudly, and then he was getting up, unlacing his tunic and trousers quickly before shoving one off and pushing the other down just enough for his cock to spring out.

You smiled triumphantly, pulling your night dress up your body and throwing it off over your head quickly as he spread your legs and kneeled between them. He rubbed you once there, making sure you were truly wet enough for him, and then he pushed in. He curled his body over yours, leaving space for your belly and laving kisses to your sensitive breasts as you whined.

Suddenly your whines ceased, a gasp and then your hand clenching tight on Maekar's shoulder.

"Father?" You called timidly, eyes widening as you turned your head up to look at him.

"What?" He grunted, pausing his thrusts to return his attention to your face.

"I think the babe is coming," you breathed out. You lifted a little onto your elbows, attempting to look down yourself before huffing when your belly got in the way of your view.

"What?" He asked, freezing between your legs.

"I think my labours are beginning." Maekar looked down to where you had soaked his cock and the bed, and then back up to your face and the anxious glint to your eye.

"Fuck."

He slid from you quickly, using the covers to wipe himself off and pulling his trousers and tunic on. He grasped you under the arms and hoisted you up properly onto the edge of the bed. He roughly shoved your nightdress over your head, ignoring your annoyed huff when it mussed your hair into your face.

"Fuck." He grunted to himself, hurriedly putting your slippers onto your feet then helping you up.

You clung to him tightly as he walked you to your chambers, mumbling the word 'fuck' over and over to himself. You bit down on your lip as the first pains started, holding tight to his hand. He practically carried you the last few steps to your bed, depositing you there and pressing a firm kiss to the top of your head. He rung for the maids and then took to pacing the length of your messages.

"Stop pacing, Father, it is making me nervous," you huffed, laying there with your arms crossed over your chest, nervously chewing on your lip.

"Well I am fucking nervous so you'll excuse my fucking pacing," he responded angrily, but then he breathed out deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head as he attempted to calm himself.

You thought about Dyanna then, about how it had been as Rhae was coming into the world that she left it, and you softened a little despite the pain coursing through you.

"Will you come and hold me?" You asked quietly, eyes welling up with tears. "I am scared."

He opened his eyes then and hurried back to your side, sitting on the end of your bed and clasping your hand tightly in his. He kissed the back of it, watching as you smiled a little at the feeling of his beard there.

The maids came in, listened to Maekar bark about how you were in labour, and then rushed out to gather the Septas and the supplies. You clenched tight onto Maekar's hand.

"You must promise not to go," you told him hurriedly, sitting up a little in the bed. "You must promise."

"I must go," he retorted, though his voice was low and pained; he did not wish it either. "It would not do to stay."

"I do not care!" You whined, lower lip trembling. "You must stay, or I will go out into the hall with you and birth the babe there."

He petted a hand against the top of your head, but did not say anything.

"Where is Aerion?" Maekar asked instead to the maids as they returned, ignoring the sharp looks you were shooting at him from the sides of your eyes.

"The prince was informed and he has gone to a local tavern to celebrate with some other nobleman, my prince," a girl informed, putting down a bowl of warm water on the bed side opposite to Maekar.

"Fucking useless," Maekar growled, shaking his head and you jumped on the chance, holding tight to his hand.

"Will you stay in his stead?" You asked hurriedly, making sure everyone heard you. The maids and Septas began averting their eyes, offering each other glances then busying themselves with their tasks. "Please?"

Maekar closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. 'Fuck propriety', he thought, and then nodded, settling himself down beside you.