#tw.rape

aerion, whos eyes are drawn to you the moment he enters the brothel, the streak of white at your temple reminding him so much of his dear cousin.

aerion, who grabs your ass first, pressing himself to you from behind. calls you enamouring, lips pressed against the shell of your ear after brushing that streak behind your ear.

you, who stiffens instantly. you were not a working girl, only there to do the madames bidding--bringing letters to and from customers, to other girls etc.

aerion, who doesn't care. offers you 200 stags; you had never seen so much money before, how could you turn him down?

he's obsessed with your hair--burying his nose at your temple as he fucks you into the wall, unable to find care within him at your cries, or as to whether or not anyone saw him on the bottom floor of the green dragon.

aerion, who's heart jumps to his throat when he finally looks you in the eye. one beautiful, amethyst iris; glossy with tears, framed by silver lashes. if he were to cover up your left side you'd look as plain as any other girl.

aerion, who thanked the gods you were not.

you never saw the money he promised you, instead waking up in an unfamiliar bed, and an unfamiliar room.

you, who was too scared to leave.

you, who had the fortunate (or, unfortunate) pleasure of being there when aerion came back.

aerion, who is quick to mount you. he flips you, one calloused hand on the back of your neck, pressing your face into the pillow, the other forcing your sore thighs apart.

aerion, who's lip curls at the blood on his cock, leaning down to whisper how obedient you were, so sweet and pliant, perfect.

aerion, who rubs his cum into your back, panting, before leaning down to lick a line up your spine, tasting himself and a little bit of blood that had smeared there.

you are tended to by silent maids, all three of them avoiding your gaze and not daring to speak a word in your presence. they bathe you, wipe away the tears and the blood, dressing you in a wine-coloured dress before leaving.

it becomes habit: aerion fucking you in the morning, the maids putting you back together, aerion fucking you again in the evening and through the night, keeping himself tucked inside of you so he can pick back up whenever he feels heat prickling at his stomach.

aerion, who begins to bend you over the balcony, threatening to throw you over if you were too loud or if you tried to leave. you tighten around him every time he threatened you.

you, who begins to soften. he was your only companion, the only person who would speak back when you spoke first.

you, who stops fighting when he pushes you down, instead wrapping around him when he's next to you.

aerion, who opens the door.

you are terrified. you didn't know where you were, pressed tight against aerion's arm like you would be lost if you softened your grip.

aerion, who has you in every room he shows you. on your knees, bent over a chair, over a table, him on his knees.

aerion, who offers you a moment of respite when he takes you to the gardens.

they are beautiful, filled with more green than you had ever seen in your life. he takes you upon the forget-me-nots, crushing the tiny flowers beneath your cheek.

aerion, who had noticed a shadow every time he folded you over.

he pulls you up by the neck, squeezing as a whine pinches past his fingers. "isn't she beautiful?" he pants, turning your face. your eyes were glassy, rolling back into your skull.

do you think he'd manage to convince aegon to rape his first girl?

Gross gentle rapist valarr :((((((((