Aerion Targaryen x Named Blackfyre!reader
⚠️Trigger Warnings: Dark themes, psychological and domestic abuse, power imbalance dynamics, public humiliation, sexualized tension, discussion of menstruation, canon-divergent content, original characters.
Summary: "Vaelyra Blackfyre wakes at the Ashford tourney to discover that her carefully concealed secret has been revealed."
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Vaelyra Blackfyre woke before dawn with a dull, aching pain in her lower belly. At first, she thought it was only another restless night, another reminder of how little peace she had found since arriving at Ashford. She lay still beneath the thin blankets of her tent, listening to the distant sounds of the camp slowly stirring, until another sharp wave of discomfort made her inhale sharply.
Then she felt the warmth.
With trembling fingers, she reached beneath the covers. When she drew her hand back and saw the dark stain against her skin, her heart dropped into her stomach.
Her moon’s blood had come again.
Not for the first time. Not unexpectedly. And yet, it filled her with immediate dread.
For more than a year, Vaelyra had hidden the truth. She had allowed her family and the royal court to believe that she had not yet come of age, that she was still a child in body as well as in name. It was a lie born of desperation. As long as she could pretend, the marriage could be delayed. As long as she could delay, she could keep herself away from Aerion.
Now the lie was unraveling.
She pressed her hand to her mouth, fighting back tears. If anyone discovered this, everything would change. The wedding would come quickly. There would be no more excuses, no more waiting.
Ellyn, her maid, stirred beside her.
“My lady?” she whispered. “Are you all right?”
Vaelyra hesitated before slowly pulling back the blanket. Ellyn followed her gaze and immediately understood.
“Oh,” she murmured softly.
“Please,” Vaelyra said in a shaking voice. “You promised you wouldn’t tell. Please, Ellyn.”
“I won’t,” the girl replied quickly. “Come. We should clean this before anyone notices. The camp will wake soon.”
They dressed quietly and slipped outside into the pale light of early morning. The tourney grounds were beginning to stir: cooks lighting fires, guards changing shifts, squires rubbing sleep from their eyes. Vaelyra kept her head lowered, acutely aware of every glance in her direction.
She felt as though everyone could see her secret written across her face.
At the stream, she knelt and began to wash her stained linen. The cold water stung her fingers, but she barely noticed. Her hands were shaking too badly.
“I tried so hard to be careful,” she whispered. “I never wanted this to happen here.”
Ellyn crouched beside her. “We’ll manage somehow,” she said, though her voice lacked confidence.
They were almost finished when footsteps approached behind them.
Vaelyra sensed it before she heard it.
Aerion Targaryen stood several paces away, already dressed for the day, his arms folded across his chest. His pale eyes moved deliberately from the bloodstained cloth to the water, and finally to her face.
Realization flickered across his expression.
“So,” he said quietly, “this is what you’ve been hiding.”
Ellyn stepped forward nervously. “My prince, she only meant to...”
“Leave us,” Aerion interrupted.
“Leave,” he repeated coldly, “or I will have you beheaded for helping her deceive me.”
“My lady…” she whispered.
“Go,” Vaelyra said softly, tears forming in her eyes.
Aerion walked closer until he stood directly in front of her.
She lowered her gaze. “About a year.”
“A year,” he repeated. “For a year, you let my family believe you were still a child.”
“I was afraid,” she replied, her voice breaking. “I didn’t know how to tell anyone. I only wanted more time.”
“Time for what?” he asked sharply. “To pretend you could avoid your duty?”
“I never meant to shame you,” she said desperately. “I swear it.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “A Blackfyre swearing honesty. How amusing.”
His hand closed around her wrist.
“You are a liar,” he continued. “And a traitor, just like the rest of your house. Deceit runs in your blood.”
“That isn’t true,” she sobbed. “I’ve never betrayed anyone.”
“You betrayed me,” he replied.
He pulled her to her feet.
“Come,” he said. “You will explain yourself to my father and my uncle.”
They crossed the camp together as the sun rose higher. People were fully awake now. Some stared openly. Others whispered behind their hands. Vaelyra felt exposed and humiliated, unable to hide her tears.
At Ashford Castle, Aerion pushed aside the entrance door and led her inside.
Prince Maekar looked up sharply. “Aerion? What is going on?”
Prince Baelor, already dressed, stepped forward in concern. “Why is the girl crying?”
“She has deceived us,” Aerion replied. “For more than a year.”
Prince Baelor turned to Vaelyra gently. “Is this true, child?”
She nodded, unable to speak.
“I was frightened,” she whispered at last. “I never meant to cause trouble. I only wanted more time.”
Prince Maekar’s expression hardened. “Aerion, you had no right to drag her here like this.”
“She shamed me,” Aerion snapped. “She made me look foolish.”
“She is just afraid” Prince Baelor replied firmly. “And fear is not a crime.”
Aerion’s gaze hardened. “She is my betrothed. She will learn not to lie to me again.”
The words sent a chill through Vaelyra.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
The room was heavy with tension. Vaelyra knelt between the three men, her hands clenched in her skirts, her eyes fixed on the floor. She felt small and painfully visible, as though every breath she took was an offense.
Prince Baelor was the first to break the silence.
“This matter cannot be settled in haste,” he said calmly. “Nor in anger.”
Aerion’s jaw tightened. “It is already settled. She lied. She will answer for it.”
Prince Baelor turned to him, his gaze steady. “She's to be your lady wife, you will lower your voice when you speak of her.”
Aerion laughed softly. “Why? She is nothing but a disgraced Blackfyre girl pretending at innocence.”
Prince Maekar’s eyes flashed. “Enough.”
Prince Baelor raised a hand slightly, signaling for calm.
“I will send for her father,” he said. “He has the right to hear this from us, not through whispers and rumors.”
Vaelyra’s head snapped up.
Panic surged through her chest.
“No,” she whispered. “Please… please your grace, don’t.”
Baelor knelt in front of her, lowering himself to her level.
“Vaelyra,” he said gently, “this is not punishment. This is protection. Your family must be involved.”
She shook her head, tears spilling freely now. “He’ll be ashamed of me. He’ll think I’ve ruined everything.”
“You have not,” Prince Baelor replied firmly. “You were afraid. That is all.”
Aerion snorted. “Afraid?” he echoed. “She was calculating. Just like every Blackfyre before her.”
Maekar turned sharply to his son. “Hold your tongue.”
“Why should I?” Aerion demanded. “They rebelled against our house. They stained our history with treason and blood. And now I am expected to marry one of them and pretend she is honorable?”
Baelor’s voice hardened. “You will show respect.”
“Respect?” Aerion laughed bitterly. “To people who would have happily seen us dead if they had won?”
Vaelyra felt as though his words were knives, each one cutting deeper than the last.
“I never wanted any of that,” she whispered. “I never cared about rebellions or crowns. I only wanted to live quietly.”
“And yet,” Aerion replied coldly, “you carry their name. Their poison. Their lies.”
“That is enough,” he said firmly. “You shame yourself.”
Aerion’s eyes burned. “I shame myself by being forced into this farce.”
Maekar stepped forward. “You shame yourself by cruelty.”
Outside, the camp continued its life, unaware of the storm inside the castle.
Prince Baelor turned to a servant waiting near the entrance. “Send for Lord Blackfyre.”
The servant bowed and hurried away.
Vaelyra’s breath grew shallow.
He would see her like this, crying, humiliated, and disgraced.
“Look at her,” he said quietly. “Already playing the victim.”
Prince Baelor turned to her again, his voice gentle. “You are safe here,” he said. “No one will harm you.”
She wanted to believe him.
But Aerion was standing right there.
And he had already harmed her.
They did not have to wait long.
Vaelyra’s father entered the room with two retainers behind him, his silver hair catching the pale light of dawn, his violet eyes searching desperately for any sign of harm. The unmistakable Targaryen beauty of his features, sharp cheekbones, silver hair, violet eyes, marked him as a Blackfyre of the old line, a reminder of rebellion and lineage. He bowed deeply. “Your grace, my princes,” he said, his voice steady though his heart ached for his daughter.
He found Vaelyra kneeling, trembling, her skirts clutched tightly, tears streaking her cheeks.
“Vaelyra,” he said softly, moving quickly to her side, “what has happened?”
“I…” She could not speak.
Aerion stepped forward, voice low and sharp. “She has lied to us for over a year. Pretended she had not come of age. Deceived my house and delayed her marriage.”
Aemon’s violet eyes widened. “That is impossible. My daughter—”
“She has,” Aerion cut in, pale eyes glinting with cold amusement. “And it reflects on you, Lord Blackfyre. You have allowed deceit to flourish in your household. You have permitted a liar to be raised under your care.”
Vaelyra’s chest tightened, panic and shame twisting together.
Prince Maekar’s voice cut through, firm. “Aerion, enough.”
Aerion ignored him. “Do you deny it, Lord Blackfyre? That she has lied? That rebellion and deception run in her blood?”
Aemon’s jaw tightened. He opened his mouth, then closed it. The words he wanted to say — that she was innocent, that she had only tried to protect herself — lodged in his throat. Pride, fear, the weight of his daughter’s humiliation pressed down on him.
“Speak,” Aerion said softly, stepping closer. “Or remain silent and let me decide her punishment.”
With a deep, trembling breath, Lord Aemon lowered his gaze and inclined his head toward Aerion and the princes. “I… I apologize, my Prince ” he said slowly, each word tasting of ash. “I apologize to you, to House Targaryen, and to Prince Maekar. My daughter’s deception was mine to see, and I failed to prevent it.”
Vaelyra’s stomach twisted violently. She pressed her face to her hands. Her father bowed, publicly apologizing to the house that had destroyed his own.
Aerion’s violet eyes flicked over them both. A slow, satisfied smirk touched his lips. This was not just punishment for Vaelyra; this was triumph, humiliation, and control all in one.
“Yes,” Aerion said softly, the words sharp as a blade. “That is fitting. You will learn your place. And she,” he turned to Vaelyra, voice cold, “will remember who rules her life.”
