#maekar

Muttering prayers he only half-heartedly believed in, Maekar rested the flats of his palms against the wall opposite your chambers, hanging his head between his shoulders and attempting to ground himself, but it was in vain. “Fuck me,” he groaned, and as though the curse had summoned an answer, the door slammed open behind him.

“She’s asking for you, my prince,” a young midwife called, and he made his own head spin with how quickly he complied, shoving the veiled woman aside and rushing inside the room.

The smell hit him first, and it made him as nauseous as the sight of you in pain—the Maester was burning herbs he did not recognize, and the smoke was permeating the whole room. In a similar position he had been in a second ago, you were leaning against a wall, your fingers curled until your nails were digging into the stone. All in the room fell silent as a deep, broken groan came from you, pulled out of your chest and tearing past your lips, a sound he had never heard from you.

“The baby is in the right position but she is struggling,” the Maester said. “I have tried to persuade her to be calmer, as it would help the delivery, but she is not keen on listening.”

“Fuck off,” came the instant reply, and Maekar would have laughed if he had not be so sick with worry.

“This is most peculiar, as is your presence, my prince,” the Maester continued. “The husband should not see this part of the birthing process.”

“Yes, well, fuck off, as my wife so eloquently said,” Maekar admonished. 

Uncaring for the man’s opinion, he rushed to your side under the concerned gazes of the midwives, but daren’t touch you. His hands hovered over your quivering frame for a moment before he reached for your temple and pulled your hair aside, uncovering your face. Flushed and wet with exertion, you glanced up at him with a wild look that took his breath away.

“I need air,” you gasped, and he sprung into action. 

“The cold will not help—” the Maester called, to which Maekar replied by a dismissive wave of his hand.

Once the windows had been opened and the smoke dissipated, it seemed your labored breathing calmed somewhat, but only for an instant, and soon you were toppling over once more, your lovely face contorting in pain. Maekar did not hesitate this time and you fell into his arms gladly, your fingers digging into his shoulders. 

Another roar of agony was heard, slightly muffled as you pressed your face into his chest, and he said nothing, holding onto you with all his might, hoping his presence would be enough to sustain you.

“Gods be good, do something instead of standing there!” Maekar called over the top of your head.

“She will not let any of us touch her,” another of the midwives explained, rather pained. “She has been calling only for you.”

“Then tell me what the fuck to do,” he replied behind gritted teeth. “And tell him to get out!” he added with a sharp nod towards the Maester, who gave a small bow and left despite the visibly displeased look on his face.

Once the door had closed again and the wave of agony had seemingly passed, Maekar guided you to your knees when you felt heavier in his grip. Your hands unclenched from his arms and you reached for your shift, which was soaked with sweat and something thicker that smelled like copper, and reminded him of the aftermath of battle.

Without needing a word, Maekar reached for the soiled garment and helped you pull it over your head, baring your entire body to his gaze and that of the midwives. He supposed modesty did not matter when such a matter as the birth of a new life was concerned. He threw the linen aside, caught by one of the nurses and quickly whisked away.

“Do you wish to lay down?” he asked, pressing a hesitant kiss to your forehead. The glare you gave him told him his suggestion had been ludicrous, but he was relieved to know your wits and spirit had not abandoned you. 

Kneeling on the patterned rug you knew would likely be ruined, your husband’s hovering hands over your finally bare skin, you felt as though you could breathe for the first time in hours. “It hurts,” you moaned pitifully to your husband, who was looking down at you with worry. 

“I know, my love,” he answered, then turned to the older midwife. “Tell me, what the fuck do I do?”

The woman hesitated, then reached for a glass bottle sitting on a nearby table. “Your hands,” she ordered, and he did not mind her directness. He presented his palms for her to pour the liquid—some sort of strong brandy, clear and acidic—and after coating his skin in it, wiped the wetness with a clean cloth she handed him. “Feel, between her—” the woman started, then cut herself off, and Maekar rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“I am quite familiar,” he retorted, to which you laughed, a broken, nearly ugly sound. 

Worry tended to make your husband vulgar and you had often found it endearing. It was a breath of fresh air much as the one coming from the open windows, and to your surprise, it grounded you. In-between the waves that tore your whole abdomen apart, only an ache subsided, and an intense pressure where Maekar was now pressing. His fingers were rough and his touch less gentle than the midwife’s, but the bewildered expression on his face was enough to distract you.

His wrinkles smoothed over, his eyes growing wide and darker in shock. A stand of stark white hair fell into his face, his mouth dropping open. “Is that the head?” he stammered, and this time it was you who wanted to roll your eyes. “Is that hair?” he continued, looking almost disgusted and you would have pushed him away in frustration if another wave wasn’t suddenly mounting. 

“Fuck,” you groaned, stretching the vowel, your head dropping back, and this time you allowed the young midwife to support it with a firm hand. “You are never touching me again!” you threatened, and it was clear to all what you meant. Maekar, in other circumstances, would have laughed.

“Give in to it, my lady,” the older woman instructed. “You must push or the babe will remain stuck.”

“I can’t,” you cried out, your fingers digging into your husband’s shoulder. “I can’t, Maekar, I can’t—”

No words came from him and you were grateful that he did not try to contradict you or encourage you with mindless praises. Instead he remained on his knees in front of you, one of his hands at the apex of your thighs, the other holding your shoulder with enough pressure for you to push back against. His touch grounded you, and as the burning wave crashed into you again, taking your senses and your words with it, some of your mind remained tethered to him. 

Maekar swallowed the bile rising in his throat when the hot mass he was holding in his hand shifted, and soon it seemed to slip forward, his palm suddenly filled with the familiar weight of a babe’s head. You cursed again and he welcomed it, muttering his own curses and encouragements under his breath, unaware of what he was saying, mesmerized by the sight of you and the feel of his child being born from your body.

All of a sudden your jerked forward, your head colliding with his upper arm and he felt the pinch of your teeth through the fabric of his sleeve. A howl, much like he imagined that of the dragons must have been, erupted from your chest, and he reached with his second hand, catching the small body that came from yours. 

Sobs tore through you as you felt yourself tear open, and you were surprised, looking down, to see that you were indeed not split into two—instead, your husband’s large, strong hands were holding a babe, its face scrunched and its eyes shut.

Silence fell over the two of you and you held your breaths, only gasping together when finally, the babe’s mouth dropped open and a piercing wail erupted in the room. Tears still streaming down your face, you laughed, your chest feeling lighter than it had in hours, at the sight of your child and the amazed look on Maekar’s face. It was as though he was seeing the Gods themselves, his own eyes glazed over with tears.

You could feel hands on your shoulders, wrapping something around you, perhaps a sheet, and words were being said in your ear, but you did not hear them. Instead the babe’s cries and your husband’s quiet gasps of joy filled your head. With a gentleness you had never seen or felt from him he pressed your child into your chest, your four hands cradling it to your skin. 

“What a marvel you are,” Maekar laughed, pressing a kiss to your brow, his beard uncomfortable against your sensitive skin. 

One of the settees was pushed closed and with the help of your husband and a nurse, you were hoisted onto it, your babe resting between your breasts, the first cries of life soon quieting.

Maekar thought it was the most marvellous sight a man could get to see in his entire life—forgotten were the glories of battle or the deferent bows of the realm, instead the meaning of life itself rested, curled and flushed, against his wife’s chest. 

“Congratulations, my prince,” the midwife announced. “You have a son.”

More laughter erupted from you, and you felt utterly ridiculous for how far from your mind the thought had been, pushed to the side by the sight of your husband welcoming your babe to the world into his own hands, and the dazed look on his face was almost enough to make you recant your earlier threat.

Pressing a kiss to your son’s head, you closed your eyes, feeling as though for once all was right with the world and the answers to everything you had ever wondered was right there, contained into soft skin and lovely coos. The midwife wiped him clean, and he flushed an even brighter pink under the gentle press of the wet linen—then and only then did you notice the pure white of his brows and of his thin hair.

Your laughter turned to a sob again, one of utter joy.

“He looks like you,” you wept, and Maekar’s lips quivered at your temple. “I meant what I said, however, you shall never sleep in my bed again.”

Maekar’s laugh was quieted by the press of your lips, tilting your head to find his mouth. His large hand came to cover his son’s body, the small back fitting perfectly into the crook of his palm, and he thought that it would be fine, were this his last experience with fatherhood. Seven was an auspicious number indeed.

Dividers by @/saradika. Not beta read.

A/N: I wrote this entire oneshot in one go, in less than an hour and a half, and I honestly have no idea where it came from. The idea just took hold of me and did not let go until the words were all on the page.

though rumors sprouted that aerion only became a bachelor because he angered his father, which seemed very plausible. you'd never met your future husband before the ceremony, and he was just as expected.

aerion rarely spared you a glance throughout the ceremony, and even when the two of you were forced to kiss, he pulled away immediately afterward, muttering curses beneath his breath, then he left the altar entirely.

maekar rolled his eyes at his son as he did it, then he glanced at you and nodded at aerion, as if he wanted you to follow. of course, you didn't, and maekar sneered and took your place behind aerion, yelling for the guests to move to the great hall for feasting.

even as your family greeted you during the feast, all you could think about was aerion, sitting beside you, wearing immaculately tailored red-and-black velvet, his fingers spinning marbles, face placid as he watched the guests dance.

you were still in your heavy, dornish wedding dress, sweat accumulating on your brow, your chest rising and falling with every breath as you tried to draw oxygen into your lungs.

"must you breathe like a fucking cow?" aerion spat out, turning to you abruptly as he slammed the marbles down, ignoring the way they rolled and crashed to the ground.

you gave aerion a minuscule glance, hand against your torso, heart speeding into a panicked beat. the last thing you needed in the moment was his childish temper. all eyes were on you, even when it seemed like they were not.

the people expected you to burst, act out, lose your ladyship, and that outcome was approaching faster than you wanted it to. instead, you would've liked your outburst to be in the comfort of your marriage bedchamber, beside aerion—unfortunately.

"my dress is tight, i'm beside a fucking child who is now my husband, and people keep whispering about my fucking breasts, so no, i can't." aerion recoiled at your words, his eyebrows raising, then he shrugged, "that is unfortunate." he glanced down at your breasts in the process, noticing how they were spilling from your corset.

when he was done examining you, he turned forward once more, leaving you to your devices. so, reaching behind yourself, you began pulling at the ties of your dress. by that point, air was whistling in and out of your mouth, and maekar was looking down the table, noticing your frantic movements, though your attempts were poor in there subtly.

"what the fuck is the issue?" maekar spat, tossing a piece of beef at aerion. it hit the prince on the cheek, and he glared at his father, "she can't breathe, and there's no need for you to throw shit!"

"then help her!" aerion rolled his eyes and turned to you, grabbing your arm to twist you in your chair. he began ripping at the laces of your corset, fingers wiggling.

"what a way to be subtle." you ignored his words, inhaling a deep, calming breath, then snatching the bottle of dornish wine off the table and pouring it into your cup.

"everything they say about you is true." you only said it to strike a nerve, and it worked, because aerion turned to you, lips curled into a sneer. "and what do they say about me, wife?"

"don't tell me you don't know, husband?" you matched his stare, noticing the way his hand curled into a fist, muscles working in his arm. aerion cleared his throat to draw your attention, "i care little for what the small folk think of me."

you grinned and shrugged, "it is the highborn too." aerion hummed and shook his head, though you could see his jaw in an ironclad clench. "that woman is whispering about you." he said, pointing lazily at a woman sitting at a table with a few ladies, noticeably highborn.

"women always whisper. you're lucky men immediately throw fists. that is if you can fight?" you rested your chin against your hand, watching aerion lazily, and he chuckled, as if the very thought of him not being able to fight was foolish, "of course i can fight."

"how well can you fight, prince? or are you just trying to impress me?" aerion leaned against the table, licking his lips, "i could show you."

you rolled your eyes, "men that hit their wives are weak." aerion scoffed, "that's not what i meant. i thought they said you were smart."

humming, you turned towards him, "what do you propose to show me you can fight?" aerion pointed at a man resting against the wall. he was watching the people dance, a cup of ale in his hand.

"that one." aerion began standing, but your eyes widened and you grabbed his arm, "you're going to beat that man? he's done nothing!" aerion pulled out of your grip and smirked, "i'm only meaning to prove you wrong." he continued pushing out of his seat, but you grabbed his arm once more.

aerion was strong enough to pull you with him, and before you knew it, you were wrapped around his torso, feet dragging, though he was heavily lifting you.

"this is foolish! how do you mean to prove the people wrong if you constantly show how cruel you are?" you spat it heavily, foot clamping down on his, and aerion winced, arms wrapped around your waist.

"i don't care about that." your only other thought was to wrap your arms around his neck. aerion was tugged down, hand lingering on your hip, and you pushed him further into the crowd, "just dance. it is your wedding day after all."

your lips whispered against aerion's ear, and he let out an annoyed sigh, melting in your grip and grabbing your hand, intending to dance. it was awkward at first, pressed against him so firmly, your dress dragging around you, but then, like unclenching fists, you relaxed.

cheek against aerion's chest, you were squeezing the ever living hells out of his hand. a breath exitted your lips, and your eyes closed, reveling in the steady beat of aerion's heart.

"you mean to distract me, but he's staring." aerion whispered. you glanced up at him, and he was grimacing, eyebrows furrowed as he watched behind you. when you looked, the man was watching.

"most people are watching." aerion glanced around and hummed, realizing that that was entirely true. his face relaxed, and he bit his lip, "they will think we are in love." you chuckled, "then they can speak on that instead of my breasts."

it seemed the crowd was muttering a common word by the time you broke out of your bubble with aerion. consummation.

the entire thought of consummation was something you'd thought about for years leading up to your marriage, and although you weren't necessarily nervous, you could see the gleam of annoyance in aerion's gaze.

he glanced down at you, face blank, then he pulled away entirely. back rigid with evidence of stress. maekar was standing when the two of you returned to the table, and it seemed he'd been losing his irritation throughout your dance with aerion.

"it is time to prepare for consummation." he didn't say much else, and as the crowd opened with knowing gazes, that's when the anxiousness set into your bones. aerion was lingering behind you as you walked and you could feel the heat radiating off of him and the steady burn of his eyes on the back of your head.

the inside of the marriage bedchamber was prepped perfectly for consummation: lit candles, pillows fluffed, sheets folded back, and your chambermaid, mary, waiting for you.

aerion split off to prepare for the consummation while you entered. mary immediately began removing your dress, her fingers quick and nimble. then she bathed you, tied your hair up nicely, applied lotions and oils, and helped you step into a silky shift that was entirely too scandalous.

your fingers couldn't stop shaking as you waited for aerion, and not because of the sex, but because you weren't as inexperienced as they expected you to be. all ladies were meant to lose their virginities during consummation, which then made it easy to prove the binding of the husband and wife and make sure the possibility of children was in the near future.

as you were sitting on the edge of the bed, picking at your nails, the door opened and aerion walked in. he was wearing a simple robe, face pulled into a glower. your chambermaid curtsied, but he didn't pay her any attention, immediately leering off to the decanter on the tea table and pouring a heavy bout of wine into a cup.

once mary left, aerion turned to you, and raised his glass mockingly, "cheers to you, wife." you rolled your eyes, watching him guzzle down the entire cup of wine. "are you meaning to get drunk, aerion?"

he shrugged, pouring another, then coming to sit on the bed. "no one ever said you can't be drunk during the consummation."

you eyed him silently, leaning against the pillows, "are you...a virgin?" aerion glanced at you, lips pulled into a frown, "no, i am not."

"then what is the issue?" aerion placed his cup on the nightstand then sighed, "i just don't want to do it. just like i didn't want to marry you."

"you are stubborn." you said matter-of-factly, climbing beneath the sheets. aerion nodded, "and i don't like being ordered around." aerion glanced at you—at the slopes of your hips and the softness of your belly. "you are...pretty." the flatness in his tone made you laugh, "i am not the problem is what you're saying."

he shook his head absentmindedly, "what will happen if i refuse?" you inhaled deeply, thankful for the large bed because it made it easy to avoid his touch. "your father will be angry. word will spread, people may riot, the council will denounce our marriage, we'll become pariahs, more so than before. they will no longer speak of my breasts, but aerion refusing to fuck his wife."

"that is rediculous." he went beneath the covers too and stared ahead at the fireplace, watching the rise and fall of the flames. "let's get it over with then, yes?" you glanced at him and aerion watched you for a second before he nodded, beginning to undo the ties of his robe while you slipped down the bed, knees raised.

you stared at the canopy of the bed, hearing aerion shuffle around before he entered your vision, hands near your head. he was naked, pale chest covered in dark moles and a white brush of hair leading down to his groin. your eyes stopped there, and slid back up to his face.

aerion's lips were puckered, eyebrows furrowed, and he pointed at your chest, "i need something to—" you rolled your eyes, pulling up your shift to reveal your breasts. aerion was silent for a moment, admiring you, but then he nodded stiffly and leaned back, grabbing your thighs.

"i think—" you shook your head, "don't say anything, please." he scoffed, rubbing his dick against your entrance. you were wet enough for him to slip in, but pressure and pain built, and you let out a moan of pain, eyes closing.

"aren't you supposed to bleed?" aerion's voice was clouded with pleasure as he thrust into you. your pain had subsided into mild satisfaction, but it wasn't nearly what you needed to orgasm.

"aerion—" "women bleed when you take their virginity!" he paused, glaring at you, and you sighed, tugging your shift back down and shoving him off of you, "women don't always bleed!"

"oh fucking please! you aren't a virgin are you?" he watched you, awaiting an answer, and you crossed your arms tenaciously, "no, but does it really matter?"

aerion grabbed your arm, "they need confirmation, wife! without the fucking blood, we're as good as fucking dead." you rolled your eyes at his dramatics, "i can still have babes! the blood is the least of our worries."

aerion threw the covers off of himself and stood, ignoring his stark nakedness. "we can worry about the fucking babes later. now, we need blood. is there a blade here?" aerion rummaged through the drawers and you blushed, watching the clench and squeeze of his ass.

he was harder than a rock and leaking precum, and you felt slightly guilty that you'd given him a boner and he couldn't fulfill it properly.

the prince returned a second later with the stake from the fireplace, clenching it tightly as he raised it to his wrist. "you fucking owe me after this, yeah?" you ignored his words, snatching the stake and raising it to your own wrist, "no, you owe me."

aerion glared at you and took the stake, then shoved you aside, causing you to almost fall off of the bed. then he sliced his wrist, and spilt a few drops onto the sheets. when he thought it was enough, he raised his wrist to his mouth.

your heart spiked when the blood dribbled over his lip, staining his pale skin red. and aerion watched you the entire time. "stop staring." you glanced away and motioned to his dick, "what will you do about that?"

aerion climbed back onto the bed, lips red, "it'll fix itself." you raised your eyebrow, arm brushing his as the two of you lied down, "will it?"

‎ꫂ᭪݁

the next morning, mary came to collect the sheets. you were tired from a night in the same bed as aerion. he was terrible in his sleep; moved constantly, muttered words as he dreamt, and couldn't keep his hands off of you, as if you were his personal stuffed animal.

"do you think they'll suspect?" aerion questioned after getting dressed, and you shrugged, "blood is blood, aerion." you were quite surprised at his anxiety when it came to the consummation. maybe your words of wisdom placed fear into his heart, and rightfully so.

"what will you do today?" you questioned in the hall outside the marriage bedchamber. aerion hummed, hand placed on his head. "terrorize someone. you?"

"sit with my ladies in waiting in the drawing room." aerion stayed by your side as you walked, his hands stuffed within his pockets. "and what do ladies in waiting do?" you shrugged honestly, "we talk and gossip and sew." aerion smacked his lips, "that sounds dull."

"it is very dull."

"then i shall come along and see what ladies speak about." you were surprised at his interest, but you assumed it was his lack of things to do that compelled him to sit with you.

you had three ladies in waiting, vanessa, june, and daisy, who accompanied you from sunspear to kings landing, meant to be your companions. they weren't necessarily your friends, but it gave you women to speak to consistently, and because they were in your service, they were forbidden from spreading gossip.

aerion sat in the far corner, staring out of the window, while you sat at the tea table within the drawing room. you wanted to sneak wine into your tea and perhaps brighten up the day, but instead, you were sewing.

vanessa was to your right, june to your left and daisy across from you. you could see aerion directly behind daisy and he was examining his dagger and speaking to a kingsguard near the door.

"how is married life?" vanessa asked and you shrugged honestly, "it has only been one day. there is little i can say about a man i just met." june nodded in agreement, "i'm sure he's...polite." you chuckled at her attempt to be gentle, "he isn't polite, but he also isn't as cruel as i expected."

the ladies nodded, humming, while you took a sip of your tea, eyes finding aerion. he was stadning now and throwing false punches at the guard, who was looking increasingly panicked, though aerion only seemed to be playing, but then he sat and continued staring out the window.

"and what of the consummation? we only have daisy's story, and it was quite boring." said june, who ignored daisy's scoff. you didn't answer immediately, hand pressing to your belly absentmindedly, and vanessa gasped, "are you already pregnant?"

that drew aerion's eyes, and he glared at you.

"no, no, i'm not pregnant. i was—" june spoke next, "the consummation was well then?" you wanted to snap at them for assuming and interrupting, but all you could focus on was aerion mouthing things at you.

"all hells—say yes!"

"...yes, it was well." none of the women knew you'd had sex before then, and it wasn't something you planned on telling them anyway. "then how was it? sex with the prince i mean." vanessa watched you with excited eyes and you chuckled anxiously.

"it was...nice. hurt a little at first then..." you trailed off, noticing that aerion was watching expectantly, a tiny little smirk on his lips as if he'd actually done something.

"actually, aerion was a little impotent. barely performed." your ladies gasped, each glancing back at aerion as they giggled. the prince's face burst with anger, and he shot out of his seat and approached you, "she's lying. i was fucking perfect."

"then why is there no evidence?" daisy asked, eyebrows raised innocently, and aerion stuttered, mouth agape, "what evidence?"

"love bites? bruises?" aerion glanced at you, then your clean, clear neck and he spat out a curse, snatching daisy's embroidery and pulling the ends of the thread, ruining a couple of hours' worth of work.

you sighed as aerion smirked proudly at her and daisy frowned heavily, head sagging. "that was cruel, husband."

"you know very well what i am." he leaned down to your ear, "and i don't like your fucking lying." the whisper of his breath against your ear made you shiver, and you blushed then turned away entirely. "we will speak of it later."

‎ꫂ᭪݁

a month after the marriage, the targaryen's were hosting a joust in your honor, meant to welcome you to kings landing as the newest member of their family.

you were sitting beneath the royal pavilion, valarr and daeron were to your sides, while maekar and baelor were behind you. and although you and your in laws were cordial, you had no desire to have long conversations with them and neither did they.

aerion was the bridge between the gap, and because he was participating in the joust, there was no one to clue you in on family conversations that almost always referred to incidents that took place before your arrival in king's landing.

though you didn't mind it. besides, it gave you time to watch aerion. for the past month of your marriage, the two of you had slept with miles between you, and not for any particular reason—unless you count the words shared with your ladies-in-waiting.

he was polite to you—brought you meals when you didn't want to eat with the others, requested your baths be warm after the sun set, didn't order you or even touch you unless you asked, which you hadn't.

that was another source of stress for you: the lack of sex. you didn't think it'd be so hard to ask for sex, but you didn't know how to go about it, especially after the consummation. so you didn't say anything at all, though every morning that you saw aerion shirtless, with bed head, the desire grew larger and larger.

aerion was sitting atop his pitch-black horse, speaking to a kingsguard as he awaited the joust to start. you had your veil in your lap, meant to be given to aerion as your favor, to grant him luck within the joust.

it was wrapped around your arm, the main source of your anxiety, mainly because all eyes were on you. attention was something you were used to as a princess, but the smallfolk in king's landing were different. they spoke proudly and bravely, and because of the wedding, you were the source of gossip within the city.

"he will do something stupid." valarr said, leaning towards you. you gave him a nod, grinning, "i've only known him a month, and i'm sure of it." valarr ran a hand through his hair and sighed, "he is...complicated."

humming you turned to him entirely, eyes leaving aerion, "complicated how? i think our versions of complicated are vastly different." valarr shrugged honestly, "he's always been cruel."

"and he hasn't been cruel...to me." valarr watched you for a moment, "you just made my cousin much more complicated." you rolled your eyes politely and sighed, though as soon as you did, there was a man lingering in front of the pavilion.

you glanced down at him, wondering what his purpose was, but he bowed, ignoring the kingsguard as they kept him a safe distance away. "princess targaryen, is it fair if i ask for your favor?" your inlaws paused, and every seemed to take a deep breath.

"what a stupid man." maekar muttered, shaking his head.

you squeezed the armrests of your chair, mouth opening as you shook your head, "ser, that is improper—" aerion was approaching, eyebrows raised as he led his horse behind him.

your heart spiked as your body sagged, glancing away from the entire ordeal as you saw aerion grab the mans shoulder, "why are you speaking to my wife?" he said it oddly calm, face placid, though you could see his foot tapping against the ground anxiously.

the foolish knight turned to aerion and wiped his forehead free of sweat, "i only mean to—"

"ask for my wife's favor? what makes you think i'm not entitled to it?" aerion shoved his horse's lead into a guard's hands, then he placed his hands on his hips, head tilted curiously.

"aerion, the fool meant nothing by it." baelor spat out, annoyed, standing. maekar didn't bother, throwing hard candies into his mouth, eyebrows raised, though there was a sneer on his lips.

"no, no, uncle. how would you react if a fucking man asked for your wife's favor?" aerion glanced at baelor, turning his body towards the pavilion. the knight relaxed entirely and began stepping away, but suddenly, aerion spun around and clocked him directly in the jaw.

you could hear bone colliding with bone as the spectators gasped. baelor sat, hopeless, while maekar was yelling at the kingsguards to grab aerion before he beat the man to death.

blood sprouted from the knight's nose as aerion continued hitting him, and aerion jaw was clenched firmly as he shook off the guards, hands wrapping around the knight's throat.

"not so complicated during these moments." valarr mumbled, and you nodded your head in agreement, finally pushing to your feet and calling aerions name.

"aerion, you can't dirty my veil with blood, so you might as well stop now." the prince froze long enough for the guards to finally get a hold of him, and he glanced at you, palms raised, "too late."

the valyrian steel band around his finger shone in the sunlight and you called his name once more. aerion ordered the guards off of him, then he approached the pavilion, staring up at you, "you expect me to not be fucking pissed? who does that?" aerion ran a hand through his hair, and you nodded placantingly.

"yes, but—" aerion opened his mouth to interrupt you, but you gave him a look, and he sighed, allowing you to continue, "your violence will consume you one day, lest you stop now." aerion reached up and grabbed your hand, giving it a tiny squeeze, before he turned around and grabbed his horse.

you just hoped your words didn't go in one ear and out the other.

that night, you and aerion lied silently in bed. you'd been freshly bathed and oiled, your hair tied away, thumbs twiddling as you stared up at the bed's canopy.

"and what do the people say now? i hope there's no more talk of your breasts." aerion muttered suddenly, and you turned to him, "my ladies say the people think of you just the same as they usually do. enough to forget about my breasts at least."

aerion nodded, licking his lips and sighing, "that man will be fine." you scoffed, "no he won't. you broke his jaw." aerion's eyes squinted, "he will be fine."

you ignored his words and twisted onto your side, deciding you were ready to sleep, but the bed shifted, and aerion was hovering over you, elbow resting against the pillow.

"are you cross with me?"

"you have a ton of questions, and why do you suddenly care what i think?" you matched his gaze with a childish frown on your lips, and aerion chuckled, "i thought husbands cared for their wives thoughts."

you scoffed, "you've got it all wrong aerion. husbands beat their wives and tell them to never speak and use them as sex toys." aerion hummed, "is that what you want? for me to use you each night and bruise you so strategically that no one will know? because it is surely possible."

the thought made your skin buzz with subtle fear, and after a moment, you shook your head, "no."

you still had no clue why aerion had a sense of care over you, and why he wasn't the type to treat his wife like trash, but you were thoroughly grateful, but that wasn't the issue at hand.

"there's something else." he said matter-of-factly, collapsing back onto the bed, though his arm was brushing your spine. the cold sole of your feet pressed against his ankle, and you sighed, "there is something else."

when you didn't clue him in, aerion glared at you, "and what is it?"

you turned to your back, hands resting against your belly. your arm was over the top of aerion's, and each time he picked at his pants, the hair on his arm would rub against you, making you prickly with goosebumps.

"do you have a lover?" he was silent for a moment, then he glanced at you, sneering in confusion, "no i don't have a fucking lover. what are you on about?"

"you don't kiss me, you don't fuck me, you don't even spend time with me." aerion recoiled away from you and stood entirely, "don't tell me you're hurt."

you scoffed, tugging the covers above your head, "i'm not hurt, i'm confused."

"i can not read your mind, wife. if you want kisses and dates and sex, then you must tell me!" he was entirely irritated, and you could tell there was a sense of disappointment in himself because he didn't fulfill your needs to your liking.

you peeked at aerion, and found him leaning against the post of the bed, hand against his head. "do you even want those things?" the miniscule tone of your voice made aerion soften entirely, and he sighed, "yes."

there was a red blush covering his cheeks, and you refused a smile, peeling back the covers to welcome him. aerion took up your offer and stared at the canopy, pale lashes fluttering as he blinked.

"after the consummation, i thought this was just... an arrangement." he muttered, "and each time i tried to please you, you didn't say anything." timidity was never something you thought you'd see with aerion, but it warmed your heart.

"i didn't know how to react."

he shook his head, "that is a poor excuse." you rolled your eyes, twisting onto your side, back to him, "it is the truth, aerion." a few seconds passed, but then he curled around you, legs tangling with yours.

"do you want to have sex now?" he said, and you nodded, "a little, yes." aerion tugged your shift up slowly, then pressed his clothed dick against you, which was unsurprisingly already hard.

"i have thought about you, a lot." the rumble of his voice in your ear was enough to have you gushing, eyes closed as you relaxed.

"when?" aerion pushed through your folds, nails digging into the soft skin of your hip, "in the morning mostly. when you undress in the bathing room. i could see you—fuck—every inch of you." he began pushing into you, lips locked around the skin on your neck, leaving a purple bruise that multiplied as he focused on another inch of you.

you body was buzzing with pleasure, inhaling every scent of aerion—his hair, his sweat, his musk, everything. something about him made your body want to burst like a firework.

he knew exactly what to do too, fingers pinching at your nipples, tongue working at your skin, all the while he thrusted into you, slow at first until he was fully hilted.

the pressure built, but at his first thrust, the pleasure overtook your body entirely. you reached back and fisted aerion's hair, delighting in his rough moans. his front kissed your back each time he pushed into you, and when you grabbed his hand and placed it on your clit, aerion began to flick dutifully.

"your ladies won't know what happened to you." aerion muttered, forehead on the curve of your spine. you chuckled at his words, grabbing his arm and pulling it tighter around your body.

"i'll be pregnant in a fortnight if you continue on like this." you muttered when you felt him tighten and release inside of you, warm with his cum. your thighs were trembling as your orgasm grew, piquing each time he rutted into you.

"what if i want you pregnant?" aerion sucked on your earlobe, smirking when you came, every muscle in your body releasing with a spasm. you inhaled deeply and let out a moan, "you don't want me pregnant, aerion. you want to have fun as long as possible, without the children."

he hummed, nodding, "you know me better than expected." aerion suddenly flipped you onto your belly, hands pressing into your back as he slammed into you.

your ears were ringing, cheek pressed into the pillow, but all you could think to do was moan. "i'll need moon tea." you muttered, and aerion nodded, pushing into you one last time before he came.

his mouth was agape, eyelids squeezed tightly shut, and when he fell on top of you, neither of you bothered to move. "i'll make it myself, yes?"

𝑆𝐸𝑅 𝐷𝑈𝑁𝐶𝐴𝑁

・He has heard it all. Well, Dunk thought he had.

・But as he sat on a chair, eating his duck, he overheard a group of men laughing heartily.

・He ignored the noise ... until ...

"The fairer sex is called so for a reason, brothers, They should know their place; feeding the family, cleaning the home and raising the children. It's what they can handle."

・Dunk's lips formed an 'O', and he looked around the inn to see if anyone else heard.

・It had been a difficult day today, the heat had scorched down on Dunk and Egg, and his squire was asleep in their shared room.

・It's good because Egg shouldn't be apart of this conversation.

"Why would you say a thing like that?"

・Dunk's voice was more than exasperated. He was angry.

"What's that, man?" One of the group spoke back.

"Your comments are rude, and not all women are the same."

"Defender of women, aye?" The group laughed.

・The old Dunk would have kept his head down. But he was a knight now, and he must defend those who cannot defend themselves.

"I honestly just want you to shut your mouth-"

・One of the men stood up, and walked over. Trying to be intimidating.

・And then Dunk stood, and closed the distance.

・The man barely met Dunk's shoulder.

𝐿𝑌𝑂𝑁𝐸𝐿

・He was sitting in his tent, surrounded by the men loyal to his House.

・His crown sat atop his head, but these men did not care that royalty was present.

・The drink had loosened lips and manners had vanished

"The woman always talks back! I don't know what to do!" A man that Lyonel had just met mere hours ago, was now ranting.

・And he definitely did not understand what was happening

"You think 'talking back' is hard. How about getting women to shut up!"

・Lyonel choked on his wine.

"Pardon!" He spluttered, looking at the men with an incredulous look.

"Ser?" One of the men said, and started to hit his back.

"Oh! I'm not choking, I'm horrified!"

・The men went quiet. Taking small sips of their goblets, and not making eye contact.

"Do you not love your wives? What have they done to be spoken about with so much ill - will?

・The men nodded and grunted.

・They didn't ay anything the rest of the night.

𝐵𝐴𝐸𝐿𝑂𝑅

・He had heard men talk all day, the small council was taxing but he soldiered through.

・But as he walked into the Throne room, those attending were all men.

"I'm glad I don't have to see her today,-" a man in brown said. A golden chain around his neck with large gems next to one another.

"Who? The wife?" the man next to him said.

"Of course, who else?"

・The pair snickered.

・Another man, in his late 40s, chimed in.

"They don't get any better as they age, my lords."

・He got quite a few nods.

・There were around thirty noblemen in the room. All standing next to one another, waiting for the King.

・What they hadn't expected was the heir to address them.

"My lords, I -" His voice was a tad shaky. But he remembered that you were waiting for him in your shared chambers. "My lords, may I remind you that these women you talk about, love you? They cherish you, they've given you heirs, and sat by your side. Are you not embarrassed by your words?"

・No lord stood against Baelor, knowing that it was a mute point now.

"Now, let us get on with the issue at hand-" Baelor said. And the men were all too happy to focus on anything else.

𝑀𝐴𝐸𝐾𝐴𝑅

・The training yard was full of sweating men and their squires.

・Maekar had been there for a few hours already, not wanting to get caught up in the crowds that watch on.

・He also wanted to avoid any kind of attention.

・However, a confrontation was looming.

'Do you think he's going straight to her? She isn't all that pretty, nor smart. Out of anyone to marry-"

"Who do you speak of."

・Maekar stood in front of the man, hankerchief in one hand as he wiped the sweat from his face.

"N-no one, my prince," he was in his early thirties, talking to his friend next to him.

"No one?" Maekar stood closer, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

・The man nodded and Maekar sneered. He crept forward until the pair were face to face, sharing breath.