the heir and his princess
Baelor "Breakspear" Targaryen x fem!niece!reader
plot: having a man like Baelor as your unlce was a blessing unlike any other, but the true nature of your affection for him started to pose a great danger once you came off age and fell more in love with him by the day, right as you had to start preparing yourself for your impending betrothal. you were heartbroken in your knowledge that there was no way you could ever be wed to him, but then, one night, when you can´t hide your agonized longing from him anymore, Baelor ends up proving it to you once and for all: as long as he is alive, you will be loved the way you deserve, body and soul. - ao3 link
warnings: tragcest, big age gap (reader is over 20 and he’s much older), marriage proposal, one long scene of smut, oral(r!receiving)/p-in-v/overstim/multiple orgasms/praise/a bit of soft!dom Baelor/etc., lots of longing and devotion, some backstory, reader´s hair and complexion is mentioned, one long Maekar+Baelor scene, theyre both whipped so.. big feelings - ca. 20k words
a/n: hi!! I’ll keep it brief: his charm possessed me deeply… I wanted to write a longer fic about him and his niece being in love where he struggles with his ideas of decency and honor before giving in, something equally romantic and erotic :) it was truly such a pleasure to write this, so I hope you enjoy reading it <3
*the numbers indicate the chapters that I divided the story into on ao3, in case you prefer reading on here but would like to take breaks and remember where you left off :)
1.
it was an open secret that out of all of his children, you would always remain Maekar´s favorite, his second-born and yet number one at heart, his darling eldest daughter, his first girl.
as little as your father appreciated sentimentality, he couldn´t help but indulge in it once you grew up to be just as beautiful on the inside as you were on the outside, you were his pride and joy, the walking proof that his blood was not inherently poisoned, that he hadn´t passed on some horrible curse that would inevitably befall all of his children. you were the apple of his eye, the ideal Targaryen princess, the picture of both grace and fierceness, revered not just by him but strangers who heard whispers of your qualities.
unlike your father, and some of your siblings, you didn´t grow hair the shade of ice, no, your blonde was warmer, the color of wheat during summer and rich honey with the exemption of a single silver strand right in the middle of your scalp, a dazzling feature that vaguely matched your cousin Valarr´s little streak of silver, much to your father´s delight, that clear resemblance between his and his brother´s offspring, a visible bridge between the families. he never would´ve admitted it but it was a relief for Maekar to have at least one child that could´ve passed as one of his brother´s.
you and Valarr grew up as best friends, so much so that whispers started very early on about a potential betrothal down the line, which would end up being rather close to the truth, genetically speaking, him being only one branch lower on the family tree than your true future husband, but neither your nor Valarr nor anyone else could´ve guessed it early on.
you were adored by even those who usually spat on your family´s banner, “if she´s one of them, they can´t all be that bad” was the general sentiment, which turned out to be a true blessing for not just your father but the Targaryens overall, since it offered a stark contrast between you and your brothers, especially Aerion, who was so close to your age and brought shame upon your household one too many times to keep count, each of them pressuring you to make up for it with examples of honor and dignity.
it would turn out to be big weight to shoulder, especially once your mother passed: the knowledge that you were your father´s anchor, his comfort and reminder that he might succeed in turning his sons´ fates around if only he could mold them into something closer to you. each time your brothers vexed him, you felt the need to be an even better daughter, a better princess, and sometimes it all became too much, sometimes all the grief and lack of support from your late mother left you feeling forlorn and trapped in a house of men who did nothing but stress you out, but then, every time without fail, one man would step in and help you, your savior, the very picture of chivalry and kindness, the heir to the throne: your uncle Baelor. the only one who saw right through your cool facade and recognized the softness in you the required comfort, which he gave you freely, without demanding anything in return, from the very beginning of your life.
he doted on you from the second you were born, his heart grew ten-fold when he first held you, the quiet, precious little girl who didn´t shed a single tear when she was born, even-tempered as you were, right from the start, much like him, eager to snuggle up to him whenever his hands cradled you, an immediate invisible string between your soul and his that would only strengthen over time.
both your father and uncle spoiled you but where Maekar was more a man of deeds and quiet, reluctant softness, Baelor was open-hearted and confident with his affection for you, steady and calm where your father was more nervous and prone to outbursts, especially once he lost your mother - Baelor was the one who always managed to stop your tears, from infancy to adolescence to adulthood, your earliest memories including many instances of you stumbling to his study after an argument with your brother, seeking his reliable consolation. he never failed to protect and soothe you, never grew tired of you, never made you feel too sensitive. being not only the heir to the throne but also the older brother of your father gave him an urgent sense of responsibility not just towards his own children, but Maekar´s too, which was precisely why he felt so connected to you when you were old enough to share his burden, the burden of being the most level-headed one in your immediate family, the peace-keeper, the one that everyone put their hopes on. you were the golden dragons, you and him.
you´d always felt a pull towards your uncle, innocent and familial at first, but then not so much later on, you were a Targaryen after all, not the type to feel sparks of desire for your cousins or siblings but very much the type to dream of the more forbidden family members, one of them, only one, only ever him.
he made you realize why your family history was so riddled with relations that scandalized people who objected to marriage between kin, and it made you feel doomed, since he was not only so much older, but also a widower, and worst of all: the heir to the iron throne, a man who would automatically make any second wife his future queen consort. there was no way, you knew it, no way of hoping for anything more than the love between an uncle and a niece, but your heart beat for him, day after day, year after year, Baelor alone made you understand the many tales of a love so strong it could burn entire kingdoms to ashes.
Baelor´s soft temperament, his soothing, achingly attractive voice, his kindness and patience with you, and those less deserving of it as well, his handsome face, it all haunted you once you grew old enough to start wanting the way adults wanted, carnally, deep at the core, hot and free of reason, desperately, to a point of spending many nights sick with feverish longing.
you modeled yourself after him without evening meaning to but others noticed it, of course, Maekar oftentimes teasing his brother by throwing out comments like “she´s starting to sound like you, brother” when you lectured him about remaining reasonable in the face of yet another crisis, the same way Baelor had always done. you were alike in many ways and both of you secretly felt very flattered whenever people remarked upon it, you found solace with each other, which was a rarity in a household so riddled with tension and lack of trust, between you two it was easy, simple, at least until you came of age right as he became a widower.
it was difficult for Baelor to watch you struggle with the loss of your mother and the lack of certainty concerning your future, he could tell when you turned eighteen that you started to grow uneasy, scared even, and unlike others he always paid enough attention to notice the little tells that gave away your state of mind: you couldn´t count home many times during dinners he had discreetly placed his hand upon yours to stop you from fidgeting with your rings or picking at your nailbeds, how many times he´d placed it on your back to remind you: breathe. I am here. it´s alright.
naturally, you confided in him and felt at ease, both of you sharing a sense of humor that lightened up many darker nights, you relieved his heavy heart just like he did yours, especially after his late wife passed away, and things changed between you then, it happened right when you grew from a girl into a woman and a woman-shaped void opened in his life.
he would never forget how you noticed his carefully concealed heartache and came to him, to comfort him without cheap consolation, to repay him for all the times he´d dried your tears.
you never competed with the memory of Jena, you´d adored her too, but you wanted to follow in her footsteps, there was no denying it. somehow widowerhood didn´t ruin him, not at all, it did not make him fold into himself or lose his charms, his smile, his ability to win over every person he encountered, nobles and small-folk alike, which was a relief to you as someone who would´ve grieved the loss of his light spirit as heavily as his death.
a while into his newfound life as a lone father, you started to feel hot all over when he was too near, your pale complexion frustratingly prone to splotches of red, not just in your cheeks, whenever your uncle gave you a lingering look that pierced right through your soul. he was too clever of a man to miss the signs, and yet, he never let it show, he left you guessing, like a true gentleman would, never daring to gloat or tease you about your transparent passions.
truthfully, it made him bashful, to realize that the golden girl, the dragon princess that every man in the realm would fall to his knees for if given a chance, was so taken by him. he felt equal parts guilty and proud for inspiring such feelings in you, torn between his own stirring desires and the deep fear of what it would mean to let you have what you wanted, even just once, even just a fleeting touch. Baelor was nothing if not skilled at feigning strength where there was weakness, the way a future king had to, but you tested his resolve, the same way he did yours, two dragons circling each other, never quite touching, brushing tails here and there, containing their fire for the time being.
you didn´t know if he knew it, but he remained the only person you´d ever shed tears in front of, not even your father had ever watched you cry the way Balor had, your floodgates only open when you knew someone was there to keep you from falling apart, his strong arms wrapped around you, talking you through the waves of sadness each time. eventually, once you were a woman grown, you started to crave more intimacy than mere comfort, you wished you could love him properly and feel him closer than you did whenever he embraced you with his clothes neatly in place, and you felt guilty, you did, for wanting him so soon after Jena passed, but you couldn´t help it, you dreamed of him, you wished for his attention whenever other men ogled you at tourneys or other public outings, each suitor only stoking the fire that burned for him deep in your soul.
both your father and uncle detested the suitors who dared to approach you, you´d never forget the day when Baelor stepped in to tell a drunken man at a banquet “next time you think about pestering a princess of the realm, considering whether it would be worth losing both your hands and tongue over.” ladies all around adored him, so they envied you for it, the way he shielded you from unwanted advances and scared off any man who even looked at you for a beat too long, much to Maekar's relief, and you couldnt´t blame them for wishing they were in your place, feeling very smug about his chivalry whenever he used his imposing presence to help you out.
the more time passed of you being grown and him being a widower the more you found yourself hoping that it wasn´t all fatherly protectiveness on his end, that it was tinged by the possessiveness of a jealous lover, but it was never easy to tell, him being as stoic as he was. you wanted him all to yourself, for him to tell all the men in his kingdom to avert their eyes from his beloved.
right around the time you started fantasizing about Baelor in sinful ways, your father had to face the cruel truth: he had to marry you and soon. he´d been short-sighted and stubborn, unwilling to plan the betrothal of his precious daughter before it was absolutely necessary. the idea of losing you to a stranger, being unable to control him and having to trust that you would be treated like the royalty you were, it drove him mad with frustration, every possible suitor seemed awful to him, so he sought advice from his brother.
Baelor could not disagree with his brother's scorn for most lords who were vying for your hand, he did try to calm his nerves, to be the voice of reason but he had no better ideas than Maekar, time was ticking, you were over twenty years of age, and a wedding had to happen soon or people would start to whisper, and the last thing that your house needed was one more rumor of internal struggles.
one afternoon, Maekar sat you down and told you plainly that you would have to prepare yourself to marry soon, that you would have a say in the matter, but that you could no longer dismiss the idea of marriage the way you had up until then. it broke his heart to have to watch you cry in anger at the idea, but there was little else he could do except apologize and leave you in your chambers to calm down before dinner, which was not entirely successful.
your mood was understandably sour that night, you ate no more than a spoonful of peas before you felt sick, already devastated about the prospect of not just marrying a man you did not love, but leaving the man you did: your uncle, who sat close enough to smell his leather clothes, that familiar, comforting, maddening smell of his, paired with his voice near enough to vibrate in your whole body, his arm brushing yours when he reached for his wine, it was simply too much.
of course, Aerion, who´d suffered yet another embarrassment earlier that day, and felt wounded in his pride, picked up on it and smiled as he asked a teasing question about your gloomy disposition, well aware that you were hurting, eager to provoke a fight.
you merely got up, slapped his neck when you passed by him on your way out, and walked right back to your rooms, unwilling to yell or give him a show. as always, Maekar took care of your brother, grabbed and dragged him out by the collar while hissing at him like an angry lion protecting one of his cubs from the other, while Baelor politely excused himself to follow you, a routine that happened all too often, their joint efforts always the same: Maekar punishing his son while Baelor comforted his niece, like they were a pair of parents almost, which wasn´t entirely untrue now that they were both wife-less and stuck taking care of their children alongside each other.
as Baelor made his way to your room, slowly, to give you a moment of solitude, he thought about his most forbidden and yet most urgent “what if?” with a deep clarity for the first time. he knew that he could end both you and your father´s pain by admitting that your not-so-subtle feelings for him matched his own, that he would in fact be ready to marry you, to give you the protection awarded to the bride of the future king. “what if I dared to ask him for her hand?” he wondered.
it would immediately put an end to any insistent men´s pursuits if he claimed you for himself, so it was concern for you, not his selfish needs, that ultimately made him waver in his convictions and consider whether it could work: you and him, together, for good. the thought terrified and pleased him in equal amounts, so he had to take a deep breath and remind himself to appear calm before he knocked on your door and heard your familiar, achingly soft voice call out “yes, enter”, only because you knew who it was, anyone else would´ve been met with a stern “not now”, but not him, you´d never send him away, no matter how upset you were.
Baelor entered your room the way he always did with that familiar, disarming smile of his, cocking his head to the side and pausing in the doorway to regard you with a mix of affection and amusement.
you never looked more like a little dragon than when you sat at the edge of your bed with your arms crossed, pouting, curled inward, seething in anger. Baelor swore he could almost see little scales rippling under your fair skin, he was too polite to ever mention it, but he thought you looked very endearing when you were angry. it had taken all of his will-power in the past not to just kiss your rage-induced tears away instead of wiping them. his tenderness for you often threatened to spill out in improper ways, but never did, much to your dismay, since even just one chaste kiss to your forehead would´ve been a dream for you.
“come closer, I won´t bite” you told him, which made his smile deepen as he approached you and sat down next to you, leaving an appropriate amount of inches between you empty, of course.
“don´t listen to your brother. he was scolded earlier, you know how he gets when his pride is wounded. I´m sorry it fell on you though, it was untoward. your father is dealing with it”.
Baelor was watching you intently, the way you were staring at the floor, almost as if you were zoned out, refusing to meet his gaze, for more than one reason, afraid of what he might find there.
he on the other hand didn´t avert his eyes, not for a second, if anything you felt the mismatched eyes of his glued to your side-profile. it never failed to make your blood rush. if only he wasn´t so close, so very close, and yet so out of reach. every part of you was aching to just get it out, that he was your object of affection, that he was the one man you would marry on the spot. your resolve was close to shattering and Baelor's proximity was not helping. you wanted him more than ever.
“I know, it´s fine, nothing I haven´t handled before. I´m not upset about Aerion, but…” you said quietly, and he understood, so he nodded and finished the thought, quietly “but about the matter of your betrothal”. perhaps you imagined it, fanciful fantasies yet again, but he sounded almost… sad? angry? both? as he uttered the words “your betrothal”, rueful, like it pained him to acknowledge the situation out loud.
you finally looked up at him and found him sitting closer than you were prepared for, his face so near that you could see every little silver hair in his beard, every crease of worry, the glitter of candlelight reflected in his deep eyes. Baelor´s hands were folded neatly in his lap and it wasn´t unusual for you to touch them, so you took his right hand into yours, squeezed it for emphasis, and felt his comforting warmth seep into your palm as you complained to him “I wish I didn´t have to marry at all.”
Baelor´s breath hitched a little at the confession, perhaps because he had lived long enough to see it, the flicker of bravery in your expression, the defiance, the sign of a conversation that was about to head into a direction he was not fully ready for.
he brushed his thumb over your knuckles to soothe you as he leaned in a bit more to get a good look at you and said “no? you don´t wish to fall in love?”.
you looked down at your joined hands, your heart both hurting and soaring from the view, and then looked back up at him, still sulking a bit, your pout increasingly hard for the man not to stare at, to kiss - no. he couldn´t. he couldn´t think of that. he had to be strong.
“I only mentioned marriage, not falling in love. one we plan, the other we do not. I am talking about the former, that´s the one I don´t wish for” you knew he was clever, too clever to miss the subtext in everything you said, so you nudged him a bit, which earned you a girn.
he nodded and freed his hand from yours to put it back in his lap. your skin was too soft to think straight and he didn´t trust himself to resist the temptation of throwing caution to the wind.
“you´re right about that, of course. but what I meant is that you of all people deserve to marry for love, you know that, yes?”. he was speaking truthfully, and yet he was pushing back against your rhetorical games, neither one of you was quick to surrender, but you were done hiding. you couldn´t handle one more day of sitting next to him and letting everything go unsaid when you were screaming on the inside that you were ready to wring every suitor's neck with your bare hands if it meant that you could finally have him instead.
“that´s the problem, uncle. I cannot marry the man I love.” you said and looked at him with such intensity and agony that his heart stopped for a beat. he rarely showed his true colors but you could see your feelings mirrored back to you clearer than ever right then, so you took the leap.
“darling…” he whispered, barely audible, his voice strained with tenderness and fear alike, his hands suddenly trembling as he forgot how to keep them from reaching out, so he clasped both of yours in his, almost as if he was begging for something, mercy, perhaps, for what he was about to give into.
without even realizing, all the years of pent-up emotions broke out of you at once, thick tears, almost as big as pearls, dropping down your cheeks before you could react, so Baelor beat you to it and pulled you into a tight embrace. he shuddered as he caressed your back through your silken dress and sighed “gods, girl. come here”.
he didn´t need to press for more, you´d said enough for him to realize exactly what you had just confessed to and you were too busy sobbing into his neck to feel embarrassed or scared of his eventual response, in that moment all that mattered was his body shielding yours, the way it always had, as you saw flashes of a life in another man´s bed, far away from him, stinging behind your wet eyelids. “don´t ever let me go” you begged him through your sobs, “please don´t ever let them take me away, please, promise me you won´t let it happen, promise me, please”.
“shhh, breathe, my darling, nobody is taking you against your will, ever, you hear me? I swear upon everything that is dear to me, I would never allow it, you know I wouldn´t, and if they did I would find you and rescue you”. your desperate pleas, your hick-ups and muffled sobs, the way you clung to him, just like you did as a little girl, it was making him dizzy with the need to finally give in and swear complete devotion to you and your happiness, it was clearer than ever to him as he caressed your shaking body and helped you calm yourself until you were no longer shaking: he was just as devastated as you by the idea that he could lose you to another man. in that moment, no amount of force could´ve torn him away from you, no pain would´ve been great enough to make him loosen his firm yet tender grasp on you. he would´ve died for you, no questions asked.
once you could speak again, you pulled away from him, wiped your swollen-red eyes, and looked at him while grabbing his shoulder to steady yourself, his hand immediately wrapped around your wrists as you whispered, like a sin confessed in utter darkness, “you´re the only man for me, the only one, I refuse to love another, I´d rather -”.
Baelor raised his free hand to press his fingers against your lips, softly shushing you before you could even finish the thought, your cheeks flushing from the sudden intimate touch.
“don´t” he implored, sounding more vulnerable than you´d ever heard him, completely transparent for once, trembling “please don´t ever say such things about yourself, I already lost my first love, I won´t lose my…” he cut himself off before he could say it, averted his eyes in shame and moved his fingers from your mouth, but your eyes went wide in shock nonetheless.
“I won´t lose my second love as well” that´s what he almost told you after you implied that you´d rather die than marry anyone but him. nothing could´ve prepared you for the feeling of hearing him say it so openly, that your feelings were not one-sided, that he was also plagued by the same unspoken affections you´d tried and failed to keep buried in the depths of your soul.
there you both were, honest, scared, in love. you moved closer, pressed your thigh against his and watched him shut his eyes like he was in pain, his control close to snapping, your hand curled around his once more, gripping for dear life.
“I love you. I love you so much it hurts, I love you more than I imagined possible.” you choked out, half ashamed, half relieved, your whole body flushed by that point, your eyes blazing, his head shaking and his throat producing a pained sobbing sound as the words hit him.
“do you not…” you asked, suddenly unsure if he had meant it, if he´d truly meant what he´d stopped himself from saying or if he´d just been caught up in a moment of weakness that would pass.
perhaps you were alone in your feelings after all. a cold terror struck you and he could feel it, so he immediately snapped up to look at you again and assured you “of course I.. of course I do. I´m not a very devout man but I´ve begged for forgiveness for the things I´ve thought of you. it´s not right. I… gods, I watched you grow up, I promised myself I´d never be like my male forefathers who…” he mumbled, clearly torn between his true feelings and his sense of duty, honor, and propriety. ironically enough, that´s what made you desire him the most: his reluctance, the fact that he was so unlike other men who would´ve gladly taken you to their beds when you were still a mere child. even now, as a woman grown you weren´t hunted by him like a starved beast but revered like a goddess. you wanted him to feel like he had permission to want you, you were ready to feel his full attention, the attention of a lover, a husband, a man who had no fear of breaking you. if he only knew that your fantasies certainly made you more worthy of condemnation than his.
you guided his hand up to your jaw and made him cup it as he looked at you, defenseless against the sight of you so docile in his palm, his girl, his light, his everything.
“you´re nothing like your forefathers who had no issue taking brides that were as young as Aegon is now, you know you´re not, you´re a good man, uncle, an honorable man”. you meant every word and nuzzled further into his palm to prove just how much you meant it, but he sighed and protested, his voice barely audible as he confessed “not when I look at you. not when I dream of you. when you´re near me”
you moved your head up to lean in until you could feel your breath mingle with his. he shuddered from the feel of your hot breath that fanned across his lips with each word as you spoke, “how could it ever be dishonorable to make me feel so loved?”.
Baelor placed both his hands on your shoulders to gently create more distance between your faces as he protested once more, less and less convinced by his own reasoning as to why he shoulnd´t just go ahead and… do it.
“no, you don´t understand, I´m only getting older, I´ve shed so much blood, I´m already burdened by a crown I am not even wearing yet and it will only get worse once I ascend the throne, and you.. your´re so young, so pure, so beautiful, so…” he was losing himself in his fruitless attempt to find the words but no language sufficed to express just how highly he thought of you, how much he adored you.
Baelor was robbed of his ability to breathe, it was taken by you when you threw caution to wind, lunged forward, grabbed his face and kissed him deeply, unabashedly, your lips crashing against his with a need that made him groan and yield, his entire body frozen the second he felt the angelic, tender skin of your mouth melting against his, the nature of it so passionate that you shocked even yourself.
it was your first time kissing anyone, and his first time kissing his own blood, and both of you felt why your ancestors had gone mad for that kind of intimacy, the mix of utter perversion and tenderness affecting your bodies like drugged wine you wanted to drink and drink and drink from til you´d choke on it.
Baelor refused to kiss you back, he still clung to his guiltlessness for as long as he could, but he didn´t push you away either and made the grave mistake of opening his mouth, so he nearly blacked out from lust when you licked over his bottom lip before pushing it further in and tasting the sweet heat of him.
his hands, his traitorous hands betrayed him as they suddenly threaded through your soft, honey hair and elicited the softest moan as you kept pressing yourself up against him, trying and trying to break his resolve with your loving attack.
for the first time in his life, Baelor was utterly disarmed, completely helpless and weak in the knees with no help in sight. he was caressing your head, cradling it almost, touching your hair in a way that felt like a weak attempt to infuse the transgression with innocence, which only had the effect of making you kiss him even deeper, which made him give in a little, his lips a moving against yours, kiss you back ever so lightly - it was turning you on to no end, the way he stubbornly stuck to his restraint when most other men would beg for a mere look in their direction from you, there he was, receiving the kisses thousands of men would´ve killed for, holding himself back from devouring you like he truly wanted to, grabbing you and handling you and worshipping every last inch of you the way he was made to, his little dragon, his princess, his and his alone.
you´d been an utter fool to think that your fantasies were anywhere near the real thing, the heat you´d felt while dreaming of him was a mere spark compared to the rapid fire that burned through your entire body and made a second heart-beat pulsate between your thighs, that made you slick with a kind of arousal that only Baelor´s hands could´ve eased, or his mouth, or his - gods you were done for, utterly ruined just by the feel of his beard scraping against your chin as he groaned and gave you a punishing kiss while his hands tightened in your hair, but just as he was about to fuck up and really give in for good, he felt your sneaking palm pressed against his thigh and jumped up from your bedside, leaving you puffy-lipped, dazed, and blushing shades of crimson that rivaled even the brightest poppy.
“no, fuck, we can´t, I can´t, not like this, gods.. I have to..” he stammered and stood there with his hands in front of his face, undone, panicking.
“I shall speak to my brother, about us, about you, this-”. you couldn´t fault him for his confusion and fear and struggle to speak properly, you felt the same, both exhilarated and deeply afraid of what you´d just done.
“I…I´m sorry, I don´t know why I -” you stuttered but before you could attempt to say more he leaned down, held your face in his hands, and placed a few feverish kisses on your forehead, breathing in the scent of jasmine, lavender, and your sweet skin while he mumbled “gods please don´t apologize to me, just… let me find a way to talk about this, with him. I want to do right by you. I have to. I won´t make you my mistress or have you in secret, like it´s shameful, I refuse, I can´t do that to you”.
once he lifted his lips from your head he took your hand in his and pressed them against each of your knuckles to emphasize his respect, his utter inability to just ravish you in a thoughtless moment of passion. he could never. he was watching you with those dark, gentle eyes of his as you looked up at him in awe and sighed a pained “yes… yes I know, that's precisely why I adore you.” Baelor softened even more and pressed your palm against his heart, over the rough fabric of his garment. “not as much as I adore you, my darling girl. rest now, regain your strength, and we will speak more tomorrow, yes?”.
you agreed and smiled faintly as you said “alright, yes. but before you go.. can you give me a kiss that will follow me into my dreams? please?”.
Baelor knew he was incapable of denying you, so he didn´t even try. he tilted your chin up with two of his fingers and leaned in to give you the lightest, lingering kiss, flustered from the sound of your sigh when he pulled away to drink in the sight of your eyes still shut in soft bliss.
if he was capable of making your tears dry and such an expression appear instead, he might not be as deplorable of a man as he feared he was, for wanting his niece as he did. the image of him carrying you to bed after your wedding briefly flashed through his already fragile mind and nearly made him drop to the floor with longing. he wanted it. gods, he wanted it more than anything. it was no use pretending otherwise. he had to speak to his brother and he had to do it right then, lest he talk himself out of it by sunrise.
Baelor walked to the door and paused once more, the same way he had upon entry, to look back over his shoulder and memorize what he saw: you, blushing, smiling to yourself, touching your lips with your fingertips where he´d kissed them.
“good night” he said and gave you a nod that told you “I will take care of it, like I always do, believe me”. you nodded in return and fell back onto your mattress with a deep sigh once he left your room, eyes shut, breathing in deeply to catch some remnant of his scent as long as it still lingered in the air, your heart beating out of your chest, so much so that you had to strip out of your dress and cool down before even thinking about getting ready for bed.
2.
Baelor knew where to find his brother, since he always waited up for him in the empty dining hall after dinners that were interrupted by yet another spat between his children. his nerves were still raw as he prayed that his lips weren´t too red, that his demeanor wouldn´t give away what he´d just done, or rather, what you´d done to him, for him, with him, however one might look at it.
“she´s alright” Baelor announced as he walked into the room and saw his brother slouching in his chair with a deep scowl on his face. he remained standing across from him with his hands braced on the edge of the table, a bit unsteady still, but to his relief Maekar was too irritated with his son to give much of a fuck about why his brother sounded a bit off, unlike himself.
Maekar nodded and groaned “good, she´s had enough grief for one day. I don´t know what the fuck to do, brother. the gods have a wicked sense of humor, if you ask me. giving me sons who seemingly only use half their brains, on a good day, and then an eldest daughter who is too good of a woman to allow me a mindless match-making process. I can´t do it, I can´t make her marry one of those morons, she´s too…”
“I know” Baelor interrupted him with that familiar tone one might use while talking to a spooked horse. “I know what you´re saying and you know I understand your frustrations. she can´t just be married off against her will, it´s not possible.”
Maekar nodded and ruffled his hair like he was trying to rub a headache out of his scalp. “why was I given such a darling daughter? to be tormented once she comes of age and has to be married to a lesser man? I´d rather swallow a sword than agree to any of the proposals”.
Baelor took a deep breath and wrestled with himself, there was a beat of silence, a loud pop of wood in the fireplace, and then he pushed himself over the edge and forced the words out before he could stop himself.
“may I suggest something, and you hear me out til I am finished before you decide whether or not you want my head for it?”.
that got Maekars full attention within a split-second. he snapped his head up and looked at his Baelor with a mix of deep intrigue, hope, and something like shock, it was very unusual for him to sound trepidatious, usually it was Maekar who was shaken by something, never his strong, ever-so stoic, big brother, but now it was shifting. they looked at each other and Maekar gave him a simple “yes, you may”.
Baelor stood up straight, cleared his throat and unconsciously played with the ring on his index finger as he spoke and thought of your beautiful face pressed against that very hand.
“she deserves freedom. utter freedom, and she would never have it with a man drunk on the power of having caged the gilded dragon princess”. Maekar´s face hardened at the mere thought, his fists clenched. he knew his brother was right, but he let him continue instead of loudly cursing that cruel truth. “they would gloat and be overly eager to parade her around like a trophy, we both know it, so we need someone for her whom she already has a close relationship to, someone who respects her and would let her live as she pleases without demanding a kind of control over her the way a common man would. she should be treated the way we treated our lady wives.”
Maekar´s grim face lightened up a tiny bit from the implicit compliment, the memory of his late wife, the fact that Baelor saw his marriage as an example of goodness. yes, perhaps he´d done a few things right in his life, perhaps he had. for a second he was too lost in fond, bittersweet memories but then his brother´s suggestion became clearer to him, so he searched his eyes and cocked his head as he asked “oh.. are you suggesting.. Valarr?”.
Baelor almost had to laugh at his dear brother's oblivious nature, but he merely shook his head and clarified “no. no, my son, kind-hearted as he may be, is no match for her fire, he still seems like a young boy next to her, but close”.
the moment he finished the sentence and saw his brother´s eyes widen - in shock? disgust? respect for his forwardness? - Baelor felt something he usually inspired in others: defensiveness. he suddenly understood in painful clarity how it felt to be backed into a corner by one´s own foolishness, to sweat in fear and dread of the anticipated blow to the ego, so it was hard not to just stammer out a clumsy apology immediately after, but he stood behind his words, he waited, let his brother think.
Baelor hoped and prayed that Maekar knew him well enough to keep from assuming the worst, but there was still that fear, the fear that suggesting himself as a husband for you might make him believe that he was fessing up to an illicit affair with you, that he would imagine him tugging you into dark hallways to ravish you back when you were still much too young to be considered more than a girl. for a second he wondered if he´d caught his brother in the worst possible moment and was about to be knocked unconscious by him, but to his surprise, and great relief, Maekar simply crossed his arms, made a “huh” sound of deliberation, and stared out of the window into the dark evening sky. he nodded to himself before he looked back up at Baelor, without anger, only intrigue, so he tried to plead his case.
“I know it wouldn´t be ideal, far from it, and it wouldn´t be a father´s dream, I am sure, to approve of such a marriage, but I assure you that I would be nothing but honorable, I would not dare to ask for a thing form her that she wouldn´t happily give. I would only want to fulfill my duty as her husband, I would lay my life down for hers if it came to it.” he paused, his breath was failing him, he took more air in and failed to notice his brother´s look of affection. Maekar was stunned by how young his brother looked, how nervous, like he was a young man asking his beloved's stern father for approval. half of it was true.
when Baelor sensed the quiet approval of what he was getting at, he finished the thought. “I wish to let her stay here, with you, with us, to let her grow into the woman she was born to be. I see her beauty, of course I do, and I would lie if I said I haven´t had moments of weakness around her…” his voice was barely above a whisper then, he knew he was treading on thin ice but he couldn´t pretend like he was entirely noble in his pursuit of you, he couldn´t lie to Maekar so blatantly, or to himself. “but I swear upon all that is dear to me that I am not thinking of my own desires as I tell you this, but of hers, since she has made them clear to me by now.”
Maekar kept looking at his brother without a single response in his mind that seemed appropriate. he was rendered speechless, which unnerved Baelor, so he offered him an exit to the conversation, in case he was misreading it all entirely and his brother was in fact already planning the best way to smother him in his sleep for daring to speak of his darling girl like that.
“tell me to never bring it up again and that is what I shall do. I will surrender without protest. but consider it. for her sake, not mine. never mine.” Baelor was being a bit dishonest after all, since it wasn´t true that he would not accept defeat so easily, after two decades of successfully protecting you the way a sworn knight would, he would not buckle and turn cowardly right when your fate was about the be decided, he would not aid in the act of pushing you into the depths of ceaseless unhappiness by giving you a taste of his love only to then denyyou the full extent of it. the plain truth of it was: he loved you. he loved you, body and soul.
when Maekar found his language again he let out a huff of disbelief “gods, I never even dared to think of you as a possible choice, especially not after…” he didn´t have to finish the thought, Baelor could hear the unspoken words loud and clear, “after your late wife´s passing”. he nodded and stood behind a chair, gripping its back with all of his fingers, holding onto something solid to ground himself in a moment that felt entirely unreal, like a fever dream.
“understandable, yes, of course you didn´t”.
Maekar regarded Baelor then and seemed to picture it: you and him, you holding onto his arm and smiling at the adoring crowd, you caressing his hand during dinner. somehow it didn´t displease him. not at all. he loved him no less than he loved you, and the idea of you forming a union could only inspire even more of the same feeling, deep down, as long as he put his fatherly disdain for any potential husband of yours aside. who if not Baelor, the heart of chivalry, could deserve you? had he been too scared to see the obvious before? probably. much like his brother, he was no enthusiast of kin-marriages, not when the Targaryen name was already stained with a list of shames that his sons were eagerly adding to each day, but he knew as well as Baelor that you and him were individually admired and respected to a degree that would eliminate cruel talk of your love, mostly. still, there was much else to consider if he were to agree.
“the other children would all have strong opinions certainly, there would be gossip, it would cause a certain kind of… attention. but she does adore you. I know my daughter well enough to see that she doesn´t look at any man the way she looks at you.” at that Baelor´s chest puffed up a bit, he couldn´t help it, he loved the sound of others noticing your stubborn focus on him.
“and you´re right, her maturity does surpass your son´s, and she deserves a man who matches her in spirit, in wit, in.. well, all matters really. a man who can let her be soft in private, when she so often has to be tough for me, for her brothers.” Baelor felt his heart twist when he heard the choked up tone with which Maekar was speaking of you. “and truthfully, brother, I think you two aren´t as subtle as you think. you have been behaving as a couple for a good while now, in spirit at least”.
Baelor conceded to the accusation, gladly, he felt a brick wall of weight fall from his shoulders at the sound of brother´s well-intentioned jesting. the worst of it was done. he could take a seat and breathe.
“perhaps we have, yes, but can we really be blamed, as the only two level-headed ones in this battlefield of a family?” he offered in return which got him a low grumble along the lines of “sure, ever the saints” from his brother.
“listen. I don´t do sentimental bullshit, but I do think you´ve loved her better than any of us, the way a husband should. which is why I am willing to set aside my qualms with such an arrangement.”
the familiar cursing of his brother was music to Baelor´s ears, things hadn´t suddenly changed completely between them, thank the gods.
“no need to thank me, brother. it has been my honor to watch her grow up, to guide her. I will always feel fatherly towards her, even in marriage, I assure you that my love will not turn harsh or demanding, I will never view her as mine to possess, only as mine to safekeep.”
Maekar waved off the concern “it´s alright, you can quit stammering now, your infuriating goodness of character does not go unnoticed by me, as you may recall”. Baelor had to smile at that, he did in fact recall the many times his brother had mimicked a gagging sound whenever he´d managed to pull yet another person into a state of deep admiration for him with a kind remark, a gentle touch of the hand, a look of approval.
“fuck me. you want to marry again, truly? you´d bear my wretched son´s lewd comments that are surely to be expected? you´re not just doing it to save me from one of my million troubles as a father, are you?”. Maekar had to make sure, he needed to hear it simply put, for his peace of mind. it still seemed strange to him, that his own kin would end up winning his brother´s heart. part of him was almost bashful, since his brother´s approval was the only kind he truly craved, no matter how much he hated to admit it.
“yes, I do very much want to marry her. I have tried to reason against it, to deny it, I have tried my best to cling to propriety, to shame myself into abstinence, but I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I had to watch her lose her light in another man´s shadow, knowing I could have prevented it. and as for your son, we´ve handled him so far, haven´t we?”, Baelor assured him, finally speaking without a tremor or a nervous tick, his king-like demeanor back intact.
“you love her, don´t you, brother? as a woman, not just as a niece”. suddenly, they were young boys again, whispering in the dark before bed.
“I do. I do love her as a woman, yes. despite my better judgment, my advanced age, all of it. it shames me a little, truth be told, how much I…” Baelor didn´t know how to finish the sentence in a way that was appropriate in front of your father. he blushed a little. thankfully, it was too dark in the room and his face was too bearded to give it away.
“no need for shame, not for this” Maekar stated definitively. “it is really fucking eerie how similar you two are, truly, so it seems rather inevitable, this proposal, now that you´ve had the guts to risk your head for it”. the latter comment made Baelor smile, of course his brother would tease him about the things he´d said in a moment of fear earlier.
“well, I am glad you can at least find humor in my predicament” he murmured and let out a long-suffering sigh.
“she´d be your queen eventually, ours, everyone´s” Maekar remarked as if that aspect of your marriage had just now occurred to him.
Baelor played with his ring and nodded ruefully. “indeed she will, not for many years yet I hope, but yes. and I can´t say I feel proud of it, the idea of placing that burden upon her shoulders. it worries me”
Maekar made a grunt of disapproval “by the time it comes to that she will be even stronger and wiser than now, and your combined shining reputations would hardly allow for much dissent. we all carry heavy burdens, I would rather hers be one of honor, the crown, than that of a life lived in quiet unhappiness, watching you rule alone while she lays with a man she does not love.”
Baelor smiled up at his brother sheepishly “when did you turn into such a wise man? did I miss something?”.
“oh fuck off” Maekar chided, half-seriously, and tried to hide the faint redness that had shown up on his face from the compliment. he got up, smoothed out his robes, and realized just how ready for a good night sleep he was, so he made an effort to tie the conversation together neatly, the way it deserved. hardly any matter could´ve been of importance to him than your future.
“now that I have confirmation of her true wishes, we shall tell her that she can love you openly and freely once you´ve been wed. perhaps in the summer. we will discuss with father, then we´ll tell the other children, gods help us, but for now it stays between us three.”
“will you..?” Baelor probed, wondering if your father wanted to speak to you about it before he would, but he shook his head. “you do it, you go on and tell her, and we can discuss further tomorrow, yes?”.
“yes, we will. and one last thing. if I ever harm her, you will make me pay for it, promise me that.” Baelor meant it, he was deadly serious, he needed to know that Maekar would have it in him to challenge his brother and future king if he ever found him slipping into carelessness or god forbid cruelty with you.
Maekar couldn´t do much more than give a tired but gentle “no. I don´t make promises that I won´t even have to keep, brother. waste of my precious time.”
Baelor was used to his brother´s defiance but it had never sounded that benevolent to him before. he understood that he´d just been given your father´s full blessing and trust, in subtext, but very clearly nonetheless. Maekar had not spent his entire life enduring high praises about Baelor´s character only to make the mistake of assuming that he would falter as your husband. if anything, he was certain that he would spoil you even more than before, if that was even possible.
“now go, ask for her hand and let me sleep peacefully knowing I can burn all of her suitor´s letters by the morrow”. he sounded positively jubilant as it dawned on him that he could finally do the very thing he´d been dreaming of whenever another letter made its way to his him. part of his fatherly pride was soothed by the simple fact that you would marry a handsome man, he was not above thinking that his pretty daughter should be seen with an equal, in regards to aesthetics, not just matters of the heart.
Baelor joined his brother in leaving and followed him to the hall where their ways would part, one brother headed to his own chambers, the other to yours. Maekar looked at him, his eyes colored both in deep exhaustion and fondness, told him a wordless good night with a nod, and then turned his back. Makar was much too used to shame by then, it was time for something else, a new era, the era of true Targaryen honor and brilliance, right where he could observe it from up close. his darling daughter and big brother, the two stars in his darkness, melting into one and lighting up his grey life. perhaps things weren´t as hopeless as they´d seemed before the sun had set, not for him and not for you.
3.
you did not expect to hear another knock on your door that night.
seated by your window, on the plush pillows of your armchair, you gazed up at the night sky, ready for bed but nowhere near ready for sleep. your long hair was brushed out into silken strands and yet your face remained unwashed, since you couldn´t bring yourself to wipe away the traces of Baelor´s affection, you had to keep at least that much of him for the night, in case he´d come to his senses in the morning and refuse to touch you again.
your body was flooded with a kind of warmth that was entirely new to you, the warmth of carnal need, not just the familiar flush of indulging fantasies, no, it was something entirely else: your body was eaten up by the heat of hunger, insatiable hunger for more and more of him.
it was clear to you that he´d held himself back, that he hadn´t shown you even a fraction of what he was capable of as a lover and if he could make you unravel so fast with a mere sliver of his love, what could he do to you if he actually lost his composure? the thought alone made you let out a pained sound as you pressed your legs together to fight off the growing ache.
just as you adjusted your posture and felt your nightgown slip down until your entire left shoulder was exposed, you heard it: his knuckles against your door once more. it couldn´t have been anyone else, nobody knocked as softly as him, other people startled you, never him, never Bealor.
“yes..” you called out, barely able to form the simple word.
you turned around to sit on the pillows, facing the door, your legs dangling off, as he appeared in your doorway and got starstruck by the sight of you. it had been years since he´d seen you in such an undone state, since it wasn´t proper for nieces to talk to their uncles in their sleeping clothes above a certain tender age, so, he was mesmerized when he saw you like that; your silhouette visible through the white lace, drenched in the gold hue of the fireplace, like a statue, and yet way too soft to remind him of marble. your shoulder. gods. your shoulder tormented him with the instant need to press his face against it and breathe you in til his lungs would give out. never in his life did he see a girl like you, both so innocent and sinful.
his gaze gave him away, you could feel it seep into your skin and flushed all the more for it, if that was even possible after an entire night of doing nothing but burning, burning, and burning up for him.
for a brief moment you were scared of the worst case scenario: had he come back so soon to express his regret and ask for forgiveness? was he about to say “it can never happen again”? had he found a fault with you, your open need for him, had it put him off? were you not what he wanted, in his heart of hearts? your instincts told you no, but there was that flicker of terrible doubt in your mind when he shut the door and walked over to you with that familiar, confident stride of his, like a lion that never had to run after its prey because it happily surrendered to him, belly up, eager to be bitten and ruined by his charm. you felt the same as he approached until he could look down at you.
his mismatched eyes were no longer mismatched, you lost yourself in them as you realized that they were both nearly black, whether it was lust, adoration, or the mere lack of light, you couldn´t say, but you had never found him more beautiful. more handsome. more deserving of your age-old obsession.
Baelor felt it radiate off of you, all those feelings he hardly thought himself deserving of, and pushed a stray hair of yours behind your ear, ever so tender, the way he´d done many times in your life, before he held out his hands palm up and said “come, darling. take my hands, stand up for me”.
few things thrilled you as much as his soft commands. each time in your young life when he´d told you “come closer”, “let me do that for you, sweetling”, “tell me what happened, it´s alright, I won´t be upset”, or anything of the sort, you´d felt his voice ripple through you from head to toe, leaving the most delicious tingle.
now that he was talking to you from man to woman, and not merely from uncle to niece, the sound nearly made your knees buckle as you obeyed and put your hands in his and rose to your feet. Baelor nodded in approval and lead you closer to the hearth, closer to the single source of light. he knew he had to see you as clearly as possible for what he was about to do do, so he encouraged you until you stood on the thick furs by the fire and nodded “good, very good, there you go”.
“is everything alright?” you asked tentatively as he stood right across from you. Baelor´s hands were still wrapped around yours and you nearly fainted when he did it, without warning: he got down on one knee. never broke eye-contact. lowered his face. and pressed the most reverent kiss onto the joint backs of your hands.
you had seen countless men drop to their knees in front of him but never in your life had you seen your uncle do the same, and yet, there he was, in a position of submission, of worship, of surrender. was it possible? were you dreaming? had he come back to you so late to ask you…
before you could connect the dots, he was already speaking and quieted your mind, forcing you to listen in a state of rapture.
first, he said your name, every syllable uttered like he was reciting prayers. you had never found your own name more beautiful than in that moment. Baelor looked up at you as he continued, fingers caressing yours, his right knee propped up, his other flat on the floor, “I have just spoken to your father, he is aware of our feelings, yours and mine, and he has given me leave to ask you - ” he paused and allowed himself to drink in the view of you looking down at him with an expression that quickly changed from uncertainty to shock to disbelief and finally to unbridled relief when your mind could decipher words again, amidst the ringing sound of your blood rushing faster and faster each second, your heart almost giving out.
Baelor nodded and smiled faintly as if to say “yes, you´re allowed to be happy show me” and finished the question: “ - to ask you to be my wife. I might be the heir to the throne but I promise you, I swear to you that you will always and forever be the ruler of me in this union, I shall serve you, protect you, and use my power to make sure that you above all others are safe and content. so, I lay my heart in these very hands” he kissed them again “and ask not out of duty but out of love: will you marry me?”.
he sounded steadfast right until the word “love” left his lips. Baelor couldn´t help but choke up when the sheer immensity of his feelings for you crashed over him like a wave that had finally been allowed to flow freely. he was at your mercy, just as you were at his.
a simple “yes” seemed blasphemous to you, such banality, you required new language for the things he made you feel, all the time, so all you could do was to repeat yourself for emphasis, to accept his proposal not just once but as many times as possible within a few seconds, “I do, yes, yes, yes” the word spilling from your lips like a string of pearls.
without hesitation you willed him to rise by tugging him up by his hands and closed the distance between your bodies in the most certain, desperate lunge the world had ever seen, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him while whispering another “yes”, before your lips pressed hard against his.
Baelor´s hands moved up to your face to cradle it as he kissed you the way you´d always dreamed of, a complete change to the kiss before. he no longer touched you like lovestruck boy who didn´t know where to put his hands but like a man who knew exactly what he was doing, which of course, he was, only shame had prevented him before, not lack of skill.
he backed you up against the nearest wall as you chased his mouth greedily until he had you pinned and could let his hands roam all over your still-clothed form, to squeeze and feel you as he let you slip your tongue into his mouth once more, the rough fabric of his pants eliciting a moan from you as his leg pushed between yours, his knee close enough to your uncovered core to pose a great danger. you nearly humped his leg while you made out and felt his hands settle by your throat, every so gently pressing against your pulse point, his thumb tilting your head up as he pulled back for a second to watch you pout, a flicker of a grin before he gave you more and felt you go slack from the sheer bliss of it all.
Baelor was rewarding you for your bravery, he was overcome with gratitude for your stubborn pursuit of him, which had made him admit his deepest wish of all, so every kiss was slow yet filthy in its passion. the roughness of his beard contrasted by the softness of his lips was enough to make you dizzy, it felt heavenly, the way his rhythm matched yours so perfectly, the faint sounds of arousal that were groaned into your open mouth when you briefly bit his lower lip, unable to contain the years of lust.
Baelor pulled back breathless after a while and grabbed your jaw, gods help you, to tilt your head to the side, so he could lean in and kiss your neck, all over, his breathing uneven and labored as you shut your eyes. the moment you felt his mouth against your pulse-point you whined for more and clawed at the leather that covered his back while he left your skin covered in pink splotches all over, ones you wished would never go away, to remind everyone that he and he alone could do such things to you while all other men could keep dreaming in agony.
Bealor left no inch of your neck untended to and then stared at his work appreciatively once he paused to get air, to give you a break from sounding all kinds of undone before he´d even touched you properly.
to say he looked handsome wouldve been an understatement, there was no way to describe the feeling of see him so deliciously aggressive and pent up, so transparent in his overflowing need for you, without a trace of his usual stoic mask. you knew that he must´ve looked the same on top of a horse in battle, you suddenly had a vivid image of him back then and ached to go back and experience what it would´ve felt like to receive him in your arms after a day of bloodshed and make him take it all out on you. both of you were panting wildly by then, like animals in heat, unable to go about it with grace anymore.
you leaned in for the kill and stared right up at him through your eyelashes as you sighed “I never even kissed anyone before tonight”. you knew he was not above it, the ever-so-respectful prince, wanting to be his beloved's first in every single way, wanting to break you in with a passion that demanded and soothed at the same time.
“you never… not once? not even..?” he rasped out as his eyes somehow blackened even further and his grip on you tightened.
you knew he was asking about Valarr, that he was admitting to the competition he´d felt with him despite his carefully crafted air of nonchalance. he´d felt jealous and your heart soared knowing that it hadn´t been in vain, those handful of times when you´d shown your cousin a little too much affection while Baelor was nearby.
“no, I waited for you, all these years…” you admitted and placed your hands on his neck, rubbing over the rough, warm skin that had been off limits so far in your moments of closeness with him.
“don´t make us hold back until our wedding night.. I need you, now, so desperately it hurts, please, uncle, have me now, like this” you got out just before the urge to kiss him again took you over and made you pull him for more, his hands in your hair again as he felt you kissing him softer than before, little kisses, chaste kisses, over and over, peppering his lips in them. you felt his entire body jolt like he´d been struck by lightning.
“uncle”… the way you´d whined the word, so sweetly, it was too much for him, he nearly ripped your gown off in response just to let all of his frayed nerves find a release already. you were too gone to take it back and he didn´t want you to, he was not the kind of man who would correct you or scold you for it, the way other more insecure men might´ve, he would never make you feel shame in a moment of such trust and vulnerability, he wouldn´t deny that he was your uncle as well as your lover, your husband-to-be, he would answer to any and every name you wanted to call him by, always, your voice would make anything sound like a blessed title to him.
he whispered your name and felt you tug at his clothes impatiently while he cupped your face and pressed a long, lingering kiss to the edge of your mouth while your lips were still parted, rosy and dewy with both his spit and yours.
“my darling…” he sighed and moved your nightgown further down your arm to kiss you all over your shoulder, already obsessed with the spot, that soft fragrant tender part of you, the addictive feel of it - he´d always had a thing for women´s curves, the hallow of a knee, the dip of a hip, the swell of a breast, all those valleys for him to find blissful refuge in. Baelor´s blood rushed south and he let out an almost pained groan as you wrapped a leg around his back and forced him to press right up against you, the hard leather of his belt rubbing up against your stomach, the pain adding to the pleasure of his kisses.
“are you certain it´s not too much at once?” he mumbled as he pulled back and looked at you with your dress bunched up by your waist by his hands shaking.
you´d quickly developed a taste for the act of challenging this man who thought of himself as proper and good to dive face first into his darker impulses, there was something deeply satisfying about watching his face twist with the struggle of wanting you and wanting to be better than the men who took their own kin, corrupting him while he thought he was the one corrupting you.
you wanted to provoke Baelor, to push him and make him see that yes, you were a virgin, but not out of fear of sex, only out of the knowledge that no man could´ve ever pleased you like he would. you had to make him see that you weren´t a shy maiden, so you grabbed his hand and guided it lower, over your belly, down to the hem of your gown, and pushed it between your legs, quickly, perversely, shamelessly.
before he could stop you, you were moving his fingers to where you were slick with want and nearly choked on your own spit, feverish with arousal by that point, as you whined “I´ve been like this for an hour… I´m always like this when I dream of you, right here, in this room, drenched and wanting, unable to get off…”.
Baelor´s breath stopped, fully, and he stared into your soul with something that could have been mistaken for anger, wrath even, if he hand´t been pushing his hand further between your legs to give you exactly what you were begging for: he cupped your cunt completely, so that his palm was brushing up against you and getting coated in your wetness, the heel of it rubbing up against you in a way that made you bite your lip to a point of leaving crescent indents, looking all kinds of endearing and filthy at the same time.
Baelor didn´t say a word, he just stared and stared at you as he felt the soft hair that grew over your mound and the juices that were leaking out of you, the sheer heat of your body seeping into his entire lower arm that was hidden beneath your night-gown.
you´d unleashed the beast inside him like he was a wild stallion that was finally being released into freedom, the muscles in his body rippling all over, ready to prove his endurance and strength, to show how good he looked when he was untamed and running towards what he craved.
the dominance that suited him so well possessed him right as you were about to hump his hand and made him spin you around until your back was pressed against up his front. within a single beat, you were trapped by him, one arm wrapping over your front, right above your chest, the other still between your thighs, slowly letting his fingers part you and rub the mess back and forth with torturously slow movements.
his mouth was hot like woodsmoke by your ear as he whispered “you maddeningly perfect creature…” a pause. his lips even closer to where you could hear him best. his hand stroking your sensitive clit for the first time right as he said it: “Ñuha jorrāeliarz”... “my beloved”.
you couldn´t believe it. he was speaking to you in the ancient tongue, lulling you into a state of complete submission with his voice sounding like an old god come to life to ravish the dragon princess. he was trying to kill you, you were sure of it, it was black behind your eyelids and entirely quiet in your mind as your body vibrated in his grip and your legs shook from the feel of his rough fingers drawing slick circles over your clit.
he smiled and pressed a kiss to your temple. he adored it, having such a hold over you, being in charge, figuring out just how well he knew you, that you could probably come on the spot if he kept talking to you like that, but he had to savor it, draw it out and witness your slow unravelling, bit by bit. he was a thorough man, in everything.
you pressed yourself back against him like a cat against its master´s leg, eager and purring, moaning more and more pathetically with each drag of his fingers. he knew exactly how to ruin you, so he kept using his voice to add to his touches and and teased you “hmm, that feels much better than your own touch, or a pillow, doesn´t it, darling?”.
you were too far gone to deny him an easy win, so you nodded obediently and babbled “so so good, don´t stop, don´t - ah- fuck”. Baelor was increasing the pressure and your cunt throbbed and slicked up even further in response, all while he was mocking you, lovingly, as he whispered “shhh, breathe, I´ll reward all those years of chaste patience, don´t you worry, my love”.
“take me, Baelor, make me yours already” you gritted out between high-pitched whines and oh. the scale of power tipped right back into your direction. that got him, too good, the sound, that sinful sound of his first name uttered in such a lustful way,.“Baelor”, you hardly ever called him that, and it drove him fucking crazy.
“gods be damned” he grunted and pulled his hand out from between your legs, ignored your cry of protest, and gripped your thighs to hoist you up with all of his might to carry you to bed like you weighed no more than a little girl.
you looked positively debauched as your bare legs wrapped around his middle and your hair fell down your back in disheveled waves, your body now covered in pink flushes of desire all over, head to toe, like a mythical creature of seduction, a forest nymph after rolling around nude in a patch of berries.
Baelor´s grip on you was bruising, nothing could´ve pried you from his hands, until he threw you onto the mattress, not brutally, not without care, but with a swift determination that left you gasping, scrambling to prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he undid his belt.
without any kind of concern about looking graceful he stripped out of his thick clothes, all three layers on top, and his pants, leaving him bare-chested, in his breeches, more exposed than you ´d ever seen him. despite his advanced age, Baelor´s muscles were defined, he was still lean and could´ve passed as a man ten years his junior from the neck down, were it not for the gray-black hair that grew thickly all over his chest.
whatever you´d imagined hadn´t prepared you for the view of him staring you down like a starving man in front of a platter full of the ripest fruit. in a moment of arousal-induced confidence, you took advantage of how close he was standing to the bed and lifted your leg to press the sole of your foot flat against his chest. his eyes sparkled with both shock and mischief as he looked down at what you were doing and then back up at you, so you moved your foot down, over his battle-scarred abs, his lower stomach, all the way to his waistband, his - no. before you could ruin him, Baelor´s hand shot up and wrapped around your ankle. he stopped you mid-motion and let out a shuddering breath of disbelief before he leaned down to press a rough kiss against the side of your calve, right above where his fingers were holding you still, his beard tickling as he licked over the sensitive flesh and bit down ever so lightly as retaliation.
he shook his head and let go of your leg to crawl onto the bed, over you, and ripped your dress off in one skilled move, leaving you entirely bare and vulnerable beneath him. “where does an untouched girl learn such things, hm?” he whispered against your lips as he took your hands in his and kept you pinned to the mattress, his upper body nearly skin-to-skin with yours, his legs pressed to the sides of yours, giving you no room to move. it was a thrill unlike any other, finally feeling so much of his body heat directly, not just through a layer of clothes, he smelled of sandalwood oil and something so familiar, so masculine and yet so fresh and warm, so him. it made you smile as you laid there under him, finally, finally where you had been dying to end up for so long.
you licked your lips and laced your fingers through his where he was holding you down, the sudden romance of it making his heart twist as your smile turned even more lascivious. “I practiced, many times, thousandths even, in my dreams of you. horribly filthy ones.”
you lowered your voice for the last three words and struck gold, Baelor didnt´t even let you savor the look on his face before he spread himself wider above you and leaned in to kiss a scorching hot path from your neck, over your shoulder, to your chest, down to your breasts, groaning deeply as he sucked on one peaked nipple and swirled his tongue around it, relishing every little twitch and squirm that he was responsible for, leaving a lewd, glistening path of saliva when he moved from one breast to the other, his knee pressing up against your core to make sure you´d stay needy and ready for him.
Baelor took his time covering you in kisses and used his might to push you further up into your pillows and furs to make sure that you were comfortable as he indulged in you, even at his most turned-on, always eager to eliminate and causes of harm, or even just mild discontent.
as he got lost in the feel and sight of you, you noticed that his right hand was still damp from where he´d rubbed over you before, so you pulled it up to your mouth, made him loosen his hold and said “let me…” to catch his attention.
he lifted his head from where he was busy kissing the skin above your hipbone, and instinctively rutted against the mattress through his breeches as he saw it: you sucking his middle and ring finger into your mouth to lick them clean, holding his gaze and bobbing your head up and down lightly. that did it. he was rock hard and aching, aching so badly he was scared to spend right then, into his clothes, like a lovestruck boy. you swirled your tongue around his fingers and tasted your own salt, got off on the idea of doing the same to his cock one day.
Baelor tugged his hand free with a wet pop and climbed back up to be at face level with you to kiss away the spit that was dripping down your chin from your thorough sucking. you´d always been obsessed with his hands, the slender yet masculine shape of his fingers, the way they looked wrapped around the black reigns of his horse, tugging, pulling, straining, looking all kinds of perfect for much more than just activities he could do in daylight, in public, with onlookers.
“you´re fucking killing me..” he confessed in a rare moment of cursing that plainly and pulled back, his biceps straining and his lips red from the countless kisses he´d lavished your body in by then.
“I need to taste you, now” he grunted as he moved lower and lower until he was settled between your thighs and gave you a rewarding kiss to your knee as you spread yourself wider for him without him even having to ask. “good girl.. that´s perfect” he sighed and pressed his face into the skin of your inner thigh, kissing his way up, up, up while holding you open with one hand on your left thigh and the other splayed across your lower belly, gently stroking the soft, downy hair below your navel with his thumb, already obsessed with the feel of it, like grass he would gladly spend a whole summer day resting his head on.
once he reached the apex of your thighs his dark eyes flickered up to drink it in: you… laying there all eager, hair splayed across the pillow, chest still covered in his gentle markings, your hands fisted in the sheets in anticipation, the very picture of temptation.
Baelor buried his face in your cunt and took the deepest breath his expanding lungs would allow him to and the scent of you was enough to make him shake with pleasure. his fingers dug into your flesh to steady himself as he brushed his nose through your slick folds and bumped it up against your clit, parting you gently and licking one filthy stroke from the very bottom of your core to the top, once, twice, three times, as if he was making out with your cunt. your eyes shut and a ripple of utter revelation went through every last part of you, making your back arch, which he took care of with an insistent downward pull of both his arms, the dominant feel of it forcing even more of your juices out and onto his tongue, to his audible delight, his groans turning into moans, into something he was not in control of anymore, much like you, mewling and panting praises at him like “oh gods that feels so good”.
no fantasy had prepared you for the real thing, whatsoever. you couldn´t have imagined feeling such peace and such violent arousal at the very same time, it was beyond anything you´d hoped for, the way those greedy, intense swirls and flicks of his blessed tongue were ruining you a mere minute into it. suddenly, you understood perfectly well why people had always been so willing to ruin their reputations, their lives, their legacies, over illicit affairs - you´d have gladly been dismissed as a slut for wanting your uncle the way you did, if it meant you could have his mouth on you like that for the rest of your life.
your heart and body were both struggling to contain themselves as he kept suckling on your clit with a feverish need. you loved and wanted him too much to not be sensitive beyond belief, so it took very little time of him eating you out to feel an unfamiliar, dangerously intense tightness threatening to unravel deep in your core if he kept kissing and licking over you, so you cried out “fuck, I think I´m -”.
your last word got cut off by a guttural moan as Baelor, experienced as he was, did exactly what he was supposed to: he didn´t stop, he didn´t let up, he went in even harder. as the tremors of your first orgasm shook your legs so hard that you nearly kicked him in the head, he refused to let go and pushed his tongue even deeper into your puffy, swollen folds, gathering every drop as you submitted to his relentless rhythm and rode out your high against mouth in frantic spasms while he was already bringing on a second one, gently probing at your entrance and slipping a finger inside, up to one knuckle, then deeper when he felt no resistance, then a second, until he had you stretched and leaking down onto his palm as if you´d done it before, deeply proud of you for being so open and relaxed for him during your first time, overcome with lust as he felt your hot, velvety, soaking wet heat envelop his fingers.
“fuck, yes... I need you deep inside me, please.. please” you whimpered in approval and grinded yourself down against his hand, while he paused his devouring for a second and looked up at you. you squirmed but managed to look down at him and felt your cunt clenching around his digits, hard, from the perfect view: Baelor´s chin and beard soaked as all hell in your arousal, glistening in the low light of the fire, his eyes half-lided from how pussy-drunk he was. “you like how well you´re marking your territory, hm, my possessive girl” he teased.
he kept finger-fucking you with slow, deep strokes, stretching you so you´d be ready for more and kissing your lower stomach with wet lips as he kept eye-contact with you and whispered “rȳbasor as elilla”. “sweet as honey”. you understood enough of the muffled words to make out the word “honey” and you could imagine very well what he was praising you for, the filth of it all turning you on even more, arousing your mind alongside your body, that lethal combination.
Baelor was lost in you, completely. he´d always been a hungry lover but with you it was something new for him, he swore he could taste that you were the blood of the dragon, closer to a goddess than a woman, it was simply too fucking good to be explained by mortal rules of the flesh. the word “honey” still rung in his mind as he lapped at you like he was thirstier than ever, reminding him of your hair, your silky hair, the way it shone in daylight, the way it smelled whenever you were near him, “honey” because you were oozing the sweetest nectar, rich and heady, more nourishing than any feast could ever be, nectar of a fruit he´d only ever gotten to smell in passing, whose blooming petals he could now finally press his entire face into.
the criminal sound of him dirty-talking in ancient words was the final push, it made you come again on the spot, no more build-up needed. you fell back into the mattress and cursed as he smiled the most pleased smile ever and watched in pure awe as his beloved princess, his girl, his dragon-born bride, fell apart for him once more, so beautifully it nearly made him shed a tear to match the ones pricking at your eyes from the sheer overstimulation of it all. the second orgasm was even better, your muscles already loose and willing, your body surrendered to his power over your senses, your spirit as wide open as your legs were.
Baelor kissed your twitching clit and nuzzled himself into you again, his hands moving to a different position to hoist your legs over his shoulders, so he could have you spread while still being free to reach up and caress you, all over your stomach, your waist, finally settling on your breasts, his big hands kneading them possessively.
you placed your hands over his and couldn´t believe that he was still going at it, still able to breathe down there, still tasting you with such apparent greed. you never knew men could take such delight in warming their lovers up for a good while before taking them, especially not after the many stories from other women who´d talked of careless lovers.
spoiled, yes, that was one accusation you could never deny, and bless the gods for placing your uncle, your one and only love, your husband, in your life to make sure of it from the moment you took your very first breath.
when he slowed down for a moment you were sure that he was about to pull away, that he´d had enough, but no. Baelor merely took the time to adjust his position, to pull you down onto his face some more after you´d tried to get away from the source of the overwhelming feeling, and smiled when you stuttered “wha- what are you...?”.
you weren´t sure if it was a punishment or reward when he spoke with that delicious, lust-wrecked tone and smeared your slick over your inner thigh, dragging his lips teasingly while speaking “my clever one, surely you could´ve guessed that I´m no lazy lover? can´t be too shocking now, can it, my love?”.
you mustered up a tired laugh of disbelief and willed your legs to stop trembling so pathetically and yielded, but with a slight demanding edge to it, royalty could never fully let go of that tone, not even in the middle of being fucked senseless. “only if you´ll let me see you afterwards”. you knew he must´ve been hard and ready by then, and you were dying to be fucked in every way. he received the message loud and clear, so he grinned and agreed “you´ll give me one more and then you´ll have me, all of me, too look at and feel”.
“yes.. yes I´ll have you..” you whimpered and marveled at how much better his fingers felt than your own as he plunged them deeply inside of you again and worked you up to your third high with a hard sucking motion on your already well-loved clit. he let you claw at his shoulders and upper back til they were covered in red streaks, souvenirs that he hoped would stay til morning, til he could turn and see them in a mirror, grunting into your cunt from the sting of it, the perfect amount of pain that only made his pleasure sweeter as you rode his face like a woman possessed and left his beard looking like he´d just submerged it in a thick gloss of some kind, your orgasms all piling up at that point to leave you boneless and pliant and ready to be pounded into the mattress.
you were done waiting and so was he, so with a satisfied wipe of his mouth and a quick suck of his soiled fingers Baelor peeled himself off the bed to tug down his breeches and reveal himself to you in all his aged yet godlike glory.
Baelor was too turned on to shy away from your hungry gaze as you laid there and watched his aching cock spring free, giving you a moment to brace yourself before he moved again.
you felt your walls tightening as if they were already trying to grip him because his manhood was exactly what you´d dreamed: veiny, a pleasing shape, leaking pre-cum from how badly he need you, and big, undeniably so, not to a point of obscenity, not the kind of big that made you worry for your comfort, but thick enough to promise a feeling unlike any that your own hand could´ve ever brought during your years of self-pleasure. Baelor knew you well, so he hit you at a weak spot when she gripped himself at the base to stroke, up and down, while you gawked at him and licked your lips, struck at your core from the show he was giving you, his hips bucking into his own palm as he groaned “nobody but you will see me like this, ever, only you, my love.. this is all yours now..”.
the thick patch of hair that grew right above the spot where he was palming himself, the happy trail leading down to it, the hair further up on his chest that you´d felt pressed against your tits before, it all made it hard to pick a spot to fix your eyes on, your vision going blurry from the sheer strain of your lustful observing. Baelor was in heaven. you looked adorable and so very powerful at once as you whined and touched yourself, like he was doing, so sensitive that a mere brush of your fingertip over your clit made you shudder, so he quit the teasing and readied himself with a few more rough strokes before he gave you a soft yet impatient order: “lay back. and a some deep breaths for me”. he settled above you once more and smiled into the kiss when you rushed to pull him down and taste yourself on him.
the second you let go, he looked down between your legs and dragged the thick head of his cock over your slick folds, up and down, tapped it against your clit to good measure, and then inched himself in, slowly for the first few inches but then all at once in a deliberate thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
the initial stretch was overwhelming in the best way. you felt your cunt throbbing around him from the effort of letting his length all the way inside, but you took a deep breath, as he´d told you, and felt your walls widening and giving into it until it he fit perfectly and the pain subsided, like a miracle, confirming what you´d know all along: you were made to be claimed by him.
Baelor held still as you got used to his size and gasped at the same exact time as you when he felt just how greedily your cunt was sucking him in, despite the tightness, despite your inexperience, your young age, you were taking him balls deep without as much as a cry leaving your lips, quite the opposite, you stared up at him with the words “more, give me more” written all over your pretty face. your souls seemed to merge as he braced himself by the sides of your face and panted just as helplessly as you from the sensation of your wet heat embracing him, sparks burning between you, dragons breathing fire at each other, thinking “this is as good as it could ever possibly get”.
you wrapped your arms around his back, clung to him and moaned out pleased curses as he leaned down to kiss your neck and started moving in you. Baelor pulled back out of you right to the tip only to sink all the way back inside again, and again, and again, and again, quickly losing himself to the feel of your soaking cunt, your soft hands gripping his shoulder blades, and your whimpers near his ear, your body heat mingling with his, the scent of your heavenly sex filling his senses like the richest, filthiest perfume, his words barely coherent as he grunted praises against your temple and into your hair, rutting into you like he was half-man, half-beast, an fully mad.
Baelor was not the type of man who hammered into his woman, no, he was a dangerous lover precisely because he knew just how to roll his hips in that position, how to use the motion of his entire, rippling body to create a rhythm that would drive you out of your fucking mind, he gave you such skilled thrusts that every second felt better than the one before, your whole chest pink and your juices leaking wildly over his girth as he drove into you deep but never too fast, hard but never too rough, letting you savor and curse every single slick drag that rendered you a whimpering mess.
you should´ve known his dutiful ways extended to the duty he felt towards his beloved´s needs, and yet, you were stunned, utterly gone and lost in a haze as you laid there and felt the bed creak beneath you from his efforts while he gave it to you like the devoted husband he´d prove to be, his back muscles straining under your hands as you scratched him raw. he kept fucking you and began to struggle but forced himself to hold out. it was exactly what he´d feared and hoped for: he was obsessed with you, not just your spirit anymore but now your body too.
your eyes were still fluttered shut as he pressed a few wet kisses to your jaw and moved up to kneel rather than hover, allowing him more leverage. he placed one of his hands on the underside of your thigh and pushed that leg high enough to have your knee bent by your chest, spreading you open even further as his straining cock briefly slipped out and had you whining in protest and look up at him with doe-eyes.
“gods, look at you…so fucking beautiful like this, so perfect… I´m sinfully spoiled…”. his voice was lower than ever, breathless from the strain and yet so soft as he praised you and rolled his hips forward once more to take you from an even deeper angle than before. you were quickly learning to never think “it can´t get any more intense than this” while having him ravish you. the peak was seemingly never reached, there was always more to come, so you submitted to the intense pulsing of your cunt, which was squelching obscenely with every thrust of his, and willed your eyes to stay open, so you could look up at and watch as he fucked you, sucking your own fingers to muffle the perverse cries that bubbled up in your throat, a sight that made him grip your thigh even harder, as if it to warn you: I can only take so much before I lose my mind here.
you both felt godlike in that moment. usually, you shared a humble attitude, but for once you were both possessed by a confidence that bordered on arrogance, and it felt good, so so good, to lock eyes and hear each other´s thoughts “nobody else will ever feel this kind of connection and passion, the connection of two beings blessed with such intense, ancient powers”.
Baelor used his free hand to rub your clit and that was it, the combined feeling of his fucking and rubbing had you squeezing him so tight that he cursed “oh, fucking hell… you´ll make me spend if you keep doing that” and shuddered all over as you came again, shocking yourself with the force of the your fourth high, the way your whole body contorted and made him use all his strength to keep you where he needed you, your head pressed back into the pillow, your back arching, your legs shaking, your juices leaking the sheets so intensely that it felt like you´d accidentally wet yourself.
Baelor slowed his thrusts and rested his forehead against your bent knee as you both tried and failed to catch your breaths, all kinds of fucked out and delirious by then, and yet, nowhere near ready to stop just yet. on your own, you´d rarely managed to bring yourself to a true release but with him it was like a dam had finally broken and all the pent-up need was allowed to spill out of you. you swore you were capable of coming over and over and over til sunrise if you were forced to, the blissful torture of it leaving you proud of how much you were able to take from such a powerful man.
you were a match for him, to say the least, and Baelor had to try and understand that he was dealing with a Targaryen woman, that he was laying with his kin, not a girl who would tap out after one round - which he wouldn´t have blamed you for. the fatherly side of him was almost teary-eyed with pride, his perfect girl, proving yet again how strong she was.
“let me ride you… let me..” you begged him once you were able to form words again and scrambled to get up, disoriented but urging him to lay back and let you have him, already riled up by the emptiness that your cunt was helplessly clenching around.
Baelor wiped sweat from his forehead and allowed you to have your wish, quickly sitting back against your pillows and patting his lap teasingly while he watched your clumsy movements and cooed “go on then, show me, ruin yourself on me, love”.
even in the middle of your mind being clouded by scary levels of arousal, you managed to tease him back: you sat right on his thigh and spread your juices up and down the hard muscle of his leg with a lewd humping motion, and as if that didn´t kill him enough already, you licked over your palm and wrapped it around his still-soaked cock. Baelor had never sounded more like a wounded animal then right then, he was destroyed by it, the strokes of your hand around his already aching length, the way you somehow knew just the speed and pressure he needed, and the feel of your folds slicking up the very spot you´d sat on many times as a girl not yet too old to do such things with her uncle. now, you were almost too young for the things you were doing to him and it turned him into a mess as his hips bucked up into your grip and his hands settled on your hips, trying to keep you still, to find mercy in the middle of the erotic revelation that you were turning out to be.
with a determined yank, Baelor plucked your greedy hand from his cock and gave you a gentle slap to your ass to say “stop teasing and get on top of me already”. the faint sting of his hand made you obey without hesitation - another thing that had him reeling with desire and affection - so within a split second you were guiding him to your core and sat down all the way, bravely, bracing yourself with your hands on his shoulders and your knees by his sides as you moaned and immediately started riding him, no easing in anymore, just pure, unstoppable need.
Baelor´s palms settled on your hips and gave you encouraging squeezes as he guided you and slowed you down a bit, helping you in your inexperience and praising you each time a pleased whimper fell from your lips “there you go, darling, that feels better, doesn´t it?”, in awe of the view, you on top of him like a vision sent from the heavens, your whole body moving sensually with the tremor of your bouncing motion, slipping up and down his shaft, over and over, leaking down against his already soaked groin and balls, the most sinful and pretty mess joining you at your pelvises. Baelor had always been the type to want to make love that ruined the sheets, as a man who had to appear nothing less than perfectly composed outside the privacy of his chambers, so you were spoiling him with the ocean of arousal that had already left you by that time. if that was how it felt to be ridden by you during your first time, how on earth would he survive you once you´d acquired more skill? he had no idea. his eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth hung open, he didn´t care anymore, he let you see him all weak like that, for the time being.
once you got into a steady rhythm you were kissing him again, his arms tight around your middle as he kept you flush against himself and welcomed your tongue deep into his mouth, eyes shit in bliss as his hips bucked up to help you find relief, lazy, perfect thrusts that had you whimpering into every kiss, breathing against his bearded jaw in exhaustion and pleasure. he leaned down to suck on your tits as you leaned back to give him better access and placed your palms flat on the bed for support, your nipple hard between his lips as you realized that he could probably make you come just from that sensation alone. it made the feeling of his cock stuffed so deep even better and Baelor could feel it, he knew you were too spent to stay on top of him for much longer, your bouncing motions turning erratic and needy in your desperation to come again, so he gave you a few more soft sucks of your breast and caressed you up and down your spine as he whispered “easy, shhh, slow down, let me take care of it now, darling, lay on your side for me, I´ll handle it, just relax”.
relax, yes, that you could do, so you shakily climbed off of his lap and let him manoeuvre you into a spooning position, right where he wanted you. both of you were reaching that point of love-making where one more push over the edge of overstimulation was needed to make you succumb to your aching muscles and take a break, so Baelor took the reigns and wrapped one arm around your front to tug your back flush against his chest, both of you hot and sweaty, smelling richly, sweetly of your mingling fluids, he was soothing you with kisses on your neck and embracing you like that as he moved one of your legs up to open you up again, feeling for your wetness with his fingers first, before he guided his cock to it.
it was perhaps his favorite thing to do, to caress and soothe his beloved while fucking her just how she needed, trapping her in his arms not to punish but spoil her, true to that gentle dominance of his that had given you many filthy dreams over the years.
you weren´t prepared for how it felt to have the man you loved finally hold you in such a romantic, tender manner while wringing moan after moan from the very depths of your soul as he pushed himself to the hilt from the side and starting taking you like that, easily holding your leg up for you, not yet robbed of his ability to handle his woman just how he wanted, not even after many years of bemoaning his sings of aging. he still had what it took and it made him fuck you even better, just to prove that he could outdo his younger self if he so pleased.
the contrast of his wild thrusts, the loud slapping of his skin against yours, the achingly pleasurable stretch of his cock, it all made you go limp like a rag-doll and surrender for good. you couldn´t get enough of his voice, that smooth, low, prayer-like voice of his that had brought you comfort in your darkest moments, that had given you bravery when you felt ruined and stirred the first true desire you´d ever felt, as he cooed at you all throughout the act of cuddle-fucking you into oblivion.
the second his hand loosened on your thigh, he adjusted your legs so they pressed while still allowing his cock entry, so he could use his unoccupied fingers to rub your clit and press against your lower belly. you knew your final orgasm was about to wear you out for good and instead of clenching and holding your breath you forced yourself to remain open, to breathe steadily, to savor how good it felt to be had from that position, to throb to a point of pain, with his left arm still firmly wrapped around your chest.
Baelor hit a spot inside of you that you didn´t even know existed and made stars form under your eyelids as you started fucking yourself back against his strokes, your ass pressing against his hips over and over, which was the thing to make his final straw snap, Baelor´s own climax threatening to take him over, and fast.
he couldn´t bring himself to pull out of you, it was impossible, and luckily he knew you´d still been bleeding a few days prior, attentive as he was when it came to your discomfort, the way you rubbed your back and sat with a grimace whenever your monthly aches got to you. as if you could read his mind you whimpered “come inside of me, please, I want to feel it, all of it”.
a few more sloppy, desperate thrusts from him and pushes back against it from you were enough to finally send you both tumbling over the highest edge so far, both of you shuddering and moaning in unison as your joint orgasms possessed you to your core, your cunt milking him dry with a relentlessly tight squeeze, your soul bursting when you felt the thick, hot pulses of his spend spilling deep inside of you accompanied by the most deliciously ruined sound tearing from his throat, the sensation of his spurting seed so comforting, so filthy and perfect, all for you.
for a good few seconds you both stayed exactly as you were, trembling and soaked with sweat, whimpering as the aftershocks went through you, his lips finding their home on your damp neck as he sighed and caressed you from your shoulder all the way down the side of your chest, your waist, your thighs, and back up against, soothing you, holding you, loving you more than ever before.
the silence that veiled you two in that moment was the most sacred kind imaginable, so neither of you spoke, you only laid there, entwined, listening to each other´s breathing slow down.
once the peak of it was behind you and a bright, golden, heavenly light feeling flooded you from your chest into every other part of you, it hit you all at once: you would never have to marry another man, you would never be forced into unhappiness and years of pain, you would never again have to pretend you wanted anyone but him, your uncle, your protector, your one and only. you would be with him, forever, as long as the gods would let you live.
the relief and joy of it mixed with the intense physical release forced tears to your eyes before you could stop them. Baelor noticed it in an instant and slowly pulled himself out of you, so he could coax you to turn around and lay on his chest, your voice shaky with sobs as you assured him “they´re happy tears, they´re the best kind of tears, I´m just so…” you didn´t have to say more, he was holding you close and caressing your back with one hand, cradling your head with the other, and whispered “I know, my heart, I know, and I´ve got you, you can let it all out now, I´m here, forever”.
“my heart” the endearment made your tears spill freely onto his chest as he kept running his warm fingers through your hair and kissing your scalp, the feel of his heated muscles and the manly scent of him lulling you into a peaceful state of open weakness. Baelor´s own eyes were a little glassy as he realized that he´d never seen you cry in front of anyone else, only himself, you´d refused to show anyone that side of you, always, unless it was him. how lucky he was, to have done enough right in his life to have a beautiful, strong, invincible-seeming woman like you open herself up to him every possible way and let him give you a safe haven to show the overwhelming emotions you usually kept to yourself. it had always been that way, and would always be so, always and forever.
after a few minutes of calming down and listening to his heartbeat, you finally pulled yourself up and smiled as you wiped your eyes and said “let me stop, ugh”. Baelor smiled and released you from his hold, reluctantly, as you sat up on your knees and seemed endearingly frustrated by your outburst, much like he did whenever he failed to keep up his stoic facade.
“I can handle a few tears, you know that by now, no need to hide your beautiful face”. you couldn´t help but feel a little bashful and decided to curl up on his chest properly, unwilling to lose the full-body contact just yet. Baelor held you gladly and pulled your left hand up to kiss it, your knuckles first, and then the inside of your wrist, the faint scar he had wanted to kiss so many times before but never could.
you knew without looking what he was doing, and you shut your eyes with a satisfied sigh. he was a romantic, such a romantic, just as you´d always assumed, hoped, prayed to experience first-hand one day. Baelor kissed the scar once more and remembered the exact day you´d received it, when you´d been around thirteen and had broken up a fight between Valarr and Aerion which sadly earned you a deep cut from the knife that your brother had been wielding too carelessly. he´d never forget the sound of his brother screaming like a madman at Aerion while he himself was called out of his chamber by the maesters, who knew very well by that point that only your uncle could help you stay calm and lucid for the stitches that you required, nobody else.
it was still new to him, still fragile, the freedom of getting to comfort you like a lover, getting to hold you like that, without any invisible barriers separating you, your bodies so easily, so naturally melting into each other, after years of remaining distanced for the sake of propriety. what could ever be proper about him denying you the love he was overflowing with? no more. from that moment on he vowed to himself that he´d never be reluctant again, never be stand-offish with you the way he had to be with others as the future king, as a vulnerable agent of the crown, the realm. with you, he´d be the very picture of unabashed devotion.
after a beat of comfortable, intimate quietude, you lifted your head and looked up at his mismatched eyes, asking him tentatively “do you truly think me a worthy queen?”.
Baelor´s expression softened at that. he traced your browbone with his thumb and spoke in a low, patient tone “sweetling. I worry whether the crown is worthy of you, not the other way around.” he knew just what to say to make your breath hitch and your heart beat faster. you nuzzled your face into his palm and kept listening as he continued. “there´s been so much bloodshed in the name of it, it pains me that I cannot promise you a peaceful life, for I do not know what my reign will hold for me, for us.”
it was your turn to comfort him then. you knew just how prone to feelings of guilt he was, the eldest son, the prince who would be king, always plagued by the fear of not being enough, doing enough, protecting and guiding his people the way they deserved. you wished he could see you through your eyes, just once.
“I don´t crave a peaceful life, Baelor. I crave this, only this, you. as long as it´s by your side, as your wife, I can handle bloodshed, atrocious politics, family feuds, disdain from others, you name it”. you spoke with confidence because you weren´t lying to placate him, you meant every word, and he could tell, so he smiled and nodded in acquiescence.
“you know, I will be the one who receives disdain. soon enough men who previously thought highly of me will start cursing my name out of envy when they hear about our wedding”.
you beamed with a smug kind of pride at the sound of that and caressed his arm as you countered “so will the many ladies who swooned when you smiled at them for a moment too long.”
“no need to flatter me, my love, you outshine me, as you should” Baelor murmured, amused by the faint trace of jealousy in your tone as you recalled the many times girls and women of all ages had strained their necks to get a good look at him, while you were standing right next to him, cursing the fact that you couldn´t kiss him in front of them and tell them to avert their eyes.
you adjusted your position on him so you were sprawled across his lap horizontally and took his hand in yours to play with, to nibble on, as you looked up at him from where you were resting your head on the mattress.
“do you not realize how infuriatingly handsome you are? I have had two decades to get used to that stare of yours, the very one I am being tempted by right now, and yet I still feel like a blushing little girl each time. you´re cruel that way.” you teased and watched the corners of his mouth lift from the undeniable ego-boost.
“oh, you´re one to talk of cruel temptation” he quipped and squeezed your hip for emphasis, but you feigned ignorance. “what ever could you mean?”.
Baelor laughed and shook his head as he reached out to trace the slope of your nose with the finger you´d been biting down on like a kitten eager to play.
“my darling niece. I have seen more than a handful of knights fall off their horse in sheer awe when they caught a glimpse of you from across a field. now imagine my plight, sitting right next to you, night after night, tormented by that pretty face of yours whenever you leaned your cheek on your hand and pouted in boredom. you´re the one who doesn´t realize her appeal, not me.”
you shrugged and smiled, clearly preening from the way he put that, very pleased by the admission: he´d watched you, just as you´d watched him, his facade had been cool while his heart had been burning.
“you do realize how curious it is to me that you laid here dreaming of me, a grey, weathered man, while you could´ve had any young, pretty stag out there”. he meant it, your unwavering loyalty was still mind-boggling to him, so much so that he was sure the gods might just strike him down one day for hoarding all of your attention. he´d die a happy man, that much was sure.
“well. you, like many other men, grew more handsome with age, and I happen to find great pleasure in the sight of a man with silver streaks” you whispered seductively and sat up to grab his jaw and kiss his face where his beard was at its grayest, kissing him all over his cheek before he took over and chased your mouth with his, smiling the same tender smile as you once your lips touched again.
“so, tell me.. what color shall my wedding jewels be?” you sighed into his mouth between kisses and instead of dismissing it as a frivolous fancy, Baelor pulled back, looked at you, and genuinely considered it.
“this color” he said decidedly as he wrapped the single ice-blond, nearly white strand of your hair around his index finger. “the finest, clearest crystals for my princess. my queen.”. he´d never told you this, but that was his very favorite feature of yours, especially when the midday sun shone down on you and left that strand of hair glittering like an angel had painted it in some kind of magic color. then again, which part of you could have been anything less but a favorite of his?
it was your first night as lovers and he´d already given you a lifetime of happiness with his deeds and words alike. if only your self from a mere twelve hours ago had any idea how her awful start of the day would eventually turn all the way around.
“stay. stay here tonight, please. you can leave early in the morning, before they wake.”
you pleaded and watched him nod without any kind of protest. Baelor would´ve rather been struck down by lightning than to leave your bed. “here” he told you and reached out to grab the still-full glass of water from your night stand “drink, all of it, you need it”, making sure that you were not unhealthily spent from your loving, smoothing out your pillows for you and inviting you to lay down under the blankets, right in the crook of his arm.
Baelor whispered something to you right before you drifted off, it was something in the ancient tongue, and you swore you could make out the words for “moon” “sun” and “star”. he was a poetic man in love, it was no surprise, so you mumbled in response, right before sleep took you “and you are mine…my entire world”.
you both slept with the deep peace and contentment of two dragons whose thirst for love had finally been quenched by the sweet blood of their kin. only you and Baelor were capable of it, turning a beloathed Targaryen custom into something so tender and pure. you were the only living woman of your house and he the only man who could form a union that would silence any and all doubts about the crown´s worthiness of respect. kingdoms would kneel for you and him alike. but for the time being, you were only each other´s, not the realm´s king and queen, but each other´s hearts personified, finally allowed to beat as one.
















