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🐉 Aerion Targaryen
Dark Aerion Targaryen x Maid reader
Dark Aerion Targaryen x Maid reader 2
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Masterlist
🐉 Aerion Targaryen
Dark Aerion Targaryen x Maid reader
Dark Aerion Targaryen x Maid reader 2
Masterlist
🐉 Aerion Targaryen
Dark Aerion Targaryen x Maid reader
Dark Aerion Targaryen x Maid reader 2
🐉 The Dragon’s Cruel Favor — Dark Arion Targaryen x Maid!Reader
Warning non/con themes / obsession / bullying / murder / violence / power imbalance.
My first fic guys 🙂
The first time Prince Arion Targaryen noticed you, it was because you spilled wine on his boots.
The goblet slipped from your hands the moment he stepped into the corridor—silver hair catching the torchlight like pale fire.
Wine soaked into the black leather.
Silence fell.
Your heart froze.
Arion’s violet eyes swept over the ruined boots… and then back to you. Cold. Dangerous.
“You’ve ruined something more valuable than your life,” he said softly.
Your knees nearly gave out.
“I—I’m sorry, my prince.”
You expected punishment. A beating. Dismissal. Worse.
But he only stared. And then, slowly… he laughed. Quiet, low, and terrifying.
“Clean it.”
From that day forward, he never left you alone.
———————————————————————
At first, you thought he simply liked tormenting servants.
He appeared whenever you carried trays, blocking your path with a single word:
“Girl.”
You hated how easily he could stop you.
Sometimes he knocked things from your hands to watch you scramble. Sometimes he forced you to pour wine again and again until your fingers trembled.
Once, he grabbed your chin.
“Look at me when I speak,” he murmured.
His thumb brushed your lower lip. Not gentle. Not kind. Just… deliberate.
You wanted to run. But you couldn’t.
Because beneath the cruelty, you realized something horrifying: he had already claimed you.
⸻
Then came the betrothal.
A stablemaster’s son from a nearby estate—safe, simple, and utterly irrelevant to Arion.
The news reached him faster than anyone else. You were packing linens when he appeared in your quarters.
“Is it true?” His voice was low, dangerous.
“My prince—”
“Answer me.”
“Yes,” you whispered, hands shaking.
Arion’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Betrothed. To a stable boy.”
He stepped closer, deliberate, each footfall echoing in the small room.
“You were going to marry him,” he said, and his voice wasn’t accusatory. It was possession.
The next morning, your fiancé was found in the courtyard. Dead. Throat cut cleanly.
No one dared question a prince.
No one dared look at you the same way again.
⸻
That night, Arion came to your chamber.
His clothes were still dark with fresh blood.
“My prince…”
He didn’t answer. He just closed the door behind him, locking it.
“I had no choice,” you whispered.
“No,” he said, voice dropping, “you never did.”
He reached for your wrist. You froze. Not out of fear—there was nothing left to fear—but because resistance was meaningless.
“You belong to me,” he said softly, almost gently. “Every step, every breath… mine. You’ve never been free.”
You could barely breathe as he closed the distance between you.
“You think you could leave? Think you could choose someone else?” His thumb brushed your cheek. “No one touches you. No one ever will.”
The prince leaned closer, and you realized with a sickening clarity: there was no escaping him. Every path in the castle, every hallway, every shadow… all led to him.
“You belong to me,” he repeated, a whisper now, yet it felt like fire in the room. “You’ve always been mine. And now…”
His gaze hardened. Possessive. Obsessive. Unyielding.
“…I will have you in every way. Every inch, every moment, every part of you. You have no choice.”
The bed pressed against your legs, your chest pounding. He stepped closer. Closer than anyone should ever be allowed.
“And you will obey”.
Like and rebog plz 🥹
🐉 His Claim - Dark Obsessive Arion Targaryen x Maid!Reader
Aerion Targaryen X Maid reader
TW: Dark Romance / Obsession / Possessive
Behavior / Psychological Control / Power
Imbalance / Maid Reader / Arion Targaryen x
Reader / Bastards / Children / Non-Consent Implied
From the moment Arion Targaryen first laid eyes on you, he decided: you belonged to him. Not in whispers, not in fleeting glances every step, every breath, every heartbeat of yours was claimed before you even knew it.
Weeks passed. The castle whispered of his obsession, though none dared speak it aloud. Every servant and noble who glimpsed the children proof of his claim shivered in silence. The eldest, four, had violet eyes like Arion himself, silver hair that gleamed like moonlight, and a sharp, perceptive look that unnervingly mirrored his father. The two-year-old, clinging to your hip, already had a shock of pale hair and the same piercing violet gaze, fists always seeking comfort yet constantly measuring the room.
And the youngest, still in your heavily swollen belly, kicked relentlessly, a tiny life already marked with Arion's unmistakable bloodline.
Even in the grandest halls of King's Landing, Arion's presence was a storm. Nobles bowed, voices trembling as they whispered, for a single misstep, a careless word against his bastards could vanish them from favour or worse. His eyes, violet and sharp as daggers, could freeze a man mid-sentence. Whispers died before they reached his ears. The bastards were untouchable; their existence a terrifying declaration of his control.
In the privacy of your chambers within the Red Keep, he allowed you a fragile breath of reprieve.
"You need not carry the weight of the castle while carrying mine," he said once, voice low, silk-dark, yet chilling. "The children require you, and I..." He paused, violet eyes scanning you as if measuring every movement. "
'...I require them. And you."
He arranged your duties, ensuring you had enough freedom to care for the eldest and the two-year-old, though every errand, every corner, every step you took still fell under his gaze. There was no true independence, only the illusion of it.
——————————————————————————
The children thrived under his obsessive attention.
The eldest would sit quietly on a small cushioned stool in the corner of your chambers, learning the subtleties of the Red Keep under his watchful gaze.
Violet eyes flicking to his father whenever someone spoke too loudly or too boldly, instinctively reading the room, learning the dangerous weight of being noticed or not noticed by Arion.
The two-year-old clung to your hip but recognized Arion in fleeting moments, staring into those violet eyes with a mixture of curiosity and instinctual reverence. Even the eldest would sometimes whisper questions about him, cautious, knowing not to provoke.
Arion adored them not in softness, but in obsession and possession. Every milestone, every word, every glance was a mark of ownership. Yet he demanded loyalty, awareness of hierarchy, and the unspoken understanding: they were his, and through them, he controlled everything you loved.
——————————————————————————-
At court, in the Red Keep, he was a tempest. Any servant who dared glance at your children or you with disrespect felt the weight of Arion's presence like a blade across their throat. Even whispers of discontent fell silent under his violet glare. He did not need to strike; the mere promise of his wrath kept the Red Keep in line.
He watched you constantly, whether carrying the eldest to the small writing desk in your chambers, holding the squirming two-year-old on your hip, or resting one hand on the youngest in your belly. Every gesture, every stumble, every shiver was a reminder: you, and everything connected to you, belonged to him.
"You see them?" he murmured once, trailing a fingertip along your shoulder. "All of them... mine.
Every step they take, every word they speak... reflects on you. Reflects on me. Do you understand?"
You nodded, chest tight, breath shallow. There was no escape. Not in this castle, not in this life. He had woven every aspect of your existence into his claim: the children, your chambers, the court, even your very body.
And yet... there was a strange, suffocating tenderness in his obsession.
When the eldest climbed into his lap in your chambers, Arion's hands rested on the boy's shoulders like a king claiming his heir, teaching him the power of presence, the silent intimidation of a Targaryen in full command. The boy mirrored his father's gaze, violet eyes sharp, learning both fear and authority simultaneously.
The two-year-old, wriggling on your hip, would babble his first words in Arion's presence, and the prince would smile not warmth, but possessive pride watching how his obsession had multiplied into these children, these living extensions of his ownership.
——————————————————————————
Even the youngest, still in your belly, seemed to respond to him. At night, when he would appear at your door, pressing a hand gently but dominantly against your side, you could feel the baby shift and kick, as if recognizing the master of its life before birth.
"You are mine," he whispered one night, voice silk and steel. "All of you. The eldest, the middle... even the one yet unborn. And no one - no one will take you from me."
You realized then, with a suffocating clarity, that his obsession was complete. The children, your chambers, the court they all bent to his will. And you... you were utterly, terrifyingly, irrevocably his.
Like and reblog babes xx
🐉 His Claim - Dark Obsessive Arion Targaryen x Maid!Reader
Aerion Targaryen X Maid reader
TW: Dark Romance / Obsession / Possessive
Behavior / Psychological Control / Power
Imbalance / Maid Reader / Arion Targaryen x
Reader / Bastards / Children / Non-Consent Implied
From the moment Arion Targaryen first laid eyes on you, he decided: you belonged to him. Not in whispers, not in fleeting glances every step, every breath, every heartbeat of yours was claimed before you even knew it.
Weeks passed. The castle whispered of his obsession, though none dared speak it aloud. Every servant and noble who glimpsed the children proof of his claim shivered in silence. The eldest, four, had violet eyes like Arion himself, silver hair that gleamed like moonlight, and a sharp, perceptive look that unnervingly mirrored his father. The two-year-old, clinging to your hip, already had a shock of pale hair and the same piercing violet gaze, fists always seeking comfort yet constantly measuring the room.
And the youngest, still in your heavily swollen belly, kicked relentlessly, a tiny life already marked with Arion's unmistakable bloodline.
Even in the grandest halls of King's Landing, Arion's presence was a storm. Nobles bowed, voices trembling as they whispered, for a single misstep, a careless word against his bastards could vanish them from favour or worse. His eyes, violet and sharp as daggers, could freeze a man mid-sentence. Whispers died before they reached his ears. The bastards were untouchable; their existence a terrifying declaration of his control.
In the privacy of your chambers within the Red Keep, he allowed you a fragile breath of reprieve.
"You need not carry the weight of the castle while carrying mine," he said once, voice low, silk-dark, yet chilling. "The children require you, and I..." He paused, violet eyes scanning you as if measuring every movement. "
'...I require them. And you."
He arranged your duties, ensuring you had enough freedom to care for the eldest and the two-year-old, though every errand, every corner, every step you took still fell under his gaze. There was no true independence, only the illusion of it.
——————————————————————————
The children thrived under his obsessive attention.
The eldest would sit quietly on a small cushioned stool in the corner of your chambers, learning the subtleties of the Red Keep under his watchful gaze.
Violet eyes flicking to his father whenever someone spoke too loudly or too boldly, instinctively reading the room, learning the dangerous weight of being noticed or not noticed by Arion.
The two-year-old clung to your hip but recognized Arion in fleeting moments, staring into those violet eyes with a mixture of curiosity and instinctual reverence. Even the eldest would sometimes whisper questions about him, cautious, knowing not to provoke.
Arion adored them not in softness, but in obsession and possession. Every milestone, every word, every glance was a mark of ownership. Yet he demanded loyalty, awareness of hierarchy, and the unspoken understanding: they were his, and through them, he controlled everything you loved.
——————————————————————————-
At court, in the Red Keep, he was a tempest. Any servant who dared glance at your children or you with disrespect felt the weight of Arion's presence like a blade across their throat. Even whispers of discontent fell silent under his violet glare. He did not need to strike; the mere promise of his wrath kept the Red Keep in line.
He watched you constantly, whether carrying the eldest to the small writing desk in your chambers, holding the squirming two-year-old on your hip, or resting one hand on the youngest in your belly. Every gesture, every stumble, every shiver was a reminder: you, and everything connected to you, belonged to him.
"You see them?" he murmured once, trailing a fingertip along your shoulder. "All of them... mine.
Every step they take, every word they speak... reflects on you. Reflects on me. Do you understand?"
You nodded, chest tight, breath shallow. There was no escape. Not in this castle, not in this life. He had woven every aspect of your existence into his claim: the children, your chambers, the court, even your very body.
And yet... there was a strange, suffocating tenderness in his obsession.
When the eldest climbed into his lap in your chambers, Arion's hands rested on the boy's shoulders like a king claiming his heir, teaching him the power of presence, the silent intimidation of a Targaryen in full command. The boy mirrored his father's gaze, violet eyes sharp, learning both fear and authority simultaneously.
The two-year-old, wriggling on your hip, would babble his first words in Arion's presence, and the prince would smile not warmth, but possessive pride watching how his obsession had multiplied into these children, these living extensions of his ownership.
——————————————————————————
Even the youngest, still in your belly, seemed to respond to him. At night, when he would appear at your door, pressing a hand gently but dominantly against your side, you could feel the baby shift and kick, as if recognizing the master of its life before birth.
"You are mine," he whispered one night, voice silk and steel. "All of you. The eldest, the middle... even the one yet unborn. And no one - no one will take you from me."
You realized then, with a suffocating clarity, that his obsession was complete. The children, your chambers, the court they all bent to his will. And you... you were utterly, terrifyingly, irrevocably his.
Like and reblog babes xx
🐉 The Dragon’s Cruel Favor — Dark Arion Targaryen x Maid!Reader
Warning non/con themes / obsession / bullying / murder / violence / power imbalance.
My first fic guys 🙂
The first time Prince Arion Targaryen noticed you, it was because you spilled wine on his boots.
The goblet slipped from your hands the moment he stepped into the corridor—silver hair catching the torchlight like pale fire.
Wine soaked into the black leather.
Silence fell.
Your heart froze.
Arion’s violet eyes swept over the ruined boots… and then back to you. Cold. Dangerous.
“You’ve ruined something more valuable than your life,” he said softly.
Your knees nearly gave out.
“I—I’m sorry, my prince.”
You expected punishment. A beating. Dismissal. Worse.
But he only stared. And then, slowly… he laughed. Quiet, low, and terrifying.
“Clean it.”
From that day forward, he never left you alone.
———————————————————————
At first, you thought he simply liked tormenting servants.
He appeared whenever you carried trays, blocking your path with a single word:
“Girl.”
You hated how easily he could stop you.
Sometimes he knocked things from your hands to watch you scramble. Sometimes he forced you to pour wine again and again until your fingers trembled.
Once, he grabbed your chin.
“Look at me when I speak,” he murmured.
His thumb brushed your lower lip. Not gentle. Not kind. Just… deliberate.
You wanted to run. But you couldn’t.
Because beneath the cruelty, you realized something horrifying: he had already claimed you.
⸻
Then came the betrothal.
A stablemaster’s son from a nearby estate—safe, simple, and utterly irrelevant to Arion.
The news reached him faster than anyone else. You were packing linens when he appeared in your quarters.
“Is it true?” His voice was low, dangerous.
“My prince—”
“Answer me.”
“Yes,” you whispered, hands shaking.
Arion’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Betrothed. To a stable boy.”
He stepped closer, deliberate, each footfall echoing in the small room.
“You were going to marry him,” he said, and his voice wasn’t accusatory. It was possession.
The next morning, your fiancé was found in the courtyard. Dead. Throat cut cleanly.
No one dared question a prince.
No one dared look at you the same way again.
⸻
That night, Arion came to your chamber.
His clothes were still dark with fresh blood.
“My prince…”
He didn’t answer. He just closed the door behind him, locking it.
“I had no choice,” you whispered.
“No,” he said, voice dropping, “you never did.”
He reached for your wrist. You froze. Not out of fear—there was nothing left to fear—but because resistance was meaningless.
“You belong to me,” he said softly, almost gently. “Every step, every breath… mine. You’ve never been free.”
You could barely breathe as he closed the distance between you.
“You think you could leave? Think you could choose someone else?” His thumb brushed your cheek. “No one touches you. No one ever will.”
The prince leaned closer, and you realized with a sickening clarity: there was no escaping him. Every path in the castle, every hallway, every shadow… all led to him.
“You belong to me,” he repeated, a whisper now, yet it felt like fire in the room. “You’ve always been mine. And now…”
His gaze hardened. Possessive. Obsessive. Unyielding.
“…I will have you in every way. Every inch, every moment, every part of you. You have no choice.”
The bed pressed against your legs, your chest pounding. He stepped closer. Closer than anyone should ever be allowed.
“And you will obey”.
Like and rebog plz 🥹