#hrk

Paring: Aerion Targaryen / Female Targaryen OC

Summary: Princess Laena Targaryen, daughter of Baelor, becomes the fixation of Prince Aerion Targaryen. Aerion does not court, he corners. He tests her restraint, threatens her reputation, and manoeuvres the court itself to tighten his hold. How long can Laena resist a Prince who has decided she is his.

Tags: WIP, Targcest, possessive behaviour, forced proximity, smut, love triangle, unrequited love, non-consensual voyeurism

Word Count: 41.6k words

Read on AO3

Read chapter 21: Unrelenting •☽──✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧──☾••☽──✧˖°˖☆˖°˖───☾••☽──✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧──☾•

Aerion desperately wanted Laena to loathe him or love him, He could deal in those absolutes. But the complacent, polite, disdain in between was killing him slowly.

Following the day in the market, he began bringing her things. A vile of perfume, soft and floral, that he set on her dressing table without comment. A small ceramic dish to place her earrings in on at the end of the night. The small box of her favourite bon bons, she took a single bite and pushed the box aside. “I don’t like them.”

“No,” he agreed softly. “Of course you don’t.”

The gifts became more difficult to ignore. Hair ornaments wrought in intricate design, hand chosen by him for her. Oils imported from Essos, costly and so rich the scent lingered on her skin long after her bath. She’d accepted them without so much as a polite thank you.

He watched with growing satisfaction as she received each one. How her fingers paused just a fraction longer than necessary when she opened a box. “This is excessive.” She said, testing the weight of the necklace before setting it aside with studied indifference. “You can’t buy love.” But he saw the softness quickly concealed.

The shift was gradual so much so, in fact, that Aerion found it quite cruel. She did not admit her fondness in words, but it revealed itself in fragments, in small allowances of herself. She remained longer at his side, didn’t end their conversations at the first convenient turn and even her silences had softened into something more companionable, less icy. Perhaps most telling of all, she laughed more easily.

~~~

The fire had settled into a steady, low burn by the time they retired for the evening. Coals shifted slowly beneath their own heat, amber light breathing in slow pulses against them. Her chamber held in a kind of gentle stillness. Laena settled onto the lounge beside him, gathering her skirts before extending her legs across his lap. Aerion adjusted, his posture easing to accommodate the weight of her. The fabric of her skirt fell in soft folds over him.

They took up their books, or rather she did. His focus settled on the delicate chain of gold, almost invisible unless the firelight caught it just so, tracing the delicate line of her collarbone before disappearing beneath the soft fabric of her gown. She had not thanked him for it; she’d simply appeared that morning wearing it. His fingers shifted slightly where they rested against her ankle, a slow, absent motion.

“You’ve been on the same page for some time,” she noted, turning her own with quiet precision.

“You like it,” he said, ignoring her accusation entirely.

She didn’t look up. “Like what?”

“The chain.”

“It’s fine.” She looked back down at her book, turning the page.

“You are very determined not to care for me,” he said, and leaned slightly toward her, lifting his hand from where it rested on her calf. His fingers brushed the chain, light against the delicate line of it where it rested on her skin. “You don’t have to say it,” he murmured.

“Say what?”

His thumb traced along the chain, light against the delicate line of it where it rested on her skin before falling away. “That you like being my wife.”

“I endure it.”

Aerion exhaled faintly through his nose, something between amusement and resignation. His head lent back against the back of the couch, hand falling back to her leg. “If you were colder,” he said, almost idly, though there was something strained beneath it now, “it might be easier.”

Laena lowered her book slowly, her fingers resting against the edge of the page she was on. “Easier?” she asked.

“For me,” he said. Then, more plainly, “If you were cruel… if you pushed me away properly, I might be spared the inconvenience of wanting you at all.”

“Is it a burden?” she asked lightly, though her tone had softened despite herself.

His mouth curved faintly, but it did not reach his eyes. “Unrequited love tends to be.” A quiet, heavy feeling settled between them. The fire shifted. A log collapsed inward with a soft crack, sending a brief spray of sparks about the hearth.

She turned her head slightly, her gaze flicking toward him with faint curiosity. There was something in the way he looked at her now, less predatory. It made her uneasy and strangely bare. “Sometimes,” she said, her voice more thoughtful now, less guarded than before, “I think you are the only person who truly understands me.”

“Hm.” He mused curiously at the admission which slipped out before she could quite stop it. She stilled slightly, as though she might take it back. But she couldn’t.

“You look at me,” she continued, quieter now, her eyes not quite meeting his, “and I can tell you see more than I would like you to. More than I intend to show.” A faint, almost rueful breath escaped her.

He leaned slightly toward her, his voice low. His hand moved to tilt her chin just slightly, guiding her gaze fully to his. “You lie to everyone else,” he continued, his voice softer now, but no less certain. “You lie to yourself most of all.”

Her brows drew together faintly. “And what am I lying about?”

Aerion held her gaze unwavering and certain. “You love me.” Aerion’s thumb brushed lightly along the line of her jaw before his hand fell away.

Laena’s heart betrayed her first, a sharp, uneven rhythm she could feel in her throat, in her chest, in the space between them where he still held her gaze as though waiting for her to deny it. Laugh, deflect, retreat, she did none of those things.

She leaned forward, closed the space between them. Her hands came to rest lightly against his chest and then she kissed him. Long and tender, savouring the taste of him against her mouth. The kiss lingered long enough to say more than she would ever allow herself to speak aloud.

When she drew back, it was only by a fraction. Close enough that her breath still brushed his mouth. “There,” she murmured, a faint smile at the corner of her lips. “Do not say I give you nothing.”

For once Aerion was lost for words, his love for her taking root somewhere beneath his ribs. He moved his hand to settle at the nape of her neck.

“You are very cruel,” he said quietly. Her book slipped from her hand, forgotten as it fell to the floor with a soft thud.

Laena’s smile deepened, pleased with herself, a glint of mischief warming her expression. “I’ve learned from the best.”

Something in him gave way at her look, loosened like a tension he had been holding for far too long had finally found somewhere to go. He leaned in, not with the measured control he so often forced upon himself, but with something light, almost boyish in nature. His lips brushed her cheek once, twice, again. Remaining just a moment longer with each press of warmth against her skin.

“Aerion-“but the protest dissolved almost at once as he continued, his mouth grazing along the curve of her cheek, down toward her jaw, the touch soft but insistent. Unrestrained in a way that felt different to the sharp hunger she was used to from him. She startled beneath him.

“Stop-“she tried again, though there was laughter threating through her voice. He couldn’t stop himself; his hand held lightly at her neck only to keep her close as his lips found the sensitive place just beneath her ear.

She squirmed beneath him. All her icy resolve melted as a startled, bright laugh escaped her. “You’re-“ she gasped, twisting slightly as his lips brushed again at her neck “-impossible.“

Aerion huffed a quiet breath of amusement against her skin, stupidly pleased with the sounds she made. He had never heard her laugh like that, not for anyone. She tried to push at his shoulder, but there was no force in it, only a half-hearted resistance that dissolved into another breathless giggle as he continued his assault of unrelenting kisses.

“You’re ticklish,” he murmured, the discovery clearly delighting him.

“I am not-” she insisted, immediately betraying herself as she twisted again, laughter breaking through despite her best effort to contain it.

He leaned back only slightly, just enough to look at her properly. Her hair had loosened further, dark strands falling across her cheek. Her eyes were bright, her breath uneven, her carefully constructed poise nowhere to be found. It struck him then how rarely he was allowed to see her like this.

His hand remained at her waist now, steadying her as she settled again against the chaise, still catching her breath, a faint, disbelieving smile lingering at her lips. “You are dreadful,” she said through her smile.

“And yet,” he replied softly, brushing one last, fleeting kiss to the corner of her jaw, “you endure”

Laena exhaled, shaking her head faintly as she reached for her fallen book, though she did not open it again. They both settled back into the cushions, closer than before. Aerion was very pleased with the rare warmth between them; the echo of her laughter still lingered in the room.

I think when discussing OFA people will conflate OFA [The Superpower Wielded by OFA Users] and OFA [The Narrative Tool]. This is not necessarily incorrect and is an intentional writing choice to make the readers blend them together.

However, there is a tendency to not see how OFA is a narrative tool at all, and forgo it entirely as simply a superpower with purely superficial utility. However, we have several use cases to define "OFA" beyond the superpower.

Hey guys im new to human run, is this guy good?

If you need the background