what we do in life echoes in eternity

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[julez-5]

hear me out. what about a Baelor x Maekars!widow reader. like obviously Baelor is a widower as well. Like Maekar died during a diplomatic mission for the King but reader is pregnant so Baelor suggested they marry so her and the kids aren't separated and tells reader that they don't have to have a bedding ceremony since he already has heirs. but then they fall in love a few years later and one of the kids goes "so when are you finally gonna give us a new sibling?" and its chaos because they thought the kids would be against the marriage or something.

DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE—Baelor Targaryen

Baelor Targaryen x Maekar’s widow!reader

content: After Maekar's unexpected demise you are left widowed with five children and pregnant, but Baelor is there to take care of his brother's family.

words: 2.7k

cw: MDNI 18+ canon divergence, character death, child birth, feelings of guilt and grief, lmk if I missed any

a/n: I loved this idea!!

You could still remember the day you had married Maekar, young, naive and full of utter love for the young man, boy more like, waiting for you at the aisle. You had spent more of your life married to him than not. You had built a life with him. Five children and now pregnant with the sixth.

Then he was gone. As simple as that. You were left a pregnant widow, with five children and an identity crisis, because who were you without Maekar? That was a question you never wanted to find out, but now you would have too. 

Baelor came to Summerhall to deliver the news personally. Baelor was the one who held you and bared through your screams. Baelor was eventually the one who offered you a solution. One that you were sure neither of you truly wanted, but you were a woman, and sooner or later you would have been forced home, possibly away from your children. 

The wedding feast carried on around you, your good-brother your new husband sat in by your side. Baelor had been kind enough to do most of the socializing, allowing you to simply sit, resting your feet, as they had already doubled in size from the small bit of standing you had done in the Sept of Baelor.  

“Did you ever think you would marry your brother’s widow whilst she was eight moons pregnant with a sixth child?” you asked, it was a joke, as you attempted to hide the feeling coursing through. 

The sadness. The guilt. The same bit of excitement you felt. Which truly only made thee over two emotions worse. Your hands rested on your round stomach as you turned looking to him, with a raised brow. 

“I did not think I’d ever remarry,” he admitted. 

Your eyes immediately moved to Valarr who sat talking to your eldest two boys, “I suppose that makes sense you had what you needed,” you said, letting your gaze sweep over both Aerion and Daeron’s face before turning back. 

“Widowhood is much kinder to men than women,” he told you, and you knew it was the truth. 

He would have had the liberty to go with being unwed, where it would have been expected you to no doubt remarry. You still had plenty of child bearing years left, despite having already been pregnant six times some Lord would have expected you to push out a seventh and no doubt an eighth all for the name of duty. 

“Do you think Maekar would have remarried?” you then asked before you could stop yourself. 

“No,” he answered without hesitation, turning toward you fully, “But it would not have been expected of him,” he reminded you once more. 

It would not have been expected of him like it was you. 

And you knew that deep down. That this was the best your choice could have gotten, because you knew Baelor. You knew what he was like. He was not some evil lord who was going to pin you down night after night or beat you for disobedience. 

“I am ready for bed,” you said finally, you may as well get it all over with. 

“Alright,” he said, “Just give me a moment,” he said, pushing himself to his feet before turning to talk to the King.

Your chair scrapped against the floor as you made a move to stand which was no easy feat these day with your round belly, a hand suddenly appeared in front of you, Your eyes turned up to find young Valarr causing you to smile, “Thank you,” you told him, taking it as you finally stood. 

You moved to your two eldest boys pushing a kiss to the top of their heads, “Can I trust the pair of you to behave?” you asked. 

“Of course, mama,” Aerion assured you with a toothy grin. 

You rolled your eyes, “If either of you two need anything you can come get me. This is our home now, the same things from Summerhall still apply here,” you told the pair. 

“Ready?” Baelor asked. 

You turned toward him with a smile nodding, he extended his arm to you, and you wrapped yours around his as the pair of you made it out of the hall. “No bedding ceremony?” you questioned. 

He laughed, “You think I would put you through that eight moons pregnant?” he questioned. 

You thought about it for a minute, and you knew the answer. You knew there was a reason you had not been worried about the aftermath of the wedding, because you knew Baelor. You trusted him, “No, but I expect to get something out of you tonight,” you then said. 

He spared a glance at you raising a brow, “And that is?”

“To rub my feet.”

“I can do that.”

You had done this five times before, it should have been easy, and in a sense it was. But this was different. There was no Maekar holding your hand telling you that you are doing so good that you were more of a warrior then he could ever be. You were alone, and it was quite frightening. 

“I want my husband,” you cried for the third time, as another scream tore through you as your contractions were too close together and you felt the need to push, but you did not want to. You wanted Maekar. 

The doors opened and you looked up expecting to see the stern face of him once more, but he was not there, just like he would never be. Baelor went to move inside the room as a maester immediately intercepted him, no doubt telling him he had no place here. 

You had heard it all before as they had tried to sue Maekar from the birthing chamber time after time, but the man never did care for propriety, especially when it came to you.  Baelor looked from you as you let out another groan to the maester. You half waited for him to turn around, to do what was expected of a prince. 

He surprised you though when he suddenly declared, “That is up to my wife,” he looked from the man up to you, “Do you wish for me to stay?” he asked, gently not moving from his spot near the door still giving you a chance to turn him away. 

In case this was a line you did not want to cross. He let out set the boundaries like he had been doing for months taking what you gave him, and not daring to toe the line in the slightest. 

You immediately nodded your head, “Please don’t leave me alone,” you said, your words held more meaning then just this moment, and both of you knew that but neither spoke on it. 

He moved across the room to you, rolling his tunic sleeves up to his forearms, one hand reached out gripping yours as the other moved to the small of your back guiding you back to the bed. 

It was time, you both knew it was time, and you could no longer prevent it, but you still found yourself doubting yourself. You had never done this without Maekar. You had never done most things without the man, and each time you had it felt like a constant stab to the heart. This was no different if not worse

“I can’t do this,” you suddenly said. 

“Yes, you can. If anyone can do this it is you. You're strong, you are the strongest person I know.”

You held his bi-color gaze for a moment, before nodding, “Don’t leave me alone,” you whispered to him once more. 

He nodded, helping to lower you onto the bed, “I’m not going anywhere he assured you.”

You weren’t positive when your thoughts of Baelor changed. Mayhaps it was when he did not force you to bed him on your wedding night, when he held your hand during child birth promising you he would not leave you alone, or mayhaps it was even watching him care for children that were not his own without asking anything in return. 

It started slowly, gently just like everything else with Baelor, and before you knew it that familiar feeling was in your bones once more. There was always that heartbreak of Maekar’s absence and there always would be, but it did not feel all consuming anymore. 

You did not feel entirely cold now, you did not feel his ghost breathing down your neck at every possible moment leaving a chill down your spine. 

You actually felt warm, as you watched Baelor help Aerion with his sword craft. Saw him conversing with Daeron, listening to him with a nod and adding in put when needed. He would have tea parties with Daella, and chase Aemon and Aegon around indulging in whatever games they wanted. 

He got up with Maelora during the night allowing you to sleep, and had even taken her to council on more than one occasion despite the men’s loud protests. You had heard him on numerous occasions talking to her, telling her of her father and how much he would have adored her. 

He was there for you, with his promise. He would not leave you alone in this, in anything. He would care for you. Not the same way Maekar could, because no one could ever truly replace him, but he was there in his own way. Not overshadowing Maekar, but existing alongside him. 

Dinner was chaotic with seven children and an infant. Maelora, ten moons old, slept soundly in Baelor’s arms, having been long tired from her new activity of walking. You all dined together, the chatter of different conversations mixing together as you watched with a fond smile before turning to look at your husband who watched you with the same expression. 

“Mama,” Aerion called out, causing you to look toward him. 

“Yes?”

“When are we gonna have another sibling?” he asked, his small face set seriously as he awaited your answer.

You stared at the boy of nine for a minute, simply blinking before turning to look at Baelor, “Why do you ask that, Aerion?” he asked, gently. 

“I think it’s because Aemon, Daella, Aegon and Maelora were all close together,” Daeron explained on the other side of his brother, using his wisdom for his whole one and ten years of life. 

“A new sibling could be fun. A boy though,” Valarr added with a shrug. 

“No. A girl!” Daella argued, though you were sure she had no idea what the conversation actually pertained. 

You could only laugh staring at them all half in disbelief and something else you could not entirely explain. Baelor watched you, but you did not lift your head staring at your plate as you pushed your food around in thought.

The rest of dinner finished the way it always does, a conversation slipping to the next before eventually it was time for bed and you were tucking them all in following the specific routine they had set for themselves. You made your rounds to each chamber, even Valarr and Matarys before making your way toward your own. 

Baelor sat in front of the fireplace, a book propped in his lap, as he lounged in his seat. You stood in the doorway staring at him a moment, all your thoughts swirling in your mind that had been consuming you since dinner. 

The mention of children had you thinking. You had not even laid with him so as a child was out of the possibility, and then that led to the fact that why did you seem somewhat content with the thought of perhaps a future child with Baelor. His dark hair and mismatched eyes. You wanted him. You oh so wanted him, but at the same time you did not want to betray Maekar’s memory. 

It had been almost two years since his passing. You were happy, and you knew he would have wanted you to be happy. To be cared for the exact way that Baelor was caring for you all now, but it did little to ease the guilt. 

Baelor was your good-brother, and now you wanted him to warm your bed? He is your husband, a voice in your head reminded you, as your mind continued a battle in what it wanted. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, causing you to look up toward him. 

You stared at him a moment debating lying to him, but you knew he would eventually get it out of you. He was far too perceptive for his own good, “I feel like I am betraying Maekar,” you admitted. 

He immediately stood setting his book to the side, “Why would you think?” he questioned. 

You pressed your lips together, “Because I am content with you. With our life, and I want you like a wife,” you whispered, as if the words were dirty and should not be heard. “And I know. I know he would want me to be happy and cared for like you have been doing all along, but some part of me still feels like it's wrong that I am betraying him!” 

He took a step forward, moving to pull you into his chest as you cried softly, “You are not betraying him, sweet girl,” you continued to cry, “It’s okay. I am here for you,” he assured you. 

No more lines were crossed that night as he held you, letting you cry, once more allowing you to set the boundaries, only letting you know that he was there for you and did not plan on leaving you alone with your grief, with your children, or with anything else for that matter. 

You laid half sprawled on the bed, your body tried from the day of events. Maelora’s first name day had quickly approached and now gone with success. 

Baelor lay sprawled next to you, both of you filled with the same exhaustion though neither of you truly slept as both of you were still dressed for the day. The pair of you had been sharing a bed for the last moon, but nothing ever happened beside an arm thrown over your waist and every once so often. 

“This is the first time since before Aerion that I had not been pregnant before a child’s first name day,” you realized. 

He laughed turning on his side to face you better, “Did you want more children?” he found himself asking before he could stop himself. 

You noticed how he used the past tense… Did you want more children with Maekar? Not… Do you want more children with me? He did not see that in the cards, but he did not ask the question with any anger in his voice, only curiosity. 

But you did not think of the question in regards to the past. You did not think about more hypothetical children that would never happen with Maekar. You thought of the present, the now with Baelor. 

You turned onto your side now to face him, 

“I would not mind one more mayhaps…A boy or girl mayhaps with your eyes,” you answered. 

The pair of you stared at the other for a moment, his eyes flickered down to your lips, but you stared at him, “You can kiss me if you,” you whispered. 

He nodded, before his hands raised cupping the side of your cheek. He held your gaze for a moment giving you the chance to turn away, to declare that you had changed your mind, but it never came. 

Finally he leaned in, pressing his lips toward yours, before rolling over to hover over you, all his weight resting on his fore arm, careful to not crush you. 

You moved with him laying on your back as he settled in between your legs, your hands moved one lacing through his dark hair and the other resting on his chest. His mouth moved claiming yours, his hands resting firmly on your face and they would not stray until you gave him permission to. 

He rested his forehead against yours, when the pair of you finally had to separate for air. Your eyes flickered around his face and as if he could read your thought, “I got you,” he assured you, quietly, his hands remaining on the sides of your face.  

And you believed him, because you knew he would never leave you alone, not now. 

baelor taglist: @sacha1slytherin @erylilly @thebl00dwyrm @ilocuras24 @xkatherinexo @alaeratrrn @ynnlvrs @theonewhoshallbeunnamed

if you would like to join the tag list for future baelor stories feel free to drop a comment :)

[julez-5]

a concept: baelor x reader in an arranged marriage, but instead of doing their duty, they’re both equally stubborn and refuse to yield first… until she starts spending more time with daeron since he’s technically her age, and baelor starts to feel the pang of jealousy. angst angst angst slow burnnnn

DO YOUR DUTY—Baelor Targaryen

Baelor Targaryen x younger!second wife!reader

content: Your husband was ever the dutiful man, except when it came to you, but once you started seeking company in the form of his nephew everything changed.

words: 3.5k

cw: MDNI 18+ mentions/allusions of sex, jealousy, drinking alcohol

When you were younger you had dreamed of the day you would be wed. You imagined a prince, one that was handsome, young, and kind, but as you grew older you realized that was not going to be the case. You would be married to whoever your father deemed fit. He would show you off like a horse, giving you to the highest bidder, and one day it came. 

Baelor Targaryen was practically old enough to be your father. You were not much older than his eldest son or nephew. He was handsome, yes. He was also kind, yes, and he was even a fucking prince, but he would not look at you for more than a second. As if your very existence was a nuisance. 

You had been hopeful at first. The wedding passed by without a hitch, he had held your hand the whole time making sure you were comfortable, seeing to your need. Even the bedding was good, much better than you had expected. There had been no one watching, only you and him, and he made sure you reached your peak three times before his cock even touched you. 

Now he refused to touch you. He did not share a bed with you. He did not come to even see you in the middle of the night just hoping to wet his cock, which you would have welcomed with open arms as there was a burn in you that you could not dull since that night. In return you refused to seek him out. You would not yield to him, and let him know that you wanted him.

That was pathetic, that was weak, and you were neither of those things. You would be the future Queen one day. You were young, you were fertile, and Gods be fucking good he was lucky to marry you. Fuck him. If he didn’t want you then so be it.

You sat out in the gardens with your eyes closed as you enjoyed the nightly breeze, enjoying the only sense of peace the Red Keep gave you. Though your husband refused to be your husband in anything, but name you still had duties as wife of the crown prince, which led your days to be filled with a business you had never quite known.

Then your peace was interrupted as someone stumbled in slumping down next to you. Your eyes shot open, turning slightly to look at who had now joined you. Daeron, your nephew by marriage, though he was closer to your age than your husband. He was nothing less than a disaster, but he did always manage to get a laugh out of you at feasts. 

His hair was unkempt, his clothes looked as if they had been simply tossed on, and there was a smile to his lips, one that only made an appearance when he was already deep in his cups, “You smell like shit,” you stated flatly, causing him to laugh.

He pulled the sack by his side, offering it to you, shaking it slightly. You knew it wasn’t water that he was offering you, but wine. You stared at it a moment hesitating before muttering a quiet, “Fuck it.” Take it from him bringing the liquid to your lips and taking a long swig. 

The alcohol burned slightly, causing you to cough slightly as you handed it back to him. He took a swig, before handing it back to you, and this carried on until you were just as drunk as him. A loud, laughing mess as the pair of you talked nonsense.

“Oh, fuck you!” you gasped, slapping his chest playfully, as his head rested on your shoulder his laugh carrying through the air louder than either of you had realized. You missed the footsteps approaching both drunk, and too wrapped in your own conversation then you heard the calling of your name. 

You turned your head slightly to find your husband looming over you, as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Your grace,” you greeted, though it lacked the warmth that had filled your voice moments ago. His mismatched eyes flickered between the scenes in front of him. Daeron head on your shoulder as the pair of you longed pressed into each other, an empty wine sack by your side. Your hair was messy, your skirts were ruffled, and your eyes hazy. 

If you had been a little more sober you would have seen the anger on his face, not that you truly would have cared. “Your maids were worried you were not in your chambers,” he said gruffly, watching as neither of you made any moves to separate yourself, only staring up at him, a drunk grin spread across your lips. 

“Is it that late already?” you hiccupped slightly, “I was just spending time with our darling nephew,” you said, gesturing to the man.

Daeron looked up at his uncle, a smile on his lips that looked much too smug for his liking, “I have been taking great care of, my new aunt, do not fret uncle.”

Baelor's patience was already thin as he watched the younger man lean in whispering something in your ear causing you to giggle slightly. It snapped in that moment as he reached down wrapping an arm around your bicep before tugging you to your feet. 

“I will see you in the morning, dear aunt!” Daeron called after you as your husband dragged you away from him, back into the halls of the Red Keep. 

You swatted at the man’s hand, but he did not falter pulling you along, as the servants and knights turned their heads watching the pair of you in confusion. It was not often the pair of you would be seen together other than public events, and it certainly was not common to see him dragging you through the halls as you attempted to pry his grip from you.

“That was unbefitting of the wife of the crown prince,” he finally said, voice low, the anger he felt laced through every world, but his voice did not rise with emotion like yours did. He was still controlled, careful with his words almost, and that irked you more. You wanted him to yell at you, to show you he cared even the smallest sliver, but all that seemed to bother him was the damage that could have come to his reputation. 

You scoffed, “Do not lecture me on what is befitting, husband,” you hissed, no warmth in your voice that had been there moments ago.

Now your words were a blade, aiming at anything close in an attempt to protect yourself from further hurt. He paused, his hand tightening slightly, “What is that supposed to mean?”

You laughed, humorless, “If you cared of image you would do your duty as a husband. Instead you avoid me at all causes and let the court whisper of how I must be barren, because you refuse to fucking touch me!”

“Lower your voice,” he hissed, but once again it only fueled you more. He only cared about his image, not you, a voice inside yourself screamed. 

“No! If you do not wish to touch me then what was the fucking point of marrying me, and before you lie I already know that it was not the King’s will, but your own,” you said, taking a step forward, cheating heaving with the brungin rage that flowed through you. 

He took another step forward, holding your burning gaze without a flinch. He dropped his head slightly as if he was going to kiss you, and for a short pathetic moment you hoped he would. You hoped he would finally put an end to this torture that consumed you and claim your body once more. He could dull the burning ache that had filled you in his absence, but his mouth never met yours. 

Instead he straightened up, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, “Because I was selfish,” he declared, his voice low, but firm,  as if that answered every question that had been swirling around in your head for moons. 

It did not. Your eyebrows drew together, your mind much too fuzzy from the wine to find the true meaning of his words, and you had officially reached your limit. You yelled out of frustration, stomping your foot once before you turned storming away from him leaving him to watch your retreating form with a sigh. 

A fortnight had passed since your drunken screaming match in the hallway, one you could hardly remember other than you yelling once in your husband’s face and stomping your foot like a toddler. It was not your finest moment, but you refused to dwell on it. 

You currently stood talking with Lord Lannister’s daughter who was visiting the capital with her father. She was dreadfully boring and you feared you would begin to claw your eyes out if you had to be in this conversation any longer. 

Then your eyes lit up as you saw a savior, approaching. “Dearest aunt!” he exclaimed, approaching the pair of you. You smiled in greeting, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, he then turned to the young woman, “I hope you do not mind, but I must require my aunt’s presence,” he said. 

He did not wait for a reply before pulling you away. You turned, casting her a small smile, before turning back, lacing your arm around his with a groan, “You looked like you needed a savior.”

“I did. She just kept talking about the same thing over and over again. She asked me how I seduced the prince as she has her eyes set on your brother,” she muttered, shaking her head slightly. 

He laughed, “Best of fucking luck,” he muttered as you made your way outside. The sunshine, and slight breeze felt nice on your face as the pair of you began to wander the grounds. “I must say I am also curious as to how you seduced my uncle.”

Your eyebrows drew together in confusion, “I did nothing. I had two conversations and a dance with the man then he declared his wish to marry me to my father. I would say he regrets that decision now though,” you mutter the last part, but he still heard you clear as day. 

“He does not regret that decision. I can see it with how he looks at you,” he countered. 

“He does not look at me," you argued, scoffing slightly, with a shake of your head. 

Daeron grinned slightly, glancing at you. “He looks at you when you look away. Both of you only look at each other when the other is not,” 

You stopped, pulling your arm, turning toward him, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion, “What are you talking about?” you asked, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion. 

He opened his mouth to reply, but he never did a moment to reply instead your name was being called through the air. You turned, seeing as your husband approached, his hands clasped behind him as his eyes flickered between the pair of you. 

“Uncle.”

“Nephew,” he replied, but he did not look at the young man, instead his eyes trained on his wife. 

You raised a brow in question wondering what he could possibly want, “Your Grace,” you greeted with a nod, your lips push together as you watched him. 

He smiled, despite the way the title was wrapped with barbed wire, trying to poke him. “I was hoping you would be free to dine with the boys and I for a mid-day meal,” he said.

You felt a warmth spread through you, but you pushed it down, trying to ignore it as you stared at the man. “Oh.” Your brain faltered slightly as you blinked at him, “Uh…yes I can do that,” you nodded.

His grin only widened as he offered his arm to you. “I will see you later,” you told Daeron, giving his arm a small squeeze with a smile. The angry green monster in Baelor roared slightly at the gesture, but dulled slightly the moment you wrapped your arm around his.

“How was your time with Lord Lannister's daughter?” he asked.

You raised a brow slightly having no clue he even knew about that, “It was…” you hesitated. “She is…”

“Dreaful? Slightly dull?” he offered. 

Your eyes lit up slightly, as a laugh escaped your lips, “Yes it was honestly the worst. She kept trying to ask me for my techniques on how to get a prince to marry you. I think she was hoping that I would give her step-by-step instructions on how to marry into the royal family,” you joked. 

“Even if you gave her instructions, no one could compare to you,” he said, gently, casting you a small smile that caused your breath to get stuck in your throat. 

The words caused a fluttering sensation to fill your body, but you did not get to even reply to the words as you were being pushed into his solar to dine with him and his two sons. The words continued to rattle around in your brain the entire time though, but you never were given a moment alone to talk to him further. 

The feast was in full swing around you, the hall filled with laughter, music, and conversation. Baelor of course had been pulled away by Lord something for some painfully boring conversation you were sure. 

You sat at the high table next to Daeron, the pair of you conversing as you tried to make sure he did not drunkenly pass out on the table. You missed the burning set of mismatched eyes boring into you as you laughed at one of the man’s stupid comments. 

You missed the way the sea of people parted for the man as he quickly pushed through to now be standing in front of you. You glanced up when you heard someone clear their throat looking at your husband who loomed over you. 

“My dear wife, would you like a dance?”

You blinked at him, before glancing down to his hand, in confusion you agreed nonetheless. He wrapped a hand around your waist, fingers splaying as he possessively claimed you as if it was a competition. You did not even realize, too lost in the thoughts of confusion, "We don’t do this. I cannot even remember the last time you asked me to dance,” you pointed out, allowing him to lead you. 

“Perhaps we should do this more often then. I seem to recall you are quite the dancer from our wedding night,” he said, holding you gently, pulling you closer than he was supposed to, but you let him. You could see the warmth of his body against yours, and it caused something to stir within you. 

The burning ache, branching from your groin to all your limbs as you thought of your wedding night. “We have not done a lot of things since our wedding night,” you pointed, the words slipping from your mouth before you could stop them. 

He stared down at you, fingers tightening on you slightly as he held your gaze, humming slightly, “No we have not,” he agreed, his gaze holding yours as they flickered to your lips for a moment before he sighed looking away from you, but he looked as if the act itself pained him. As if he did not want to look away from you, and it caused the burn inside you to only intensify. 

That was the last of the conversation before you were fleeing the hall, muttering some excuse as you made your way into the dark hallways, a plan forming in your mind as you began to think over the last few weeks since the drunken night in the garden. He had been holding you at arms length, but now he had given you a step forward without thinking and you could now see through him. 

You had finally had enough of your husband’s antics. Every time you and Daeron would spend time with one another someone would come to interrupt, calling you away for some made up duty or task that most certainly was not urgent, but was always made out to be. 

You sat in your husband's chambers, awaiting his return, two goblets of wine poured on the table. He finally entered by rubbing his face slightly, clearly looking forward to the promise of sleep, but then his eyes found you. 

“Wife,” he greeted, but did not move from the doorway staring at you. 

“Husband,” you waved your hand to the seat in front of you. 

He finally moved forward, to the seat, but he did not touch the drink at first. He took his boots off, glancing up at you every so often as if to make sure you were still there before he finally sat back in his seat. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” he asked, raising a brow as he brought the wine to his mouth. 

“What is your issue?” you asked flatly. 

He chuckled slightly, “My issue?” 

“Do not make me sound the fool. You know just as well as I do what I am referring to,” you said, your arms crossing over your chest. He watched you, his eyes stopping on your chest for a moment before he looked back to your face. 

He said nothing, only staring at you, causing you to shake your head as you pushed yourself to your feet. “You request my hand from my father and then we are wed. You bed me, you hold me all night whispering in my ear and then you disappear. You neglected your husbandly duties and I left you, then suddenly I spent a little time with another man and here you are swapping in every chance you get to make sure we are not left alone.”

You continued toward him, standing in front of him, but not within arms reach, “Were you worried that I would bed him? A nice handsome man showing me attention you would not.”

His jaw clenched, but he said nothing staring at you. “You cannot have it both ways, Baelor. You either do your duty as a husband or I find it somewhere else starting with Daeron,” you said. 

It was as if something snapped within the collected man as he was on his feet in seconds, his hand moving to your jaw forcing your face up to look at him, “You are playing with fire.”

“I am playing with my husband. You have already slipped up and now I see through you, Baelor.  You fucking want me, but won’t let yourself. Why?” you asked. 

“Because I was selfish when I asked for your hand. I gave you no choice in the matter. I am giving you one now. I am giving you freedom from being married to an old man.”

“If I wanted fuckign space you would be the first to know trust me. Now you are just being a coward. Do your fucking duty or someone else will.”

“It is more than a duty if we both want it,” he countered, his eyes flicking down to your lips.

You smirked, ‘So, it is, but you are still talking instead–” your words were cut off as his mouth pressed to yours finally claiming you. Your hands moved one resting on the nape of his neck as the other clutched his doublet holding him close, because now that you had his mouth on you again you were never letting him take a step back from you. 

This was never about duty. It was about the fact that he had shown you what life could be and then stripped it from you on the very same night. It was about the burning urge that claimed you both when your eyes so much as glanced at the other. The way you hidden between the space that you had created instead of acknowledging what was truly there looming over the pair of you,

“Don’t give me fucking space again,” you hissed as your hands moved unclapsing his doubtlet, pushing it back from his broad shoulders . 

He moved to the ties of your dress, “Never again,” he confirmed, his mouth reclaiming yours as each of you took over the other's senses. Nothing beyond the pair of you truly mattered in that moment. 

Though it would forever be seen as duty, children, a life together, the pair of you knew the truth, and that was all that mattered. Not the whispering ladies at court who said you were much too young for him nor the doubt that ate both of you away slowly. It was nothing compared to the string that attached you together and the home he had made underneath your ribs without either of you ever realizing. It was never about duty, and would never be anything but the overwhelming sense of love that bloomed between you.

baelor taglist: @sacha1slytherin @erylilly @thebl00dwyrm @ilocuras24 @xisabellaxo

if you would like to join the tag list for future baelor stories feel free to drop a comment :)

[julez-5]

HERE IS YOUR CHANCE TO RUN—modern!Baelor Targaryen

Baelor Targaryen x young!mom!reader

summary: Baelor, ever the man of your dreams, was stepped up to be the father your daughter needs, but then her actual father shows back up, and you are ready for him to start running for the hills.

words: 2.5k

cw: MDNI 18+ sexual themes, age gap (reader is in their 20's baelor in his 40's), mentions of absent fathers, Alyssa is reader's four year old daughter (no features described other than she has hair), lmk if I missed any

a/n: idek what this is, it just came to me the other night

It took over half a year of dating before you had introduced Baelor to your daughter, Alyssa.

And he understood your hesitancy completely. Alyssa's father had never been presence. A fling from you were eighteen. He had stuck around for exactly until the middle of the second trimester was over when he decided he was not cut out to be a father, and that partying suited him better. Leaving you at nineteen a single mother, with no one to share the responsibilities with.

You didn't talk about him much, but you had once said he was a very small portion of your life and tended not to get wrapped up in thinking about it. Baelor had never asked for his name. He did not need to know one. If you wanted to share with him, that was okay. And if you never did that was okay too.

The first time they had met she was three and a half. She had a lot of energy and only stopped talking when her lungs begged her for air. She showed him her extensive collection of play make-up that he allowed her to put on his face, before she passed out on top of him watching Frozen.

 You had watched the entire time, with a look in your eyes as if you were expecting him to take off running. He had learned that was your default shortly after. That everyone would flake out at some point or another.

But Baelor Targaryen was not just anyone.

Now a year later she was in a picture smooshed in between Valarr and Matarys on his desk. Next to the picture of the pair of you. She was his in everything, but blood. He went to preschool registration, was listed as the next emergency contact after you on her forms, he paid for swimming lessons, she called his parents Grammy and Grampy, and he loved her just as much as his boys.

He thought his days of chasing young children were over, but he was proven wrong, something he was grateful for as he could imagine a life without you or Alyssa.

His relationship with you was very private. You had met most of his family and attended dinners. You had gone to the few stray events for his work, but he kept you under wraps. Not because he was ashamed of you, but because he enjoyed the peace that came with not everyone in the world knowing.

The fact that you weren't constantly followed every time you went to work or out with your friends. That Alyssa's preschool did not yet have to be in one that had strict protocols and a gate to be buzzed in through like his children.

His eyes gravitated toward the large diamond glowing from the morning sun on your left finger. Though that was soon to come crashing down once the wedding invites began to be sent out.

Your hands weaved through Alyssa's hair skillfully as you had been well practiced by now. "Grammy said we can get ice cream today. She told me when she picked me up from school," she lifted her fingers counting them "Two days ago," she declared.

Baelor laughed into his coffee, "You will have to eat some for your mom and I."

"You guys can come," she reasoned with all her four and half years of logic.

"We have to pack up the house," you reminded her.

She nodded, "Right, because we are going to live in with Daddy," she added.

He smiled at the term. It was newer something she had begun called him once she started preschool hearing other's using it, but it caused a warmth to spread through him that he did not even know was possible.

You had finished tying her hair off by the time there was a knock on the door. Alyssa grabbed her bunny stuffed animal and sprinted toward the door. She bounced waiting for you to open the door.

Baelor grabbed the abandoned Frozen backup on the kitchen table that had everything she could need for a sleepover as you opened the door. He moved behind you missing the first part of greetings, "Thank you for taking her," you said politely. Looking down at Alyssa who kept trying to drag his mother off to the car.

Myriah waved it off, "Of course. I love Grammy and Alyssa days. The younger Daeron is currently staying with us so this will be a vast change in energy levels," she laughed shaking her head as she reached out taking the frozen backpack from Baelor.

"Younger Daeron?" you asked, never having met

"Oh. I thought that was Aerion."

"I am sure you will meet him soon enough. He is supposedly back for good, but we will see. Anyways I will keep her as long as you need, and make sure you take time for yourselves at some point!"

The hours dragged on, packing room after room, storing your life neatly in boxes. It had taken longer than it could have, but he enjoyed it this way. You would pause telling him stories of what each random object made had discovered and the stories it held.

But now as you were propped up on the counter.Yours and Baelor's shirts discarded in a pile on the floor as his hands and mouth roamed your body packing was the last thing on his mind.

"We were told to take some time for ourselves," he reasoned, pressing his mouth to your pulse point.

"I don't think this is what she meant," you argued, but you pushed yourself further into him. Your legs wrapped into him pulling him closer. Your nails raked down his back causing the muscles to tense under them, as he nipped at your flesh earning a low moan from you.

His hands rested on your hips, running around the waist pants of your hands. You lifted your hops slightly, using him to help hold you up, and he was beyond eager to shed another layer between the pair of you.

Then the doorbell rang followed by a pounding at the door.

He pulled away, with a frown reaching down to grab his shirt. You let out a sound of disapproval, "It is no one important. Your mum would have called if she was coming back early," you reasoned, trying to pull him back into you.

"Then let me send them away and we can continue," he answered pressing a kiss to the side of your head. You made another sound of annoyance, but did not argue, freeing him to do as he said.

He pulled a shirt over his head making his way toward the door. He should have checked through the peep hole, and he would soon come to regret this decision. He opened the door with a polite grin, but paused immediately. The last person he would ever expected to knock on your door stood before him.

Daeron. Daeron Targaryen. Maekar's eldest son. His nephew, Daeron.

Baelor did not answer for a moment blinking in confusion wondering if this was some dream, because suddenly reality made no sense.

The high of lust from moments ago went away as if he had just been drenched in a bucket of ice cold water, "What?" The man paused looking around to make sure he was in fact in your home instead of his own, "What are you doing here?"

"I—I saw a picture at Gram's and Alyssa—" his words were cut off, by another voice. Sterner, shaper, full of annoyance that you currently felt at being interrupted..

"Baelor who—" your words died immediately as your eyes locked on the man in the doorway. "What the fuck are you doing here?" you asked, suddenly it was no longer annoyance, but burning hot anger. Your tone taking form that Baelor had never heard.

His mismatched eyes flickered between you both, only filling with more confusion by the minute, "You know him?" he asked in confusion, as only hours ago you had no clue who they were referencing.

You stopped beside him, your jaw locked, "This is Alyssa's…" you made a gesture with your hand, because in your mind you did not believe he deserved the title of father. "How do you know him?"

It clicked instantly for Baelor, his eyes widening even further as he turned toward his nephew, "Oh. This is Maekar's eldest son."

Now your eyes widened , your face matching his his before you turned back to Daeron, "You have got to be fucking kidding me!"

The main indication of your anger was the fact that you did not make tea nor shove food in front of the new guests face like you did with everyone else. You refused to sit at the table standing behind Baelor as you glared at Daeron who looked around the home awkwardly.

"You said your name was Daemon Dayne," you suddenly declared, the edge in your voice clear as day.

"I lied," he admitted, as if you needed it.

You scoffed, shaking your head, "I caught onto that now thanks."

Baelor let out a sigh, trying his best to muster a kind smile, "Why are you here, Daeron?" he asked, plainly, but it did have the bite it would coming from you.

The younger nodded, "Right. Well. I was at Gram's and I saw Alyssa. She was just playing with her stuffed bear or whatever, and "I was like huh? Who is that?" Well, I did not think anything of it, and then I put the pieces together on who she was, " he answered, with a shrug.

The story did not sound like a full one, missing details, and you seemed to be ready to call that out as your voice immediately cut through the tense air, "How…" you trailed off for a second your eyebrows drawn together in confusion. Baelor watched you curiously trying to figure out where your train of thought was headed, "How did you know that was her? You've never met her. Why did you think Baelor's mum would have her I never met your family?"

He was silent for a moment, causing the elder man's attention to drift back toward him, awaiting his answer. You watched him closely, one that would send chills back toward most mens spines.

Daeron opened his mouth and closed it a few times before finally, "I saw a picture of you and Alyssa with Baelor and his boys," he admitted, as he looked away for only a minute trying to conceal the features on his face. You barked out a laugh as if you saw straight through him, shaking your head as you turned away from the table, shaking your head before facing them once more. "Gram wouldn't let me meet her, but I am her father—"

"Baelor is Alyssa's father," you said cutting him off. Both men turned toward you, "He has been here when you have been doing off doing Gods knows what for almost five years! You have no right to show up here, because you saw a picture of me and him, because other than you would not have even spared us a second thought!"

"That is not—" Daeron started, but did not get far.

"It is not your turn to talk," you continued cutting him off, "Alyssa is four and a half years old. I did not even start dating Baelor until she was three and half. That was almost four years for you to decide you made a mistake and seek us out, but you didn't."

Baelor stood, to you resting a hand on your shoulder trying to provide you a sense of comfort, but you did not turn toward him. Your burning gaze stayed locked on Daeron as you continued on, "He has been the one to be there for the last year, and actually give meaning to the word father. If you really want to be in her life you will put in the work, and not show up here on a whim, because you saw a picture of me and your uncle. Now I think you need to leave. My number is still the same if you want to see your daughter, but as you can see she is not here," you said, pointing towards the entry way that would lead him back outside.

Daeron stood, mouth open ready to argue, making his way toward you, but Baelor was immediately standing in front of you like a shield. He did not threaten the young man with violence or even yell at him to leave, but merely stared at him. Waiting, ready to prepare wherever this man turn.

He hesitated for only a moment longer, before letting out a scoff and making his way back toward the entrance he had walked through only moments ago for the first time in close to five years.

Baelor and yourself both stood in silence until the slamming door rattled the house, and then as if it had triggered something inside yourself, you let out a small sob, "I—I…." you trailed off running a hand down your face before looking up to him. Your face crumbled, "I am sure now that this is it?" you asked.

His face dropped at your words. "How could you think that?" he asked immediately making his way toward you.

You turned away as if you were ready to flee, or maybe bracing yourself for him to start running. "I just mean here is your chance to run. To step away from all of this before I am your wife. I am giving you an out," you replied.

An out? A chance to run? Oh, how that could not be even close to the first thing he wanted to do currently.

He wanted to hug you. To kiss away your tears, and to tell you that everything would be alright, because no matter the obstacle you would make it through it. Together.

He grabbed you gently turning you to face him, "I am not going anywhere," he promised, bringing your face into his hand. His thumbs moving to wipe your stray tear. He then ducked his head trying to meet your eyes. He needed you to know just how much he meant his words.

You looked a him a moment, tears streaming down your face, as your lips were turned down in a frown trembling slightly. Even now, you were beautiful to him. The most beautiful woman he had ever met. The one of his dreams. You both stared at the other in silence a moment letting everything around you fade to only the pair of you.

He pressed a kiss to each of your cheeks, then your nose, and finally your lips letting it linger for a moment, "I am not running away form this, from you, or Alyssa. You guys are my family. You are it for me. And I am never, ever stepping away from anything, no matter how chaotic it may get."

baelor taglist: @sacha1slytherin @erylilly @thebl00dwyrm @ilocuras24 @xkatherinexo @alaeratrrn @ynnlvrs @theonewhoshallbeunnamed @sem-ra @arkadiaphilosopher @slimyfrogblogs @c0c0nutbiscuit @eowyns-fantasy @feral4youu

a knight of the seven kingdoms tags: @kyvillasstuff @goldengirl86 @scarletwolfxox @witch-of-letters @confusedwhitegirl10 @itspbjellytime

general taglist: @xkatherinexo @sacha1slytherin @qardasngan @bl3ssedp0etry @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @someonehereisstupid @honeybylove @zealousdazementality @shinewarrior01 @shipperqueen93 @thorins-queen-of-erebor @sw0zzle @darylandbethfanforever9 @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @hrh007 @leolionsthings @inturnipexplorer

if you would like to join the tag list for future stories feel free to drop a comment :)

if you would like to join the tag list for future baelor stories feel free to drop a comment :)

[duallpa]

baby jimothy

[view-from-up-here]

[bunhed]

queue this post when it’s your birthday and be surprise

[moonmaiden1996]

Saviour- The Grand Tour. The Talk- Teaser

The moon tea tasted like liquorice, slightly bitter, though the generous spoonful of honey Baelor had stirred into it softened the sharpness until it lingered pleasantly on your tongue, almost like candy. Its warmth spread through your hands as you cradled the cup, fragrant steam curling lazily towards the carved ceiling.

Baelor had had it prepared while the bedding was stripped. The moment the servants pulled back the sheets, exposing the dampness and the unmistakable streak of evidence that was to be presented before the council, their only demand if the bedding ceremony itself was not to be honoured. Instinctively, you hid behind your husband. Heat flooded your face as you buried yourself against the broad line of his back, wishing the stone floor would swallow you whole.

The servants, thankfully, kept their eyes respectfully lowered. Brieanne accepted the linens with a knowing smile that was warm rather than teasing. Before leaving, she carefully placed the warm cup into your hands.

"I shall have your bath prepared, Your Grace," she said with a small curtsy before slipping quietly from the royal chambers, pulling the heavy oak door shut behind her.

Silence settled over the room. Only the crackling fire and the distant cries of gulls drifting through the open window disturbed the quiet. Fresh morning light poured through the tall windows, bathing the chamber in soft gold. The newly made bed stood pristine once more, as though the previous night had never happened.

"Is the tea not to your liking?" Baelor asked.

"No, it is fine. I just didn't think it would taste this way." You took another gulp of the liquid, letting it roll across your tongue. "Not that I really thought about it before."

"You need not drink it." Baelor's soft eyes held yours as he climbed back into bed.

You blinked at him, the cup warm between your hands.

"I am just surprised, most husbands would want their new bride to be with child as soon as possible."

"Most husbands are not future kings of the realm. Neither are their wives needed to take years long tours of the entire Westeros. Which is something that I want you to enjoy, pregnancy and touring I think would not mix." Baelor tucked a stray thread of hair behind your ear, nuzzling his face against the side of yours. ‘’Children can come if and when you please...be that none or seven.’’ A devilish smiled curving across his face. 

‘’Seven’’ you laughed, at his sparkling eyes ‘’Perhaps one or two if the gods deem it fit. I wouldn't want to give Maekar an attack of the heart.’’ 

‘’With you as their mother, they would do no such things. I rather think the gods will bless us with abundance.’’ Baelor purred as he curled around you. ’’But we have all the time in the world for such things…for now I have every plan to show you as much as possible."

"I am sure Westeros has a lot to teach me." You giggled as his teeth grazed your neck.

"Who said anything about that," Baelor purred, pushing himself back against the bed before hastily slipping his nightgown over his head. Morning light danced across his shoulders as he looked at you with playful confidence, amusement flickering in his violet brown eyes. "I plan on thoroughly educating you in the pleasures of a grand tour with a rather eager and willing husband. Let me provide you with a little taste of what is to come."

Before you could answer, he reached for your wrist, gently setting the now empty cup upon the bedside table. His fingers lingered around yours for a heartbeat before he drew you towards him. With an effortless motion, he guided you down onto the soft mattress, the feather-filled bedding giving way beneath your weight.

You let out a surprised laugh as he leaned over you, one arm braced beside your head to keep from crushing you as his other hand slid beneath your nightgown.

So this is my little teaser for what is to come. It will be a mix of fluff, smut and humor (lots of Maekar messing haha) I have tagged those who were reading the original story, if you do not want to continue to be tagged just let me know.

@erylilly @blogthreehundredandninetyfour @beebeechaos @gradeaworm @profoundlynerdywolf @bellaisasleep @barnes70stark @qardasngan @allthingsimagines @yujyujj @greyliliy @simpingforsharp @omgwhataloser @memeorydotcom @catbayunthestoryteller @xyahx @done-bitch @lifetobeareader @dramioneforevertilltheend @solarpotato @katie-sheep-111 @cyd0129 @yawnlovescookies @thorins-queen-of-erebor @snowtargaryen

[peg-the-empire]

i love making friends in fandom, i love playing with our toys together, i love coming up with increasingly niche aus, i love lifting strangers up, i love motivating people to create, i love watching someone get excited over an idea and immediately running with it, i love yelling in tags together, i love seeing someone gain confidence in their writing/art because people were kind to them <33

[aeschylus-stan-account]

reblog this to place a small, rotund ceramic animal in the palm of the person you reblogged it from

[thirstingseason]

The Dream (Maekar Targaryen x Wife!reader, Maekarlings x Mum!reader)

Request 

A/N: Got this awesome request a while ago but I put on some sad music and finally got to it today. I should be sleeping right now but I hit flow state y’all. Edit: I made myself cry with this one…  

Summary: Daeron has been uneasy from the moment you told your children you were with child once more. He cannot explain it, only that he sees things and that they make him uneasy. You and Maekar do your best to comfort him, but as the child begins to arrive, the sorts of things the boy sees begin to come to pass. 

Word count: ~3.7k 

Tags: 18+/MDNI, AFAB reader, ANGST, pregnancy, birthing miscomplications (descriptions of blood), major character death, no happy ending, just pure plain angst and fear and death :(, never proofread, (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any ‘A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms’ characters. I do not claim to own any of the ‘A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms’ characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. Your media consumption is your own responsibility.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

Daeron shoved some hair out of his face as he sat nervously at your bedside. He chewed on his lip, tapped his little foot, but his anxious eyes never strayed from you. You were tired, he could see it painted around your eyes and mouth, the way you groaned if you shifted and how your breaths were often heavier than not. He could see it in the way you attempted to smile but could never reach it fully, the way your eyes fluttered every once in a while and you threatened to fall back into sleep. He could even see it in the way you caressed your own belly, round and protruding from under the sheets, ready to release the babe at any moment. 

“I can almost see the thoughts running around in your head like little people, my little owl,” you called to him, smiling a bit brighter than before when he glanced up to your face. You held out your hand to him and he abandoned the stool he had been sitting on to slip in beside you on the bed, tucking his legs under the sheet and turning to snuggle heavily into you. He wrapped his arm over you, in the lower space between your belly and chest, and then pressed his face to your neck, sighing long and low. He was practically trembling in your arms and you frowned as you began caressing his back, soft little motions of your fingertips up and down the lenght of his spine. 

“What is it, my little owl?” You asked quietly, tilting your head to press a kiss to the top of his head. You loved his bronzey curls, soft and so different to your Aerion and Aemon’s pale white hair, to your little Daella’s hair so perfectly matching your own. He did not say anything at first, just lay there and breathed you in before slowly lifting his head up and asking, 

“Why do you call me a little owl?” He looked sad asking it, pouting, but you just huffed a tired laugh and reached out to press your index finger to his nose. Your boy was ten namedays old now, and he was smarter by the minute. 

“Owls are creatures of the night, you know. They stay up all the evening long, live their lives in the evening, and they fly silently, barely noticeable, but they are intelligent, known to be wise. You are like my own little owl,” at this you smiled and caressed his soft face, his forehead and plump cheeks, tickling him under the chin. “When you were a babe, you would stay up all night, even when you were not crying, you would simply stay awake and blink up at the ceiling. Even now, though you attempt to pretend otherwise, I know you are awake most nights. And though you are quiet, my little one, I know how clever and how wise you are, right up here,” you tapped his forehead again. 

Daeron nodded then sat up and leaned against your belly, resting his head there on top of his folded hands. He blinked slowly at you, then began tracing the embroidery on the bedsheets, circling flowers and leaves. You could sense his worry, could sense that he wished to speak but did not know how, so you simply reached out and continued to caress his hair as you spoke. 

“It is the same way Aerion is my little dragon. He is fierce, he has the temper of one. He used to scream and cry like a dragon roars. He would go so red I once thought perhaps he would breathe fire.” At this Daeron huffed a small giggle, pressing his face to your stomach to hide it. 

“And Aemon is my little fawn, because though he is timid, he loves being around his family. And Daella is a little mouse, because she is still very small, and sometimes when she scrunches her nose it reminds me of a mouse,” you giggled at yourself, at the nicknames you came up with for your children, random but fun. Daeron nodded, as if it was all very serious and important. 

“What will the new babe be?” He asked then, his voice going quieter, more grave, and you hummed in thought. 

“Hm, our Aegon,” you pondered aloud, and then you furrowed your brows and looked down at Daeron. “I am not sure yet. What do you think he will be, little owl?” 

Daeron too hummed in thought, still tracing the patterns on the sheets. He did not answer for a while. 

“I think,” he began mumbling, “he will be like a dragon too. But not in the way Aerion is.” He frowned a little, pinching and releasing the fabric now instead of simply tracing it. “I think he will be like those large old dragons, like Balerion and Vhagar. Regal and majestic, not- not angry.” 

You smiled at that, pinching his cheek and humming in delight. 

“That makes me very happy,” you told him softly. 

Daeron did not say anything for a little while, just lay against you and listened to you hum, but then he opened his mouth once more and mumbled, “I have been having dreams again.” You paused, going very still, and looked down at him. You shifted, sitting up a little, then returned your attention fully to your son. You caressed his head once more, nodding at him to go on. “They scare me.” You could feel his lips moving against your stomach with the way he pressed himself down to you, and your heart panged in your chest. “I cannot understand what they are trying to tell me. I just…” he murmured something you could not understand this time, but you prompted him to repeat it with a little ‘hm?’ of your own. “I hear the babe crying. It is screaming and crying and cannot be soothed. And… And I hear you. I can hear you screaming. I see you in the bed,” and he began to cry, soft little whimpers, tears rushing to his eyes as his breaths began to shake. “I can see you, mother, and you are all bloody, all over. And-and-” his hands clenched into the bedsheets, into your dress underneath them. “You are crying first, mother, you are crying and shaking your head and begging, and then you just stop. And sometimes you are just laying there, eyes closed, and sometimes you are all clean again and holding the babe and smiling at it and-” 

“Shh, shh,” you quickly reached out and waited until Daeron had crawled back up, had thrown himself over you and wrapped his arms tight around your neck. You hushed him, softly and gently, kissing the side of his little head as your throat filled with a lump you could not swallow. “Hush now, little one, hush now,” you soothed, clenching your own eyes shut as you hugged him tight. He was still bony the way some children were at this age, all gangly limbs that he would slowly grow into, and you simply clutched him as tight as you could, attempting to breathe slowly as the images he had conjured filled your mind. But no, no, you could not focus on that either. 

“Mother, please, do not- do not-” he began blubbering too much before he could say anything else and your own face crumpled, eyes filling with tears as you shook your head and shushed your boy again. 

“No, no, do not even think such thoughts dearest,” you whispered to him, rubbing your hand up and down his back, kissing his hair, his forehead. “It is only a dream. Sometimes dreams can be very scary. Sometimes they scare us even when we are awake. But it is alright. Mother’s here.” 

You clutched your boy tighter and silently cried against the top of his head. You felt like a liar. You knew the realities of the birthing bed. Though your past pregnancies had done well enough, you could never be promised true safety. You could not make any promises to your son. And it made you feel sick. It made you feel like a sick, sick, liar. 

“Mother’s here,” you whispered to him once more, and he nodded, though he continued crying for a while longer. 

By the time Maekar returned to your chambers, both Aerion and Aemon had come to join you and Daeron as well. Daella had already been put to sleep by the nursemaid, but Aerion and Aemon refused to leave your side, just as their brother. Daeron curled up under one of your arms, Aerion took the other, and little Aemon, still a chubby toddler to you, clambered all over your pregnant belly (sometimes making you huff when he knocked the wind out of you). 

Though Maekar let out a long groan at the sight of his bed full of children, he was secretly pleased to see his brood all smiling and laughing, curled up with their mother. It filled his heart right to the brim. 

You smiled brightly at him as walked over, reaching your hand out to him. He rounded the bed and first leaned down to press a tender kiss to your lips before he began tickling and ruffling up all the boys on the bed. He paused in his mission to check on you, reaching up and cupping your cheek to tilt your head up to him. He frowned at what he saw, noting the tiredness in your eyes, the darker tint underneath, and he was instantly all business once more. 

“All of you, to your own beds now,” he ordered, picking Aemon up and waving his hand at Aerion and Daeron. Aerion pouted, brows furrowing with anger as he began to argue, but Daeron just curled up further and pressed to your arm. “I said now,” Maekar repeated firmly, glaring at Aerion until the boy huffed, pressed an angry kiss to your cheek, murmured a ‘goodnight, muña’, and then stomped off. “You as well, Daeron,” Maekar ordered, now turning his gaze to his eldest son, but the boy had his eyes closed and pressed his face to your arm. 

You frowned a little at him. Your boy had always been clingy, had always preferred to stick to you more than anyone else, but he had not been like this, not for a long time anyway. You caressed his head once more, noted how fragile he still looked, but sighed and nudged his nose with the tip of your finger. 

“It is alright, little owl,” you whispered, coaxing him to look at you. “Father will put you to bed, he will tuck you up tight, give you enough kisses from the both of us, and when tomorrow comes, you and I will find ourselves something fun to do together, just us.” 

Daeron pulled away from you finally, blinking his big eyes up at you with a spark of hope. You wanted to cry, wanted to gather him up and keep him secure with you forever. 

“Promise, mother? Just us?” He asked, voice small, and you nodded, leaning forward and pressing a firm kiss to his forehead. 

“Promise, just us.” 

Daeron nodded then, kissed your cheek one last time, and hauled himself off the bed, reaching up to hold Maekar’s hand as he walked both boys out of your room. Your husband turned to offer you one last look, murmuring how he would return shortly, and you only blew him a kiss in return. 

It was late that evening, when all the candles had been blown out and the hearths had dimmed down to embers, when the owls hooted and all the princes and princesses slept, that the birth began. 

Daeron was not meant to be awake. He should have been asleep. He knew both mother and father would be cross at him for being awake. But he had heard footsteps rushing outside of his door, and sleep never came easy in the evenings, so he could do nothing but leave and follow. 

He caught a maid just turning the corner at the end of the hall, running quickly and disappearing, her plain gown just a flutter. He frowned, rubbing the residual tiredness from his eyes, and followed. He could hear more commotion around the corner, and he found all the flurry of activity outside his mother and father’s bedchambers. 

“We need more water, hot and cold both. And cloths, Minara, more cloths!” 

“Someone have the fire stoked-” 

“Where is Septa Cyren-” 

“Has the maester been-” 

Daeron shoved himself close to the wall and stayed there, his heart pounding. His eyes flitted this way and that, following all the people who came rushing in or out of the chambers. He caught snippets of conversation, words that trailed off when the doors opened, and then screaming. 

It was loud. A curdling scream, pure pain. Daeron had never heard anything like that. It was a howl, really, something a dying animal might make, he guessed. His hands trembled further as the scream began to die off. He could only see the wood of the chamber doors, the barest peak in when they opened, but nothing past the wall, nothing actually within the chambers themselves. 

“...she has been asking for you, over and over, and though we usually would not call, she seems very distressed this time. We do not want her wasting energy on this.” His father appeared around the corner as well, dressed simply the way he would be in the evenings, eyes puffy and hair more mussed than usual. He was frowning, though it was not his usual scowl but more one of worry. Daeron watched his body go rigid at the words of the Septa, watched his eyes dart to the door to the chambers. 

Just as Maekar reached them, he looked down the hall and noticed Daeron cowering by one of the end tables, pressed to the wall as if to hide. His frown deepened and he sighed, half frustrated and half tired. He marched over to his son, beckoning him to stand and glaring down at him. 

“Why are you awake? You should be in bed.” 

Daeron just blinked up at him at first, chewing on his lip, then he glanced in the direction of the chamber doors. Maekar’s face softened, just a tad, and he gently ran his hand over Daeron’s head, pressing the boy to his leg in a pseudo-hug before letting him go. He opened his mouth to speak when the screaming began again. 

It was far too loud even from behind closed doors, and Maekar’s head snapped in its direction. He let go of Daeron and rushed into the doors, slamming them shut behind him. Daeron retreated to his spot against the wall, his entire body trembling. He blinked his eyes, quickly then slowly but hard, but nothing made the world change. Nothing made the screaming stop or magically found him back in his bed. 

“What is the meaning of this…” He heard his father’s growl behind the door, the sound of sobbing, loud and pained. He knew it was his mother. He knew it. Daeron clenched his hands into his tunic and simply stared at the chamber doors. 

“What the fuck do you mean complications, speak it plainly…” 

“...breach, my prince…. The wrong way…” 

“How the fuck do you fix it then? Do not blather…” 

The screaming began again and Daeron clenched his eyes shut, pressed himself harder to the wall, until it hurt, until dust stuck to his shirt and trousers and his skin throbbed with pain. He pressed his hands to his ears and whimpered, but the screaming dissolved into sobbing and he cried too. He could hear his mother crying, he knew it was her. He wanted to be with her. He did not want to her mother crying, he wanted her crying to stop. 

“Daeron?” A small mumble, he turned around to find Aerion come pattering up the hall, cheeks and lips puffed out as he rubbed sleepily at his eyes. “Who is screaming?” He asked, blinking blearily up at his big brother. 

Daeron could not find words to say to him. He did not know what to say. He finally managed to break out, “the babe is coming.” 

“Oh,” Aerion nodded, then frowned at the doors to the chambers where now there was scuffling and thuds and their father’s voice but unintelligible. “Does it hurt to have a babe?”

Daeron only nodded. He was overcome with fear, overcome with the images of his dreams. He could hear it so clearly, see it so clearly, his mother on the bed, writhing in pain, begging for something he could not give, did not know how to give. 

“...fucking save her damnit!” 

Daeron’s breath stuttered in his chest when something banged loudly from inside the room. Aerion too jumped at the noise, his face falling now, his lower lip trembling and a fearful little pout coming onto his lips. The younger boy stepped closer to Daeron, clutching at his loose shirt, and Daeron simply stood there beside his brother, trembling as they listened to the loud sobbing through the door. 

“Is that muña?” Aerion asked, his voice gaining a higher pitch. The boy trembled more than Daeron now, both his fists coming to hold onto Daeron’s shirt. Soft sniffles started to shake him, his lower lip gaining a tremor. 

“...what can be done? Please, tell me what can be done, I will…”

Daeron pressed harder to the wall once more, blinking harshly as the fear burned in him, as his eyes stung with it. He had never heard his father like that. Had never heard his father so… begging. Maekar was always firm, the warrior. Maekar never wavered. Why did Maekar sound like that? 

Daeron saw it again, his mother on the bed, covered in blood, twitching then still. Twitching then still. Twitching then still. Twitching then- 

“I do not fucking care! Save her fucking life you-” 

Aerion whimpered then, pressing his face to Daeron’s back, and Daeron could only reach and touch his head softly. He stared at the hallway, empty now of the rushing maids and septas. He saw the sconces, the fire flickering in them, the dark sky outside the window at the end of the hall, crystal clear with stars blinking. 

The screaming began again, long and even more pained than before, mixing with Aerion’s whimpering as he hugged his brother tight. But this time when the screaming faded, there was another sound, wailing, long and high pitched, crackling from fresh lungs. Aerion hugged Daeron even tighter, but tilted his head up at that, frowning as he blinked through tears. 

“That is the babe,” Daeron muttered, a spark of hope inside him, no bigger than a kernel of fire. The babe was out then. The babe was out and mother could rest, and tomorrow, tomorrow it would be just them. She would wipe the nightmares away, would tell him that the dreams had simply scared him while he was awake, but Mother was there. Mother was there. 

Daeron held tight to Aerion, let his eyes flutter shut, leaned into the wall, but amidst the babe’s crying, other voices rose, high and hurried, not yelling but loud and panicked. 

“...too much blood, stop the bleeding…” 

This time the crying was quieter, not the babe’s, but yours. Daeron closed his eyes and shook his head, tried to shake the sound right out of it, but it would not go. You were crying, pained and tired, and he could hear it over the babe’s quieted whimpering. 

“...it is alright…” that was his father, quieter than he had been all evening. 

“...my boys… all my beautiful boys…” Daeron shuddered, lurched forward toward the door. He stumbled, Aerion yelping, still clutching tight to the shirt on his back, almost bringing him down. Daeron shoved him off and continued forward, breath ragged. He reached the door, gripped the handle and shoved, stepping in. He could hear mother, surely she was calling for them, Aerion stumbling into his back. 

There you lay, closer to the left side of the bed where you always lay in the evenings. Father was at your side, clutching your hand tightly between both of his and staring at your face, saying something, anguished. Your hair was splayed around you, stuck to you with your sweat. You were red, or, no, your dress was red, drenched really. Down your legs, up to your waist and stomach. Your face was pained, clenched into some expression Daeron had never seen on you before. He could only see the red, a bright wash. Then a Septa was gasping, pressing her hands to his shoulders and shoving him back out of the door and slamming it shut. 

But Daeron could still see it, the red blood seeping through your clothes. He could see you twitching and going still. Was it the dream still, or had he just seen it? He blinked his eyes, once, then twice, then hurriedly a few times. But the image stayed, the image stayed pressed there as if someone held it there. 

Aerion cried profusely now, clinging to Daeron, shaking and sobbing and yelling for muña. He pressed his face to Daeron’s stomach, clenched his hands into Daeron’s shirt, and sobbed. Daeron held tight to Aerion in return. Or maybe he did not. He could not quite tell what his limbs did. He too only wanted Mother. You had promised tomorrow would be just you two. You had promised. 

Then there was a loud long moan of pain. It was like an animal dying. It was like the last sound a stag made before the hunt slaughtered it. It was like the lone wolf, crying out for it’s mate. It was the last dragon’s dying breath. Daeron stared at the door through which the sound came, through which his Father made that sound. 

Daeron fell back against the wall, taking Aerion with him. His little brother curled up against him, sobbing in fear and confusion, begging for his mother. Daeron curled up around Aerion, pressing his face to the back of the boy’s head the way you always did when they snuggled into you. He clenched his eyes shut. You promised. You had promised.

Taglist: @mxxny-lupin, @risefallrise, @gaminggirlsstuff, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @samthegreenapologist 

[ildico-the-golden]

By BenJellyJam on X

My dear @katiecat446 sent me this M A S T E R P I E C E this morning and yeah, this is essentially Father Baelor for the upcoming a hymn for the sinners (the cassock stays on just as the armour)

[pregnanthudsonwilliams]

not naming names but some of you are so creative and talented it's an honor to have you in my phone

[blue-aconite]

3, 4, and 6 for that ask game!

3 ⧽. what's something you like about your writing?

I quite like my ability to portray emotions, especially since English isn't my native language, which does at times make it harder to describe what I want properly.

4 ⧽. is there an au or trope that you haven't written before, but would want to try?

Oh, this is such a good question. I'd like to try my hand at fake-dating I think. It has so much potential.

6 ⧽. if you were to write a part two/sequel to a fic, what fic would you want to write it for?

You know, it has to be the night is calling. There's still so much to explore and we didn't get the answers we quite wanted in the first part. Who knows, maybe one day it will happen.

ask game

[blue-aconite]

☆ put this star in the inbox of your favorite blogs. it's time to spread positivity ! 🌷

♥️

[blue-aconite]

͙ 𖦹 beautiful person award! once you are given this award you're supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. if you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out ⸜(｡ ˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ 🧁

♥️

[king-baelor]

MELEYS ⋆ THE RED QUEEN

[rowenaluvr]

✶ . ၄၃ . FIC WRITER ASK GAME !

any [insert __] is for the sender to fill in :)

1 ⧽. if you could sit down and finish any one of your wips without anything stopping you (time, tiredness, etc), which fic would you choose? tell us about it if you want!

2 ⧽. if you could sit down and finish any completely new fic without anything stopping you (time, tiredness, etc), what would you write? tell us about it if you want!

3 ⧽. what's something you like about your writing?

4 ⧽. is there an au or trope that you haven't written before, but would want to try?

5 ⧽. is there a certain kind of fic that feels the most satisfying to finish? any reason why?

6 ⧽. if you were to write a part two/sequel to a fic, what fic would you want to write it for?

7 ⧽. is there a fic you wish you received feedback on, but didn't get any/much? this ask game is asking someone else to then give feedback on said fic, pretty pretty please!!!

8 ⧽. what part of [insert fic] is your favorite?

9 ⧽. tell us about a wip/idea that you're excited about!

10 ⧽. what genre is generally the easiest or most enjoyable for you to write? which is the hardest?

11 ⧽. if you were to rewrite [insert fic] with [insert different character/ship] how do you think it might change?

12 ⧽. what's a song or two you associate with [insert fic]?

13 ⧽. do you have any writing projects/goals/plans you're working on/want to work on?

14 ⧽. is there anything outside of your normal content that you want to write?

15 ⧽. if you wrote a fic called [insert title] with [insert character/ship] what do you think it might be about?

16 ⧽. if you wrote a fic called [insert title] what character/ship would you want to write it for?

17 ⧽. are there any songs you want to write a songfic for?

18 ⧽. how do you want your writing to feel to your readers?

19 ⧽. give a hint/teaser about something you're writing without any context or explanation! tease us haha

20 ⧽. answer any one of the other questions that you want to!