#malereader

Your mouth is on hers, hungry, demanding, swallowing the soft gasp that escapes her lips. Your tongue pushes past her teeth, claiming her, tasting her, making her whimper into your mouth. Fuck, she tastes good—like the wine from dinner and something sweeter, something that's just her.

You don't know how it got to this.

But does it even matter at this point?

Winter is beneath you, wide-eyed, breath uneven, her body already betraying her. The cabin air is thick with the scent of pine and summer heat, but all you can focus on is her—how she's splayed out beneath you on the bed, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from your kisses, parted like she's about to say something but keeps swallowing the words before they can form. Her body is warm, soft where you hold her, a contrast to the sharp tension crackling between you both, something unspoken but undeniable.

Your sister is just down the hall.

Your parents are in the next room over, sleeping, completely unaware of what's happening—what's about to happen. The thought should stop you. It should make you hesitate, reconsider, anything.

It doesn't. It just makes your cock harder, the forbidden nature of it all making your blood run hotter.

Her messy bun is coming undone, strands of blonde slipping loose around her face, framing the flush creeping up her cheeks. Her pendant—the tiny, delicate one she never takes off—catches the moonlight from the window, rising and falling with every uneven breath. The long sleeves of her shirt are pushed up, bunched at her elbows, fabric soft and slightly wrinkled from where your hands have gripped at her.

You slide your hands up her sides, pushing her shirt up to reveal the taut skin of her abdomen. She shivers as the cool air hits her exposed flesh, muscles flexing beneath your touch. You can't tear your eyes away from how her stomach tightens with each ragged breath, the way her ribs show just slightly beneath soft skin. She flinches, a half-hearted attempt to cover herself, but you pin her wrists above her head with one hand.

"Let me look at you," you growl, and she bites her lip, torn between wanting to hide and wanting to be seen.

"We really shouldn't," she whispers, but her back arches subtly, her body contradicting her words. "What if someone hears?"

You push the shirt higher until her bra is exposed—simple, cotton, nothing fancy, but the way her tits strain against the fabric makes your mouth water. You can see her nipples hardening, pressing against the thin material. You lower your head, dragging your tongue across one peak through the fabric, feeling it tighten further. She arches into your mouth, a choked sound escaping her lips.

"Shhh," you warn, your free hand sliding down between her legs where she's completely bare and already dripping. "You gotta be quiet, baby."

"Oh god," she whimpers, trying to press her thighs together but failing against your strength. "You're so much bigger than I thought you'd be."

Your cock presses against her entrance, heavy, throbbing. Just the tip, nothing more—just enough to feel the way she's slick, hot, inviting. You can barely breathe from how much you want her, from how close you are to ruining this moment, this fragile hesitation that's keeping her from pushing you away.

She whispers, "We shouldn't." Her voice breaks on the second word, trembling with both desire and doubt. "We can't. It's wrong."

Her body doesn't pull back, but her eyes dart nervously toward the door. Her hips stay tilted just so, thighs trembling as if they're fighting to close but can't bring themselves to do it. If anyone wakes up, if someone hears, this doesn't just become a mistake—it becomes something you can't take back.

"You're so fucking wet," you murmur against her ear, your fingers sliding through her folds, gathering her slick before bringing it to your mouth. You suck your fingers clean, watching her eyes widen at the obscene display. "Taste so good I could eat you for hours."

"No, don't," she protests weakly, but her hips betray her, rocking against your hand. "That's so filthy." Yet her breath catches, her voice dropping to a desperate whisper. "But I need it."

Your voice drops lower, teasing, thick with a promise you both know you won't keep. "It's okay. Just the tip."

A flicker of hesitation. A sharp inhale. Her hands flutter against your grip, testing your hold. But she doesn't say no.

You press forward just a little, and the second your cock pushes past her entrance, her entire body tightens beneath you. She's so fucking tight, her cunt stretching around you in slow, pulsing resistance before yielding, letting you sink just that much deeper. You both gasp, sharp and shallow. Her nails dig into your arm, her fingers curling, but she doesn't push you away—doesn't tell you to stop.

"It's too big," she whines, her head thrashing slightly on the pillow. "I can't—you won't fit. Oh god, you're stretching me so much."

Her breath catches in her throat, a whimper that she tries to swallow down, but you hear it anyway. Feel it, in the way her thighs tremble beneath your hands—bare, smooth, but not completely.

She's shaved, but there's a faint prickle under your palm, the softest roughness just beginning to grow back. It's subtle, just enough to feel, just enough to remind you that this is real, that she's real, naked beneath you, trembling, wet.

"Your pussy's so tight," you whisper, and her eyes roll back slightly at your words. Her pendant shifts against her collarbone as she swallows hard. "Been thinking about fucking you for so long."

"We shouldn't," she says again, more desperate now. "We can't do this. We—" but her words dissolve into a soft moan as you push in another inch. "Oh fuck, you're going to ruin me."

You bring your fingers to her throat, thumb brushing against the delicate skin there. Not squeezing. Not yet. Just a warning. A reminder that she can stop this at any moment.

She doesn't.

"This is wrong," she whispers, but her body arches into your touch, contradicting her words. Her pussy clenches around your tip, like she's trying to pull you deeper. "But I need it so bad. Need you inside me."

Her thighs tense, muscles fluttering beneath your grip. But you keep her pinned down, spread open, locked in place beneath you. The pendant around her neck dangles slightly, catching the dim cabin light, shifting with every shallow breath she takes.

"Just the tip," you murmur again, voice thick, coaxing.

But you both know that's a lie.

She shifts—just a little, a reflex, a reaction—but it's enough. Enough for your cock to slide in another inch, enough for the tight heat of her to wrap around you just a little more, enough for both of you to feel the moment restraint snaps and neither of you can turn back.

She's dripping, soaking you, slick gathering at the base of your cock where you've barely even pushed in. Your length drags against her folds, spreading the warmth of her arousal, and fuck, she's so wet you can feel it running down your balls, making everything that much harder to control.

"Fuck…" she breathes, the word slipping out on a strangled gasp, barely audible. She bites down on her lip, hard, as if that will stop another sound from escaping. As if it will stop the truth from settling between you.

"Tell me to stop."

The words hang in the thick air, heavy, offering an out she won't take.

Silence. Then, almost imperceptibly, she shakes her head. "Don't stop," she whispers, the admission clearly costing her. Her fingers clutch at your arms, digging in, anchoring herself to you. "I need it. Need you to fill me up."

You exhale slowly, press her thighs down against her body, locking her in place, keeping her open for you. You can see where your cock is splitting her open, stretching her tight little pussy, and the sight almost makes you lose it right there.

But for a moment, everything slows down. You slide your hand up to cup her cheek instead. Her skin is flushed hot against your palm. You hold her there, making her look at you, forcing her to meet your gaze as you hover above her. Your eyes lock, and something passes between you—something raw and honest that strips away all pretense. Her pupils are blown wide, leaving just a thin ring of color, and you can see everything in them—the want, the fear, the surrender.

"Winter," you whisper, just her name, nothing more. Your thumb traces her bottom lip, still swollen from your kisses. She trembles beneath your touch, vulnerable in a way that has nothing to do with being naked.

"I shouldn't want this," she confesses, voice so quiet you almost don't hear it. "But I do. I want it so much. Want you inside me. Want you to cum in me."

Her lashes flutter, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. You move your hand back to her throat, just enough pressure to make her gasp, just enough to watch her lips part in something between a plea and surrender. Her pulse flutters against your palm, frantic, but she doesn't try to stop you. The pendant at her throat taps against your wrist with every thundering heartbeat.

The fabric of her long-sleeve shirt is bunched at her wrists now, twisted from where she's been gripping the sheets, knuckles white. Your hand leaves her throat to slide between your bodies, finding her clit with your thumb, circling the swollen bud.

"You knew this was gonna happen."

Her lips part again, and this time, she doesn't argue.

The moment you bottom out, it's over.

Winter's hands fly to your wrist, nails sinking deep into your skin, not to push you away but to hold on, to ground herself against the overwhelming stretch of you inside her. She's gasping, barely breathing, each ragged inhale broken by the weight of your grip around her throat. Her pulse thrums beneath your fingers, frantic, erratic, like a trapped bird.

"Oh god," she cries out, too loud in the quiet cabin. "You're too big. You're stretching me too much."

"You can take it," you murmur, voice thick with lust, pressing deeper, grinding your hips down until she whimpers. Her pussy stretches around you, tight and slick, gripping your cock like it was made for you. Her body trembles beneath you, chest rising unevenly, legs twitching where you've pinned them open. "Fuck, you're taking my cock so well."

"Please," she begs, though what she's begging for isn't clear even to her. Her hands push weakly against your chest, but her hips keep rocking, seeking more. "It hurts but don't stop, please don't stop."

Your free hand slides up her body, finding her breast through the thin fabric of her shirt. You can feel her nipple harden under your palm as you squeeze, rough enough to make her gasp. The cotton barrier is frustrating, but there's something filthy about having her half-dressed like this, completely bare from the waist down, cock buried deep while her shirt still clings to her upper body.

"Should've torn this off you," you growl, bunching the fabric of her shirt in your fist, tugging it up to expose more of her. "Wanna see these tits bounce while I fuck you."

"No, someone might see," she protests, even as she arches her back, pressing her breast more firmly into your hand. "Someone might hear us."

The bed creaks. You freeze.

Your sister is asleep just down the hall. Your parents are in the next room. If anyone hears—

But then Winter clenches around you, fluttering, pulsing, already too fucked out to care. Her walls squeeze so tight it's dizzying, the slick heat of her drawing you in, making it impossible to think about anything else. Her eyes are glazed over, lips parted, cheeks flushed with a mix of shame and pleasure she can't hide.

You loosen your grip on her throat, letting her take in a desperate gulp of air—only to tighten your fingers again the moment a sound escapes her lips. A muffled moan, cut off as her lashes flutter, as her body jolts beneath you. The sight of her struggling for breath, completely at your mercy, makes your cock throb inside her.

"Shhh." Your warning comes with a twist of your hips that makes her eyes roll back.

She nods frantically, eyes wet with unshed tears, body twitching in your grip, obedient even as she shakes. A whimper escapes her, too loud in the quiet room, and she slaps her own hand over her mouth, biting down on her fingers to keep quiet.

"I can't be quiet," she whispers desperately against her fingers. "It feels too good. You're too deep."

You pull her hand away, replacing it with two of your own fingers, pushing them between her lips. "Suck," you command in a harsh whisper. She obeys immediately, tongue swirling around your digits, eyes locked on yours as she hollows her cheeks. It's obscene, the way her mouth works around your fingers while her pussy grips your cock. You push them deeper, making her take them to the knuckle, watching her throat work as she struggles not to gag.

"Such a dirty girl," you whisper. "Acting all innocent then taking my cock like you were made for it."

You don't slow down. If anything, you make it worse for her—slow, deep thrusts, dragging every inch through the mess between her thighs, keeping her on edge, making sure she feels every second of it. You can feel your cock dragging against that spot inside her that makes her whole body jerk.

She reaches for you suddenly, hands clutching at your shoulders, nails digging in as she pulls you closer. Her legs wrap around your waist, changing the angle, taking you even deeper. The new position has you hitting something that makes her bite down hard on your fingers, her body shuddering beneath you.

You pull your fingers from her mouth, tracing the wet digits down her chin, her throat, between her breasts, leaving a glistening trail on her skin. "You like that?" you ask, adjusting your hips again, making sure to hit that same spot. "Right there?"

"Yes," she admits shamefully, her resistance crumbling. "Fuck me harder. Please. I need it deeper."

She nods frantically, eyes wide, desperate. Her hands move to your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you down until your foreheads touch. You're sharing breath now, mouths close enough to kiss but not quite touching. You can feel every gasp, every whimper.

"I shouldn't want this," she confesses in a broken whisper. "Shouldn't want your cum. Shouldn't want you to knock me up. But I do. I want it so fucking bad."

The intimacy of it almost breaks you. You pull back slightly, shifting your attention to where your bodies join. You hook one of her legs over your arm, opening her wider, changing the angle again. The sight of your cock disappearing into her, slick and glistening with her arousal, has you transfixed.

"Look at how well you take me," you say, voice strained, slowing your pace to make her feel every inch. "So fucking perfect."

"It's too much," she whines, even as her hips chase yours. "Too big. You're ruining me for anyone else."

She's too sensitive, too overwhelmed, but you don't stop. She's past the point of being able to resist, past the point of pulling away. Her pussy is making obscene wet sounds with every thrust, so fucking soaked that it's running down the curve of her ass, staining the sheets beneath you both.

Your thumb finds her clit, swollen and slippery, and the moment you touch it, her whole body jerks like she's been shocked. You circle it slowly, deliberately, feeling how it pulses under your touch.

"Please," she whispers, the word barely audible, her first real plea since this started. You're not sure if she's begging you to stop or continue, and you don't care. You press down harder on her clit, rubbing faster, matching the rhythm of your thrusts.

"God—" she breathes, barely able to form words, her mouth struggling to work. "It's so—so deep. Your cock is so big. I can feel you in my stomach." Her voice is like crushed velvet, hushed and broken. Her pendant swings with each thrust, catching the light in hypnotic flashes.

Her hands grip your arms now, holding on for stability as you pick up the pace. The rhythm changes from slow and deep to something more urgent, more primal. Her breathing quickens, shallow and ragged, little puffs of air against your face.

"I can't—" she gasps, her words cut off by a particularly deep thrust. "I'm getting close." The admission is almost shameful, whispered like a secret against your neck. "Please, I need to cum on your cock."

You press her thighs wider, holding them open with bruising force. The position lets you watch everything—the way her stomach tenses with each thrust, how her breasts bounce slightly beneath her shirt, the way your cock stretches her open, the slick mess of her arousal coating both of you.

"I said just the tip," you taunt, voice rough with exertion, with need. "Look at you now. Taking every fucking inch."

"I know," she whimpers, shame and arousal mixing in her voice. "I'm such a slut for you. Can't help it. Need your cock so bad."

Her whimpers turn into silent screams, mouth open, lips trembling, thighs quivering beneath your grip. She's too far gone, helpless to stop what's coming, unable to do anything but take it. Your fingers are soaked with her arousal as you work her clit, switching between gentle circles and firm pressure, watching how each touch makes her react differently.

She's so close. You can feel it in the way her pussy tightens around you, in the desperate, broken sounds she's trying not to make. Her breathing becomes erratic, shallow, her entire body tensing beneath you.

"I'm gonna cum," she whimpers, the words barely audible. "Please, please don't stop. Fill me up. Want your cum so bad. Want you to breed me." Her confession makes your cock throb, the desperation in her voice pushing you closer to your own edge.

She grabs your wrist where you're working her clit, not to stop you but to press your fingers harder against her. Her eyes are pleading, desperate, silently begging for release. You give her what she wants, increasing the pressure, circling faster, feeling her body wind tighter and tighter.

"Gonna fill this tight little pussy," you whisper against her ear, biting down on her earlobe. "Gonna pump you so full you'll feel me for days. Put a baby in you."

The words make her clench around you again, her pussy gripping your cock like she's trying to milk it. She's right on the edge, teetering, about to break. Her nails dig into your back, dragging down, marking you as thoroughly as you're marking her.

"Cum for me, right now." The order comes as a growl against her ear, rough, absolute. You punctuate the command by grinding against her clit, circling it with your thumb as you thrust deeper, harder.

"Shit! I'm cumming," she cries out, too loud, beyond caring who might hear. "You're making me cum on your big cock. Oh god, I'm cumming!"

Her body seizes, back arching off the bed, legs trembling violently, a choked gasp escaping as she shatters beneath you. Her orgasm takes her apart, raw and violent, the aftershocks making her sob. Her pussy clamps down on your cock like a vise, pulsing, milking you, pulling you deeper. Her pendant swings wildly against her throat, catching the light with each convulsion of her body.

But you don't stop.

You keep working her clit through it, relentless, forcing her higher even as she tries to twist away from the overwhelming sensation. Your fingers are merciless, pushing her past what she can handle, turning her orgasm into something that seems endless, wave after wave crashing through her.

"That's it," you encourage, watching her fall apart. "Take it. Fucking take it. Take my cum."

"Breed me," she begs, completely lost to the pleasure. "Fill me up. Make me yours. Please, please, please."

She's still cumming when you bury yourself deep, when you push so far inside it's almost painful, when you spill into her, hot and thick, filling her up, leaving her ruined beneath you. You can feel your cum pumping into her, your cock twitching with each pulse, her body taking everything you give her.

Your fingers finally ease off her clit, letting her come down from the intensity. You trace lazy circles on her inner thigh instead, feeling the way she twitches with aftershocks, sensitive and spent.

Neither of you move.

The only sound is the ragged pace of your breathing, the soft, wet tremble of her body as she twitches through the last waves of it. The weight of what just happened settling over both of you. The evidence of it already spilling between her legs, a mixture of her slick and your cum dripping onto the sheets.

It was reckless. Dangerous. The filthiest thing you've ever done—fucking her with your family just rooms away, the constant threat of discovery making every sensation sharper, every touch more electric. The memory of her body yielding to yours, taking you so deep, of her desperate attempts to stay quiet as you ruined her—it's all seared into your mind.

A floorboard creaks in the hallway.

You both freeze, eyes wide, bodies still joined, the reality of what you've done crashing over you like ice water.

After cleaning the main lounge, you found yourself ready to retire to your quarters for the night. It was odd at the start, to now serve two men who’d claimed to be new owners of the estate and to finally be working inside the home instead of outside of it. You were just a simple gardener who tended to the Lord's yard whenever he asked. You were paid less than most of the staff — no matter the color of your skin or where you originated from — but it was the only task anyone would grant you, even though you were more than capable of doing more.

Much more.

The last thing you'd expected was to suddenly find yourself ambushed by a well dressed blonde nobleman one night. He had a certain charm that swooned you immediately, though he was just as surprised when you retaliated — amusing him so.

But you were unaware that you were nothing but prey in the eyes of the nightly hunter.

He was more intrigued by your presence than most he'd encountered during his nightly prowls. He captured your attention for most of the night before disappearing with a promise of meeting you again, and the next day, the original Lord and Lady of the house seemed to disappear without much of a trace.

It was only the next night that Lestat informed all servants and workers that the Lord of the house handed it to him while the two went away for a while, not to return for a season or two. In some ways, you were not as alarmed as others were from the sudden news.

It was only then that you'd been visited nightly by the new Lord, Lestat de Lioncourt. Even though you found it odd how he only visited you in the gardens during the nighttime, it was comforting to have someone spend time with you, shamelessly at that. For another man to spend time with one another in such a way — in that day and age — you'd be ridiculed or worse. Far worse.

It was only later that you’d found yourself introduced to the second new lord of the house, Louis de Pointe du Lac. He was rather standoffish around Lestat, as if he was simply tolerating to be around his blonde companion rather than enjoying his company. Everytime you happened to see him during the night, the brunette was brooding somewhere in the garden or isolating himself within the house. As if he couldn't stand to be around people.

Slowly but surely, you surprised the brunette — just as much as he was surprised Lestat kept you around. Every night you'd find yourself trying to get in good graces with Louis, from bouquets of flowers to small notes you'd write on parchment.

Unfortunately, he wasn't as willing to spend time with you as Lestat was. His companion simply stated the man was too busy mourning a previous life, had been for quite a while.

What he didn't explain was that the previous life in question was Louis’ own.

Lestat de Lioncourt — the man who could talk his way in and out of both heaven and hell if he wanted to. The man who had you wound tightly around his finger. You'd long since waved away the thought of never seeing the two men in the daylight hours, just as no other servant had, deterring them. But what seemed to confuse you most was why blonde individual seemed so intrigued with you alone.

Some nights he'd be away with Louis, sometimes leaving out without him — either way — he'd always make time for you. Whether that was to dine in the house, dance with you out in the yard, or even playing you a musical tenure he stated he learned some years ago, he was almost attached to the him with you.

It wasn't until he'd lead you inside and to his own private quarters that it was revealed to you what he truly was. A man who's only seen at night, whose words are like sultry whispers that wrap around your mind, who sleeps in a coffin of all places.

A vampire.

The night you'd indulged in the sinful desire, laying with Lestat as you were seduced into bed with him, you were both left in a daze of emotions. A buzzing high you'd never experienced lingered within you as you took the vampire that night, and in return it made him desire your presence even more.

Your blood was indescribable, but at the same time, the most alluring he'd had come across in some time, even within the bliss of the night. It was almost too much to resist the first time he'd fed from you.

Now Louis, Louis was a much harder catch. Of course Lestat flaunted how great you were, how much of a flame you were to him compared to the harlots he'd normally pick up — though in no way was he calling you that or lowering you to those standards. Even teased the thought of having you as an additional companion.

That scared Louis to wits end. He didn't want anyone else to have to suffer a fate similar to his own.

Though when you stopped leaving him flowers, notes, letters, he seemed to almost yearn for that attention back. Lestat and himself didn't exactly click, only in certain moments, but otherwise they were as different as black and white. He'd take quiet strolls in the garden some nights when Lestat was gone, leaving Louis to feed on whatever doves or rats he wanted to feast on. But instead, he watched you from afar, admiring you in the darkness.

He was one to leer and loom around, watching as you delicately handled all the flowers that bloomed, shaping and trimming the hedges, and by God he adored hearing you sing to yourself. Sometimes it was a hum of a tune he didn't recognize, sometimes it was simply a melody you'd made up yourself.

He was completely entranced with you. But he wasn't as sneaky as he thought to be, which is why you left little clues. Single roses in the gazebo that sat in the yard, folded sheets of loving words hidden in the bushes — you knew he appreciated them. The smile on his face said it all, even it was the smallest of gestures.

And you had to admit, Louis looked much better with a something other than the depressing look he carried around. At one point or another, you assumed they may have gotten tired of you and were simply going to make you disappear like the other servants of the house did. Just as the previous Lord and lady of the house did.

Yet here you are, a year later, still taking care of the garden as well as the house, all while maintaining a relationship with the two vampires. You were being paid handsomely — even though you were one of the few servants still left — ate at the table, and even had your own sleeping quarters inside the house rather than in the slums of the city.

You couldn't ask for a more perfect life especially with the attention you'd gained from the two men.

But what you least expected was a sudden barrage of gifts at your bedroom door.

You blinked a few times to make sure that you weren't just seeing things, but there were in fact gifts, from a beautiful bouquet of roses, to divine chocolates that you'd only be able to get overseas. The gesture was sweet and all, but you couldn't understand why it was at your door this time of night. Wouldn't it have made sense for whoever to have given them to you by hand?

“Odd…” Bundling the gifts into your arms, your was then hand fixated itself on the door handle before twisting and pushing it open. It was only then that you were even more confused with the assortment or rose petals leading up to your bed. There were candles decorated throughout the room, settled on the dressers and seals within the room. You barely caught that your sheets and covers were replaced with what looked like silk instead of your normal cotton sheets.

“Bonsoir ma chéri!” You felt someone drape onto your body, purring against your neck by the time you had two feet in the door. The accented voice was a dead giveaway to who'd invaded your quarters, though you were still befuddled.

You'd done nothing in recent times that would cause this sort of extension of affection — other than perhaps granting Lestat the pleasure of taking him while in his coffin.

“Monsieur Lestat?” You turned your head towards him in order to question what the meaning of the gifts were, but your voice was silenced by the feeling of his lips against yours. His fangs gently poked against your bottom lip, and tilting your head, you'd done due diligence to deepen the kiss. Your tongue played to gain access to the other's mouth before the vampire suddenly pulled away.

“Ah, you know how I feel about that toi ma douce. We're rather far from formalities, oui?” Lestat seemed to tilt your chin to his own height as he spoke, all before closing the door and sauntering his way into the room and effortlessly sitting on the edge of the bed. By the time you'd made your way into the rest of your room, settling the gifts on a vacant space, you turned and noticed Louis.

He was draped against the loveseat that sat some distance away from your own bed. His piercing, alluring eyes peered at you from afar before they shifted to the glass of red that was held between his hands, babying it as Lestat continued to speak to you.

“Do you like it mon cher? It was all planned for you! I know you barely come up to your room after you've gotten ready for the day, tu es un homme si travailleur, but it was the perfect time to assess your room before you come back. It didn’t take much to get inside without peeping eyes.” Lestat was right when it came to your schedule, working till late to make sure the house was in the best shape, all before coming to your room to rest or letting Lestat drink from you when he wasn't in the best of moods.

“I appreciate the gesture, but…I don't quite understand — why? I-I haven't done anything out of the ordinary lately, nothin’ that ain't what I normally do.” You watched as Lestats' brows furrowed and he looked over at Louis, the other looking right back as if he was a lost puppy.

The blonde gestured towards yourself as he spoke to his companion that laid across the room. “Louis, you said that it was today, did you not?”

“It is today, I made sure of it Lestat,” he replied reassuringly, only for the two to glance over towards your form, watching the clueless expression on your face.

“What…exactly is today?”

Standing to his feet almost immediately, Lestat grinned and strutted over till he was pressed against your body, holding your face with a fanged grin on his lips. “My hardworking charmeur, it is the day of your birth! If I remember correctly, you spoke of it being around this time of the year…unless you misspoke.”

It was only then that the dots connected all at once. You hadn't truly celebrated your birthday in years, not like much of the staff did unless they had families to go to and days off. Unfortunately for yourself, you had no family left to celebrate the day you were brought into the world.

“No, no — you’re correct! I just…I ain't ever see no reason to celebrate it. Haven't thought about it since I was younger…” Your eyes drifted over to Louis to see if he had any input, but he seemed as quiet as ever. At least he wasn’t acting like a brooding mess like normal. “Though I appreciate the gesture, of course.”

“Oh, it was just as much of Louis' ideas as it was mine! He practically begged for everything to be perfect for you mon cher, isn't that right Louis!” Lestat teased and called out the man from across the room before turning his attention back to you. “Of course I contributed to such efforts to make this night one that you would remember, pour toujours!” Guiding you towards the bed, he watched as you'd sat against the edge and looked rather unsure of yourself.

“Mons—er...Lestat, I haven't even gotten out of my work uniform. I didn't expect such a gesture today, not at all, but I do appreciate it.” Just as you began to unbutton the black vest over your dress shirt, Lestat crawled into your lap, straddling you and removing your hands before ripping your vest open, popping a few buttons off completely.

“Well, you can show your appreciation towards us tonight. As always, you never disappoint, not as far as I know.” Lestats' last words were drawn out as he dragged his hand down your stomach and down to the crotch of your pants, feeling the half chubbed appendage that appeared due to his sudden spur of boldness.

It was only then that you looked over to see Louis almost clenching his jaw while watching on, privy to the fact that Lestat would be laying with you again. Unfortunately, you were not the only one to notice Louis' sudden expression.

With a sharp grin, Lestat then slowly ripped your white dress shirt before looking towards his companion. “Isn't this what you were hoping for Louis? To surprise our darling on his special day? Oh — oh,” he gasped in feign surprise. “Don't tell me you've gotten shy all of a sudden, that doesn't much seem like your style, wouldn't you agree?”

Seeing as Lestat always liked to pick a fight with Louis, you took matters into your own hands. With your hands gripped around his waist, you practically rolled to pin Lestat down to the bed, silencing him with your own mouth on his. “If this is my birthday present, I'd rather you use that mouth for the better…’oui’?” You quoted, muttering such words with the little space he granted you before crashing his lips into yours again.

And just like that, you were straddling over Lestats' body and now attacking his throat. His eyes rolled back with each harsh bite and nip you placed up on his skin. The blonde fumbled to practically tear off the rest of your dress shirt from your arms before throwing it in the corner of the room and leaving you bare chested.

Even as you were mentally drawing out that you were exhausted after working all day, you could never resist Lestat. He was like a drug you couldn't get away from.

The vampire rolled his hips out to your with a half baked whine as he grew somewhat impatient with the fact that you had foreplay in mind. He understood why you were so gentle with him, but even as a vampire he'd informed you that he could take much more than normal.

“Louis, are you going to just sit there all night? Like a dormant animal and continue to stare?” Lestat was definitely looking at Louis out of spite, seeing as the man refused to move from the loveseat since the two of you started. “Ah, à moins que je me trompe, is this what gets you going,” he asked, letting out labored breaths as you assaulted his neck. “Watching? Mmmh…waiting in the winds and wishing you were in my place while you sit idly by?”

It was only then that Lestat cried out, feeling your teeth bite down against the flesh between the crook of his neck, much harsher than you'd normally be. “Stop be’n so rude Les…if he don't wanna join, you ain't gotta mess with him,” you muttered out, grabbing his jaw to gain some sort of control.

And Lord did he love when you got this way.

Before he could let out another snarky remark, you locked his lips in a heated, hungry kills, as if you'd been craving him all week. Lestat found one hand against the back of your head and the other trying to find its way into your pants.

Louis on the other hand seemed surprised to hear you put the blonde in his place so quickly. Not only that, but you weren't forcing him to join in the activity, even though there was a wave of arousal that overwhelmed him the moment you looked back at him with such lust in your eyes. So strong he could practically feel it radiating off your skin.

Slowly but surely, he'd made his way off the couch and crept over towards the bed, his eyes staring at the claw marks that adorned your back, most healed from various times, some as fresh as a day ago. He couldn't help himself from reaching out, gently brushing his finger tips against your warm skin, watching in awe as your back flexed into his touch while keeping your lips locked with Lestats'.

It was only after you pulled away that your eyes locked on his curious gaze. It was almost as if he was shy in some way, or maybe he just didn't like the idea of Lestat seeing him in such a state. Reaching your hand out, you touched against the top of Louis’ before looking up to him. “You don't have to be a part of this if you don't want to. It ain't right to make you do something you don't wanna be a part of. After all, you ain't make me do anything that I wasn't comfortable wi—”

Your rambling was cut short as Louis pressed his own lips tenderly against yours, his nose nudging against the side of your own as he kissed the side of your lips. He peppered small kisses in which you retaliated and gave him just as many before you two were locked in a more needy kiss.

By the time he'd pulled away, it was slow, just as his kisses were tender. His eyes scanned your face for some type of rejection, just as yours searched his for any sort of stress indicator. “I want this,” Louis started, that low solemn tone of his occupying the now quiet room. “I just didn't know how to express it to you.”

Grinning, you'd brought his hand up to your lips before kissing against his knuckles. “We can take our time, Les won't mind.”

“C'est si audacieux de votre part de prétendre, you do know that I am right here.” Lestat wasn't the least bit impressed, but his back arched the moment you used your other unoccupied hand to grip against his blonde wavy locks before yanking them back.

“I know you're here Lestat, I didn't go blind. But I know how you are.” You fisted into his blonde hair even more before biting near his Adam's apple, drawing out a guttural moan that shocked even Louis.

The brunette would admit it, but the way you went from your normal ‘happy to serve” attitude to this more dominant persona, putting Lestat in his place as well? He could practically feel himself pitching a tent at the sudden change of time you took between the two vampires.

It was even more shocking that Lestat was allowing someone like yourself — someone who was simply a human compared to the monstrous beings the two were — to work him up as so. Not that Louis was complaining, he quite enjoyed it.

“This is for me, correct? A birthday surprise? I assume you'd let me enjoy myself Les,” you purred against his marked up throat. In the next few moments, there was a flurry of clothes thrown onto the floor before both Lestat and yourself were completely nude. Your own erection practically overwhelming the vampires — though his own was just a bit above average and aching to be handled.

Louis had unbuttoned his blouse and stripped it off his own shoulders, but he seemed almost out of place. There was only so much he'd been experienced with, especially with women. After all, he had a child and a wife at one point in time, but this was different. Yes, there was a point in time were Louis fell victim to Lestats' alluring words of nightly pleasures, seeing as being his immortal companion had it perks.

But the clash between his humanity and Lestats' lack of it made the two repel each other.

You however, might just be the key to keeping their bond.

Hearing your name get called, your head lifted from assaulting the vampires neck again, looking over at Louis for him to continue. His quite demeanor was normal for you, but to see this sudden shy side seemed to make you want him just as badly. “Are you sure this is…what you want? The both of us?”

“Of course? You two have treated me so kindly for so long. Who would have imagined I'd have such feelings like this. I'll admit, I didn't expect for you to jump me like that, but it was a pleasant surprise!” It wasn't everyday you had two vampires at your disposal, though you wished it was everyday.

“But…since I know Lestat can wait his turn, how about you let me take care of you Louis?”

Thus leading you here, to a fucked out Lestat and an even more disoriented Louis in your lap.

You could feel yourself slowly tiring between treating the two vampiric beings who had enough energy to extend throughout the night. It was starting to seem like this was more of a gift to the both of them rather than yourself.

Your hips were starting to bruise but it didn't matter at that moment, not while Louis was practically drooling over you as his hips rolled against yours, feeling your bulbous tip grind against his prostate perfectly, back and forth. He moaned out your name like a montra, his own leaking tip ready to spill after his nth load.

“I..I know you two haven't went out tonight,” you stuttered out, trying to guide Louis to a slower speed, but it didn't seem as if he wanted to go any slower than the pace he set himself. “If you don't mind, you can take from me.” You knew that the two avoided your neck the entire time, and getting fed from one vampire was already a hard task.

But two?

“I..I won't—I can't,” Louis tried to argue, his mind as blank as parchment as he fucked himself onto your cock, dragging against his walls and nailing his prostate perfectly, causing him to crying out as he was steadily making his way towards another orgasms.

Lestats was laid out beside you, having had his fun and rather enjoying seeing Louis in such a distraught state. His ass was just as tainted red as the others, his body still buzzing from the aftermath and his cock standing as firm as it was before.

“Louis, it is his request! After all, we are to celebrate him! And don't forget our last surprise for them as well!” The blonde reached up to run his fingers up the nap of the other neck, threading them through Louis' hair before forcing them to face him. “I'm not asking for this Louis, nor am I demanding it. Our corbeau here has given us the pleasure. I imagine it is better than the rats…”

Louis whined out, trying his best to shake his head as he let out a garbled cry. “I..I don't wanna hurt him Lestat!”

Rolling your hips in sync with Louis’, you could feel his walls tightening up yet again, as if he was trying to milk you for all its worth. “Louis, I know you,” you cooed, hand now cupping part of his ass while the other grabbed the side of his thigh. “You wouldn't hurt me. I believe you have more control than that. Are you…going to deny me this-this one wish?”

Lestat released his grip on Louis before nuzzling his face into one side of your neck. He could tell Louis was fighting to succumb, but he also knew you were the only one out of the two of them that could persuade the “vegetarian”, to switch for one night. Before Lestat could get anything out, he felt your hand grab against his shaft, slick with his previous load.

Lestat groaned out as your hand enveloped his own cock, thumb rubbing across his leaking slit and slowly pumping him in a teasing fashion. It made his walls clench around nothing and his face hiding against the crook of your neck.

Louis found himself creeping towards the edge of his awaiting orgasm as he continued to ride you, hips stuttering at a hiccupping pace. “Gonna—gon’na cum, please, please—” He muttered your name like a prayer, feeling your hand guide his head down to your neck.

“Go ahead, I promise…I'll hold strong.” Having been fed on by Lestat before, it was easy to say that if too much was taken, you'd easily black out or die. But you weren't worried such a thing would happen, not with how good they'd been treating you. You could feel their labored breath against your throat, one contemplating to bite, the other ready to dine within seconds.

“Louis…” Lestat urged, feeling close to his own orgasm as well, your hand squeezing against his base which in turn made his hips thrust upwards.

The brunette whimpered a small apology to you as much as himself before he felt the familiar ache in his fangs. Both vampires could feel your heart racing as well as well as hear the flow of blood within your veins.

Your mouth opened to a short groan as you felt two sets of fangs pierce into your flesh almost simultaneously. It wasn't painful, in fact it nearly made your eyes roll back. Your hips thrusted harshly into Louis, feeling his let out a wet moan and spill over himself again, some landing on your own chest. Only then did you release inside of him, rutting into his ass with rapid wet ‘slaps’ behind them.

Lestat moaned against your throat as well, having to pull away the moment your blood landed on his tongue and slipped down his throat. He'd came just as hard into your hand, coating it in his release as you continued to pump him without stopping. A wave of ecstasy seemed to engulf all of you at once.

You could feel their lips against your throat and hearing them both drink from you was a new experience. As intimate as it was, to be cooing them both, you could feel yourself start to grow light headed. Your movement slowed and your words slurred as you called out, “Lo..Louis…Lestat…I…” As your eyes fluttered — struggling to stay open — the edges of your vision started to dot with darkness.

The thrumming of your heart seemed to slow tremendously, having raced from the adrenaline of sex and now slowing as it struggled to pump more blood throughout your system.

The world blurred, your lips parting to speak but the world around you seemed to go quiet. There was muffled arguing as you felt the warmth start to leave your body entirely. What sounded like Lestat scolding Louis and Louis yelling back made you huff out. As much as you wanted to stop them, you felt completely sapped of all your strength.

Suddenly, you felt a wetness against your lips, dripping down into your mouth as you were forced to swallow. Flesh was now pressed against your lips, a metallic taste flooding your taste buds, though the more you drank, the stronger you suddenly felt. It was to the point where you couldn't get enough, gripping into whoever's arm and holding it down against your mouth as you groaned towards the addicting taste.

The arm was then snatched away from you, now finding yourself laid back, eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling. Your skin buzzed and your heart throbbed as an unknown feeling came over you. It was as if you'd been underwater your entire life and suddenly you'd surfaced, and taken a breath of fresh air.

You felt anew.

Out of breath and exhausted, Lestat grinned before croaking out, “Happy Birthday, ma chéri.”

“You like? I wore these just for you,” Her smile is sweet, innocent with an underlying seductive edge. Her hands glide down her curves and cup her ass. Everything she does only adds to the crumbling of your resolve. 

“Chaeryeong, we can’t do this time and time again,” You keep walking, fighting every nerve in your body not to look at her. 

“Can you blame me? No one ever will fuck me like you do,” She pouts, falling in step with you, “Everyone is too scared to throw me around, properly,” She pauses coming close to your ear, “Use me.” 

“Lee Chaeryeong,” You try to sound stern to cover up your failing resolve. There’s nothing more you want right now than to take her right there in the hall, you know she’ll let you too. She doesn’t care if she gets caught as long as she’s getting what she wants. She only giggles as she leans onto your door. 

“You know you want to, you want to shut my pretty mouth up. Do it Y/n, grip my fucking throat and use me,” She smiles wickedly as she watches you fight yourself. She plays with her crop top, “Please Daddy?” You unlock the door and push her inside. Your body is moving on autopilot. Your hand finds its favorite spot on her throat pulling her to the bedroom, her giggles are the only sound filling your ears. Spinning her around, you bend her over the bed, her ass jiggling as she bounces on the bed. 

“God damn Chae,” Your hand comes down on her ass making her gasp and moan, wiggling her ass silently begging for more. You indulge her, your hand spanking her ass repeatedly, watching her squirm under you indelight. You make short work of her pants, pooling them around her ankles. Revealing black lace panties, those have always been your favorite. She soaked through them, her juices dripping down her thigh. Her thumbs hook onto her panties, pulling them down revealing her dripping core. 

Chaeryeong looks over her shoulder at you, her hands spreading her ass, “Fuck me like you mean it,” That’s all you needed to hear, you make quick work of your belt and jeans. Your belt finds its way around her neck as you free your throbbing length. Sliding inside of her is like a homecoming, her insides squeezing your cock as you bury yourself deeper inside of her. She moans out, “So fucking deep,” her moans spur you on as you pick up a quick pace at first, her cunt dripping making a puddle on the floor as her legs start to shake. Pulling on the belt, tightening it around her throat. Her eyes rolled back into her head. She’s always been one to cum quickly. Her juices soak the bedding as you continue to use her, “Fuck!” She screams out, her hands gripping anything to ground her, “Don’t you fucking stop!”

You have no plans to, you take it up a notch pounding into her with bruising strength. The leather of your belt digging into the skin of her throat. She doesn’t ask for reprieve, she will take everything you have to give and then some. Her hands gripping the sheets of the bed as you take her. Her juices continue to soak the sheets as her legs give out, you hold her up with an arm around her waist and the belt. Her words are incoherent as her moans and whimpers take over, “Fuck Chae,” You mutter under your breath as you continue your assault as she squirts once more as you bury yourself deep inside filling her with your cum. Her body convulses through the pleasure of her third orgasm. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She screams out, as she finally finds some ground, she looks at you, “Fuck my ass next? Please Daddy, I need it. Stretch me the fuck out,” She begs spreading her ass once again, “I want you to fucking break me. Ruin me for anyone else.” 

“This bitch,” You mutter as you pull from her cunt and slide into her ass with ease. Her ass is just as tight as you remember. Her body quivers with excitement as she feels your cock getting deeper and deeper. 

“I’m your bitch Y/n, your dirty bitch,” She smirks as you get back to your assault, your cock plunging deep into her ass, “Fuck yes! Just like that daddy!” You go harder, you know she can take it, pounding her with renewed vigor and a tight grip on the belt. Her hips bounce back with each thrust of yours, taking you deeper in, “So deep…so fucking deep!” She screams out as her movements get more urgent and erratic urging you to quicken your pace. Your hand spanks her ass hard, making it red only adding to the cacophony of noises coming from the bedroom. Her cunt squirts out more of her juices onto the bedding, “Don’t stop please! Don’t fucking stop!” She begs, her hips still meeting your every thrust with desperation and want, “Please, please, please,” her desperate pleas for more fill the room, as her upper body goes limp, only held up by your grip on the belt fastened around her milk white neck. You fill her once again, but keep up your assault. 

“Take everything you slut,” You growl into her ear as the rough pounding is starting to take its toll on her body. She frantically nods, completely at your mercy. She squirts uncontrollably as you continue to use her. She finds her strength and reaches back craning her neck capturing your lips in a heated kiss as she takes you in. Her moans get muffled by the kiss, her nails raking over the back of your neck. 

“I love you too much to ever stop this. Please Y/n fill me up! Give me all of your cum!” She screams out as she falls back down to the bed, her nails digging into your chest. You grip her wrist as you feel your release coming, burying deep inside once again spilling your load into her ass. You pull out, she collapses fully onto the bed panting, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes are glazed over. 

You lean down to her ear, “Mine.”

The sole and only, goal minded, purpose of the upcoming arrange marriage between the royal houses of Velaryon and Rosevale of the northern sea, was to bound two strong family into one—fulfil this need of thriving to create a even much greater, higher bloodline than Targaryens were and overshadowing them.

To ensure that neither chosen candidates of each side would break off the marriage through the first whiff of pheromones—before their hands could even be sealed in blessing—Queen Rhaenyra has come to an agreement with High-Queen Coralion, that Rhaenyra and her family would live for half a year with the Rosevales.

Now, Jacaerys does not feel the slightest delight about his new situation, when he had been chosen—though as the firstborn, he should've guessed it—by his mother to marry the youngest son of the Rosevales and neither does Jacaerys wants to even get to know all his new in-laws nor even consider them remotely close and akin to something like family even—but, like said before, he's the firstborn prince and with such comes duties and responsibilities.

So here Jacaerys was, after landing on the neat, ice covered tiles—sandstone, a bit unusual to have in contrast to the standard stones, then again it's probably something normal in the north—with Vermax, his mother on Syrax following right afterwards in landing next to him, almost slipping on the ice when getting down from his dragon—and Jacaerys, while spotting the bright, polished, polite smiles of his soon to be in-laws, already wished to go back home.

»Be polite, Jace. This marriage is of political importance for us.« reminds his mother, when she herself had gotten down from Syrax and standing besides him now, a slight reprimanding in her voice—Jacaerys only nodded in reply, taking a breath through his nose and stretching his lips, till his cheeks ached, into a bright smile as well.

»Stref'voja! We, of Rosevale of the northern sea, greets you with breezing welcome!« Queen Coralione's voice was as shrill and audible—from probably three sea miles—loud as a twittering bird in the early rising hours of morning and greets them with high enthusiasm and thick accent.

»I do hope so lovely, that the tedious journey to our frosty residence wasn't too exhausting for the two of you! Stomach of yours do have an appetite for a grand meal tonight?« the High-Queen asks, stretching out her arm and showing, like a offering, her open palm.

Jacaerys was impressed that his mother—laying her own palm onto the High-Queens and only moving her head into a small bow—knew what to do, then again she, in contrast to him—because Jacaerys had deemed other things much more of importance—did some research and etiquette training about the do's and don'ts about Northern sea and its kingdoms.

And Jacaerys, mentally—as he do a slight bow towards Queen Coralione—applauds his mother, that she could still keep her own facading smile of politeness, when the High-Queen smile was so obviously false.

»Thank you for the upcoming hospitality, your highly highness.« Queen Rhaenyra begun, hands patting down onto her dress to gain a bit of warmth into them, »Prince Jacaerys and I do greatly appreciate a grand meal, such a great gesture. Thank you, but if I could ask first that someone of guarding trust tend to our dragons first and bring them to a preferred warmer location?«

»Of course! Of course! One of our Shepherds will tend to them, Miss Toyja, get either Mr.Hildsom or Mr.Rumsom and let our guests dragon be brought into the fire caves.« with her thick accent, Coralione's orders to one of her servants sounded much harsher than it was probably was, then she clapped her hands together, »My, my, these dragons are truly magnificent! They're a true beauty just as our sea serpents.«

Both, Jacaerys and Rhaenyra, thought that Queen Coralione would wanted to go a bit nearer to their dragons—perhaps even given them a pat—but she didn't moved one foot forward from her spot, instead she clapped again in her hands and ushered them inside.

Sea serpents and polar bears had been the only thing which Jacaerys had remembered from his—one and only, because afterwards he had skipped every other one—lesson about the Northern sea kingdom and the notable fact, that the house of Rosevale are the only ones who were to tame these mighty beasts of the sea.

That's like the only similarity which Rosevale shares with Velaryon and Targaryens—more with the latter than the former one—to be able to tame and befriend, which Jacaerys believes all three families prides themselves with great swelling proudness, make them like part of the family, such mighty—in the eyes of others—beasts.

While Jacaerys follows behind his mother and Queen Coralione, through the corridors of the castle, he barley listens to whatever the tow women are currently talking about—it's probably just some courtesy smalltalk anyway, but occasionally, when something of interest being mentioned, he does listen in.

Like now, when Coralione mention her youngest son—his soon to be spouse—and how they gonna meet him before dinner time, although the sun just has begun to set down into a pallet of various colours, before night starts to sweep in—but perhaps early dinner time is something of a mentality here, honestly Jacaerys doesn't know, questioning as a prince was out of order—it would shamefully expose him, that he indeed has not cared to learn about northern sea traditions and culture, mother would surely behead him with a headlock if she knew—he just scrape it up as a guess, but if early dinner comes just a few hours after lunch and afternoon tea, Jacaerys or his stomach to such matter would certainly not survive it.

»Now,« Queen Coralione voice brought Jacaerys attention back, making him stumbling into his mothers back—he wasn't aware that they have stopped in front of a door—and the two Queens turns to him, giving him a look, indirectly asking if he was okay and still intact with his mind—Jacaerys shrugged his shoulders and the women returned back.

»Now, as I was about to say, I do beg for forgiveness from you, your highness, that my youngest child could not be an omega in the offering of blessed marriage with your son, nor that our house could offer any omega at all. Like told in my last regarding letters to you, house Rosevale is simply not meant or able to birth omegas.«

Queen Coralione laughs a bit as if the mere thought of having an omega in her bloodline was something silly to think of—and Jacaerys frowns, finding it odd how her voice—the slight difference in tone was barely noticeable, but for him, as an alpha, it was—changed, when she said the last sentence.

»While it is indeed a bit disappointing not to wed my alpha son with a suitable omega, I do forgive your highly highness. I'm sure your son will be a perfect match to fit anyway.« Queen Rhaenyra was ever the diplomat, because if Daemon would be here and speak on behalf for the Queen, Jacaerys was sure, his stepfather would bash Queen Coralione into a heavy heated discussion as of why there are no Omegas in a royal bloodline like theirs.

Of course Alphas being with another alpha or beta does not meant they wouldn't be able to produce a child, but with an Omega—they're much more fertility—such chances are higher and makes securing a bloodline lot easier.

When they stepped into a small hall, a guest hall for greetings—that's what Coralione had said and Jacaerys wonders how damn big this castle actually is and how much walking is done per hour in a day—confusing settles in, when they spot a girl, instead of the supposed son, was sitting on a bench in waiting for them.

For a moment both Rhaenyra and Jacaerys believed that Queen Coralione might have confused her own children, but when she introduced her child—the confusion didn't cleared up, only deepens further.

But would either of them questioning and ask for clearance? Perhaps not, not when there is a slim chance that they could accidentally offending the High-Queen and risk a political break up to the upcoming wedding.

»This, my dearest Queen Rhaenyra, is my youngest child and only son, [Name] Lujonesskosch of Rosevale.« Queen Coralione claps her hands in calling and the boy, dressed in a dress meant for princesses and definitely a size or two to big for him, stands up—doing a courtesy bow as greeting, before stepping nearer to them.

»A pleasure it is to have in meeting you today, your Highness Queen Rhaenyra and her noble son, prince Jacaerys. I do welcome you as well into our noble house and wish a lovely stay.« you spoke eloquently, parroting the lines and words how they taught you to do, doing another bow of courtesy.

Jacaerys, when he inhales a small whiff of your scent—which smelled sweetly, just faintly but noticeable strong enough for any alpha to pick up—looks at his mother and Rhaenyra too gives her son a knowing glance—something doesn't seem to be right here.

»Now! Let's all have some enjoyment with tonights meal and declare a future celebration of upcoming friendship!«

~~~•~~~

Its a few weeks later, when Jacaerys finally seemed to have been found by some time alone with you—and it's not because he doesn't try to spend some time with you, but because he mostly couldn't.

Let us rephrase this into a bit deeper explanation; whenever Jacaerys has tried to approach you, with just the simple intention of only talking and getting you to know a bit better—and while you and him are to be wed soon in a few months anyways, courting you without manners is not in his mind—your siblings are guarding you like a dragon would do with its hatch of eggs.

Not only that, but your siblings—and you do have a quite a damn lot, all of them females by the way—were quite the raging, protective alphas and Jacaerys got more than once threatened—with sailor like cussing, an provoking raise of fits or simply bared fangs and heavy reeking, dominating alpha pheromone—Jacaerys was sure, he once heard you whimper in submission that one time, when one of your much older sisters showed off her protective alpha—by them, not to come any closer to you.

Female or not, they're Alphas and if it weren't a risk of potential causing a rift between the upcoming friendship and political alliance between the houses Velaryon—and, in his mothers name, Targaryens—and Rosevale, Jacaerys would have challenged most of your siblings to a fight by now.

You and Jacaerys are outside, some good foot march into the forest—still on royal grounds, but not somewhere near around the castle—sitting on a bench near a frozen lake, a silence between you two as neither could find the right words to say for a proper start into conversations.

»It's.....it's cold in your country, isn't it?« there, Jacaerys has made an effort to start and break the, literally, ice.

Huddled up in the thickets winter clothes your household could offer and yet, Jacaerys still felt the cold sweep into him—his face felt already frozen, face pinched red from the frosty air, lips probably already shivering blue—with every intake of the dry icy air, which feels stabbing inside his lungs, his breath was an visibly fog for a moment, before it slightly crystallise into—pricking needles like—snowflakes.

Glancing at you, Jacaerys wonders how you're not cold at all—after all, you're way much less dressed in warm clothing than he was—and he surely, if he might gonna ask you about it, does not want to hear from you, that it's something which comes naturally to folks of the northern lands.

»Indeed it is, but since we're in the beginning of the colder months, it does will get much frosty icier later on than what current temperatures we have now.« you say, scratching one of your polar bears—which are here to keep protective watch over you, instead of an actual (human) guard—behind its ears.

»That sounds, actually, more unpleasant than I thought it would be. I mean, i know your country has a rather cold climate to begin with, but if it's the beginning, I fear for the actual winter.«

»We're not immune to our own icy climate as well, we just, over the aeons, has adapted to it. Don't worry, I'll try to help you through it.«

Jacaerys was thankful when you said, your folk wasn't immune to the cold—because if you had, Jacaerys wasn't sure......he wasn't sure what he would thought of such outcome, maybe—perhaps—that if you're immune to cold, you probably aren't actually human like? Or something along those lines.

»Thanks. That would sound good, i don't wish to become some decorative ice statue for your family's castle.« Jacaerys jokes and you breathe out a small chuckle—to which Jacaerys alpha yips in delight.

»Oh! I think, you, my dear prince Jacarandas, would make a fantastic statue, such a good looking one like you, all the other statues will melt in shame,« you add your own jest to Jacaerys joke, chuckling even more now.

Jacaerys thought, with how thick your accent is, he might have misheard his own name, »Say my name again.« he ask.

»Jacarandas«

Yep, definitely not misheard, »Who told you, that's my name?« apparently, with the way how Jacaerys asked, your polar bear—who's named puddles—thought he was trying to intimidate you and bears its fangs, snapping towards his hand in an warning.

»It's your name, is it not?«

»No,« Jacaerys laughs, »it isn't. It's Jacaerys. Ja-ca-erys.«

»That's quite the mouthful of a name you have.« you told him, taking puddles by the cuff of his neck—holding him away from Jacaerys, before he actually do get a bite mark into his hand—cooing at your polar bear, praising him and telling him that Jacaerys means no threat to bare fangs at.

«Oh?« Jacaerys raises an eyebrow, a tease of sarcasm in his voice, »and your first and middle name, [Name] Lujonesskosch isn't a mouthful as well?«

Shaking your head, »No, it isn't« you snicker in denial.

»Fine. Call me Jace or find another nickname for me.« Jacaerys let puddles sniff his hand, after the polar bear seemed to be a bit calmer now, pleased when the bear licked his hand in acceptance, »Anyway. And what your sea serpents? How are they able to live in such climate? Don't they freeze into death or something? I mean, if my Vermax has to live in such conditions of environment, he surely wouldn't live long.«

»Aah, during the icy months our serpents will mostly hibernate in the deepest depths of the sea. We do have some hot springs and the fire caves, where our serpents like to occasionally, even throughout the whole icy seasons, lounge around.«

Fire caves, which Jacaerys has learned—when he had asked one of the servants, where they have brought Vermax—are caves where an enormous hot spring is inside and boils it up with such scorching hot warmth, that it feels like a dreading summer.

»Say, could I perhaps,« you start, fiddling with the furred garment of your jacket, feeling a rush of nervousness to even dare to ask your soon to he husband such intimate question, »if you would give permission to let me see Vermax once?« your voice, hesitation clear, got smaller at the end.

Your scent has gotten sweeter again, it definitely wasn't your nervousness which turned it so sweet—it was more as such, this faint sweetness was part of your pheromones from begin on—and Jacaerys couldn't get behind why, because as a fellowing alpha, your scent wasn't supposed to have any kind of sweeting note in it.

But besides that, Jacaerys feels happy that you wanted to see his beloved dragon Vermax—that's like asking, if you and him wanted to hatch a batch of eggs together.

»Of course!« Jacaerys shuts up as quickly as he had shouted this, feeling embarrassment—wouldn't even be noticed on his already reddened cheeks—and shy himself now, about his sudden outburst of excitement.

Coughing, to gain a bit of his composure back—glancing at you, but there's no scornful reaction from you—Jacaerys continues, »I mean, if you wish to see Vermax, I suppose we shall find some time to give him a little visit.« Jacaerys nods to himself for the answer he gave.

»How about, my dear Jay,« you blinked, batting your eyelashes—something you definitely has picked up from your sisters or got taught by them—, »now?«

Jacaerys alpha was close to let out an rumble, hearing his new nickname from your lips, brought his heart into a flatter—sending a flush of warmth into his stomach—but he withheld it, would make him appear as an easy swayed, weak minded, alpha, which he isn't, »Sure, but only if i can see your sea serpent, if possible of course and if they not hibernating in the ocean depths, as well.«

You chirped, even when it was for a moment of second, Jacaerys was sure you did—but again, that's not something an alpha is supposed to do and as far as Jacaerys had been told, many times, you're an alpha as well.

»That won't be a problem, Jukoschka resides in the same fire cave as Vermax and Syrax are in.«

~~~•~~~

Dimitri's birthday—which is how the folk of the far north, in their mother tongue, calls the last month of winter—is cramped with so many holy dates and celebrations, that cake is a constant part on the meal plan.

Jacaerys swears, taking another fork full and dragging bite of his wedding cake, if he has to eat or see in the next few remaining weeks—before the annual new year greeting—another damned cake, one more time, he won't stop himself from vomiting his guts outs.

»You doing so good Jay, my strong alpha.« you coo, praising Jacaerys—making his inner alpha, especially when you chirped in response, rumble in content—»just one more.« you whisper in encouragement against his ear, feeding him another piece of your own cake.

Jacaerys swallows down the last bits of the sugary dessert, tightening his arms around you—giving an possessive glare over your shoulder to everyone who might dare to look your way, while you nuzzle into his neck—after the honeymoon night, which is to be participated one whole lasting month before the actual wedding—such strange (and harmful) traditions—you have gotten much more affectionate with Jacaerys.

From the first month to the current one now, Jacaerys and you had gotten close—so significantly close that the mere thought of not being near your or smelling your scent somewhere, would send Jacaerys into a feral state of cardiac arrest—and it's obvious, like the stars in the night, that you're and him are meant to he fated mates.

»Still hungry, my love?« Jacaerys ask, position you a little better on his lap, watching—only with a slight disdain towards the sweet lacing baked goods—how you devoured another after another slice of cake till the plate was empty and then you moved on to next, not cake but filled dumplings and fried bread—you're eating as if you had been starved of food for months.

»It's just...« you chewed first, swallowing second, »just so good tasting! Especially (least f/food).«

Now that's surprising, normally (least f/food) was something you barley liked to eat—always, when it's been served, not every time but often enough, pushing the plate away with an distasteful frown and sometimes, when it's been the only dish during lunch or dinner, you wouldn't eat at all—but now? Now it seems (least f/food) was your new favourite meal.

Jacaerys let his eyes wander through the grand ballroom, the guest—high nobles from your country and distant relatives of the Stark household—were having their fun—either eating, chatting with each other, drinking, playing games of cards or dancing around—while his own family interacts with your own.

His mother, when she had looked at Jacaerys for a moment as well, smiles at him warmly, proudly even—his dear mother-in-law on the other side, gives Jacaerys an harsh glare, which makes her look wrinkly like worn out parchment, probably because with how openly you currently display affection.

Jacaerys at some point, while you still stuffed yourself contently full with the goodies of food, conversed with one of your older sisters—which took Jacaerys a bit by surprise, he never thought he would share more words than just the occasional courtesy ones—like a mere greeting for example—with your siblings, because your sisters always carries an icy, unapproachable and arrogant aura of supposed personality with them.

»[Name]?« Jacaerys, after your sister chuckles and points at you, calls out your name in questioning whisper—but there's no response from you as you had fallen asleep admits your eating.

Jacaerys lets out a sigh, glad that you didn't fall asleep with food still in your mouth—he didn't want you to choke on bread while you sleeping—but really, have you eaten so much that you had gone into a food coma? You aren't, when it comes to eating, like this but since the start of this month you do behave out of your ordinary self.

»I suppose, it's time to bid farewell and retire back for the night. Tani, it was pleasure to have talked to you and I wish you a good night. Could you please, if so kind, excuse us towards our families if they ask about our whereabouts?« Jacaerys stands up, adjusting you so that he could carry you with ease in his arms.

»Of course I can do such. Don't worry. I wish you a pleasant night as well, my brother-in-law.« Tani smiles, giving a slight wave and starts a new conversation with his brother.

God, Jacaerys thought—walking through the corridors towards your and his bedroom chamber—he can't wait to undress you from your damn traditional robes, it adds much more weight to your actual one—making you appear heavier than you are.

Opening the door was a bit of a hassle, but Jacaerys had managed it, closing the door shut afterwards with his foot—walking towards the bed and laying you down, before getting you out of your robes.

When you were clad in nothing but one of the wooly warm tunic, which Jacaerys had dressed you in, Jacaerys—after changing into night robes and making you the first in your chimney will burn strong through the remaining night—climbs into the bed next to you as well.

Sneaking his arms around you and pulling you close towards him, Jacaerys holds you close—placing gentle kisses along your neckline, giving a few extra more onto your scent glands—and again this, heavenly, almost hypnotic drunk like dripping, sweet scent of yours, which resembles close to honey and boiled orange tea with a bit of cinnamon and anise stars—and the bite mark.

Jacaerys has to admit, when his hands had wandered under you tunic and caressing over your stomach—he just has this, almost desperate, need to always have skin contact with you, which he just couldn't explain why but if he doesn't—at least once per day—his inner alpha would howl—you has gained, at least around stomach and hip area, much more weight.

You gaining weight wasn't even something bad, Jacaerys just notice it—especially since it happened rather shortly after the first few weeks during the honeymoon month and now, almost near the end of the current month, you seemed to have gained the double amount, making you appear swell like good filled dumpling.

~~~•~~~

It's after your third pregnancy, or more during the birth, when Jacaerys realised—albeit much to late now, it would have prevented more than one complication and distressed situation for you and him, if discovered sooner—you're aren't, how many times it had been assured with big emphasis by your mother before, an Alpha like him, but a Omega.

After all, Omegas in contrast to Alphas had much more, successfully, higher fertility rate—which always ensures instant pregnancies during every knot and the more an Alpha knots their Omega during sex—especially when it's either during a rut or heart cycle—more than one pup are being guaranteed to be birthed.

Which had been the case in your first pregnancy—six years ago—when you, to Jacaerys sole shocking surprise had given birth to twins and Jacaerys, when the maesters—in the mother tongue of the far north, they're called Jowaschkas—had announced your pregnancy, was absolutely thrilled with jubilant delight about it, but when one of the midwives had told him you had given birth to twins—Jacaerys thought he would faint any moment, because that had been (positively) unexpected.

And the only reason they even found out that you're a omega, was during the birth of your third child—when you have let out such an distressed, high-pitched mewl, which sounded so distributing and disorienting broken—a banshee like scream, ripping through your chords—that it had not only alerted Jacaerys, who already was about to burst through the door and probably ripping the maesters apart—your scent wasn't sour, it was spicy and such indicates pain and dangers, Jacaerys was ferocious growling by now—but also his family and he never had seen his own mother, the strongest alpha he had ever known, seen so distressed herself like on that day.

Because the sound, this gut ripping mewl, you have emitted was not alpha like, nor will it ever supposed to be one, but of a omega in so much death threatening pain and overwhelming, suffering distress, that they're calling out to their alpha and pack in desperate need of comfort and familiar sense of secure safety.

Afterwards, when the maesters had come out the healing chamber with you—the main midwife right behind with your newborn son—Jacaerys had guided you back to the bedroom, helping you lay down onto the bed, you had been advised to strict bedrest—a necessity, so your current condition of fragile health wouldn't have a dip towards either a bedridden fever or an potential coma drop—and scenting you in reassuring comfort as well as the baby, who got blessed with the name of Sylvain.

Much later during the same day, night had already come by, Rhaenyra and the others had a small family council meeting, after all they had been lied to—though when they all thought about it, there had been signs—always there, visible right under everyones nose and yet none of the Velaryon-Targaryen household had noticed, despite knowing something was odd, as they had been blinded with a false truth—small but significant, which indicate your actual second gender is omega.

But they wouldn't get any answer till Cregane Stark, far distant cousin of yours—who is counted as close family though—had come by a week later for a short stay of visit, which the young Lord Stark always do whenever a new nephew was on their way to have their first breath of life.

»My Aunt, High-Queen Coralione, is an alpha woman in the Rosevale bloodline.« said Cregane with no further added informations behind it, as if this would explain it all—but it doesn't, only raises more questions.

»Young Lord Stark, I ask kindly once, explain exactly how that's relevant to the fact, that we've obviously had been lied to about the importance of one's second gender. I will throw you into the dragon pit if you dare and try to sell us even more lies.« there's a threatening hiss from Daemon, giving a warning glare towards Cregane.

Surprisingly enough, in the eyes of Rhaenyra and Jacaerys, Daemon has taken quite a liking towards you and perhaps it's of his own Omega—which might have already sensed your omega nature during from the first meeting—that he feels drawn to you, like a dame to their pups and flaring up his protective instinct.

»As you wish, your highness. I'll try to explain as best as i possibly can.« and Cregane did explain, but none of them had thought, that behind the lie lays such a state of extent inhumanity.

It begins with your fourth great-grandmother Milalione, who had been born as the very first alpha woman—after aeons in a bloodline of only omegas—and had developed, in the early years of her childhood, a strong hatred towards Omegas.

Milalione despise Omegas, she sees them as nothing but weak minded lowlife—a pest which should be eliminated from society and making royal bloodlines clean again—with no right to live and if they, humbly, had been graced by the High-Queen to have a chance of life, it would only be for the sole purpose of being a breeding machine to birth many more alphas and the occasional betas.

Milalione, when she was crowned High-Queen during her time of reign, had created new laws which strips Omegas of all their rights and privileges—ensuring they're now property of the royal court, so they could be enslaved as servants with no freedom.

Now, because of these Laws and regulations—regarding how Omegas are to be treated in the far northern kingdom—and the way how, fear inflicting and iron gripping strict, Milalione had raised her own children and grandchildren—it's no wonder why High-Queen Coralione had lied.

»Although this is certainly a terrible and immoral, inhumane way to treat fate blessed Omegas, it's still not a valid excuse to lie so shamelessly about something so of importance during a securing of merging two royal bloodlines.«

Don't get Rhaenyra wrong, as a Queen she's an active speaker against Omega mistreatment—after all her beloved, second, husband is one and so is her son Lucerys as well—and if she had known beforehand how, inhumanly, Omegas are being treated in the far northern kingdom, she would never approved of the request to give Jacaerys hand into marriage.

»It doesn't. Indeed it doesn't, but it's explain the fact of why.« Cregane neither agrees nor disagrees, keeping his own answer as neutral as possible.

»No. It still doesn't.« argues Daemon.

»It does. Former High-Queen Milalione had, to make her stance crucially clear, killed a few of her own children, when they have presented as an omega, in front the eyes the others.«

»Why?«

»Because,« drawls Cregane, »She was a vile woman and my aunt, High-Queen Coralione, is just as vile. When [Name] had been born, thankfully the law, within the royal household, to kill of any royal born omegas had been repealed before, Auntie was so enraged that she let [Name] be raised as an alpha and having his omega nature be suppressed.«

Jacaerys swallows thickly, the mere thought of you—his fated mate, the person he love unconditionally the most—being killed, send shivers down his spine and makes him visible flinch.

Rhaenyra gives Jacaerys a comforting rub on the back, sensing her sons discomfort—the little drop in his pheromones, which oozes with jittery fear and worry for his mate, could be sniffed out—as a mother and wife she sympathy with her son—if someone would tell her, Daemon or Lucerys could be killed due their second gender, she too would feel an ounce of fear, panic even.

»So,« Jacaerys begun, licking over his bottom lips—they're feeling so dry all of sudden, but his hands were clammy—a audible stutter in his voice, »basically the only reason why High-Queen Coralione had lied is so [Name] wouldn't taint the the Rosevale bloodline?« asking with disbelief.

Cregane nods, »To sum it all up, yeah that sounds about right.«

Rhaenyra emits a sigh, under any other circumstance and if it weren't for the fact that Jacaerys and you are fated mates, she would have annulled the marriage right away, even sending a letter of upcoming threats, perhaps having their dragons spew a bit of fire cause some destruction as well—just to make it clear, that lying towards a Targaryen means a death wish—but that's no option anymore.

It's weeks later, when Jacaerys—after having a few private lessons about Omegas and getting some helpful advice from his younger brother Luke, who volunteered to repeat some of his lessons again, just so you wouldn't be alone during your own—was trying helping you building a nest.

It would be your first nest, since throughout your entire life till now—with the way how you had been raised and the sole, added fact that your inner omega had been constantly suppressed, dulling your natural and basic instinct—you never had the chance to even experienced this urge, bliss like feeling which comes along with it when nesting for the first time.

»See! It isn't so complicated, is it? Now you place this blanket–« Jacaerys gets interrupted by Tahaerys, one of his sons, who proudly presents him a pillow, »Yes, bravo and thank you Tahaerys. Why don't you give your papa one of your pillows as well?« praising the young, mere six year old child, Jacaerys ruffles through the black tuff of curls.

Tahaerys and Feyeaerys, fraternal twins and your firstborns, are a splitting image of Jacaerys—sharing the same luscious, raven black curls and deer like brown eyes as him.

»It's......it's not easy.« you huffed out, halfheartedly arranging the blanket in this messy pile you're supposedly have to call a nest.

A nest you have to build, what a joke—for what reason even? You don't need a nest, you hadn't need one before and you won't need it in the future, you're fine without one and why a nest when there's a big bed?—you're only doing this for Jacaerys sake, he had asked so sweetly if he could help you with building a nest, you couldn't deny his request—especially not when your children had joined as well, wanting to help.

»Here papa! I've scented one of my pillows for you, so you always have our scents around you!« exclaims Tahaerys proudly, almost stumbling over another loose laid blanket.

Taking the small pillow from your son, you smiled softly at him, »Thank you, Tae, my sweet little boy.« you tell him, placing a kiss upon his head.

This action of Tahaerys receiving a kiss from you, caused an uproar of upsetting protest from your other children; Feyeaerys pouted, crossing his arms, not liking how his twin—doesn't matter that Tae was only three candles older—was getting all of your attention, »Not fair! Not fair! I wanna have a kiss from papa too!«

»Hey, and what about me? Is a kiss from daddy not good enough?« Jacaerys ask, lips twitching up into a smile, holding in a chuckle, finding his children jealously against each other amusing.

Feyeaerys shook his head, standing up and moving from his position next to his dad, going towards you, »No! Only papa's kiss!« he said, frown—more a cute looking pout—crossing his face and if he could, he would have tackled you into a hug, but he couldn't—not when his younger siblings occupied the spot in your lap—and decided to sit, like Tae, next to you.

»Ouch, Feya, this really does hurt daddys heart,« placing a hand over his heart, feigning in a extravagant manner pain, Jacaerys pouts—a pout, which you often have said looked quite handsome on him.

All of your children had managed to perfectly impersonated Jacaerys pout as well, knowing pretty good—they figured it out on their own—how easily it would make you sway and give in to their wishes.

Heinrich and Sylvain, your youngest—barley a year and few months old—children as of current, huffing as well, pulling at your arm and clothes, needy for wanting your sole attention, cuddles and scenting only for themselves, »Now, now, I have enough kisses for all of you. There's no need to be getting jealous,« you laugh, giving each of your boys a kiss and good round of scenting, till they're satisfied enough.

Jacaerys believes himself to be pretty territorial, when it comes to you, but his children—they're papa boys since the very beginning of their birth—outdo him in that category; there had been plenty moments where he got growled at by his own children, because he was too close to you for their liking.

Tahaerys and Feyeaerys were by far the worst, when it comes to you—there had been a few times, where the twins had decided to sleep in the grand bedroom with you and when Jacaerys—after returning from a long council meeting—wanted to simply join you for sleep, just holding you close, his boys had actually managed to kick him off the bed—snarling their tiny fangs at him, growling and, visibly by the small chimney fire, glaring at him—their own sire—rather nasty, a glare which they have gotten from him.

Whilst Jacaerys find it admirable how protective the twins are of you, he doesn't—when his sons are going to continue with their current behaviour—want to asserting dominance over them and having to do some roughhousing just to make it clear that he's the patriarchal Alpha of the family.

»Can we do something else now?« you ask, not out of particular boredom—despite you probably appearing as if you're bored—but because this nest, which is supposed to be your personal nest, looks so meekly, measly and ugly compared to what you have been told by your tutors and Luke.

Compared to Luke's nest, which he had allowed you to see—and that was also the first time, you even had saw a nest at all—yours looks clumsy cluttered.

Jacaerys shook his head, »No, [Name]. We have to finish this first.« there's a slight sternness in his voice.

»Why?«

»Because, it's an important necessity for you.«

Jacaerys mother and stepfather had told him with enormous emphasis, how important it is for an omega to build their (first) nest—after all, nests are there to be a safe haven for them, a place to ground them and make them feel secure.

»It isn't. I don't want it. I don't need it.« there's annoyance in your voice, face scrunching up into a frown, »I don't need it! I don't need it!« you repeated in frustration, throwing a pillow far away, tears welling up in your eyes—chest heaving heavily with the few deep breaths you had done.

»Hey, hey,« Jacaerys calls softly, crawling towards you and behind you, arms around your waist—pulling you flush against his chest—dipping his head down and nuzzling his nose against your scent gland, before giving you a row of scenting kisses.

Jacaerys could tell you're getting upset and before you're about to throw a tantrum out of frustration, Jacaerys decided ease you into a state of calm before coaxing what's bothering out of you.

»My love, tell me what's wrong. What makes you so upset?«

Feyeaerys gaps, »Papa upset?!« climbing over his dads long legs, pushing them aside to have some space, to stand near you—patting his tiny hands against your face, »Papa! No crying!« he barks it like an order, coping his dad and trying to scent you in comfort as well.

Tahaerys, just like his twin brother, does the same, with the slight difference that his expression was stoic—showing no profusely emotions, he's the more mature twin after all—except for the tiny narrow of his eyes towards his dad, believing his dad was the one who had upset his papa.

»It's just....« you breathed out, huddling Heinrich and Sylvain closer towards you, but your voice cracks already—lips quivering, inhaling sharply as you felt a thick lump in your throat, feeling close to break down any mere second.

»Mhm?« Jacaerys hummed, indicating he listened to whatever you would be telling him.

»Just....how can I be your omega when my nest looks so, so ugly! I don't want to build a nest, when it's always gonna turn out so messy and building them is so exhausting and I don't want to be an omega anymore!« you spilled all your frustration like an open barrel of wine and Jacaerys listens patiently till your finished.

Dear god of the fates above! You thought—it strikes you like lightning into your heart, or resembles how mother would slap you as punishment for misbehaving or doing un-alpha like things—you're an embarrassment, aren't you? How can you be an omega when you couldn't even build a proper nest for your alpha—your mate—to impress him?

Your nest, giving it another glance around, doesn't look messy anymore in your eyes but dirty and unattractive—just like you—and there bubbles shame in you, ready to burn you.

»What are you even saying, my love. Do you hear yourself?« ask Jacaerys, ghosting his lips over your cheek and near the corner of your lips—grazing his fangs softly down your neck and along your claim mark afterwards.

»No! No! You don't understand!« your scent spiked up unpleasantly into a sour note.

Your children flinched, Heinrich and Sylvain sniffing, about to let out a loud whine if it weren't for Jacaerys softly hushing them—pumping out some of pheromones to overpower your own, sour ones and to cease some up building tension—and Tahaerys and Feyeaerys were startled, because never had they heard your yelling like this before.

»[Name].« a tiny growl rumbles escapes through Jacaerys throat, making you instantly whine in submission—turning your head to nuzzle against his face, a tiny lick over his cheek in a gesture of apology—normally, under no circumstances, Jacaerys likes to use such dominance over you, but he had no other choice.

»Now, [Name], I want you to listen to me.« said Jacaerys, »Do you understand?« he ask more forcefully, when you haven't given any kind of response before—and when you nodded, Jacaerys guide your head with his hand so that you're looking into his eyes.

»It's your first nest. It's supposed to look so messy at the beginning and even if all your next nests will be looking like this, messy and clumsy put together, I will always and I repeat, always find your nest the most prettiest perfect one.« Jacaerys pulls you into a kiss, ignoring the grumbling huffs from his children—because he's stealing your attention from them again.

Parting away, to regain breath again, Jacaerys leans his forehead against yours, »And do you know why?« he ask in a whisper.

»No. Why?« you ask back, in the same whisper—nuzzling into Jacaerys hand, which he placed onto your cheek.

»Because you've made it. And I'm so proud of you for trying it, the best you can.«

~~~•~~~

It's been a few years and while the maesters had told Jacaerys, his mother and brother occasionally reminding him, that it would take a bit of time for you to fully recover your inner omega and mental headspace about it, you still weren't adjusting well.

Being an omega stresses you more out than it should and more than often throughout the day, Jacaerys finds himself laying in your nest—still messily and clumsy, but now put together with love instead of just repeating a motion of whats being taught to you, although you still cry out of embarrassment and shame whenever you rebuild or build a new nest in your nest chamber—with you in his arms, your children joining the cuddle sessions most of the time as well, because you don't feeling well enough.

Scenting your children was easy to do—it's something you do without thinking twice about, a primal instinct—but scenting Jacaerys? That was like a battlefield, more than often you had knocked your head against his nose, causing a nosebleed a few times—and whenever you couldn't scent Jacaerys properly, like he does with you, you felt disappointed with yourself.

Jacaerys knew that some nobles of the court were gossiping behind their hands of false smiles about you—scrutinising and judging you about how unfit of a mate you are for him and how you aren't a proper omega—and Jacaerys also knew that you have heard some of these nasty gossips about yourself as well and how it stirs up waves of insecurity in you, bringing you to retire back into your former shell of shyness and hesitation.

Now, Jacaerys does hope, with you being pregnant again—child number five it is, just a few months away till they're born—it will bring a bit of balance to you once more, after all Jacaerys has read that omegas or parental alphas—which are not in sync with their second gender—will get more balanced out, when having more children.

Although, considering how painful it was for you the last time when you had given birth to Sylvain, Jacaerys fears for your health—especially considering, what Cregane is currently telling him.

»I don't understand. Why does [Name] have to stand when giving birth? It sounds very painful.« neither Jacaerys nor the rest of his family had heard of such procedure.

The topic—which Cregane, after having arrived for another visit, had brought up a reminder—of which Jacaerys never had been informed about—to make sure, you won't lay down when giving birth—didn't rose out of total nowhere, but it sounded random if someone would enter amidst such conversation.

»[Name] had been pregnant after the twins and before Heinrich, but because he laid down to give birth, he had lost the child.« explained Cregane, spilling a information which they never got a share of.

»What do you mean, [Name] had been pregnant?! I would have known if this was such truth!«

»How do you know?« ask Rhaenyra, holding Jacaerys back by the cuff of his neck—her son, who snarls in anger and flashing his fangs in a threatening manner—ready to rip Cregane apart—was about to attack his cousin-in-law, only because Cregane knew about such, personally, information first instead of Jacaerys—but she could understand her son, she too would be angry if Daemon was in pain and only someone else instead of her would knew about it.

»The head midwife told me. The maesters told [Name] it was a false pregnancy and I do believe it would be best to keep it this way. Otherwise I fear, my cousin will spiral into a despairing drop.«

»I understand. Could elaborate how laying down is dangerous for a child? That's something I haven't heard of before.«

»In the bloodline of the Rosevales it is. Everyone in the family has to stand during birth and indeed, it is painful, extremely suffering exhausting. Though if otherwise it's an instant and inevitable child loss.«

Mere fifteen year old teens like Tahaerys and Feyeaerys weren't supposed to walk their papa—having your arms around their shoulders, aiding you with walking, while carrying their younger brothers as well—all the way from the garden and into the birthing chamber.

Inside the twins brews a storm of panic, because at first they've thought—when you complained about sharp pains—the baby might have kicked too hard or you've exhaust yourself too much when playing with Heinrich and Sylvain, but when you sat down in the nest—moaning a howl of pain out—and Tahaerys and Feyeaerys saw the puddle of blood, the smell so prominent strong—the younger children letting out whines of discomfort—your sitting it, they knew what it meant.

Tahaerys doesn't even knew what to do, feeling just as panicked and helpless as his brother—who was shushing their younger brothers.

»Feya, take Heinrich and Sylvain and bring them to uncle Luke. Then go and get father.« Tahaerys orders, crawling into the nest next to you.

You howled in pain when another wave of contractions came, whimpering and trying to curl up—heaving out another deep breath—god, are you exhausted, so damn exhausted and all you wanted at this current moment was to just lay down, but Tahaerys keeps nagging not to do so.

»I don't.....i don't wanna stand. Just.....let me lay down, just for minute. I'm tired.«

Laying in bed is so much comfortable than having to stand and you never understood why you always, during every childbirth. had to stand hours longs, whilst everyone else was allowed to lay down.

»No, no, Papa. Please, you gotta have to stand up! Please, c'mon papa, please stand up!« pleads Tahaerys, managing to pull you at least into a seating position once more.

Tahaerys doesn't know the reason behind, why you aren't supposed to lay down—the maesters and midwives never attempted, when he had asked, to explain properly as why you shouldn't—but he knew enough that's not something good for you.

»Jacaerys......« you whimper out, hugging your stomach, bending forward in hopes of lessening the pressure.

It hurts so much, why does it hurt so much again? The last time you had such pain, was when you had given birth to Heinrich and during your two false pregnancies.

Where's Jacaerys? Where's your mate? He's never here, when you need him! Throughout all the childbirths you had given before, Jacaerys was never even once present during these time when you needed him the most and today wouldn't be any different, but you still longed for Jacaerys to be here with you anyway—to hold your hand and giving support, whispering sweetheartly words of reassurance into you hear.

»Dad will be here soon, papa. I promise, just hang in a there a bit more.« Tahaerys didn't knew what to do at all, expect for staying by your side—offering his hand in support and hoping the bit of small pheromones waves he keeps producing, wafting through the room, providing enough familiarity for you not to drop—whilst waiting until Feyeaerys comes back with their Sire.

The door, with a burst of force, swings opens »Tae!« shouts Feyeaerys out of breath,

»Where's.....« Tahaerys waited a second, trying to see a glimpse of his father, but there wasn't any—»where's dad?!« he ask, flinching when you gripped his hand—almost crushing it with how tight you grip is—and letting out another ear piercing mewl.

»Alpha!« you plead out in a moan, all you wanted was Jacaerys.

Feyeaerys was reluctantly to answer—shoulders hunching up, trying to appear a bit smaller than he was—his twin could be quite brooding when something was about to upset him and Tae was also the one, who would snap and snarl first when provoked or angry—»Dad, he doesn't.....he doesn't want to come in...«

»What? Why?!«

»He can't.....something about privacy and uhm....uhm.....« Feyeaerys hum and haw around, kneading his hands into the hem of his shirt—shuffling around, couldn't stand still for a moment, not with how nervous he felt—shyly looking anywhere but at his brother and papa—especially his dear papa, Feyeaerys couldn't stomach the miserable expression and tear filled eyes, his papa probably has by now.

Tahaerys growls, »Feya. Spit it out. Why doesn't want our father want to come in. Tell me. Now!« and Feyeaerys lets out a low whine, craning his neck a bit—showing submission.

»Dad says, it's not.....it's not his place as an alpha to give an omega company during childbirth!« Feyeaerys almost shouts, trembling and on the verge of tears himself—it's too much! His papa being in so much distress and pain, Tae about to rip and snarl something apart—Feyeaerys was about to have his own breakdown by now.

Glancing up at his twin brother, Feyeaerys emits an high pitched sound from his throat—Tae's expression, that deepen scowl and the cold glare—never at Feya himself of course—was just too scary.

Tahaerys roars, »Oh, for fucks sake of the holy!«

Fine. Fine! If his Sire doesn't want to come at his own free will, then Tahaerys will make his father to do so! Because, how dare his father even to let papa bear such pain alone?!

»Feya! You stay here with Papa! I'll go and get our damned Sire!«

»The fuck is your problem?!« Tahaerys, at this moment, doesn't care—he really doesn't—that he might have interrupted in the middle of some conversation or meeting between his father and the rest of the family.

His grandfather clicks his tongue, »Watch your mouth, my grandson.« Daemon reprimanded, displeased with the way of foul language his grandson—next heir to the throne—was speaking.

»I don't fucking care! I want to know why father isn't with papa and what his fucking problem is!«

»Tahaerys. You do not speak like this to any of us.« Jacaerys warns, he too reprimanded his son—giving a stern look.

»Fuck you!« and Tahaerys lungs towards his father, barring his fangs and snarling in threat—when he got held back by his uncle Cregane.

»Tahaerys!« that's his Grandma who shouts his name in absolute disbelief at the behaviour and action he just had committed against his father.

»Woah, hey.« Cregane, still holding his nephew aback from Jacaerys, tries to appease the upcoming situation, »Calm a bit down and tell us what's gotten you so angry, Tae.«

»It's Father. Father got me angry!«

»Why?«

»The fucker knows why!«

»Tahaerys! That's certainly enough!« Rhaenyra grabs her grandson by the nape of his neck, holding him in place—adding a bit of pressure, when Tahaerys snarls again.

The council room reeked of alpha and it's not a smokey scent like chimney fire or strong whiskey, but the kind which resembles iron or burnt flesh and bones—showing just how strong the anger, the taste of aggression is.

»Tae, my boy. We can't be of help, if you don't tell us what's wrong. Calm down first, take a breath if needed and then speak.« says Rhaenyra, only loosing a pinch of her hold on her grandson, »Speaking in civil manner and no more fangs and snarls towards your Sire.« she adds, letting go completely—but still near enough, just as Cregane is, to step in again if needed.

»Why aren't you with papa?« the anger had long blown out of Tahaerys and his question sounded more defeating as if he had given up to argue.

»Your papa isn't due till in a few weeks.« says Jacaerys in a matter of fact, crossing his arms.

»Who told such?«

His grandma answers, »The Maesters.« and his father adds, »Maesters are never wrong.«

»Well,« starts Tahaerys, irritation starting to rise up in him, »than this once, they've informed you all wrong. Papa's due date is now and the puddle of blood he's sitting in, proves that.«

Cregane drew in a sharp breath, looking at his nephew with wide eyes as if he hadn't heard it right, »What? Repeat that. Blood?«

»Yeah, blood. Large puddle and I know papa isn't supposed to lay down and I've tried my best to get him to stand up, but he's so exhausted, I barley had managed to make him sit up at least.« Tahaerys shoulders sacks a bit, feeling drained himself—sure, his father needed to know but at what cost? He had left your side, Feyeaerys with you of course, but Tahaerys had promised to stay with you as well.

Blood (and the fact you're sitting) meant you're about to lose your child, another child, if they don't get one of the maesters and midwives soon—real soon, because the longer they wait, dragging the time out, the more you're suffering in pain.

Cregane swallows, looking at Jacaerys and then, as if the roles are reversed, Cregane starts to snarl, »Why the fuck aren't you at [Name]'s side?! Huh?!« he snaps, face morphing into a sneer—anger radiating off him like grand flame.

»Alphas aren't supposed to accompany their Omegas during childbirth. It's a matter of privacy.« Jacaerys repeats, what he has already told Feyeaerys.

Cregane clench his hands, raising a fist—couldn't believe what bullshit he hears from his brother-in-law, what kind of rule is that even? Who had decided it's a wise idea to leave their, any, omega alone during such a suffering time?

»I'm close to just punch you straight in the face.« Cregane was seething by now, understanding why Tahaerys was so angry moments ago.

»[Name]'s about to lose the baby and you're an asshole for not being there for him, when he needs you the most!«

Jacaerys looks confused for a moment and Cregane swears, he would break Jacaerys nose if he dares to utter one stupid question now.

»Are you that insensitive towards your own mate or just not capable of listening? I highlight two words, sitting and blood.«

Before Jacaerys could answer, Queen Rhaenyra's voice cut thru like a sword into human flesh, »Go.« she orders and when Jacaerys wasn't moving, she repeated it one more time, harsher;

»I said, go! Go to [Name]!« Rhaenyra was disappointed in her son, hugging her grandson close—it's better for Tahaerys to stay here and asking her husband to get Feyeaerys, Heinrich and Sylvain as well.

How could Jacaerys, who she had raised with the mindset to always be there for his Omega, just leave you all alone during such crucial moments?

And why does Jacaerys even believe such old fashioned nonsense about how Alphas aren't supposed to give their support when their Omegas goes through childbirth.

Rhaenyra fears, if Jacaerys has done such through all of your four pregnancies than he would face now a bitter realisation of consequences for his actions.

~~~•~~~

Daemon had gone in first, carrying Feyaerys out—the younger twin and much smaller teen was bawling his eyes out, sobbing into his grandpa shoulder, because he believes his papa was about to die any minute soon—and given Jacaerys a nasty glare.

Jacaerys enters afterwards, almost recoiling backwards from the intense smell of blood and distressed, sharp scented chili and lemon sour, almost foul, pheromones you're given out.

»[Name]?« Jacaerys calls out, uncertainty in his voice as he stepped near towards the nest.

Crouching down, Jacaerys takes in your current state—besides the obvious puddle of blood between your legs, you're drenched wet in sweat and you're shivering tremendously, breathing ragged.

»[Name]?« he asks again, reaching a hand out to touch you and when he barley grazed your skin, he couldn't believe how you flinched back from him as if he's a stranger you doesn't know—or worse, an Alpha you're feeling threatened by.

»....Alpha? Where.....my alpha?« you moan out, pupils dilated—gaze unfocused, out of it

For a moment, Jacaerys thought, you're looking at him, but that wasn't the case—your pupils are dilated, gaze unfocused.

»Please....« you beg, »I want my alpha......Jace....where are you?« you ask—so out of it, that you don't even notice Jacaerys being here, a sob racking through you—a moan of pain leaving your lips—and you let yourself fall onto the side, curling up—closing your eyes.

Jacaerys pales, drew in a sharp inhale of breath—his inner alpha howls in agony and his heart breaks—as he quickly crawls into the nest, moving behind you—his arms going under yours, around your chest—pulling you upwards and close against his chest.

»[Name]?! Hey! Hey, [Name]! Open your eyes, please, c'mon love!« he repeatedly pats your cheek till you let out a whine and bleary opening your eyes again.

What has he done? Oh, by the holy above, just what has he done? He had left you alone, always during such crucial times and now you don't recognise him—as a human and neither his alpha—anymore in your haze of pain,

»Your highness, we had been informed–« one of the Maesters begun, but Jacaerys interrupted him, »Out!« he snaps.

»Pardon, your highness?«

»I said, get out!« a snarl, but the Maesters did not leave, raising an eyebrow—stepping one step forward and Jacaerys snarls again, a warning.

»With all due respect, your highness, but as a Maesters I'm required to–«

»No you aren't! Get out. I want the midwives and only the midwives!« it's an order and the maester, with an grumbling, nods his head—walking out and ordering a guard to get the Midwives.

Jacaerys gently licks over your scent gland, nuzzling you, engulfing you with his pheromones as he holds you close, holding your hand in his—hoping to bring you out of your haze and make you recognise him again.

»I'm here, [Name]. I'm here.« he whispers over and over again, rocking you back and forth—grewing anxiously himself the longer he has to wait for the midwives.

»Jace.....?« you mewl—god, you're mewling and Jacaerys is the sole reason for it.

»Yes, I'm here. [Name], I'm here.« he says and when you let out another pained moan—a small cry, more like a scratching scream, toppling from your lips—as more blood gushes out from below, Jacaerys heart almost lurched itself into a stop, Jacaerys starts to ramble.

Jacaerys felt himself tear up, clenching his eyes shut for a moment—letting his own tears escape and dripping down his cheeks—body trembling and heart aching in emotional pain.

»I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for the pain I've caused you. I'm sorry.«

It's hours laters, the sun has set down into a sunset by now, when the wails of a newborn—mixed with jubilee shouts of joy from the other side of the door—chorused through the castle.

You can't remember much of what happen, besides the gut brutal pain you've felt, but when you heard Jacaerys voice—which you thought to have imagined in your hazed mind—close to you, praising you for doing so well and blessing him another son, you felt happiness flooding through you—letting out a minimal chirp of greeting.«

»Jace, you're here?« you had to ask, couldn't believe it that Jacaerys was really here with you and not just after birth hours afterwards, when you're back in the bedroom to recover.

»I am, my love.« Jacaerys leans down, pressing his lips against your forehead, »And I promise, here and now, with all my heart, I will never leave you alone again during such times.«

You smile, cradling your newborn son close to you, nuzzling your nose gently against his tiny head—he's so precious, of course all your children a precious to you, but he's the most precious one.

Jacaerys too has leaned down to his newborn son, doing the same as you, »How do you wanna name our son?« he ask, looking at you.

»I think....« you pondered for a moment, »Aelexaenrys,«

Jacaerys laughs, »That's a mouthful isn't it?« remembering how you have mispronounced—and butchering up—his own name back than.

»Then his nickname will be, Alexei,« you simply said, smiling even bigger now.

»I like it, it's a wonderful nickname for such a great blessing like our son.«

Ignoring the moment when his four other children had bursted through the door like a hoard of little dragons and being just as loud as them, when they demanded attention from their mother—Jacaerys leans towards your lips, placing a long lasting kiss on them.

»Ijah luvoima [Name].« Jacaerys has practiced hard with Cregane to pronounce these two words in perfections, after all your native language wasn't so easy to learn, but these words Jacaerys wanted to know.

Sickly green neon lights reflect on murky brown water, and a stomach-churning stench rises from the walls of the worn-down building; the grey impregnated itself in any surface it touched, like acrid sulfur. (Y/n) crouched in front of The Last Drop, (e/c) eyes squinting to make out any recognisable feature in what once was a haven to him.

He dusted off the dirt that had collected in the upper part of his pants and inhaled sharply, lungs long accustomed to the poisonous fog of his hometown. He pressed forward. The inside was empty—needless to check; he wouldn't find her inside. The paper felt like lead in his pocket, heavy and foreboding—a reminder of his failures and the grief that followed any Zaunite like a wailing shadow.

He hadn't gone to the mines in years, and he hadn't had to work there in such a long time that he wasn't sure what exactly they looked like after everything. The entrance was falling apart, and wood planks, detached and broken, littered the floor, and glass cracked underneath his shoes. He tightened his jaw and looked down, the pitch-black darkness of the cave illuminating with every step. 

Thump, thump, thump. The impact of his boots against the floor echoed—the caves amplified each sound closer than it truly was—and the faint noises of water dripping reached his ears along with a low rumbling. She was deeper there, had to be. His fingers rubbed the paper note inside his pocket, hope simmering inside his chest.

Thundering footsteps started to come in his direction; something metallic scratched against the walls. He raised his guard, crouching and aiming his gun at the origin of the sound. The walls illuminated in a quick flash, and a dark shadow moved too fast for him to brace himself for it, the thing colliding into his chest and throwing him to the ground.

Mismatched eyes looked straight into his, and a gaping maw with sharp teeth stopped just short of tearing his face apart. Shivers went down his spine, and his lips quivered, tears welling in his eyes as he raised a trembling hand to the creature's face. A sharp set of footsteps entered the place, the light going up again and illuminating the monster's face further. Greyish dark fur coated a familiar face and warped it into something recognisable but not completely. 

“Thought you'd want to see him.” Powder announced, her gun clanking against her belt. 

Vi stepped closer, opening her mouth and closing it before finally settling on explaining it. “It's...”

“Vander.” He held the man's face in his hands, tears falling down his eyes, a thunderous storm inside his heart. The man he loved. The man he loves. He holds him tenderly but strongly, as if afraid that when he lets go, it will all dissolve and morph back into his bleak reality.

Vander softens, resting his head against the crook of the other man's neck. A content sigh leaves his nose and ruffles the hair on the (h/c)-haired man's head. “(Y/n).”

“Sheesh, even he recognised him way faster than you did.” The blue-haired woman jabbed at her sister, the corner of her mouth pulled up in a teasing smirk. Her facade breaks as she sees a hand outstretched in her direction. 

(Y/n) reassuringly squeezes her hand, a wide smile on his lips as he unburies his head from Vander's fur and turns it towards his daughter. “Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me. You love him as much as we do,” she laughs bitterly. Her hand, albeit hesitant, holds his tighter.

“I do. I don't know how you found him or what happened, but you brought me back to him. I haven't felt like this in so long.” His voice sounds choked, and he looks back at the pair of blue and yellow eyes, his hands caressing the rough skin. He feels Vander's strong arms curl around him, and the fur tickles his neck and arms, warm and comforting. “I love you,” he whispers in the man's ear, loud enough for only them to hear it.

“Love... you.” He answers back.