Sunflower 🌻

You knew she would be furious. You could almost hear her sharp voice scolding you for neglecting tradition, for turning away from the sept-bound ritual she so cherished. But here, in the garden, your lungs filled with air that wasn’t thick with judgment. Here, you were not merely a daughter-in-law—you were yourself.

Then, without warning, a strong hand seized your wrist. You gasped, the sound caught halfway between alarm and surprise, and in the next heartbeat you were pulled flush against a broad chest.

“Seven hells,” you whispered, your voice caught with a startled laugh—only for it to die into a kiss, hot and certain.

Aegon.

He smiled into your lips as if he’d been waiting all morning for this moment. Behind you, your ladies-in-waiting covered their giggles with their hands, exchanging glances before bowing and slipping away, leaving you in the grasp of your husband.

He didn’t let go. Instead, his arms circled your waist, pulling you tighter, his nose brushing yours, his breath tasting faintly of wine though it was still early.

“Radiant,” he murmured, voice low, almost disbelieving. His eyes searched yours like he was trying to unearth some secret you kept hidden even from him. “You’ve been glowing these past days. Tell me, little wife… why is that?”

You giggled softly, placing a palm against his cheek, feeling the scratch of stubble beneath your fingers. “Perhaps it is the air. The garden is kinder to me than your mother’s chambers.”

Aegon chuckled, a rough, warm sound that vibrated through your bones. “Ah, so that is the trick. Sunlight, blossoms… and freedom from my mother sharp tongue.” He leaned close again, lips grazing yours as he spoke. “I should’ve guessed.”

You pressed your forehead against his, heart beating faster under the cage of his arms. “And what of you? You follow me like a shadow, husband. Is the garden so enchanting, or is it me you seek?”

His grip tightened, just slightly—possessive, protective. His smirk faded into something rawer, more vulnerable. “I sought you the moment I woke. I always do.”

The words hit you with a weight he rarely let slip, the honesty trembling behind them. This was not the Aegon the realm knew—the drunken prince, the cruel son, the man of silk streets and whispered sins. This was the man who had changed since the day your betrothal was announced. Who had clawed his way out of the mire to be something better, for you.

Three years of marriage, and still he looked at you as though you were the first light he had ever seen.

“I remember,” you whispered, voice trembling with affection. “When they told me I was to wed you, I feared it was a punishment. A fate worse than death.” You brushed your thumb across his lips, watching them curl into a half-smile. “But you… you are not that man anymore.”

His breath hitched, chest rising against yours. “No. I’m not. For you, I’d burn the world. For you, I’ll never be that man again.”

The intensity in his eyes sent warmth pooling low in your belly. His lips crashed against yours once more, desperate and deep, and you melted into him. His kiss was hungry, a claiming, yet tender in the way his fingers tangled in your hair, careful not to hurt.

The world narrowed to the taste of him, the press of his body, the way he held you like he could never bear to let go.

When finally he broke the kiss, both of you breathless, he whispered against your lips, voice hoarse: “You’re mine. Always mine. I will not let anyone take you from me.”

And though you laughed lightly at his words, brushing them off with a smile, a part of you shivered—not in fear, but in recognition of the truth.

The late afternoon sun painted the gardens in warm gold, catching in the vines that crawled along the stone walls. The air was heavy with lilac, and laughter spilled from your lips as you darted between the hedges. Your skirts caught at your ankles, slowing you only slightly, while behind you came the sound of your husband’s pursuit—his uneven footfalls, his half-drunken but determined shouts.

“Run faster, little wife,” Aegon called, breathless, laughter rough in his throat. “Do not think you can escape me!”

Your giggles echoed like bells through the trees. For a moment, there was no crown, no council, no shadow of war—just the two of you, foolish in your love.

But then, the world shifted.

A sharp pounding bloomed in your skull, so sudden it nearly stole your breath. Your vision blurred, the laughter dying on your tongue as your legs faltered. The ground tilted, rushing up to meet you—

And then strong arms caught you.

“—hey, no, no, I’ve got you.” Aegon’s voice was no longer playful, but urgent, frayed with panic. He lowered you carefully to a stone bench, cupping your face in trembling hands. His eyes, wide and wild, searched yours as though he could will the pain away.

“Tell me you’re all right,” he demanded, almost pleaded. “Tell me now.”

You forced a nod, even as the dull throb still pulsed behind your temples. “I’m fine,” you whispered, steadying your breath. “It was only for a moment.”

His jaw clenched. “Did you eat this morning?”

You nodded again. “Yes. Before I came to the garden.”

Aegon exhaled sharply, brushing his thumb across your cheek as if grounding himself. “I’ll call the maester. Later..” His voice broke on the last word, softened with something that made your chest ache. “I’ll not take chances with you.”

You leaned into his touch, lips curving in a small smile meant to soothe him, but before either of you could speak again—

“So you've been here all this time.”

The voice sliced through the garden, sharp as a blade.

You both turned.

Near the arch of an old elm stood Alicent Hightower, her green silk glinting in the sunlight. She was motionless, her gaze fixed not on Aegon, but on you. Your throat went dry. You swallowed.

“Mother,” Aegon said flatly, but she did not answer him.

Her eyes lingered on you with disapproval sharp enough to strip bark from a tree. “Tell me, daughter,” she began slowly, each word deliberate, “why do you refuse me? A month of mornings I have called for you, and a month of mornings you have chosen to absent yourself from my chambers.”

Heat crawled up your neck. You smoothed your skirts beneath her gaze, gathering your courage. “I wished for a routine of my own,” you said carefully, voice steady despite the knot in your chest. “The garden… it gives me peace.”

Alicent’s lips tightened. She shook her head once, sharply, and her eyes darkened. “Gods you're just like your mother.”

The words landed like a curse.

For a moment, silence pressed heavy between the three of you. Aegon’s hand slid from your cheek to your waist, fingers tightening protectively as though he could shield you from his mother’s tongue.

Then, with a weary sigh, he spoke. “Mother, you must understand—she needs her own space. You cannot hover over her at every turn.”

Alicent’s eyes snapped to him, disbelief flaring. “Space?” she repeated, her voice cold. “You speak of space as though I were suffocating her. You insult me, Aegon.”

He did not flinch, though you felt the tension rolling off him. “Then be insulted,” he muttered.

For a heartbeat, Alicent simply stared—at her son, at his defiance, at you standing tucked beneath his arm. Then, with a bitter shake of her head, she turned, green skirts sweeping as she walked away, her figure swallowed by the shadows of the arch.

The silence she left behind was deafening.

You turned to Aegon, who still held you close, though his gaze was distant, troubled. He looked down at you finally, regret etched deep into his face. “I should not have let her speak to you so. I should not have spoken to her so.” His hand brushed your hair back from your temple, as though he could smooth away both your pain and the sting of her words. “I am sorry, love. For all of it.”

You placed your hand over his, pressing it tighter to your cheek. “You defended me,” you whispered. “There is no need for apology.”

He searched your eyes, his own raw with something almost desperate. “But you are her daughter now, too. And she—” His voice cracked, and he exhaled. “She will never see you as she should. She will never see me as I wish she would. And the hatred that runs between our mothers…” His fingers curled around your jaw, thumb brushing against your lower lip. “It will bleed into us if we let it.”

You caught his hand, kissing his palm softly, lingering. “Then we will not let it.”

The King’s Solar glowed warm with candlelight, the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine lingering in the air. You sat nestled at Aegon’s side, the fabric of his sleeve brushing yours each time he reached for his goblet. Across the table, Helaena smiled dreamily, her voice lilting as she spoke to you.

“The twins walked this morning,” she whispered, as if confessing a secret. Her pale eyes lit up, soft with wonder. “Both of them, one after the other. I thought my heart would burst.”

You smiled, the warmth of her joy seeping into your chest. “That is wonderful, Helaena. They grow so fast.”

Her face blossomed into a shy grin, and she began describing their wobbling steps in vivid detail. The sound of Aegon and Aemond’s murmured conversation carried from the other end of the table—low, even, for once without argument. For a brief, delicate moment, the room felt at peace.

But peace is a fragile thing.

“Tell me, child,” Alicent’s voice cut sharply across the table, shattering the soft laughter.

You froze, your words dying on your tongue as you turned toward her slowly. Her gaze was steady, unwavering, as her fingers tapped once against her cup.

“Are you with child yet?”

The air left your lungs in a rush.

“I…” Your voice faltered. You glanced toward Aegon, then down to your lap where your hands knotted into the fabric of your skirts.

Alicent tilted her head, lips pressing thin. “Helaena conceived within a month of her wedding. Twins, no less. And yet you and my son—after years of marriage—” Her pause was calculated, heavy. “Nothing.”

The weight of her words pressed down on you, suffocating. Your throat burned, but you said nothing. The silence spoke for you.

At your side, Aegon stilled. The faint smile he had carried through dinner was gone, replaced by a dark glare fixed on his mother.

“A childless marriage,” Alicent continued, as if your silence proved her point. Her voice was silk over steel. “One begins to wonder. Perhaps you are barren.”

Your breath caught. The word echoed like a curse in your ears. Barren.

Your eyes widened, vision blurring as the blood rushed to your face. Shame, anger, hurt—all tangled in your chest until you could hardly breathe.

“That is enough.” Aegon’s voice cracked through the chamber like thunder. Every head at the table turned.

Alicent arched a brow, unflinching. “I only speak what others whisper.”

“No,” Aegon spat, pushing back his chair so abruptly it scraped against the stone floor. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the table. “You corner her at every chance, you tear at her as though she were prey. I will not sit idle while you sink your claws into her.”

Alicent’s eyes narrowed, her mouth tightening. “She is my daughter now, Aegon. If she cannot bear children—”

“Then it is my failing,” Aegon cut her off, his voice breaking raw with emotion. He pressed a shaking hand against his chest, eyes flickering toward you before returning to his mother. “Perhaps the gods punish me for my sins, for the years I squandered. Perhaps they will never bless us with a child. If that is so, it is my burden to bear—not hers.”

The chamber fell silent. Even Aemond’s steady gaze flicked downward, Helaena’s hands wringing nervously in her lap.

Aegon’s voice lowered, but it trembled with something fierce. “I begging you, Mother—stop. Stop cutting her open every time you see her. I cannot endure it.”

For a heartbeat, Alicent only stared. Her expression betrayed nothing, though her fingers clenched around the stem of her cup. Then, without a word, she looked away, her silence as sharp as any blade.

Aegon exhaled hard, as though the air had turned to ash in his lungs. He turned to you, his eyes softening even as his jaw remained tight.

“Come,” he said, voice hoarse.

Before you could respond, his hand found your wrist—firm, steady, desperate. He pulled you gently but unrelentingly from your chair, ignoring the stares that followed you both. The scrape of your chair’s legs against stone was the only sound in the heavy silence as he led you from the solar, his grip never faltering.

The doors shut behind you with a dull thud, leaving the hushed tension of the chamber behind. The hallway outside was dim, lit only by flickering torches. Aegon turned to you then, his eyes wide, shining with an anguish you had rarely seen from him.

“I am sorry,” he whispered, his thumb brushing the inside of your wrist where his hand still held you. “I am so gods-damned sorry. You should never hear those words. Not from her. Not from anyone.”

Your lips parted, but your voice broke before the words could form. Instead, you stepped into him, pressing your forehead to his chest, clutching at his tunic as if to anchor yourself. His arms came around you instantly, crushing you to him.

The chambers were quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. The scent of lavender oil clung to the air, meant to soothe, but the weight of Alicent’s words pressed too heavily on your chest for comfort.

You sat on the edge of the bed, fingers twisting the hem of your nightgown, your thoughts circling endlessly. Across the room, Aegon bent over the washbasin, splashing cool water across his face. Droplets glistened in his hair, running down his neck as he reached for the towel.

He glanced at you, and in that brief flicker of his gaze, you knew he could sense the storm still raging inside you. He had tried to soothe you on the walk here, his words gentle, his grip firm, but the poison had already sunk its claws deep.

Your voice cracked the silence before you could stop yourself.

“Perhaps she is right.”

Aegon’s head snapped toward you sharply, the towel forgotten in his hand. His eyes narrowed, not in anger but in startled disbelief.

“Perhaps I am barren,” you continued, the words tumbling out before your courage fled. Your throat tightened as tears pricked your eyes. “Perhaps I cannot give you what you want most. A child. An heir. A family.”

“Don’t—” he began, but you pressed on, your voice breaking with every word.

“You want children, Aegon. You want them badly, I know it. You have told me as much when you look at Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, when you speak of our blood carrying on. If I cannot…” You swallowed hard, tears blurring your vision. “Then perhaps you should take a second wife. Or annul this marriage entirely. You deserve better than a barren wife.”

The towel slipped from his fingers, landing silently on the floor. In three strides he was before you, crouching so that his face was level with yours. His hands rose, cupping your cheeks with a gentleness that made your heart ache all the more.

“Look at me,” he whispered, voice rough, commanding yet desperate. “Look at me.”

Your eyes lifted, shimmering with tears. His gaze locked on yours, fierce and unyielding.

“I don’t care,” he said, each word breaking as if torn from the marrow of his bones. “Do you hear me? I don’t care about children. I don’t care about heirs or gods. I care about you. Only you. You are my world. My salvation. My curse. My wife.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and his thumb brushed it away before it could fall further. His jaw trembled, his chest heaving as though the weight of your pain was crushing him too.

“Do not,” he begged, his voice a rasp, “do not ever speak to me again of annulment. Or of me take a second wife. I could not endure it. I would sooner cut out my heart.”

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed, your tears spilling freely now. Aegon let out a broken sigh, and then his arms wrapped around you, pulling you against him with a ferocity that bordered on desperation. You collapsed into him, your sobs muffled against his chest.

His hand stroked your hair, trembling as he pressed kiss after kiss to your crown. “Shhh… my love, my sweet love. Let them think what they will. Let them whisper. I do not want their blessings, their gods. I want you.”

Your fists clutched at his tunic, wrinkling the fabric as your voice cracked against him. “But I want it, Aegon. I want a child. I grew up in a house full of brothers, of noise, of family. The thought of being empty—of failing—” You broke off with a sob. “The pressure is crushing me.”

His grip tightened. He buried his face in your hair, his breath hot and ragged against your scalp. “Then we will try. And try again. Not because of them. Not for the realm, not for duty. But because you desire it. And if the gods never grant it, then damn the gods. Damn them all. You are enough. More than enough.”

You wept harder, his words both soothing and breaking you at once.

For long moments, there was only the sound of your sobs and his whispered pleas, his kisses against your hairline, his heart beating wildly beneath your ear. And in that fragile silence, you realized—whatever your womb held, whatever the gods decreed—Aegon’s love was a fire that would not falter.

You were his.

And he, broken and whole all at once, was entirely yours.

©2025 Cherrubie. This tale is a blessed creation under celestial guardianship. No part may be copied, stored, transmitted, or shared beyond this realm without divine permission.

She was married to Aemond when they were both five and ten. It was Rhaenyra's idea. She wished to bridge the gap between the families. 

And the two grew to love each other well. 

But like all marriages, there came strife.

Like Aegon usurping the throne. 

So there they stood, watching as Aegon walked through the crowd to be coronated.

Aemond looked to his wife, his fingers reaching to brush hers. His voice was soft in her ear, "Please pretend to be joyful. At least give me that."

She turned her face to him, their breaths mixing. "You'd have me lie?"

He hummed. "I'll not see what happens to you if you do not. I will not allow it."

…

She opened her eyes, cringing when the light from the window blinded her. 

Giving a light yawn, she stretched and sat up in the bed. 

Aemond had already left. 

It was not uncommon. His favorite time to spar was the morning. 

She waited a while, frowning when her handmaiden never came in to help her dress. 

She stood on shaky legs and moved to the door. 

Locked. 

She shook in vigorously. "Ser Erryk?!"

No response. 

She banged her fist on the door. "Please."

She stepped back, growing frustrated. "I am locked inside!"

"Ser Erryk?"

"Aemond?"

"Please! Take me to my husband!"

She finally sighed and tried one last effort, placing her hand gently on the door, "I do not know what I have done. Please."

When nothing came, she huffed and moved to dress herself.

…

"What?" Aemond asked lowly.

"The Princess, your grace. She has been calling for you."

He shrugged. "Why? She can come to me. She knows that."

"Her door has been locked, my prince."

His gaze hardened. "You've locked her inside our chambers?"

"By the Hand's command, my prince," Ser Erryk said. His eyes held remorse. 

"Why was I not made aware of this?" Aemond growled. "She is my wife. If she is of any consequence, it should be mine! If she wishes out of her room, bring her to me."

"Yes, Prince Aemond."

…

Aemond spent the next hour holding her as she wept. 

Her grandsire gone. Her mother's right taken from her. 

And this poor girl was stuck in the midst of it all.

"You and I both know… V…Viserys did not… want this," she cried into his chest. 

He hummed in thought. "No. But it does not change its coming."

"Your family sees no reason," she sniffled.

"Hey," he warned lowly as he cupped her cheeks to force her to look at him. "Our family. You must be more Hightower than Velaryon now."

"I hold none of your mother's blood in me, Aemond."

"If you stay a Velaryon, you will not last. You are married to me. You have my name. You have my titles. You have everything."

"I have you. I shall make that enough, dear husband."

…

She felt tears form in her eyes as the crown was placed on Aegon's head. 

The crowd cheered, but she saw nothing. 

A rubble stirred through the ground and the silver hair siblings all gazed at one another in confusion.

Rhaenys and Meleys emerged from below the boards, causing a shake to move though the building. 

Gasps and screams were heard.

Aemond's eye widened, and he immediately was on guard. 

Alicent moved to Aegon, shielding him from the dragon's jaws. 

In turn, Ser Criston shifted himself between the dowager queen and Helaena, ready to interfere anywhere he needed to.

But only when Meleys turned her head did Aemond move. 

He grabbed his wife's wrist in a desperate grip, pulling her behind him as his other hand was held near his sword.

They watched as Rhaenys and Alicent stared at one another, waiting for the other to make a move first. 

Meleys reared back, preparing herself to attack.

When her great jaws opened and they believed fire would escape from it, Aemond turned completely to his wife, wrapping his arms around her waist and the other holding her head against him. He was intent on shielding her from the horrors that laid on the other side of his body.

But when a mighty roar came from the dragon instead, Aemond relaxed slightly. His hands remained, but his body was eased. 

He turned when Meleys finished. His eye met Rhaenys'. It was clear she was thinking about something. Not something, someone. 

His wife stood behind him still, her eyes peeking over his sturdy shoulders. 

Rhaenys tilted her head at the sight of the two of them, mourning the loss of Rhaeynra's daughter to the Hightowers.

And Meleys flew away.

Aemond let out a breath, pulling her head to him to kiss the crown of it. 

His hands flexed in the sheets, then they found your thighs, thick and soft and bracketed over his hips. He felt himself swallow, eyes narrowing at yours though the barely-lit candles.

You looked wild, distressed - a sight he’d never even heard your maids say you were in the mornings before they would dress you - you were always so composed. Your hair was messy, cotton slip clung to your skin with sweat.

Were you sick? Was that the reason for this? Had a disease of madness struck his dear wife?

“What are you doing?” He asked, voice quiet but smooth. He felt you shift above him, then a sting at his throat where his adams apple moved.

“I prayed,” you said. Your voice was the opposite to his, albeit still quiet, but so nervous. “I prayed everyday to the mother. The maiden. The father. The crone I begged -” your voice broke then, “- a way to see out of this cage. I cannot stand this madness, this gilded cage of doves. I cannot bear it any longer.”

Ormund’s fingers flexed into your flesh, it gave under his grip and he could feel your fist tighten on the dagger - where you procured it from he had no clue, he also had no clue how you knew how to hold it so steady when every other part of you told him you were more nervous than a doe on fawns legs.

“If something troubles you, you might speak your mind instead of taking a blade to your husband while he sleeps. I’d provide you any solace you need.”

“The stranger answered me.” you said as if he hadn’t spoken at all, and he stilled in his bed. Your eyes reflected gold, orange, red in the darkness. “He spoke to me. I saw him when I went to the sept last night. The warrior and father stood behind him. He told me to take a blade to your throat, to let it taste your blood.”

This was not ideal, for a number of reasons.

First, he was in a very real situation where one wrong move would have him helplessly bleeding out on his bedding. Second was that you were fully convinced you needed to harm him - kill him perhaps, he didn’t know the extent of your intent.

Third, well.

Who was he to question who the seven appeared to? Who they spoke to? You were in the sept, you prayed often, you never strayed out of line once - you were the kind of person the gods would speak to, and if you were a man no one would question it. If it were the seven who wanted his blood now, who was he to deny them? If you were the vessel they used, who was he to deny you?

“So be it.” he said. At his words, he felt you flinch. You were not expecting that as an answer. For him to become so compliant under your hands. Your eyes flickered in the dim light. He felt the blade withdraw from his throat, the cooling air of the room causing it to sting again.

He realised then that you’d cut him already.

Ormund watched as you held the blade to your face. Your finger ran along the edge, collecting his blood on the tip of your pointer and bringing it between your lips. You kept it there for a moment, long enough for something to stir inside him - exactly what stirred, he couldn’t say - before very swiftly removing yourself from his grasp and off the bed completely.

He sat up as he watched you walk over to the last embers of the fire in the hearth, knelt beside it and placed the blade amongst them. Then you clasped your hands together and brought your knuckles to your lips and started mumbling.

Praying. You were praying again.

He rose from his bed, using the same quiet speed, and made his way behind you. He knelt too, close enough to nearly make out what you were saying but not quite. He was also close enough to smell the oils that lingered on your hair. Rosemary and lemon.

He would remember those.

You stilled, and so did he. You’d stopped praying, now you just sat. Watching the hearth where the dagger sat. He lent over, the new angle helping him see the blade also, and sat watching and waiting.

He didn’t know what you were waiting for, but you seemed to be holding your breath.

Then something happened. Something he couldn’t deny - no one who saw it would deny it - and if he doubted you before he didn’t now.

The embers caught fire around the blade, catching and growing as if another log had been placed there again. As if it was wood instead of iron. They enveloped the dagger, consuming it like flies swarming a carcass, cleaning it and picking it dry, before dying again.

A divine fire.

At the hands of his wife.

His perfect, fair, mild, pretty, good wife.

His divine wife.

You twisted on the stone floor, staring up at him with the edges of your hair backlit. He expected you to say something cryptic, something he’d need to sit and mull over for the next few hours. Instead -

“I want to rid myself of all the noble ladies in Oldtown.” you said. Your meaning was obvious. “They bore me. I want to think and with them I cannot.”

“My wife requires more stimulating conversation?” he mused, you nodded. He nodded along. “This can be done.”

He watched your shoulders fall, relaxing under his words. Your head turned, and he studied the shape of your nose through the glow behind it. You hummed and he knew he had gained your approval. This was good. You had the ear of the seven, and he had yours.

“I also wish,” you started, voice softer and almost hesitant. He leant closer, fingers grasping the hem of your sleeve.

‘I am here,’ he was trying to show, ‘Speak your mind.’ he willed.

“I’d like to stay here tonight.” you said, “With you.”

Ormund stood. He looked down at you looking up at him, sitting by the smouldering fire with your slip sprawled around you. He knew, now, that you had a power over him and he couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t deny you. He also knew that now he wouldn’t have as many chances to hold that same power over you.

Not anymore.

This would be the last chance to look down on you. To deny you if he so wanted to. In these few minutes that passed since you woke him, the cards he once held close to his chest had been stripped away and this was the last one left.

To send you back to your chambers, to your own bed, or keep you here with him.

But his mind was made. He held his hand to you, a shiver running down his spine as he felt your fingers slip into his hold.

“How could I deny you.” he said, helping you rise to your feet.

Indeed Ormund would now keep you close. By his side, by his seat, in his bed. The seven may not bless him with their ear but he had no need of it when he had you. And now he had you he was going to keep you in any way he could.

He lifted the covers of his bed, slipping under as you came in beside him. Your legs tangled with his, your hand found his chest, nails lightly dragging over his skin. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and turned his nose into your hair. He felt your heartbeat thump into his ribs, chest to chest.

That heart was his too.

You were already valuable, a pretty thing to flaunt around to everyone who didn’t have you. No you were more. He would take you everywhere now.

There were rumours swirling around Oldtown - there had been ever since his cousin made a spectacle of herself by wearing the Hightower colours of war. When the king died there would be a fight for the throne. He didn’t doubt he would be sent to Kingslanding. to march upon it no matter who ruled there.

You’d go with him, he decided in the dark of night.

He’d make you petition the gods with every decision that needed to be made and he’d take your word like you were a council unto yourself.

This he swore.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

        Having a marital connection to the Sealord of Bravos would be beneficial to anyone. That is why he chose his daughter’s husbands diligently and why when the King of the Seven Kingdoms reached out, offering the hand of one of his grandsons, the Lord could not refuse. 

        He was lucky to have his pick of the flock, choosing who he deemed worthy. Prince Aerion Targaryen was around the same age as his youngest daughter. The Sealord did not care for the rumors of him being cruel. What he cared about was the strength of the man. More importantly, the strength of his seed. The production of a babe would concrete the agreement between the two countries.

        Prince Aerion was an experienced fighter, proud of his family and house. There was no doubt that he wouldn’t sire any bastards, or let other men touch his daughter. He also believed a man like him would make sure that his children would be protected and raised well, just as he had done his own. 

        If it were any other country he was creating an agreement with, he would have made sure to pick the heir to the throne, concreting his daughter as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but with the history of infighting, that was not what he wanted. Aerion was far from being heir, so there would be no threat or fight for the throne.

        The contracts were quickly signed and sent to the country across the sea. Once he received the paper with the name King Daeron Targaryen signed at the bottom, the Sealord loaded his family on the royal boat, with the destination of Kings Landing.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

        The winter waters of Westeros were grueling. The ship swayed back and forth unrhythmically. When anyone went on the deck for fresh air, in hopes of calming their nauseous stomachs, they would be hit with the salty cold air, which would worsen their condition. Only the most veteran sailors, such as the Sealord, were able to withstand such circumstances.

        By the time the ship docked offshore of the Red Keep, the bride-to-be was riddled with sickness. No amount of jewelry or extravagant dresses could cover up a disoriented face. Rowing to shore in the tender was the sour cherry on top. 

        Her soon to be husband waited on the stoney dock, alongside his family. She dreaded this meeting. Not because she feared meeting him, on that factor, she was quite excited. But she was scared how he would perceive her, all greenfaced upon their first interaction.

        She knew nothing about her betrothed, only his connections, as that was the only thing her father would share. Assuming the same was for him, this meeting was crucial for her to appear her best, to show him that she was a worthy wife, and that he would be fulfilled in their long life together. 

        When she should be fearing about how her dress sat on her body, or making sure her posture was perfect, she feared spewing her guts out in front of her new family. Something that would most definitely make her seem undignified.

As the boat bounced on the waves, her head rested on her mothers shoulder, finding much comfort in the strokes of her hand. Her sister’s hand grasped her own, thumb rubbing over her shaky knuckles. Eyes shut tight, she tried to even her breaths and focus on anything other than the pit of her stomach stewing. 

        It was hard to do such a thing with her two older brothers cackling at the sight of her. “Make sure you don’t puke on his shoes. I don’t believe the prince would enjoy that.” Her eldest brother laughed.

        “Who knows,” her second eldest brother jeered, “maybe he would appreciate that. You should do it just to make sure.” 

        “Hush you two.” Her mother scolded the grown men. “When we leave, your sister will not join us. Do you want one of your last words to her to be about vomit?”

        “Oh come on.” Her sister joined. “This will not be the last time we’ll see her. She’ll come back home to visit.”

        “That is no longer up to her.” Their father finally joined into the conversation. “It will be her husband's choice if she would be able to see us again.”

        The women on the tender frowned. It was something they all knew, especially their mother, but all they could do was hope that prince Aerion would be a kind husband, or at the very least, absent. 

        The conversations sickened her more as her breaths became ragged. Her nose no longer brought in enough air, leaving her to open her mouth and heave. She tightened her grip around her sister’s hands.

        “It’ll be okay.” Her mother whispered to her. “Let us focus on the good. The wedding will most certainly be grand. Aren’t you excited for that, my darling?”

        Their mothers words went unanswered, as her father finally looked at her, “Do not retch now.” He commanded. “We are too close to the dock, they will see you. You are the daughter of the Sealord, you’re supposed to concur the waves, not be dominated by them.”

        Wearily, she nodded her head, letting out a weak, “Yes sir.”

        It was only a few more excruciating moments until the wood of the tender collided with the stoney dock. The Sealord was first to step off, followed by her brothers. Her mother and eldest brother had to assist her, as she almost fell into the water as she stood. She enjoyed the feeling of solid ground beneath her feet.

        Even though the royal family was at the edge of the docks, there was no doubt that they had already been made aware of the poor condition of the girl.  

        Before presenting herself to the Targaryens, her mother made sure to straighten her coat, in hopes that the expensive jewelry that hung from her neck and ears distracted from the clear daze she was in. 

        After, her mother pushed her past the rest of the family members, placing her beside the Sealord. He held his arm out for her to hold on to as they walked down the pier, quickly approaching her new family.

        It was quite the large family, in comparison to hers. The king and all of his descendants stood, ready to receive her in. Daeron Targaryen smiled at them, welcoming them into his home.

        “I do hope the seas were kind to you.” He commented.

        “I fear they were not.” The Sealord said. Clearing his throat, he straightened himself. “This is my youngest.”

        Letting go of her fathers arm, she tried to bow to the Targaryens, praying she did not fall and make a fool of herself. When she rose, the world spun. Grasping her fathers arm, she attempted to ground herself. 

        King Daeron turned to his family, beckoning a few to come stand beside him. An aged gentleman walked forward. He seemed to be around the same age as her father, if not older. For a moment, she feared that he would be her husband, until she noticed a more age appropriate suitor appear alongside him.

        “This is my youngest, Maekar, and his second eldest, Aerion.” The king introduced. 

        Finally being able to put a face to the name, she gazed upon her betrothed. His face was quite pleasing to the eyes. Aerion held himself tall, draped in a black and red velvet cloak. The rest of him hid under there, the only other thing she could see were his shiny leather shoes that poked out from underneath.

        When her eyes rose back to his face, it hadn’t changed. His eyes stared intently at her. He didn’t seem quite pleased with her appearance alone. But to her, he didn’t seem too displeased, hopefully. Praying it was due to her illness, she made a note to put more thought into what she wore and how she held herself, when she felt better.

        “If you will join us, I will give you a tour of the castle.” Daeron said, clearly not noticing the disorientation of most of them.

        Her mother was quick to interject. “I do believe it would be best if we settled into our lodgings first.”

        The Sealord shot his wife a nasty glare, displeased with her talking out of turn. King Daeron didn’t catch on to any of it.

        “Yes, my apologies.” He responded. “I do not doubt that you all yearn for rest after a long journey.”

        “Indeed we do.” The Sealord responded plainly.

        The king began walking back into the castle and the rest of his family followed. The Sealord on the other hand, abandoned his family to walk alongside the king. Wanting to help, her mother grabbed onto her. Aerion walked beside the two, making sure to stay a great length away.

        If it weren’t for her nausea, she would make conversation, attempting to know her groom better. Yet, she feared if she opened her mouth, the only thing that would come out would be the contents of her stomach. 

        Leaning into her, her mother, not so quietly, whispered into her ear. “Once we get you to your room, you can rest and I will have the help to bring you water and bread.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

        By the time they arrived at her new room, most had broken off from the group. The only ones left were the heirs to the throne: Baelor and his son, Valar. It was ironic that the immediate family she was marrying into didn’t even bother attending her to her bed chambers. 

        A new feeling settled into her stomach. Realization that this was her family now, the ones that leave her for ‘more important matters’. The only one that stuck by her side, her mother, who would be torn from her, and forced to return home.

        Before leaving Baelor spoke up, “It was very nice meeting you my Lady. I hope you find your accommodations fitting.”

        “Thank you for showing us here.” Her mother spoke up for both of them.

        “I hope to see you at dinner, if you are feeling any better.” With that, he and his son took their leave.

        The door to the room was opened by the guards that stood by. The doors hadn’t even closed before she tore herself from her mother. Grabbing her stomach she released the contents of it all over the floor, and her dress. She couldn’t tell if it was from the sea or something else.

        “Oh darling.” Her mother comforted her, rubbing her back, allowing her to finish before pulling away.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

        When dinner time arrived, she had been feeling much better. It only took a warm bath, bread, and a much needed nap for her to feel mostly herself. Led by the help, she arrived at the dining hall. The table was large, spanning from one side of the room to the other. 

        Even with the large space, the table was cramped with the amount of people around it. Everyone had already arrived, all grabbing at the food to fill their plates. The only spot open was in the middle, wedged in between her mother and Aerion. Clearly, it had her name on it. 

        Swiftly, she made her way around the table, settling into her seat. Though she wished to have gone unnoticed, the king spoke to her in front of all. “I am pleased to have you join us. I hope you feel better.”

        Looking at the king’s kind smile, she responded. “I do. Your staff aided me plenty.”

        “I heard you threw up all over yourself.” The young boy across from her spoke up.

        “Aegon!” Maekar shouted from beside Aerion. 

        “What? It’s true.” Aegon shrugged. 

        The table wide conversation died down, as everyone settled into their smaller groups. She stayed silent, feeling distant from both families. Deciding to focus on the food, she looked over the options. Usually, the meat would entice her most, but with how sensitive her stomach was at the moment, she feared it would only make her feel worse.

        Reaching out for the bread, her knuckles brushed against skin. Before she even registered who it was, she shot her hand back to her lap. Aerion turned to her curiously. Looking back at him, she mumbled a quick apology.

        He held her gaze a moment longer, looking over her features closely. She kept her eyes locked to his, not wanting to examine him so whore-ishly, as he was doing to her. Grabbing the piece of bread from the tray, he placed it on her plate harshly before grabbing another for himself and returning to the conversation with his father and brothers.

        She took the bread from her plate, digging her thumbs into its hard shell, breaking it to get to the soft contents of the center. Even though everyone around her ignored her, enjoying their conversation, something more calmly settled in her. A hope that this won't be a horrible experience, that she could have some form of companionship with her husband. 

        Slowly gnawing on the bread he had placed before her, she thought back to the romance novels she adored when she was young. Possibly, with Aerion, she could have her happily ever after.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

        Once dinner had concluded, everyone began filing out of the room, most heading to their bedchambers, preparing for the big day tomorrow. Aerion had coincidentally finished the same time she decided it was time for her to take her leave. 

        They entered the hall together, quietly. As she began to walk toward her room, he walked beside her. She assumed that their rooms were near one another. It would make sense, as they would be married soon. 

        Feeling uncomfortable from the silence, she wanted to get to know him better. The only conversation starter that came to mind at the moment was, “Thank you, for the piece of bread.”

        Areion decided to talk of other things, changing the direction. “I feared you were dimwitted.”

        “What?” She questioned, feeling insulted that he would think such a thing.

        “When you did not say a word during our introduction. Or dinner.” He added to his thought.

        “No, I am not dimwitted. I am merely not feeling well.” She defended herself, beginning to feel her walls against him build up. 

        “Does the ocean usually make you unwell?” He wondered. “It would be quite bothersome if you could not travel by sea.”

        “I do not get sea sick when the waves are normal.” She thought back to what her father said earlier in the day. “Even though my father is the Sealord, he did not have us ladies out on the waters as much as he had my brothers.”

        “Why does your father demand that our wedding be rushed so quickly?” Aerion jumped to another subject, clearly having many different questions he wanted answered. “I wished to have the tourney before we wed.”

        “He does not like being away from home for too long.” She explained to him, before asking a question of her own. “Do you enjoy watching tourneys?”

        “I enjoy winning them.” He stopped with purpose, wanting to get his point across. Aerion’s stare was intense, as he looked into her soul.

        “I apologize, I did not mean to offend. I am quite unfamiliar with the traditions of tournaments." She was quick to respond, not wanting to start their marriage on the wrong foot. “Even though I have not seen you joust before, I have heard of your impeccable fighting skills. I have no doubt that you will win our wedding tournament.” 

        She smiled earnestly at him, waiting for him to respond. He only hummed. Now being able to see her in full, his eyes had finally traveled past her face, trailing down her body in a way that made her feel bare. 

        Her shoulders tensed instinctively. It felt as though he was attempting to imagine how the next night would go, after they were wed. She too had the urge to look over his uncloaked body, but reminded herself that she was a lady.

        But it wouldn’t hurt to glance, right?

        Just a glance to his chest quickly turned to staring. His red velvet coat had the tiniest sliver of opening at the top. Her attempt to see past it, getting a glimpse of bare skin, had been fruitless. Her attention drifted further down to the pants that didn’t hang as loosely as his top. 

        Before she could get a good look, she remembered he too could see where her gaze led. Her head snapped back up to him to find his eyes locked intently on hers. A small cocky smirk appeared on his face, as hers heated at the realization that she had been caught. 

        “Sister!” They heard a voice shout from behind her.

        Jumping slightly, she was startled that not only had Aerion caught her staring, her sister might have as well.

        Walking up to the soon-to-be couple, her sister noticed Aerion. “Apologies, I hope I am not interrupting anything.”

        “You’re not.” She quickly blurted out, fearing what Aerion might’ve responded with. “What is it sister?”

        “They have a real weirwood tree!” Her sister said, eyes practically glowing. “You must come see! It is even better than the drawings.”

        She looked back at Aerion. His face had changed back to its neutral scowl. She felt bad abandoning her soon-to-be husband, but she had the rest of her life with him, and she didn’t know when she could see her sister again. 

        “I will see you tomorrow.” She bowed to Aerion, knowing the next time they met, it would be to say their vows. He did not respond to her as she turned from him. 

        Hand in hand, they ran down the halls like children, rushing to the garden. At the edge, near the wall laid the white barked tree with blood red leaves. A face could be seen protruding from the trunk of the tree. The face cried red tears, looking like something pained it.

        “Woah.” She exclaimed, running her hand along the rough bark, as if it weren’t real, that she was merely dreaming of it.

        “You’re so lucky you get to live with this. I will be stuck with the boring olive trees” Her sister whined. “Remember when we would imagine running away just to see this tree in person.”

        “I do.” She reminisces bitter-sweetly. “We would even go as far as pointing out ships we could hide in.”

        “I am glad we were able to see this.” Her sister turned to face her. “And we didn’t have to anger father by running away.”

        “Me as well.” She responded. “Although I wish that we would continue to experience this together.”

        Her sister gave a small smile, grabbing her shoulders. “Listen, you’ll be granted the joys of marriage. Is that not worth something? I know you’ve dreamed of this since you were a little girl. I remember you being so upset when I got married because you wanted it to be your turn.”

        “Yes, but at least you got to stay home.” She pointed out. “And you were able to get to know your husband before you married him. I am marrying a stranger in a foreign land.”

        “I believe that things will work out.” Her sister’s grip lovingly tightened. “Especially if he keeps staring at you like he was moments ago.”

        “Sister!” She scolded, face warming up once more.

        “What? You'll realize that all sane women talk like this once you are married.” Her sister’s hands retracted from her body. “I want to leave you with a little piece of home. Remember that even though you’ll be a Targaryen, you were my sister first and foremost.”

        Reaching behind her own neck, her sister unclasped the necklace that hung from her daily, handing it over to her. Taking it from her sister, she was in disbelief. “But your husband gave you this necklace.”

        “He can give me another. Just like your husband will.” Her sister shrugged as if she wasn’t handing over her most prized possession. “But this one, my dear, is from your sister. And she will not give you another, so you must treasure it with all of your heart.”

        “I will.” She brought it close to her heart, knowing it had already become her favorite possession. 

        Her sister leaned in, embracing her in a tight hug. Tears slipped from both of the women’s eyes. When they pulled away from one another, her sister grabbed for the necklace once more, wanting to be the first to clasp it around her neck. 

        As her sister did so, she had a question that she knew only her sister would answer truthfully. “What should I expect tomorrow?”

        As she finished securing the necklace, her sister responded with. “A lot of people you don’t know, or don’t like will come and be nice to you, acting like they are your friend. People will tell you to keep eating and to enjoy the feast, but you shouldn’t. I found that more wine helped with the events after the wedding ceremony.”

        Turning to her sister, she questioned. “What exactly happens after the wedding ceremony?”

        Her sister’s eyes widened as she wore a stressful expression. “You are practically asking for mother to kill me.”

        “Please tell me.” She grasped her sister’s hands. “It is not like you are telling me while I am un-betrothed. I would prefer to be prepared so I do not disappoint him.”

        Sighing in defeat, her sister could never say no to her. “Well after the wedding, you two will be alone together. Truly alone. Although I heard that this place has weird customs where people watch…”

        “Watch what?” She questioned worryingly, feeding off of her sister’s stress.

        “Well, whether you two will be alone or not: He will enter you.” Her sister attempted to be vague.

        “Where?” She questioned.

        Her sister only responded to that question by pointing to the location. “With what he has there as well.”

        She placed her hands over top the location they were talking about. “That sounds painful!”

        “It is.” Her sister admitted, before quickly trying to backtrack. “Only at first. If he is a good husband, then he will make sure it feels good for you as well.”

        “And other people watch this?” She asked loudly.

        “If he is a good husband, then he will not allow it!” Her sister tried to calm the storm that she had started. “I should have refrained from telling you all of this.”

        “No, I am glad you did.” She tried to reassure her sister, even though she was panicked. “It would be worse going into it blindly.”

        Taking a long breath, her sister gathered herself back. “You should head to bed, you have a big day tomorrow.”

        “I should.” She said, even though she didnt want to leave. 

        Surging forward, she embraced her sister once more. The hug lasted much longer than the last. They only let go when they felt as though they needed to. Leaving the garden quietly, they began to make their way back to their rooms. 

        When they reached the point where they had to separate, her sister turned to her. “Do you want me to walk with you back to your room?”

        Knowing if her sister did, they wouldn’t leave one another for many more hours, she shook her head. “I can make it back on my own.”

        “I will see you during preparations.” Her sister smiled softly at her. “Sleep well, as tomorrow will be very eventful.”

        “I will.” 

        And she meant it when she said it. But when walking down the halls, she heard her name be said by whispered voices.

        “I hoped she’d be mean and evil so I wouldn’t feel bad for her.” One of the maids said to another. 

        She knew it was improper to hide behind a wall and listen in, but she couldn’t help it. She had just been thinking of her sister’s words about a good husband. With the way Aerion gave her the bread at dinner, she was beginning to believe that Aerion would be good to her, that was until she heard the words of the help.

        “Sadly, she is very kind. A prince like him shouldn’t get a kind wife.” The other maid continued the conversation.

        The original maid nodded in agreement. “He is going to break her. It will be sad to watch.” 

        “If I were her, I would run now before it’s too late.” The maid spoke honestly.

        “I do believe it is already too late.” The voice sounded sad. “She should have jumped off the boat and drowned in the sea. That would’ve been less tortuous than marrying prince Aerion.” 

        She couldn’t listen to any more of it, as she began to feel sick once more. Rushing to her room, she wondered if they were right. If Aerion was the terrible monster they made him out to be. With the small interactions she had with him, he didn’t seem cruel. Yet these women knew him better than she did. Maybe he was being kind enough to get her down the aisle, and then he would show his true colors afterwards.

        Laying in bed, she couldn’t even pretend to close her eyes and sleep. Eyes wide open, she was still as possible, gazing upon the sheet that hung above her.

        Maybe she should run away. But the maids were right, it was too late. She was in a country she had never visited, a city she did not know. Leaving now was a horrible idea, that would only make things worse for her.

        Questions, scenarios, worries, all swarmed her head. It was loud. Fear screamed at her, keeping her from getting the rest she so desperately needed.

Next ->

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

You had just gotten into the bathtub when your husband finally stumbled through the doors of your shared chambers. He had been caught up all day with some formal business with his father that had required him to remain sober and the toll it had taken on him was clear. His hands were shaky, his movements sluggish, his eyes teary and distant and his skin coated in a thin layer of sweat. You watched as his eyes scanned the room until they landed on you and watched as his shoulders sagged in the relief of finding your comforting presence, yet still he did not move. You sighed and reached out a hand which he promptly walked over and took.

“You look as if you just faced the seven themselves, my husband.” You breathed, not wanting to break the careful silence as you swept your thumb across the back of his hand reassuringly. He offered you a halfhearted smile and your heart cried for him.

“I feel as if I have, gods, is there any wine in here?" 

It was rare to see him sober and vulnerable like this and you did not wish to lose him so his drunken state yet. You tugged on his hand again to get his attention.

“Perhaps you can join me in the bath while we wait for the servants to bring some up? It may be nice for you to wash the aches of the day away and I know I’d enjoy the company.”

He actually smiled at that before releasing your hand to begin undoing the clasp of his cloaking, taking the rest of his clothes off with shaky hands as you watched him. Once he was fully bare he stepped into the large tub with you, sinking into the waters at the opposite end. His eyes settled on you and a weary grin spread across his lips, you couldn’t help but flush as the sight was agonisingly attractive. 

“You’re so far away,” He murmured, hand finding your ankle under the waters to urge you closer to him, “I’ve missed you while I was gone, don’t make me miss you more now i’m here.” 

You smiled at his neediness and moved closer, settling yourself on your knees between his open legs. You wordlessly brought your hands up to cradle either side of his face, sweeping your thumbs across the apples of his cheeks as his eyes fluttered closed and a sigh escaped him at the contact. His hand slid delicately up your body under the water until it was resting on your lower back, gently pushing in a silent beg you couldn’t ignore. You leaned forward to slowly connect your lips. The kiss was slow and unhurried, slightly sloppy most likely due to exhaustion. You stayed tangled for a long moment before pulling back, ignoring the sound of protest from Daeron as you reached for the soap on the table next to the bath. 

He watched you intently as you brought the rosemary scented soap into the water to wet it before beginning to lather it gently onto his broad chest. His arms that were still resting lazily on your hips began to trace small circles on your flesh and it took everything in your to pretend the motion wasn’t making you melt. You ran the bar of soap along his biceps and watched as his head fell back against the rim of the tub as his eyes fluttered shut. The tantalising line of his neck was exposed and you couldn’t help yourself as you leaned in to start kissing along it, lightly nipping at the skin there as he hummed. 

“I thought we were in here to wash.” 

He peeked an eye open and tilted his head down to look at you. Smiling slightly as he spoke.

“I can multitask.” 

You couldn’t keep the mischief out of your voice and you ran your freehand back across his firm chest. His hands tightened on your hips and your breath caught. You watched as he hummed and dragged one of his hands up your arm and along to your hand so he could take the soap. You looked at him confused and he just gestured for you to turn around. 

“At least let me wash you before we multitask or else we’ll never get clean.” 

You nodded, smiling as you maneuvered yourself so your back was to his chest. He dragged his lips across your shoulders gently before moving to kiss up your neck. One of his hands began rubbing the soap he’d lathered on his palms into the planes of your back while the other wrapped around your waist to keep you close while he worked. Eventually his free hand left you to get more soap before it drifted round to join the other at your front and they massaged it into the flesh of your stomach. You relaxed back against his front fully, your core clenching as his hands slid up to massage your breasts slowly. You let your head fall back and a breathy moan escaped when he leant in to continue sucking on the skin there. You gasped as he found that particularly sensitive spot behind your ear right as his hand slid down between your legs, nimble fingers parting your lips before he dragged them through your folds. The other hand at your breast had begun to circle and pinch your nipple and you felt your mind begin to cloud over from the sensations. When the soft pads of his index and middle fingers found your pearl a loud moan tore out your throat, your hips beginning to squirm from the ministrations. 

He played you like a bard plays a lute, with deft skill and a laziness typical of him. He touched you as if he had all the time in the world and it very nearly made you believe like you did. You reached up to grasp the hair at the back of his so you could turn it to connect your lips, the kiss sloppy and slow, tongues mashing together desperately. You broke apart with a gasp as his fingers slid inside of you, beginning a slow drag in and out against your walls, curling slightly as his palm ground against your clit. Your back arched desperately and you felt his quickly stiffening cock against your backside and couldn’t resist grinding back against it. He continued to move his fingers within you as you clenched around him and his other hand finally released your breasts to move up your body until you felt two fingers press against your bottom lip, begging for entry. You welcomed them in and sucked on them, earning yourself a groan from him as his hips started to grind back up against you. The water of the tub was sloshing against the sides of the tub and down onto the stony floor below as your movements grew more frantic and you came closer to your peak. His fingers left your mouth to grip the side of his face so he could kiss you properly and you came intensely with a cry against his lips, the sensation eclipsing your whole body as your legs shook.

When you drew apart to rest your forehead against his you huffed out a breath. The water was lukewarm by now and both of you were beginning to prune up from being in the water so long. You ran your fingers through the damp tresses of his hair and you whispered against his lips.

“Let's go to bed.”

You stood from his lap on shaky legs, taking his hand in yours as your supple flesh was exposed to the cold air. He seemed entranced, eyes tracing the droplets that raced down your neck and over the now stiff peaks of your nipples. His hand shook in yours and you had to give it a light tug to properly get his attention. He stood, towering over you in the tub and you stepped out carefully, your eyes not parting from his. The hunger in them was intoxicating and you had to turn away from him as you led him back to your bedchamber. Once you reached the grand four poster bed you turned so you could push him back onto it and he took the cue to shuffle up so his head was resting against the plush velvet pillows. You crawled your way up over him, your damp hair falling wildly and making you look as feral as you felt. He watched you wordlessly, his hands clenching and unclenching in the fabric of the covers as he fought the urge to reach out and tug you closer. Once you were finally on top of him you bent down to connect your lips again, kissing him roughly as you finally lowered your hips to rub up and down the length of him, coating him with your wetness. He groaned into your mouth and his hand finally came up to grasp you, a hand in your hair and the other between your shoulder blades to push you closer. Eventually you disconnected your lips and reached back to line him up with your entrance, sinking down with a gasp at the stretch. Daeron didn’t look any better as his head flew back into the pillows with a loud moan, jaw hanging open as you clenched around him. You sat up straight, bracing your hands on his chest for leverage and started to rock yourself against him. His hands flew to your hips, gripping hard into the flesh in a way you were certain would leave marks. His eyes were sealed shut as he panted at the feel of you. 

“Daeron, my love,” He whimpered at the sound of your voice and you had to bite back a grin, “open your eyes darling, I wish to see you.”

He clearly struggled but his eyes fluttered open cautiously, a loud groan escaped as he locked onto the sight of your naked body grinding against his. You felt his hands tighten as he began to move you so you were bouncing up and down on him. You choked and one of your hands slipped from his chest to grasp the bedding next to his head as you keeled over, his cock reaching new depths within you. Your breasts were just above his face and he couldn’t resist as he pushed himself up with one arm so he could enclose his lips around one of your nipples again. Your hand that was on his chest flew up to hold his head against you as you practically cried out.

“Gods Daeron you’re so fucking good I love you s’much!”

His reaction was instantaneous as you felt his dick jump inside of you and his lips suck particularly harshly into the flesh of your chest, most likely leaving a mark. You slammed down on him harder as you felt yourself getting closer to your climax once again. From the way he was breathing raggedly you could tell he wasn’t far off either, you felt as his wet tears hit your skin from the overwhelming sensations. You grasped the hand that wasn’t supporting him to move it down to rub against your clit once more, bringing you over the edge with a cry that had you collapsing onto him. You felt his cum fill you moments later as he followed behind you. 

You both lay panting on top of each other for a moment before Daeron carefully rolled you over to lay you on your back so he could fetch a wet cloth from the washroom. He gently rubbed it over you, cleaning you up as you watched him, too blissed out to do anything else. Eventually he settled into the bed, pulling the covers over the top of the two of you as you rested your head on his chest, a leg slung over his hip and your fingers tracing little shapes into his skin. It was achingly quiet for a moment before he broke the silence.

 “A clever little trick, distracting me from the wine.” He breathed out as he stroked your hair. You lifted your head up to rest your chin on his chest as you gave him a sheepish look.

“Sorry…”

He chuckled, the sound filled with warmth and your guilt dissipated slightly.

“Don’t apologise my love, this was far more enjoyable.”

drabbles/headcannons/blurbs

Breeding K!nk (blurb) @thewritetofreespeech

Sweet Moment (drabble) @aemonds-wifey

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

one shots

Love is What You Can Still Betray (one shot) @sylasthegrim

You Now Smelled of Flowers, and He Loathed how Perfectly it Suited You (one shot) @ggirlthatgotaway

My King (one shot) @goldenthena

You Will Have Me Boneless in Your Arms in Seconds (one shot) @ggirlthatgotaway

Bonding with His Future Wife (one shot) @idreamedofyouuuu

Far Too Young (one shot) @pacificheights

Dynasty Doubler (one shot) @verasilversound

Impatient Thief (one shot) @milostkag

Dutiful Evening (one shot) @fish189

Aemond's Crown Jewel (one shot) @dreamfyrie

Thou Shalt Not Covet (one shot) @thekinslayed

In Sickness and in Health (one shot) @fish189

Heartache (one shot) @slaytheusurper

Saturday Night Fever (one shot, modern au) @pacificheights

Flower Faced (one shot) @targaryenrealnessdarling

Silence of the Lambs (one shot) @gawkgokgok

Under the Eyes of the Seven (one shot) @slaytheusurper

The Family Curse (one shot) @tired-of-you-and-you

Armour (one shot) @fish189

Loneliness (one shot) @hisfavegirl

Subtle Love, Daring Words (one shot) @venmondiese

Whatever May Come (one shot) @sepherinaspoppies

Bound by Duty (one shot) @hisfavegirl

Pearl of the Realm (one shot) @targaryenrealnessdarling

Dear Husband (one shot) @princessbellecerise

They Don't Know You (one shot) @hisfavegirl

In the Night (one shot) @anjelicawrites

Comfort (one shot) @r0ugesun

Bound to You (one shot) @fantasydreamland

The Sapphire Gift (one shot) @lizzyiii

Highness (one shot) @baelarys

Battlefield of Women (one shot) @happilyhertale

From the Waist Up (one shot) @matt-melancholic

Breeding Kink (one shot) @thewritetofreespeech

Silence of the Lambs (one shot) @gawkgokgok

Innocence (one shot0 @fayesia

Right to the First Night (one shot) @eraenaa

Dragon and Bloom (one shot) @multific

Lust for Love (one shot) @youraverageaemondsimp

Crashing Waves (one shot) @slaytheusurper

You Belong to Me (one shot) @mybeautifuldelirium

Honey on my Tongue (one shot) @helaelaemond

Ānogar Ānograro (one shot) @slaytheusurper

From Mistakes, We Grow (one shot) @the-dendrophile-bookdragon

As You Are (one shot) @aemondsbabe

Rybas (one shot) @slaytheusurper

Family Secrets (one shot) @slaytheusurper

A True Prince of the Realm (one shot) @daniellewritesfr

Your Shame (one shot) @the-dendrophile-bookdragon

Hold Tight (one shot) @say-al0e

Electric Touch (one shot) @say-al0e

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

multiple parts/series

Studious (series) @exitpursuedbyavulcan

The Price of Our Love (mini series) @my-hearts-kickdrum-type-beat

His Lady Love (series, vampire au) @lizzyiii

The Shielded Heart (multiple parts) @ewanmitchellcrumbs

As You Are (series) @valyrielwrites

Like Real People Do (two parter) @g1rlken

Tear Down my Reason (series) @ewanmitchellcrumbs

Religion/A Curse for a Curse (multiple parts) @barbieaemond

Yesterday (series) @hrrysweetcherry

Stay (series) @dracarysunfyre

Rev. 22:20 (series) @ewanmitchellcrumbs

What is Broken (series) @exitpursuedbyavulcan

Edge of Desire (two parter) @thekinslayed

New Year's Traditions (two parter, modern au) @venmondiese

Devil's Snare (series) @thebenjiblackwoodexpress

We Walk the Plank on a Sinking Ship (series) @inthedayswhenlandswerefew

Who Taught You to Love like That? (series, modern au) @ewanmitchellcrumbs

The Way to a Man's Heart (two parter) @thekinslayed

(Un)wanted Desires (series) @venmondiese

Of Flowers & Dragons (two parter) @aemonds-sapphire

You were Always with Me (series) @myfandomprompts

The Dragon and the Wolf (series) @aemonds-wifey

The Woes of Betrothals (two parter) @valleyof-goldenlilies

An Ego Thing (series, modern au) @sapphire-writes

Good as Gold (two parter) @thekinslayed

The Lion and the Dragon (series) @damn-stark

drabbles/headcannons/blurbs

coming soon

⋆༺𓆩𖤝𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩𖤝𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩𖤝𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩𖤝𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩𖤝𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩𖤝𓆪༻⋆

one shots

The Letter (one shot) @darktargslut

Let Me Pray My Way (one shot) @batmanlovesnirvana

Locked Out of Heaven (one shot) @flockoff-featherface

Tonight (one shot) @lysiastar

Make Me Feel (one shot) @stardustrider

Ombrielle (one shot) @drvoos

So Very Hopelessly Devoted to You (one shot) @flockoff-featherface

Dragonhide (one shot) @faelinda

Prayers He Forgot (one shot) @silkaurum

One More Dance (one shot) @stardustrider

⋆༺𓆩𖤝𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩𖤝𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩𖤝𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩𖤝𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩𖤝𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩𖤝𓆪༻⋆

multiple parts/series

The Return of Oldtown's Light (multiple parts) @asphodelink

For Better, For Worse (series) @misskatiewrites

drabbles/headcannons/blurbs

To Be Loved is to Be Seen (headcannons) @tcrgarien

Wildflowers (drabble) @dreamed-dusk

────── ⋆⋅ 𖤓 ⋅⋆ ──────────── ⋆⋅ 𖤓 ⋅⋆ ──────

one shots

Whole Masterlist @louloucake

When the Storm Passes (one shot) @nyrasvoid

3am Notification (one shot, modern au) @samthegreenapologist

No Use Crying Over Spilled Tea (one shot) @goldenhoneyedwine

Lady Blacksmith (one shot) @knightofcassiopeia

Tree Climber (one shot) @wholoveseggs

Savage Knight (one shot) @daeronsladywife

On Our Own (one shot) @amirightboys

Safe with Him (one shot) @cat-fire

Folklore (one shot) @samthegreenapologist

Favors Bestowed Beneath the Stars (one shot) @eupheme

Burning (one shot) @inlovewithquestionablecharacters

M'Lady (one shot) @targlocket

Blue on Black (one shot) @author-morgan

Elixir (one shot) @samthegreenapologist

Meet Me in the Woods (one shot) @cosmictheo

Lay in You Gently (like Greenery) (one shot) @inkfables

────── ⋆⋅ 𖤓 ⋅⋆ ──────────── ⋆⋅ 𖤓 ⋅⋆ ──────

multiple parts/series

Wild at Heart (series) @tothosewholisten

Heart Burn (series, modern au) @goat-limbs

Crossroads (two parter, modern au) @samthegreenapologist

My Noble Knight of Hedge (two parter) @not-neverland06

chapters:

ᯓ★ Chapter One: "You know, this is the kind of thing bards sing of - a maiden, falling into my arms, hmm?"

"Time for bed now," Bucky soothed.

"Just one more time, Daddy." Natalia pulled at the book again, knocking the trinkets and treasures she'd collected off her shelf.

"Sweetheart, it's late, Mommy said lights out before eight tonight, okay? You have kindy tomorrow."

"Eight?" She looked at the clock on her wall, each five minutes segment a different colour. "Then we have…five minutes!"

Grant stirred in his sleep, snuggling deeper into Bucky's side, and his chest squeezed at the feeling of his soft breath.

"I dunno little bookworm, five minutes isn't long and I have to get Grant to his bed."

"Please, daddy, please please please." She looked up at him with her big wide pleading eyes and he was powerless to resit.

"Okay, are you picking a new book? We need to be quick."

"Don't waste time, Daddy, this one, this one."

Bucky took the board book from her little hands and opened the first page.

"One Sunday morning, the warm sun came up and pop!" Bucky popped his finger in his mouth and Natalia giggled.

"Pop!"

Grant stirred, resettling himself, and Natalia did the same, grabbing at his shirt with her hand.

By the time the caterpillar had eaten "one nice green leaf" they were both fast asleep. Bucky turned the page anyway, he liked this one, liked the little face on the big fat caterpillar, liked the butterfly at the end and the way the children still loved him, even though he was different.

Carefully, he placed the book on the floor and slid Natalia onto her pillow. Grant squirmed, his face scrunching up, until Bucky lifted him up too and then he dropped his head onto Bucky's shoulder.

As he was heading for Grant's room, you appeared at the top of the stairs.

"There you are — oh!" You put your finger over your lips and started whispering instead. "I was worried you'd fallen asleep too."

"No chance." Bucky smiled, "they wanted extra stories, how could I say no."

He took Grant into his bed room and knelt slowly on the big planet Earth rug by his bed. He tucked him in, curled his fingers around his teddy and stepped back into your waiting arms.

"He's so cute." You hushed.

"They both are."

Across the hall you could just see Natalia's face relaxing into her dreams.

"I love you, Mr Barnes."

"Love you too, Mrs Barnes."

Beside you, your husband stirred, half-asleep. "Another one?"

You didn't answer right away. You rarely did, not until you untangled whatever message your mind brought you. As you grew older, it was easy to discern what was simply fear, or what was a dream.

This time, though, your fears became reality in your dreams.

You slid out of bed, feet pressing against the cold floor. A thick beam of moonlight came through the window, illuminating your skin as you stood before the night sky.

"My father is dead," you said finally, your voice raspy.

That got his attention. Ormund sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "You're certain?"

You nod. Your mind was racing, already three steps ahead to the conversation you had been waiting to have for years. "The raven will come by morning. Otto wastes no time."

Ormund was quiet as he climbed out of bed, coming to stand behind you. His thick arms wrapped around your waist, his face nestling into the silver strands of your hair.

"Let's go back to bed," he whispered in your ear. "Tomorrow will be a long day. I'd rather we sleep before deciding."

There was no reason to discuss what choice stood before you. The boy or the firstborn. Rhaenyra or Aegon.

"You're the Lord of the Hightower," you murmured, your voice soft. Your hands began to run over his arms, feeling the muscle beneath your palms. "This is a decision you make. Not Otto. Not anyone."

"I know what I am." His grip tightened, not unkindly, but enough to still your hands against him. "I also know my wife well enough to recognize when she's working a man rather than speaking to him."

You stilled.

"You think I don't feel it?" he continued, quieter now, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Three years, and I've learned the difference. When you touch me because you want to, and when you touch me because you want something else." Ormund turned you gently in his arms, until you had no choice but to look at him. "Which is this?"

For once, you didn't have an answer ready. It was hard to speak when his eyes pierced into you, causing your knees to buckle and heart to race. It was the reason why you had given him two children already. And one more within the year. A piece of information you'd store for later.

"Both," you admitted. It cost you something to say it plainly, though you didn't let it show. "Can it not be both?"

Something in his expression shifted. His wariness gave way to something closer to exhaustion; the particular tiredness of a man who loved a woman he could never fully untangle from the blood she carried.

"It can be," he said at last. "But not tonight."

"Ormund-"

"Tonight, you are my wife, and I am tired, and the realm can wait till sunrise to fall apart."

He drew you back towards the bed before you could argue. Despite yourself, you let him, feeling grief weigh on your skin already.