is it better to speak or to die? @bluestbruise - Tumblr Blog

Jun 15

₊˚⊹♡ where the dragons feast.

pairings: aerion brightflame x female!reader x valarr targaryen word count: 12.7k. summary: you dreamed of a charming prince, someone who would care for you and would go through all lengths and extent to protect you, someone who will love you dearly and honorably. so when the union was decided for you and a targaryen prince, you beamed with pure bliss. you settled in king’s landing with love and marriage plaguing your head and the dreams of having a good marriage lingered, until you got to know who aerion targaryen truly was. warning tags: nsfw. heavy dark themes. dub con. character introspections. some bonus writings of maekar and baelor. dornish!reader. she's a ray of sunshine initially?? choking. female!receiving. somnophilia. knife play kinda? manipulation. some degradation here and there, then some praises!! valarr is a sweetheart, aerion is clearly an asshole. reader is the plaything basically. porn with plot. some soft aerion if you look long enough but he's evillll hes bad hes the worst mom i want him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! requested: i fear the chokehold that aerion brightflame has on me will not be over anytime soon, but reqs are open! naz says: i recently rewatched akotsk and boy was i even more whipped with the characters. i had some conversations with mads regarding characters and personal headcanons and just had a light bulb moment with this, loooool. everything i do now has aerion in it, im sorry!!! (not really) plsplspls let me know that you think!!!

Maekar had heard once from the maesters who revel in philosophy that change is the gods’ favorite game to play, it brings them delight, both to the old and the new, when things twist in a way that they do not even expect. It was the way of all things, as it happens all around him, whether it is slow-moving in the process or incredibly fast in pacing. Either way, there are more times when Maekar would not know how to fix certain changes, nor where to begin.

He had thought about sending his son off to the Free Cities, to give him a taste of what it would be like to live without any assistance from the crown; to have him live a life away from his royal upbringing, strip him away from the glory that sticks with their House and their family name.

Aerion.

He had loved him, as he does all his sons; but Aerion might be the only one who where he had felt the most difficulty. Maekar did not know how to express it further, his words do not go through him, his actions were mostly ignored, or worst, forgotten. He tried to validate him, tried to defend him by any means, and then he tried to discipline, some in front of the council, most times when it’s just the two of them.

Within each and every moment he disciplines Aerion, his mind would already try to think of other ways to reach for him, he could not give up on his own son, not now—not ever. He must think of other more methods where he could finally meet him where he is, and when his son would do well, that would be the only time he could ever fully breathe.

“While that is a good plan, brother, I’m afraid there could be some disadvantages at present.” Baelor said to him, flipping a page on one of the books he picked up from the dusty shelves. They have arrived in King’s Landing four days ago, and they had already heard concerning reports of Aerion’s activities outside the gates.

Maekar exhaled, and Baelor thinks his own brother has been aging more rapidly now, “Every plan has its flaws, what the fuck would you have me do, then?” he retorted, with a clear sign of frustration painted on his face.

Baelor closed his book and regarded Maekar with his full, undivided attention, “It would be troublesome to have him over to the Free Cities, unattended—he had already been causing you headaches now, with you and I watching over him, yet he remained as he is.” He threaded carefully, mindful of the words and how he would describe his blood, not wanting to call Aerion as what he is: mad, violent, ruthless, and cruel—as he knew it would reflect poorly on Maekar, the weight of those words already carried such a burden that it would only trigger his brother to spiral even lower.

Maekar thinks he could join Aerion, but he could never disregard his other sons too, Daeron and Aegon. Daeron was never within his control even more so when Daeron had gotten a taste of alcohol and what it could do with the dreams he speaks of, but the worst thing he had seen on his eldest was passing out at every random place, completely drunk out of his wits. He was destructive, but never violent, the only chaos he could put was towards himself—Maekar thinks he could worry about him at a later time.

“You know I did all that I can, all that is within my capacities, Baelor.” Maekar started, sinking lower into his own chair as he looks ahead, he knew he had run out of resolutions but he couldn’t sit still and let the gods flip whatever fucking coin they have, nor leave the changes to the nature—his son would either be a good man, or Maekar would inevitably lose him to madness.

He did not sleep a wink that very same night, his thoughts about Aerion kept plaguing him that it never leaves his own head. In this point of time, his best course of action is to send him off to Lys.

So when a letter arrived from Dorne, containing a proposal of union, Maekar would immediately seek for Baelor’s advise. He had caught his brother slouched on the table, writing a letter to send with the raven, performing his duties as the Hand of the King even at the late hour.

“This could be good, for him.” He tossed the paper towards Baelor, and the brown-haired man could only stop writing, setting his quill aside as he reads through the paper from Maekar.

Baelor pondered, weighing a good number of possibilities and hundreds of consequences, after a while, he could only raised his eyebrows, “I certainly hope you do not think of passing the responsibility of bending Aerion into a kinder person to an innocent girl, Maekar.” He rolls the piece of paper before placing it before him, back on the table.

“We have had our fair shares of mishaps in our youth, brother.” He responds, taking a seat in front of Baelor, placing himself across from the Hand, “And when I met Dyanna..” he shook his head, remembering the good and love-filled days he had when his wife still resides by his side.

Baelor sighed, not completely against the idea of Aerion’s betrothal, as his heart and soul was once captured by a woman too, a Dornish woman at that, “This could either go right, or incredibly wrong, Maekar.” He stands, walking over to his brother to place a hand on his shoulder, “I trust your decisions, whichever you see is best for Aerion.”

Maekar’s heart settles on his throat, the air he has been holding in his lung felt even heavier as he dissects the repercussions of a wedding. It could do him good, it could make Aerion’s behavior be directed upwards, make him more honorable—or he could drag the woman down with him.

Aerion woke up with the glare of the sun sitting on his closed eyes, followed by a loud banging of the windows as well as the abrupt pull on the blanket, tearing it off of him. There were noises, some loud gasps and then some hurried movements—most of which he cannot see, for he had mostly kept his eyes shut, sleep still lingers on his eyes when he had tried to prop them open.

It was Maekar who greeted him first thing in the morning, behind him were the whores he had taken home from the evening prior. He smiled at his father, unfazed with his permanent look of complete disappointment, he had forgotten what Maekar looked like on a good day at this point, “Good morrow, Father. Have you gotten confused? This is not the dining hall nor Uncle Baelor's chambers.” He murmured, before stuffing his face on the soft and pristine pillows laying next to his head.

Maekar cleared his throat, “We came here to make a good impression as visitors, Aerion. Do not put any more shame into our family.” He started his routine, and Aerion chose to close his eyes once again, already entertaining the idea of getting more sleep, undisturbed with how the sun sets too high, signifying it must have been close to noon. Still, he managed to push words out, “Rest assured I am anything but putting shame, Father. You can ask the pretty girls you scared off.” He smiled against the cushion as his voice came out muffled, not even daring to cover his nude body.

“Get dressed.” Maekar pulled on his shoulder, forcing Aerion to face his father, actively snatching him away and farther from getting more sleep. The younger boy grunts in response, yawning in front of Maekar’s face, making it sound as louder as he could, in hopes that his obvious hints could get through the older man.

“For?” he blinks, clearing his vision out from the immediate blur upon waking. He thinks his body felt heavier, or that the bed was egging him to lay down once again as he struggles to keep his body straight.

“We have a guest from Dorne. I need you in your best condition.” Maekar announced, taking his seat on the edge of Aerion’s mattress. A calm and prominently worried expression crossed his face.

Aerion could not fathom how it had anything to do with him, and why he had to know of it first thing in the morning. He knows his father cared about formalities, Baelor’s kind courtesies must have rubbed off on him, “You and Uncle would be plenty enough for a welcome, Father.” He rubbed his eyes this time, getting more and more awake by each second.

“You need to be there, son.” The last word rung on Aerion’s ear, it was his cue to take his father’s word seriously, for a couple of minutes at maximum, that is. He pulls the blanket towards him, now conscious enough to cover his body.

“A young woman from Dorne will be coming, and I need you to meet her.” Maekar spoke slowly, and in the surface, it felt like he had more to say, a finishing blow, a finality.

Aerion waits long enough before mustering a response, “And? Fetch some maids to tend to her then—”

“You will be wed to her.” Aerion’s mouth hangs loosely, before his eyebrows curled, creating a deep wrinkled line across his forehead.

He blinked for a few moments, unable to fully comprehend what was mentioned, “I beg your pardon?” he knew what the words meant, the weight it carried, and its implications, still, he thought he must have dozed off once more and this was nothing but a fragment of his dreams.

Maekar stood, brushing the hem of his clothes with his flat palms, “Baelor and I will be waiting in the common room. Do not disappoint me further, boy. I’ve already had my fucking fill from you.” Then he walked away, swinging the door shut behind him when he exits, the wood loudly banging.

Aerion sits completely still. The prospect of marriage was not entirely new to him, but he didn’t think it would come along this soon. He was not bothered, nor annoyed with the arrangement—more confused. He couldn’t exactly see himself to be a husband, though he assumes nothing would be entirely different, they only had to perform their duties in front of their families. At the end of the day, he could still fill his heart to its content with activities he finds endearing.

A Dornish woman, huh?

He raises an eyebrow in contemplation. He would be lying if he denies the developing anticipation and excitement that seeps from his bones, he had wondered what it would be like to face a woman from Dorne—as he had only been surrounded by the pale women near the King’s Landing, most of them from pleasure houses, all of them captivated by his silver-hair and Targaryen name, each would be all ready for a taste of him, eager to please, or to appease the dragon within.

Playing along will be the safest gamble, he thought. He could not care much for the politics and the marriage arrangements his father works on, could not care where the woman would come from, if Maekar and Baelor sees it positively, and is certain that it could help to strengthen the House across the realm, then it must be a good bargain.

When he recovers from the ultimate shock and the morning contemplation of getting betrothed, he felt thirsty, the wave of pain now washes over his head—a clear sign of his consumption from the evening that passed, he calls to the maid and ordered to be served water, before he wills himself to the sink, submerging his face to the cold water, rendering himself fully awake.

He had taken some time to scan his clothes, then he thinks it wouldn’t really matter—what he is, and who he is will not make much of a difference. This Dornish girl and her family must have arranged the union based on his lineage, on the power that comes with their name. She should be appearing in her best graces, not the other way around, because why the fuck would he care about this?

To wed an actual prince would be one of the happiest moments in a girl’s life. They are kind, chivalrous, handsome, honorable and crafted beyond perfection. Songs would say they would be saving a princess in every distress, and there would be love at first glance, eventually sharing a sweet kiss, a promised sealed within, the promise of living the rest of their days in complete bliss—locked away in their own castle with nothing but devotion and adoration to keep them bound, for life.

When you heard that Prince Maekar has answered to your Father’s letter sent by a raven, commending the union to be generous and exceptional, before confirming the decision to wed you to his second-born son, a man named Aerion—you almost leapt out of joy.

He would be the perfect prince! Prince Baelor was King Daeron’s hand and Prince Maekar was as honorable, and you could only picture yourself living in the quarters with your husband-to-be, and he will fetch you sweet cake, and the most ravishing cups of wine and marbled meat. His high status would tell you that he truly is one of a kind. You wanted to rush to your chambers and immediately gather all of your things, stuff them into boxes and take the earliest route to King’s Landing.

You learned that Aerion was well-versed in weaponry and swordsmanship, as he was said to join the lists for tourneys, winning against well-known knights, regardless of their previous matches and victories—Aerion would still win. You could already recall and envision the tales about handsome princes dressed as the knight in shining armor—he could fight for you, protect you with all his might and he wouldn’t be able to breathe well if you’re within any sight of danger.

You would giggle, imagining a faceless man with a silver hair tucking away the strands of your hair onto the back of your ear. He would sing you songs, he would show you his sheer power in fighting, he could tell you his adventures and recollections of tourneys, and you would listen to him talk until the sun sets and darkness breaks among the skies.

He would show you around the castle, carry you in his arms when the path is too wet, bring you flowers freshly gathered from the garden. He would adore you, and he would defend you and you could kiss him; you would see him in every waking hour and you will still see him before you close your eyes to dream before bed.

The wedding will be grand. Nothing short of drab and rushed, it will be the wedding of the history. A prince of his standing would never do something ordinary or nowhere near plain, you can see yourself wearing the most beautiful dress, beaded with gold and gemstones and all of it would glimmer when it stands against the light.

You would practice your smile, in front of the mirror, practicing giggles and laughs when he talks and shares a good memory. You wanted to be good for him, and you wanted to be beyond adequate, you wanted to be everything he could ever want.

Your mother would remind you to be calm and kind, above all things, and not to make haste of the arrangement, for there will be more than enough time before the wedding itself—you should get to know him, what he likes, what he doesn’t, what makes him happy, what makes him angry, what makes him sad.

There was already a long list of questions you wanted to ask him, all created in the purpose of getting to know him more, whilst revealing some pieces of yourself to him. You wanted him to see every goodness within you, so you curated a list of events you can recall from your younger days, in hopes he’d have something similar, and the conversation would extend from there.

When you arrived at King’s Landing, you were immediately met by a dark-haired man, with a few streaks of white hair that sits just above his ear, and you spared a glance at the man next to him, a spitting image of the man with the beard, only younger and smaller in stature, yet with the same streaks of white-colored hair, swaying among the darker locks of brown.

As if on cue, the knights to your left spoke loudly, “You stand in the presence of Prince Baelor Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, Hand of the King, Protector of the Realm and the Next in Line to the Iron Throne.” The man you had been eyeing offered a short nod. “His brother, Prince Maekar, Prince of Summerhall.” The older man with a stunning hair in all silver-white offered a grunt, his expression completely unreadable as he scans you from your head to your toe.

“Their sons: Prince Valarr Targaryen, and Prince Aerion Brightflame.” The knight continued, addressing the younger men now as they stood awkwardly, their gaze locked and pierced you.

The dark-haired one with kinder eyes threaded forward, “King’s Landing welcomes you,” he spoke, and you thought he held the gentlest voice and thoughtful words.

“Cousin.” Before you could greet Valarr back, another man had already approached, cutting the simple exchange short, “We have been waiting, princess.” Prince Aerion, you figured, with his striking gaze and generous smile. He had a deeper voice than Valarr, you noticed, and he had sounded more cheerful.

You smiled in response, offering the sweetest one that you had practiced in front of the mirror, “My prince,” you offered a curt bow, acknowledging the two of them who had welcomed your arrival in the warmest way.

His smile completely captivated you, he had an air of confidence in his strides yet he spoke kindly, and he never peeled his gaze away. You did great, it seems, the prince couldn’t move away from you, it was by then that you missed the worried glances between Baelor and Maekar.

Prince Baelor spoke, “Let’s leave the princess for now and allow her a personal time. Valarr, fetch the maids and the guards to tend to her things.” He sounded commanding, and you think he’s fitting to be the King’s hand, and one day he would rule all of the seven kingdoms.

“I shall take her to her room.” Aerion turned to face the older princes, who sits next to each other now, “The King’s Landing is a spectacle, I would not want her lost on her way.”

Maekar was quick to react, “Aerion, the guards can—”

“Let me, Father. She will be my wife soon, as you say. We must get more acquainted.” Aerion turned his back away from you as he answers to his father, and it was the only time you had to move your gaze away from his impressive eyes.

He had been wearing an attire fit for the royalty. The red coat further accentuates his paler complexion, and it blended well with the color of his hair. You had pictured him taller, yet the way he carried himself, with polite etiquette and mindful manners, you see him perfect, still.

Aerion turned to face you once more, “We must go, princess.” He uttered before leading the way, opening the door for you as he goes, revealing a hall that looked almost empty.

He had offered small talks, stories about King’s Landing, the preparations for the upcoming tourney, and how he would be joining. He mentioned having his own armor, and a personally crafted helm that fits him well, and how he holds it with pride and honor whenever he wears it in a joust.

You stared at the walls, some of the walls were sculpted deeper, most of which had holes and it allowed sunlight to crawl from outside, gently lighting the otherwise dim halls. There were metals on some of its foundation, meant to hold torches for nighttime and no other source of light would be accounted for. The castle was quiet, aside from the footsteps of both maids and guards, a penny would drop and everyone within the mile would be able to hear it.

The young prince stopped in front of the door, and he opened it, motioning for you to walk in first before him and you followed, walking over to the center of the chambers before you hear the door closing. The bed was large enough to warm at least two people, there were small tables, candle holders on the furniture next to the bed.

“The rest of your things shall be here before supper.” He spoke, and you feel him walking closer; you grew nervous and admittedly self-conscious. It was not entirely common for you to be inside a room, accompanied by a man—and this very same man will be your husband in the coming days.

You turned to face him, with the practiced smile and the sweetest voice you could ever make, “Thank you, Your Grace. I truly app—”

You were welcomed by a set of digits wrapped around your neck in a single breath, holding it tight. You struggled, eyes widening due to shock and the unexpected turn of events; he changed, everything about him simply did, or perhaps he had been playing pretend since then. The kind smile he had before you got into your room was long gone, switched by something sinister and dark, he kept an upward turn on his lips but it never really reaches his eyes. You choked, your own pair of hands surrounds him, wordlessly begging to him to let go.

“My betrothed,” he whispers, his hand remained firm and tight around your throat and he never loosened, not even when you were already fighting his hold with all of your might, “well, not quite there yet, I suppose.” You trashed before him, the air you inhale through your nose grows thinner in each passing moment, “soon enough, you and I will be wedded.”

You held onto his shoulder, digging your nails against his thick coat, wishing it could pierce through the material and sink into his skin in an instant, and he leans forward, taking a long sniff of your hair that dangled the closest on your face, “I won’t let my wife-to-be dishonoring me, not when you just set foot in here, hm?” he uttered, dangerously low while his words carried enough weight as each of them falls off from his mouth, “You had to look at Valarr first—do you want him, then? You want him more than me?” he places his cheek against yours, rubbing it gently, “Have you already decided to back away from our marriage, the moment you saw him?” he questioned, and you could only release harsh wheezes as he kept his hand locked on your neck, its grip unwavering and relentless.

When he sees the tears threatening to fall from the corner of your eyes, he finally lets go, his face now displays a plain worry and filled with so much care, like he had seen his most precious possession getting a small nip or scratch, “My beloved..” he was quick to envelope his arms around your weak form.

You ended up on the floor, collapsing, naturally, after breathing thin air and fighting off the strongest urge to fall limp and surrender to sleep; you were light-headed, and you held your head weakly. His arms were around your body but it was nowhere close the strong grip he had on your neck, and so you easily pushed him off, “What are you—”

He hushes you, calming you down as you still catch your breath, the tears already fell from your eyes as you looked at him with pure disdain, “It will be okay, my love. You will be good for me, I know you will be good for me.” Aerion places a palm on your head, caressing you as he comforts you still, but the single touch of his skin felt like it burns you.

You wanted to get away, you wanted to stray away to wherever it is that is the farthest from him. You can’t be with Aerion, this was no prince as he falsefully posed, he was a cruel.

“Leave me be!” you pushed him, garnering a small strength as you fight him off, he stumbled on the ground and lost balance on his footing, but Aerion only chuckled.

“I’m afraid I can’t, my love.” He whispered, “We will be wedded soon.” He takes his time in trying to approach you again, Aerion is at a great advantage as you still feel the color drained out of your body when he blocked your airway, “There will be no other way but to be together.” he continued, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead before standing on his feet.

“I shall see you in evening’s supper, princess.” Aerion casually mentions, his carefree mask once again sticks itself on his face, his dark expression was switched with that sweet smile you thought you liked about him, before he makes his way out of the door.

You felt caged. Alone and helpless.

It all happened too quickly, with a single turn, the honorable prince and formidable knight you’ve spent days thinking about was nowhere in sight. You felt foolish, for not catching it as immediately as you could. You recalled what happened when the Targaryens welcomed you, in search for a sign, for anything, that might have been so obvious if only you weren’t fantasizing about him. But it was clear, he was practiced, a performer of sorts, he couldn’t let himself go when he is among his father, nor when he’s in front of the Hand.

You didn’t know where else to go, who to speak with, you’ve grown feeling so isolated, despite being surrounded by their initial warmth. Everyone must have been the same. Each one of them must have been hiding a second skin, a well-crafted mask. You’re all alone and away from home, and your skin burned, where Aerion’s hand was previously on, you knew it would create a mark; he gripped on your neck like he had every intention to kill, to stop you from breathing.

There were footsteps from outside, pacing in the halls, and you rushed to the door to simply lock it, “Princess.. I have your belongings.” It was a maid, and there was a relief, but only for a brief moment, you thought Aerion would still be outside, waiting, seizing a chance where he could get ahold of you once more and you were terrified of him.

“Leave it by the door, please. I shall tend to it later.” You uttered, placing your mouth as close as you could towards the door, hoping the maids can hear you clearly, “Please let Prince Maekar and Prince Baelor know that I could not join on the evening’s supper.. I am not feeling quite well.” You faked a cough, and tried to sound sickly, “I only wish to have more rest, please send my apologies.”

“Of course, princess.” There were sounds of boxes being placed on the floor, and quickly followed by more footsteps walking away before disappearing completely.

You heaved a huge sigh of relief, you wanted to lock yourself in the room for as long as you can hold out; but you must think of your duties, of the name and honor you carry, you must think of the arrangement you accepted. You must not bring shame to your house and your family by refusing to see what’s beyond your chambers, perhaps there could be more ways where you could still enjoy your time and to gain Prince Maekar’s favor, but only if Aerion is nowhere to be found.

“What the fuck did you do?” Maekar slammed his fist against the oak table, rage already setting in and seething across his face while Aerion remains seated, cutting through the roasted duck with his knife.

He was in an exceptionally good mood, considerably, during supper; has not been misbehaving in all sorts and no concerning news ever made it to Maekar and Baelor’s ears—still the Dornish princess not being in attendance sent an undeniable irk to the older princes.

Aerion chewed slowly, meeting Maekar’s gaze with a casual shrug, “I merely showed her to her chambers, Father.” He answered, before turning back to his meal, the utensil scraping loudly against his plate while he stops himself from displaying any form of amusement.

The priceless look on your face when his hand latched on your neck lays vivid in his head, it was the pure look of horror and he had been coming up with more ways he could devise a plan in order to reform you. It was nothing personal, really, you walked into King’s Landing with such exquisite smile and good graces. You had the kind manners that his father had always wanted to impose on him, you spoke in polite words and you carry a light with you that could easily illuminate each room you get yourself into.

He felt himself annoyed at that.

Royalty breeds excellence, as they say. The castle has had enough people filling up to that spot, of people who’s highly regarded because of their leveled morals, sympathy and overall character. Aerion wanted to break you, make you obedient but only to his rules and his ways, he needs you pliant enough that he could easily command you whenever he pleases. King’s Landing did not need any more people who have been reduced to be an ordinary person just to cater the demands of the people—seemingly forgetting that they are dragons, that they are born from the fire and blood. While it is true that Baelor and Valarr are considerably good—

Ah, Valarr.

He remembers the way your eyes landed on Baelor first, of course, he is the Hand of the King and the heir to the Iron Throne. He must always be regarded first, but then you moved to Valarr. His cousin, said to be the gentlest one, cut from the same cloth where Baelor was made. He had been raised with such tenderness and care that people inevitably thinks his softness were his charms.

But did you had to look at him like that?

Your eyes were twinkling lightly, but surely you must have known that you have been delivered to the House Targaryen with the promise of a union in a form of marriage—surely, you must know what your arranged husband would look like. Did you think it was him? Did you think you are betrothed to this perfect picture of a prince charming when you faced Valarr?

He wanted to make an impression, greet you with the warmest welcome he could ever show, but reads shock from your face and then it was gone too quickly before it could ever fully manifest, changed by something he couldn’t distinguish. Was it disappointment? Were you expecting something else, something different? Did you not want him?

“The princess must have felt unwell from her travels, brother. Leave her be. Aerion was kind enough to show her the way to her room.” Aerion was pulled away from his train of thought when Baelor’s voice rung in the dining hall, looking across the table with a cup of wine on his hand, his face seemed to plead for more understanding from Maekar.

“I shall see her tonight, be more certain of her current condition and see to it that she gets the rest that she requires.” Aerion broke the silence that followed after Baelor, he brings his own cup to his mouth to cleanse his palate by swallowing a large swig of wine.

With one final look on each person among the dining table, Aerion brings himself up and traversed across the hall. His steps are careful and deliberate, while his mind burns with a newfound excitement. Aerion was already seeking with a plethora of excuses to see you once more when he parted with you earlier in the mid-afternoon, and it was both a blessing and a curse to have Maekar’s distrust served on the table.

His father was right to assume he had done something, but he’d rather spare him with the details.

Aerion knocked softly against your door, twice, before he pushed his body against the wood in hopes to prop it open. It was locked, but thankfully, he had learned a thing or two when it comes to barging into chambers unannounced, he had done it first with his brother, Aegon, and it ended swiftly with his knife aimed in between his legs and Aegon in tears and quiet sobs.

He successfully breaks in, with a calculated twist and turn of his knife on the gap he found at the door, then he seeks for you in an instant. Underneath the dimmed embers brought by a small candle that’s slowly withering, he finds your figure laying on the bed, fast asleep.

Considering the tribulations that you might have endured in order to come to King’s Landing, he wanted to grant you a little bit of his kindness by allowing you some sleep. He did approach your bed, however, to make sure for himself that you really were asleep and not cheating your way out of him by pretending to be deep in slumber.

But when he looked at your form, resting in complete tranquility, glancing at your chest to study your gentle and stable breaths, he was convinced. He instinctively reached his hand to caress your head, hoping it will lull you deeper into sleep. Aerion realizes he finds you pretty. Even prettier now that your guards are completely disarmed, no pretensions that concerns looking presentable and graceful. He likes you like this—raw, natural, you almost looked serene.

He lowered his gaze on your body, your garments must have slid lower, showing him more than necessary as the fabrics lay in disarray for when you were tossing yourself on the bed. Soft and smooth skin, and you looked so vulnerable and so careless in front of him. He bent his fingers, allowing it to touch your warm skin while his eyes could only watch for any shifts in your expressions.

The knife that he was holding onto had made its way into his belt, silently sheathing it before he moves to cup his own cock from his trousers. He had not expected this, he knew he prefers to ogle at you as you remain clueless but he did not anticipate the way his cock would twitch. Aerion pulled the blankets lower, eager to see more of what you had to offer. You jerked, and you crossed your eyebrows before pulling the blankets closer to your body.

He retreated his hand, but with that sudden movement, it only made the outline of your breast much more noticeable now. With a quick unbuckling of his belt, he easily willed his cock to spring free from his garments, locking his length within his fist.

It felt rough against his hand, or that he was holding it too firm. He brings his hand closer to his mouth and spat. He felt mad, thinking that you could wake up any minute now and it would be completely unprompted, and you’ll see him towering over your body while he fucks his own fist.

Then he felt shameless, and quite pathetic. He felt incredibly stupid with trying to pleasure himself when he could just take you, to disturb the slumber you have gotten yourself into. You will be wedded soon, and it should not be a problem to start with coupling now, rather than later, should it? Besides, he knows you would keep your mouth shut, you would let him do it and you will be obedient enough to do as he says. You will be good for him.

Aerion tried to steady his labored breathing, his wet spit smothered on his cock while the leaking tip glistened against the small amount of light source, he grunted, as quiet as he could do, but it eventually got to a point when he had nothing else to think about but to cum. He needs it, he needs to chase whatever high he was trying to get himself into now that he has started it.

His rough hand made its way on your leg, gripping firmly, uncaring of what you would feel when you see him in front, positioned just like this—and it jolted you awake, Aerion pumps his cock even faster now when he sees you were awake.

There were no other pleasantries, no other snide remarks he could come up with, and he garnered no reaction at all when your face twisted in a fright, “Aerion,” you stammered and your gaze flew immediately at his nudity.

He felt his head falling backwards on a whim, the sound of your voice was more than sufficient to push him closer towards the edge and Aerion directed his length closer to your face, “This will be easier if you would help, princess.” Even speaking felt too harsh and required a handful amount of effort from him as he breathes out.

Aerion never gave you the time to process the matters currently unfolding in front of you, since he started to unsheathe his own dagger only to point right at your pulse that lays under the skin of your neck, “Hold it, princess. You must serve your husband, after all. Make me feel good, hm?” he finds it adorable that you immediately retracted away from his knife, and even more captivating when he sees just how fast tears could form in your eyes.

Your careful hands hesitantly reached for his cock, mirroring just the way he was holding it moments ago, gripping on it softly as you start your pace. Aerion smirks, pleased with the display of obedience from you once more, “Do it fast, princess. You will be nice and make me cum, you hear me?” his tone remained calm and controlled, and you would immediately comply, not because you wanted to, but because the sharper end of his dragger was drilling deeper into your skin, and with just one movement, he would easily cut a wound open.

Aerion throws his dagger somewhere on your bed and resorted to holding onto your shoulder, holding on for dear life as he grunts unabashedly, he couldn’t care about what he looks like right now, nor what he sounds like as he could only think about your hand wrapped around him, with your movement gradually increasing in pace. He could tell you were nothing like the whores who usually kept matters involving his cock occupied, your hands are clearly shaky and the look on your face tells him that you could either be disgusted, ashamed and utterly confused.

“Fuck, hm,” he was bucking his hips lightly, leaning more towards your hand as he closes his eyes, he could feel it in his tongue—he was so, so close, until he hears you sobbing, Aerion spared you a glance and he could see tears falling from your eyes.

He did not feel any remorse, rather, he felt it was the ultimate push he could ever need as his cock starts spilling outward. Strings of white fluid shoots out from the tip and landing graciously on your chest, some of it were caught on your chin and Aerion chuckled, gods, if he could only have you painted with his cum dripping from your chin, he would do anything to preserve this memory.

The after-effect was as immediate as he imagined it would be, you moved away from him, willed yourself to sit on the other end of the bed—the farthest away from him. He sees you helpless, and he almost felt bad, almost, but he still burns from the high he just chased and there was no other feeling he could think about other than bliss.

Aerion quickly fixed himself, tucking his length within his breeches and tidying himself by wiping the beads of sweat that had been forming on his scalp, dripping towards either temples. He cleared his throat, a straight smile formed on hips before he licks the side of his mouth. You looked so terrified of him, and he never wanted that, but you’ll get used to it—he knows you’ll grow fond of him soon.

You were so far from his reach, and it was almost adorable how much you wanted to make yourself look smaller, bending your knees against your chest as you shiver with every move he makes. Aerion clears his throat, thinking of some time you can spend in solitude by leaving, or to savor the time he had you all to himself.

“You shall be at peace now,” He begins, eyeing your form more meticulously now that he had come down from his climax, his body and temperament returning to its base levels. “as I would never hurt you, my princess. You and I shall be one soon, and I cannot have my wife,” he gestured at you with his hand, “behaving as this.”

Aerion drags his leg over the bed, crawling closer to you as the sheets wrinkle more under his added weight, “Have I made myself plain?” he finally finishes his words with a simple question, and a grip on one of your knees.

There was no room for protests, not that he would even consider whatever it is you have to say, he expects you to be as you are now, quiet, submissive and dutiful. He sees you giving a quick glance at his dagger placed on the bed, exactly where he threw it, and there was a flash of horror setting in your pair of eyes. He clicks his tongue before retrieving his weapon, “Worry not, I have no need for this any further,” Aerion mutters, kneeling on top of the mattress now as he pushes the dagger into his pocket, “not tonight, to say the least.”

He stared at your face, then willing his hand towards you, gathering a small amount of cum on his thumb before he shoves it inside your mouth, “You shall know what I have to do if you breathe a word of this to another person,” Aerion heard you gagged lightly as you take his thumb further into your mouth, “I’ll have your fucking tongue for that, hm?”

The warmth of the sun greeted as you step out of the castle for a change of scenery. Horses neighed right outside the castle gates while the squires brushed on their hair and filling up their rations of food; the sweet scent of sun-baked hay and straw hung in the air, along with the earthy notes of the wet soil.

It was different, but preferable, on this moment alone, compared to the thick and suffocating air that seemed to choke you the more you stay within your chambers. You couldn’t hide in so long, cannot keep yourself locked up inside the walls and resting for what felt like eternity buried within your sheets.

Aerion did not come to visit, after what he had done two nights ago, stroking his cock right in front of your face and feeding his load when he finished. You couldn’t sleep well enough after those nights, terrified to have yet another visit from the young prince, and even more fearful of what else he could do while he resides within your room.

You had taken a hot bath when he departed, requested help from the maids to bring you water and to keep it at a highest temperature as you see fit. You wanted to erase his touch, you wanted to scrub your skin as hard as you could, especially on the parts he had touch—you felt disgusted. There was a certain point that you wanted to burn the insides of your mouth with the hot water, to get rid of his taste, but it will forever linger in your mind, and you cannot do much else with that.

A strong pair of arms grabbed your lithe body, and you have come to the realization that you have been walking mindlessly across the lot. The merchants and the ladies standing right outside their vibrant pavilions stared at you, with wonder and curiosity. You turned your head to see who was holding you, and it was Valarr—worry and concern splitting on his face.

“I dare not to conclude your capacities,” he uttered, and you felt painfully conscious of the close proximity, so you moved away and cleared your throat, “but you were about to block the horse’s path and it can seriously grant you immense pain and injuries. Are you feeling well?”

You were caught off guard, unaware that you have been diving deeply into your sentiments that you completely forgot to put any regards with your surroundings, “I am well. Thank you.” You stammered, giving him a polite smile as you answered, still mindful of putting a certain distance between the two of you.

“You were hauled up in your chambers a while, princess. Have you not taken a liking on King’s Landing?” Valarr sparks a conversation, the handiwork of his armor shines under the sun, its ridges were much more pronounced now that you see it at a closer glance, the three-headed dragon bled with a faint red carved into the metal.

A wave of panicked crossed your emotions, you worry he would mention such a thing to Prince Baelor. “King’s Landing has been lovely, my prince.” you smiled bright, because it was, though it was very different from the beauty of Dorne, it certainly has its charm, “I meant no offense with my absences, and I was merely pondering certain matters in private.”

“Ah..” he nods, squinting as he looks around, and you had a proper look of the white streaks of hair within the mid-section of his head, you had the very urge to hold it, to touch it with your fingertips, “Is it my cousin, Aerion? I had known that Uncle Maekar accepted the generous proposal of union.”

There was a pause as you come up with answer, torn between admitting your discomfort, or to start a lie that it has been the best thing—one thing is certain, you will never mentioned what Aerion did, “A bit.. simply because I could not read him.” It was a vague response, you thought, but hoping it would suffice.

He nods, locking his gaze on you, “Hm, Aerion can indeed be.. difficult.” He starts, a small smile crafted on his lips as he answered, “I suppose no one can fully comprehend the kind of thoughts that gets into his head. Both our fathers tried, then his brothers too—we all failed.” Valarr releases a dry laugh at that.

“I thought he would be kinder.” Your mouth was faster than your head, “What I meant was—”

“Fear not, I understand, and what you share now shall remain between us alone.” He motioned the path with his hand, offering a brisk walk as he encouraged you to talk some more.

Naturally, there is a hesitation. A growing distrust has flowered from within since the horror you’ve seen from Aerion, yet a small voice in your head also thinks it would not be fair to paint them all in the same hue; Maekar treats you in a civilized manner, though he is very curt when providing answers, he does not do anything else that would push you further, as well as Baelor, both of the older princes were nothing but kind.

Valarr exhales a gentle air, he speaks with utter politeness, and his eyes remained genuine ever since, not like Aerion’s unreadable pair, “I dreamed to be bonded by love through marriage, I yearned for a caring husband who would be both gentle and charming towards me. Aerion is, however,”

“Does not have much to offer?” he speaks, the pacing of your steps remained as leisurely as it could be, several patrons bowed to acknowledge Valarr when they come across him in his path, and he would always offer a short nod in return.

You were silent, refusing to look at anything else but your pair of feet threading on moist soil, you worry of the dirt that could get on your skin, and you also think of how vulnerable you felt upon speaking with the prince. It wasn’t that Aerion does not have much to offer, he acknowledges you and your mere existence, it was that his offers were completely different from what you asked for.

“I shall hope he could be more at ease, though my words would not carry much weight.” Valarr answered, stopping in front of a certain tent, “Here. Go inside, get your mind off of things for a little while.” He offered, and you were welcomed by a crowd of people enjoying themselves among the noise, several hands were carrying cups of wine.

You almost laughed at Valarr’s attempt at comfort, finding it both amusing and endearing. Although you don’t necessarily choose to drown in wine, you suppose it was a time to try it out.

Little did you know, Aerion watched as you and Valarr walked alongside each other. He was straddling his horse; his Draconic helm might have hidden the brewing rage but his eyes remains fixed on your smile as he looked through his visor.

“Get a good night sleep, princess.” Aerion had heard from outside before the door opened, the voice was undeniably Valarr’s, the smooth and gentle cadence of his voice were the most distinguishable—far from the commanding tones from both of their fathers.

He gets to his feet and paced towards the door to meet his cousin and of course, you, the only person he looks forward seeing. “Why must the night end so abruptly at that?” Aerion had opened the door, and your flustered face came into view, eyes slightly widened when Aerion swung the door open. Valarr’s cheeks were somewhat reddish too, but he appears to be much more composed than you are.

“Cousin.” The brown-haired prince uttered, somewhere between a greeting and an announcement. Aerion mouth stretch into a straight smile before nodding, taking a step backwards to allow them some room before they step in, “Why are you in her room?”

Aerion didn’t like the hint of accusation dripping from Valarr’s words, he had not been doing anything wrong as of late, not yet, that is—but him being inside your room should not be within any of his concern, you are to be Aerion’s wife, after all. “Inside my wife’s chambers, you ask?”

“There has not been any wedding yet, nor a plan for when it shall take place.” Valarr pushes himself forward, shielding you away from Aerion as he keeps you supported behind him, “Leave at once, Aerion. She should be in bed.” The swirling on Valarr’s head brought upon by multiple rounds of wine disappeared quickly, much to his delight, he could not just sit simply and let Aerion have his way.

“I am aware,” Aerion then reached for Valarr’s arm and dragged him towards the center of the room, “but the marriage shall happen anytime soon—I know it.” He proceeded to grab you by the arm, dragging you to the bed before roughly pushing you towards the mattress.

Aerion did consider that Valarr would eventually tell both Maekar and Baelor of how he treats the Dornish princess who was entrusted with House Targaryen to take on the role of a wife, but he had found a way to keep Valarr’s mouth shut, and to keep him from running his mouth. He thought his plan would work, that Valarr would eventually agree—he would like this, who would not?

It was not that he had been developing certain fantasies over the years, he had not enough room and time in the past years. Aerion mostly think of dragons even before, and even more so recently as he grows stronger—he was convinced he was a dragon. But when you arrived, that was when the thoughts have taken a complete and absolute turn. Whether it was for the good or for the worst—he was not sure yet.

Aerion then locked the door, itching to finally have the room for their privacy and without any knights or maids pacing outside on the halls.

“Of course, I only care about the princess’ safety—that is why you and I are here, Valarr.” Aerion continued, standing next to his cousin as they both stare at you. The silver-haired Targaryen proceeded to loosen his clothing, unclasping the first few locks of his attire as he heaves an exhale.

There was warmth settling into Valarr’s bones, deliberate and too great for him to ignore. He had not missed the implication on Aerion’s words, he knew it meant something else, something entirely different and something he figured he feels excited for. He swallowed, hoping the lump on his throat could disappear and take his urges away.

He should not be here, Valarr would think; he should not be engaging with this absurdity, and he should not be partaking in an activity with Aerion—among all people. But there was something helpless from your eyes, and you badly wanted to be saved, and it was more than enough reason for Valarr to stay. He could not leave you with Aerion alone, he will be here and he will make it certain that you will be well and taken care of.

To say you are feeling terrified is underplaying it, there were already a certain level of fear and hopelessness when the doors of your chambers opened and revealed Aerion waiting for you from inside. Valarr was quick to put you first, to protect you from his cousin and your husband-to-be, even though you did not ask for it, he already granted you the protection you certainly need.

Every movement was unfolding right before you, but it was all too sudden, all too fast, and you were taking it all in with hazy lenses. You could only blame the vibrant pavilion for that, and the laughing of the people, and the good evening they turned your night into, and of course, the cups of wines they graciously served, the cup you had all throughout the festivities never ran out empty, not even once.

They were speaking, as you heard; every word they exchanged and mention to one another was not meant for your ears it seemed, for all you heard were sounds, nothing coherent, until you decide they were speaking in High Valyrian. When your body made contact with the soft linens of your bed, exhaust inevitably enveloped you from within, and you do whatever it takes to keep your pair of eyes open.

Both Aerion and Valarr are standing together now, side by side, and you can make a few movements from Aerion while Valarr remained eerily still. You made sure to look at him, wanting to make sure your certain message would make its way to him. Please, please, please, leave me be, make him go away.

“Do you even know how to do it, cousin?” Aerion’s voice echoed through the room, a faint smile glimmered on his mouth though you couldn’t see his face with the clearest view, couldn’t see the amusement that lingered across his face as he taps Valarr’s shoulder, “You ought to take these off now. You don’t want them hindering your every move.” He followed with a suggestion, walking towards the bed and allowing himself to be comfortable on the edge.

Valarr releases a shaky breath, every fiber in his body begged him to stop, to turn the other way, to will his feet to start running out the door, yet his mind seemed to stop, envisioning the look he witnessed on your face—he felt that you wanted him to be here, that you wanted his help, that you wanted him to make this easy. He followed, releasing his armors and placing It carefully on the floor until he was stripped into more comfortable fabrics.

“Go on, now. We could not let the princess wait.” Aerion watched you carefully, as you push yourself against the wooden headboard as if the material could swallow you whole and make you disappear, but no, you had no other place go get to, no other place you could be. You will only be here, with the two of them.

You closed your eyes, attempted to shake the dizziness away so you could hear what words were being passed over to one another, “Aerion,” you crawled towards your betrothed, “What the fuck is going on?” you uttered, and Aerion’s shock was almost physical upon hearing a curse word flowing out of your mouth.

“Shh,” he held your chin, “Valarr and I will take care of you, my love,” and he could not help himself but to lean in and close the distance between your faces, crashing his lips against you but only for a brief moment. He couldn’t let himself go just yet.

You flustered upon feeling Aerion’s soft lips on yours, blushing at the fact that it was the first time he ever got gentle, you wanted more, wanted to feel him against you, with all of his warmth. But Valarr came into view, standing at the edge of your bed and Aerion pushed you down against the mattress.

“My love,” Aerion spoke in a low tone, his lips were dangerously close to your ear and you couldn’t stop yourself to lean in closer to him, but he stops you almost immediately, and you jolted when he pulls your hair to keep your head from moving, placing you where he wants you to be, “Let Valarr move for you, hm? Let him touch you.” he asked, his serene voice in complete contrast with the harsh tug from your scalp.

When he asked, that was only when you could see Valarr slowly sinking into his knees right in front of your parted legs—you didn’t even know how you came to be positioned like this, laid on the bed and undeniably ready to take what is about to come towards your way.

Though hesitating initially, Valarr had seen the way you respond to Aerion’s touches. The way you exclaimed and whimpered when his hand sits on the back of your head to pull on your hair; he was bewildered and determined at the same time, how could you be so sensual and so, so alluring even with Aerion’s gruff advances? He couldn’t fully accept it, or that he refuses to contemplate further. You should be treated with softness, and so he strokes on your leg languidly.

Valarr’s calloused palm brushes against your thigh, it was electric, you felt your breath getting more ragged as their touches slowly grounds you—Aerion’s hand pulling on your hair and Valarr’s careful hands. You wanted to rub your thighs together, to relieve yourself a little by creating friction, but Valarr’s hold remained firm.

Aerion chuckled, it was almost laughable at how quickly your mood switched; you were scared not too long ago, frightened and clueless as two men preys on you, and seeing you now, with your legs spread apart and your chest moving at a faster speed to follow your breathing. He cups one of your breasts, kneading it lightly while Valar lifts the hem of your dress.

You were sure you have felt warm and sticky in between your legs, and then you felt embarrassed, having a prince leaning closer into your cunt was not something you could ever imagine, nor account for. Almost out of instinct, you pulled your legs together, abruptly stopping Valarr from getting closer.

“Let me, princess.” He spoke in a low tone, voice coming out breathy as air hits your skin right where you’re nearest from him. There was something in his eyes, the look of genuine sincerity and something else entirely, you thought it might be lust—you thought that whatever it is you are feeling from within must not be so different from what he feels.

Perhaps you and him are in the same page, you worry that he might only be doing this out of fear, from his cousin and the dagger sheathed into a small pocket on his belt—but his eyes says otherwise, he wanted to do this, it seemed, wanted to taste you raw and have your dripping filth to wash over his tongue.

Aerion shifts from beside your head, casting most of his weight to prop himself on his knees on top of the bed, “My dear cousin, always so, so kind and honorable.” Aerion snaps as he starts to pull the strings from his clothes and pull his breeches downward, his cock immediately sprang free from its constraints, rigid, pink, and clearly leaking.

Valarr could only ignore him, he knew his cousin would always run his mouth and speak of whatever matter it is that comes into his mind, he is a proud man, after all; but partly because he knew he had more pressing matters to tend to, how could he even bite back at the loose words rolling off from Aerion’s mouth when your cunt sits a breath away from his mouth patiently waiting?

“Respect, courtesy, you have always carried those with you.” Aerion starts once again, spitting on his hand before he wraps it on his cock, stroking gently. Valarr shook his head and proceeded with his ministrations, planting his palms on your thighs as he parts you wider.

You gasped when his tongue slides on your cunt, struggling to keep your eyes open as your head swirls—from the wine and of course, from these Targaryens. Once Valarr had his first taste, he was immediately insatiable next; pressing his face much deeper into your cunt while his tongue buries itself further into your folds.

“You see, this one,” Aerion pulls his hand away from his cock and into your lips, moving past your swollen pair until his fingertips could most reach the back of your throat. You choked out, the immediate urge to cough follows closely; “this little princess is far from deserving any of that.” he continued, his eyes were fixed on you and you only, darkened by his own arousal and needs, his gaze was laced with intent and focused on your pair, yet his words remained addressed to Valarr, “She is not so different from a common whore now, is she?”

There was a hint of scrutiny now as he allows himself to look at your entirety, with some of your locks tangled and overall messy, the small beads of perspiration forming from your hairline, some of it trickling on your skin and downward, and how the corner of your lips curved in satisfaction then opening for a good width while your face twist in response to Valarr.

“Do not say such things to her.” Valarr quipped, wiping his chin with the back of his hand when he comes up for a breath of air, “She’s delicate and she is to be your wife—she is unlike any wench, nor unlike any other woman.” He spoke rather quickly, ignoring Aerion’s smirk amidst his explanations.

“Hmm,” Aerion dismissed in return, turning his attention back towards you, the saliva that coats his fingers now lathers the length of his cock, giving it a few pumps. He felt warmer now, burning up both with desire and an inexplicable emotion he could not quite name yet, or he simply refuses to acknowledge it plainly, “I was not aware you see my lover as such.”

Your heart twitched at that, you have been called princess, even referred to as his wife though it won’t be happening any time soon—but to be called his lover, though the words don’t hold much meaning once you take how he treats you into consideration, still, it caused your breath to hitch.

“My point is, you do not know her at all, as it seems.” Aerion continued, displaying the kindest smile he had often used during his younger days, “She does not want that—that softness you speak of. I imagine she has become bored of it by now, to be treated with certain care, hmm, allow me to show you then, cousin.” His hand then flew too quickly and a loud slap was placed across your cheek. You whimpered, caught off guard while the sharp pain dulls slowly on your face.

You wanted to deny it, wanted to talk his ears off of just how wrong he was, but you found yourself wanting more, and Aerion must have recognized the plead that has manifested from within your eyes because he did it again, the loud snap of his palm once again getting in contact with your face was audible enough in the room. Valarr wanted to intervene, to stop his cousin from treating you rashly, but he sees your mouth moved, your lower lip caught in between your teeth and he wished he was wrong, he wished his mind was playing tricks. The girl who was mindlessly walking outside the gates with a longing gaze set towards something he’s not aware of was way too far from the girl he is seeing now.

He wished he imagined it, but you wriggled your hips and he feel your hand reaching to his head to push him back into your cunt; you wanted him to continue, you were simply laying on top of the sheets but Aerion’s words seemed to unlock something inside of you.

Aerion laughed at that, “You fucking whore,” he whispers, teasing your mouth with the tip of his cock and you were so ready to wrap your lips around it, even if you are not fully knowledgeable on how to do it exactly, “you wanted this, don’t you? Your pretty mouth so full of my cock, hmm? Did you imagine this, or prayed to gods your husband will fill you up nicely?”

You moved your head towards his cock and sucked on the tip, Aerion hissed at the contact, the sudden warmth that greets him when he enters your mouth was familiar; he didn’t think it’d be this easy to crack you, to make you surrender to your selfish desires, to forget about modesty and prudence.

The translucent fluid tasted salty in your mouth, but it was something you could handle, you held on his hips and pushed him more against you. The short sounds and profanities that comes from Aerion only urged you to continue, you wanted to be good enough for him, to make him feel as blissful as you are; yet in another note, you want him nearer his own edge, you wanted to see his face contorting due to the pressure and climax, you wanted to see him drained out of his wits and speechless, for once.

A sudden shift from Valarr knocked you out of your reverie, you felt his fingers on your cunt, spreading your folds apart just so he could reach into you on a newer and deeper sense, you collapsed on the bed, restless and painfully aware of the growing feeling of the knot slowly forming in your abdomen. Valarr was quiet, except for the times he would inhale a breath to supply his lungs before lapping once again.

You gripped the sheets as tight as you can, while your other hand wandered on top of Valarr’s head, clawing on his brown hair while you steady your own breath, there was a moment when you felt you almost crush his head when your legs threatened to close, but Aerion, thank gods, was quick to pull you back into the present.

“Did I give you permission to stop?”

His cock twitched on your hand and you were reminded of how badly you wanted to see Aerion falling apart, “Gods.. wait, please,” you wanted to pause, to not do anything else as you let Valarr’s tongue work inside of you; you squeezed your eyes shut and you attempted to slide your hand leisurely on Aerion’s cock but you feared you were wringing him too roughly.

You were anchored by the tight grip of Valarr’s hands on your thighs, the bed of his nails were pale white as he switch from using his tongue to sucking the small bud that’s most sensitive on your cunt, and you wanted to explode, you wanted to let go of the control and you wanted the knots to snap and to be finally freed from the heaviness that sits on your stomach.

A loud moan threatened to push past your lips but it was immediately tended by Aerion, he crouches forward and his body almost fell over to yours, but he supported his weight by placing his palm against the mattress, balancing himself. He then reaches for his cock and shoved it down on your mouth.

It was a moment of desperation, the second your wet mouth completely engulfed his cock was one of the rare times in which he ever forgot to breathe. Your tongue was unfamiliar, he figured, vividly feeling it swirling around its girth and your teeth scratched lightly on his skin, he ought to teach you on how to be better, he thought, but now is not the time for lessons, now is the time where he should make use of your heated mouth.

Aerion jerks his hips when he feels well enough to fit right inside your mouth, there was minimal resistance and the discomfort brought upon the by your teeth only felt odd but never painful. He started thrusting, finding his pace without losing his balance as it only hangs and depends on his hand and posture. He could hear you gagging, then he feels you tapping on his side, clearly running out of air as he buries his cock.

Valarr looks up from your cunt, landing at the exact moment Aerion pulls away for a fraction to allow some air to sneak inside your lungs, it was never enough, he only stopped for a blink before slamming himself against you. He was worried you would pass out, you were not in the best of condition before this whole ordeal even started; but he saw the hunger in your manner of taking Aerion’s cock. He saw the way you bobbed your head to it, determined enough to take him whole.

His mouth already craves the way you taste, but he wanted to try some things on his own; to make you feel good, despite being exploited for selfish and monstrous desires, he wanted you to feel some enjoyment of sorts, though he thinks you already see this as something pleasant. Valarr inserts a finger slowly and you whimpered, your body shoots up to check on Valarr, and finally, you paid him some attention.

He was quick to latch his tongue against the nub he had found earlier, his single digit could only make it halfway, in fear of causing you more pain, but it would do, for now. You wrapped around it perfectly, your narrow walls were not stretched enough and he thinks it would be the right time to prepare you, for what’s about to come later.

Aerion gets up on his knees once more, only thinking of his own release this time as he pulls your hair to create a better angle where he could ram his cock more flawlessly. He thinks you’re pretty this way, taking whatever it is that he’s giving and blatantly dismissing what you might need. You shall not need any other matter, he is here, he thinks, there’s no other thing that could ever satisfy you aside from him.

He sinks your head lower towards his cock, until your lips touches base of his length and he holds you there, the fabric of his breeches were wet with sweat, saliva, and some of your tears that had fallen since earlier that he never cared about. He worries, for a split second, that this would be too much, that you are in some kind of immense pain but you take his cock so well, you whimper and you choke on your own spit, you push him off but you immediately get back to it like a fond memory. You wanted this, you wanted him, and you wanted the feeling he flickered from you.

Somewhere between feeling a short pain from your cunt and the hurt you have inside your head from all the wobbling and maneuvering, your hips suddenly jolted upwards—a shot of something you could only describe as exhilarating flowed to all ends of your body. Time seemed to stop, including everything else around you. Your legs shivered as your whole body collapsed, and Valarr was still attached to your cunt, rendering you even more sensitive as he sucks all of your release, his mouth was the only thing you could recognize as the sound echoed around.

Valarr felt a pulsating sensation from within, though he could only feel it faint against his finger, he knew he had brought you to the climax, and he commends himself for holding on despite the aching pain he needs to take care of. He knew he must have soiled his garments, he knew there would be no point in denying that he wishes he could bury his own cock on your cunt instead of just his fingers.

Aerion quickly followed right after, shooting streaks of his release towards the velvety walls your mouth had offered. You were still recovering when he moans loudly, slowing his pace as he spurts out his own cum, some of it drips on your chin and he felt joyous on the simple sight of you, so full of him.

The two men halted for a moment, gathering a more stable pattern of breathing before Aerion moves again, drifting away from the bed as the weight on the mattress decrease; you had your eyes closed, understandably tired from all of the sensations you had felt—of Aerion toying with your mouth with his cock, and Valarr’s skillful tongue driving you towards your end.

You swing your eyelids open when you feel a sudden pull on both legs, bringing you closer to the edge of the bed and in front of you was Aerion, his cock positioned to your cunt.

“You should have your cock inside her mouth; she’s not practiced enough but she’ll do.” He speaks towards Valarr, who now sits beside you by the bed, unaware of where he should be, nor what he should do.

“I think the princess should rest now, Aerion.” Valarr protests, even with his hard cock inside his garments screamed at him to be freed, he could clearly see how sleep is slowly coming at you.

Aerion spreads your legs open once more, pleased with how wet you are from Valarr’s doing, “She sleeps when I say so. Now go, or ask her to do it—whatever the fuck gets you off.”

You snaked a hand against Valarr’s arm, caressing it gently, too ashamed to say something except to plead with your eyes. He turns his body towards you, “Are you well enough for another?” he asks, letting your hand drop to his groin to feel his arousal. If you are not sure enough to do this again, he swore he would fight Aerion and drag him towards the door to give you peace.

“Please,” you muttered, feeling an ounce of impatience and frustration mixed together as he kept waiting, “Use me.” You managed to insert a hand under the wool, eager to feel his bare cock on your hand.

And the rest of the night went by.

#valarr targaryen #aerion targaryen #read later

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