CROWN BURDENED

[crownburdened]

A BLACK MOON OVER THE PEACEFIELD.

an independent, mutuals - only roleplay blog for BAELOR TARGARYEN from A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS. show - based with influences from the text. penned by Dawn ( she / her, EST ). mature & violent content — viewer discretion is advised. linked to @sunsetelm.

LAWS ¦ TAGS ¦ VERSES

[valkguard]

@crownburdened sent:

Baelor propped himself up on one arm, the heel of his hand scrubbing down his face in an effort to finish waking him up. The warmth of a summer's night was thick in their bedchamber. Soft rays of morning sun crept in through the pretty glass windows. His eyes gradually focused — taking in the room, and the dawn, and the figure of his wife slumbering next to him. Smiling blearily, the royal leaned in. Baelor's knuckle traced the curve of her shoulder first. A simple hello before his fingers moved lower. Months ago, he would have pulled her toward him with the greed of a dragon hoarding its golden treasure. Now, though, he brought himself to her — out of consideration for the baby, which was supposed to arrive so terribly soon. Baelor's palm cupped her breast and then the swell of her pregnant belly. He nuzzled into her neck as he gently overwhelmed her. Angela was intoxicating to him. The sweet smell of her, the flutter of her eyelashes, the sound of her breathing ... the gods had never made anything so beautiful. ❝My Queen.❞ Baelor kissed the shell of her ear whilst he whispered to her. His fingertips drew lazy circles across their child. ❝Come back to me ... I must have a kiss to survive the day.❞

even in the golden queen’s early morning haze, the sensation of her husband's skin against her own, of his skilled hands gently working along her oh-so-sensitive frame, and his body pressed up behind her was perfect. right here, in this bed, she felt completely and utterly content, as if she could stay right in this moment forever — and when the whispering in her ear began, angela shivered softly despite the warmth of the room.

“ you are terribly demanding, my king, ” she replied. of course, they both knew she was doing nothing more than teasing. a gentle rapport, established through a love that came easier than breathing.

beneath baelor’s hand, their little dragon stirred as if in greeting — a sensation that drew a sharp intake of breath from its mother. the child was strong ; a fighter, just like its father. angela's hand shifted, moving to rest against baelor’s for a moment atop the baby targaryen. it was only once the moment had passed that she then shifted in the king’s arms, rolling over with effort so that she was instead on her back, propped against their pillows.

baelor’s eyes swept over her bare frame as the blankets, due to the change in position, fell from their place around her — angela’s teeth sank into the inside of her cheek at the sheer amount of love and want she saw in his gaze. baelor had always looked at her as she were the most beautiful thing in all the lands, and it had not lessened since she had grown soft and swollen with his child. if anything, it has only deepened the desire she saw, and for that, angela was grateful.

unable to stand it any longer, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her king’s lips, just as he had previously asked. she knew that he had far more important tasks to attend to today, of course, but a part of angela longed to be selfish and keep him right here in this bed with her.

[crownburdened]

Baelor let out an adoring sigh when Angela turned onto her back. Her hair, as gold as the necklaces he loved to adorn her pretty neck with, was spread out across on the pillows. It seemed to shimmer in the soft morning sun, like her eyes. The dragon rumbled in his chest, with love, with want — and he deepened her kiss at once. His tongue slid between her lips as his hand cupped her cheek.

She was everything.

They eventually parted at Baelor's insistence. He had to see her, in all of her glory, nested in their bed. The King propped himself up on his arm further, which allowed him to better loom over her. Purple and brown eyes held her gaze for just a moment, teasing, before they swept across her body again.

❝I thought — when I met you, my Queen — there was not a sight more wondrous in all of our land.❞ Baelor smiled, grabbed the edge of the blankets, and flicked them off of her entirely. ❝I was wrong, Angela.❞ His palm cradled the bottom of her bare belly. ❝Look at you ... now that I see you, full with our prince, I know this to be the most beautiful thing I have ever beheld.❞

He ran his fingers down, following the darkened line on her stomach until he passed through her fine hairs. Baelor kissed her once, fleeting, as his calloused hand nudged her thighs apart. He could not see over the crest of her belly from this angle, but he knew his way as sure as he knew to breathe. It was instinctual. A fingertip traced along the inside of her legs first, pressing gently into smooth and sensitive skin.

❝I think that I shall have to give you another as soon as our prince is born.❞ Baelor lowered his head, lips pressing into the hollow at the base of her throat. ❝Angela ... I could not bear to be without this.❞ As his mouth kissed there again, and then met each of her swollen areolas, Baelor's fingers found their way to the middle of her legs. He drew them over her folds quickly — just a brush, a promise.

❝Tell me, sweet treasure, how does it feel to know that you will be a mother to dragons for the rest of your days ?❞ His eyes flicked up, dark with hunger and no small amount of pride. ❝My Queen ... you will never be without a babe on your hip, or at your breast, or in your belly. I swear this to you.❞

[finalslay]

@crownburdened sent:

Baelor headed toward the dining hall, dark robe loose around his ever - changing frame. His gray curls were pulled behind his head. Multi - colored eyes swept over the halls, purple and brown taking in the servants shying away. Perhaps, they sensed his mood ; the other royal's usual kindness was absent from him. Come to dinner, he was told. — as though any of this were normal. Even for their strange, cursed life, these days were not the same as all those before. Baelor's hand drifted to his belly when the doors opened. He supposed, really, it wasn't the child's fault. A pain lanced up his back when he sat, and the size of the beast's offspring forced it up into his ribs ( Baelor would have sworn so ). Air puffed out of his lungs after he winced. Gingerly, he leaned to the side. The stare he fixed Adam with, or not - Adam, or - whatever - he - was, was duller than it used to be. Obviously, he was exhausted. ❝You have not called on me in two days,❞ Baelor said softly. Food graced his plate, but he did not move to eat it. His statement was a poorly disguised question.

since the moment that baelor entered the room, adam's eyes had not left him. no, he had watched with an intensity in those blue eyes, one that only lingered when the other prince finally took a seat. there was almost always a treacherous feeling of pride when he watched baelor now, heavy with child — adam is not exactly sure how to feel about the sensation, no, but he supposed it was to be suspected.

after all, princes were raised to want heirs and the other half of him, the one driven by an instinct not entirely of his own ... well ... let's just say it was more than pleased to see that the job had been done, that the seed had finally been sown.

“ i thought you might need your rest, ” adam finally replied, one claw absentmindedly leaving marks in the wood of the table. “ was i wrong in such an assumption? ”

despite the ironic tone in which the beast prince spoke, there was truth to those words : after all, baelor looked far more tired these days as the child within him demanded more and more, and contrary to what is believed, adam was not entirely heartless.

“ if you do not wish to dine, then i shall not argue with you. ” his lips twitch with the ghost of a smile. “ though ... you are already downstairs. it would be a shame to have to make the trek back again, would it not? ”

[crownburdened]

The coldness around Baelor was diminished somewhat by Adam's reply. It was kind, kind in the way that his fellow prince had only become after his ghastly transformation, and brought about a crack in the ice of Baelor's metaphorical armor. He gave the beast a pointed look, his lips opened — but no barb issued from him. Baelor instead laughed a little.

❝You make a very diplomatic point,❞ he finally said. Baelor pressed his hands into his chair in order to position himself more comfortably. Once he was satisfied, he leaned back. This took some of the weight off of his aching spine. The pose, though, pushed his belly forward and emphasized it beneath the old robe. He was tremendously round, and soft, and his palm atop the baby to soothe it was almost sweet.

He used his other hand to pluck up a fork — which he only employed to push the well - seasoned deer around on his plate. With the beast's young this active, it would be impossible to eat without feeling sick. One of the servants brought tea that smelled of fresh mint ( trying to help the foreign prince who was as trapped as they ).

❝I think it will occur very soon,❞ Baelor said, voice quiet. There was no question of what it he referred to ; his pregnancy ( and the questions of what would happen when he gave birth ) had been the talk of the castle for almost a year now. ❝The pains, they come and go ... but, truly, I do not think I can grow larger.❞ A thin attempt at humor, one that forced him to look over at the creature and smile.

He still could not call the beast Adam, but there was a strange affection in his breast when he looked at it these days. The nights that it used to hunt him, to make twisted love to him, were even growing pleasant to remember.

Baelor inhaled deeply. ❝ — you should bed with me more. We do not know what this will look like.❞ Whether he spoke of the delivery, the baby ... Baelor's eyes moved down, staring into the tea, as he declined to elaborate more.

[finalslay]

@crownburdened sent : [ CAPTURED ] after catching them, sender beast Adam straddles receiver Baelor on the ground.

the running is nothing but a glorified game to the both of them.

on all fours, the bestial prince had stalked through the trees, with a silence uncharacteristic of a creature of his size. adam knew these woods better than baelor did : after all, a childhood was spent on these castle grounds — he knew every little pathway, every nook and cranny worth hiding in. there is no scenario, too, in which adam will not catch him ; the scent on the wind is too prevalent, stoking an already burning fire.

baelor's scent was all too familiar, and the beast growled lowly in the back of his throat. it was not born of aggression, no, but rather that of want. the chase added a thrill to this whole exchange — and regardless of whatever complaints the other prince might offer, adam knew that baelor felt the same. otherwise, why else would baelor flee through through the woods that surrounded the castle? after all, there isn't any leaving this place — the curse and its rules make sure of that.

he followed that familiar scent though the dark night, the moonlight shining down through the canopy of trees and onto the ground below, and when those bright blue eyes finally landed upon the familiar figure ahead, adam wasted no time in closing the gap. in a flash, he pounced, pinning baelor to the forest floor beneath them. there was no care taken to be gentle, for he knew that the other could handle it — after all, that was what he was made for, was it not?

“ caught you. ” acutely aware of the warmth beneath him, the intoxicating scent, the words came out as a snarl as the beast leaned down, breath hot against the targaryen prince's neck. “ you shouldn't have run — it would have saved us both some trouble. ”

[crownburdened]

Baelor wasn't sure what made him run tonight ... only that he had to. His bare feet scrambled over the roots of the old forest, rubbing themselves raw on sticks and rocks. The prince's breath was short, his lungs sore, and he cursed the flowing fabric of his black robes that seemed to snag on branches constantly. Adam was behind him, surely — but, for a moment, it was nice to believe that he wasn't. That Baelor, somehow, could finally escape the terrible thing that held them prisoner.

His hope was cruel. Fleeting. Adam's weight crashed into Baelor's back, and his world fell apart all over again as he went down. The smells of blood and dark earth mixed with the sweet soap he used this morning. Baelor cursed Adam for catching him — and he cursed the hunger in the pit of his belly that was glad Adam had. This monstrous beast's breath blew the graying curls ( which he allowed to grow longer and wild in their confinement ) off of his neck. A shudder ran along Baelor's spine, which arched. Inside of him, his loathing and wanting intensified in equal measure. Adam's proximity made Baelor's nails curl into the ground.

He despised how much he ached for the beast's body to capture him further. ( ... but that was what he was made for, no ? )

Baelor turned his head to the side. A bright, bright purple eye looked up at the hulking shape that filled his vision. ❝You sound as though you did not enjoy yourself,❞ he said. Soft, low, with a tease as dark as the look on his face.

❝A good chase warms the blood,❞ Baelor continued, unable to help the breathy quality of his voice. Adam's infernal musk caused him to feel dizzy as it washed over him, like an exotic wine he found himself too drunk on after supper. ❝Surely, great beast ... you feel it, too.❞

[crownburdened]

@valkguard / from here.

let me take a look…

Baelor hadn't realized it. Even with the broken glass, the wine pooling around his boots, and the sharp sting of glass embedded in his toughened palm — he hadn't realized that, in his shock, he shattered the beautiful cup holding his drink. Blood and alcohol dripped in equal measure from his wound.

One of his guards stepped forward to interrupt the fair woman's advance. That sudden movement broke Baelor out of his trance. Enough, at least, to motion for his men to leave her be with his uninjured hand.

Let me take a look, she said, and Baelor's heart rose up into his throat. He offered his shaking fingers. The brush of her own, gentle on his skin, brought a flood of memories to the forefront that threatened to overwhelm him.

❝Your dress, my lady ... ❞ he said dumbly, distantly, purple and brown eyes flicking down to the red forming a ring about him. Baelor smiled weakly. The color was gone from his handsome face, and he swayed on his feet. His minor wound didn't warrant this kind of reaction.

❝Do not ruin such pretty cloth on my behalf.❞

[rtherpmeme]

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴀʙʏ sᴇɴᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴍᴇᴍᴇ!

      PREGNANCY -

❝ We’re going to be parents! ❞ ❝ Did you feel him/her/them kick!? ❞ ❝ Do you want to feel the baby? ❞ ❝ I’m pregnant…and it’s yours. ❞ ❝ Do you think I’ll make a good mother/father? ❞ ❝ What are you hoping for? ❞ ❝ I feel so nauseous today… ❞ ❝ What should we name him/her/them? ❞ ❝ How many diapers do you think we’ll need? ❞ ❝ You’re crying over a puppy? ❞ ❝ Is just strawberry okay? They didn’t have strawberries and cream. ❞ ❝ I’ve read this book four times I’m basically an expert by now. ❞ ❝ Boy or girl? ❞ ❝ Wait, do we have everything on this list I found? ❞ ❝ Can you put the crib together? I’m so tired. ❞ ❝ This kid can come out anytime it’s ready. ❞       ❝ You’re glowing. ❞ ❝ How far along are you? ❞ ❝ Please don’t freak out…but I’m pregnant. I SAID DON’T FREAK OUT. ❞ ❝ Hospital. Now! ❞ ❝ I think that was a contraction… ❞ ❝ The due date’s not until next week! ❞

     NEW BABY -

❝ S/He’s your kid before five in the morning. ❞ ❝ We need to go on a diaper run again. ❞ ❝ We’re out of formula–where’s the other can!? ❞ ❝ Ugh, s/he spit up on my good shirt! ❞ ❝ S/he won’t stop crying, I don’t know what to do. ❞         ❝ Please take him/her, I’m going to go crazy with the screaming. ❞ ❝ Is it even possible for a baby to scream so much!? ❞ ❝ Should they be breathing like that? ❞ ❝ I need to go check on the baby. ❞     ❝ If you never put him/her down you’ll spoil him/her. ❞ ❝ Daddy/Mommy’s little girl/boy! ❞ ❝ Good morning, little spawn of Satan! ❞ ❝ Shhh, they’re finally asleep.  ❞     ❝ Dammit, I just got them to sleep! ❞ ❝ Be careful, s/he’s a hair puller…. ❞ ❝ Where’s the pacifier!? ❞ ❝ I can’t find his/her blanket, please help me. ❞     ❝ I’ve been up since four this morning, it’s your turn. ❞ ❝ I found you and the baby sleeping in the recliner at six am and it was so precious. ❞ ❝ Stroller, diaper bag, playpen, blanket, bottles, what else do we need before we go to your parents? ❞ ❝ A babysitter!? Are you insane!? ❞     ❝ You’re going to spoil them. ❞     ❝ We can’t go out with the baby, that’s just asking for trouble. ❞ ❝ Baby’s awake… ❞ ❝ S/he’s so precious…. ❞ ❝ This is our son/daughter…. ❞ ❝ We make damn beautiful babies. ❞ ❝ Look at his/her little feet… ❞ ❝ S/he has your eyes. ❞ ❝ Do not dress him/her in that! ❞     ❝ Be careful with him/her! ❞ ❝ Did you remember to pack his/her toy? ❞ ❝ His/her first tooth came in today. Already bit me.❞ ❝ Did you hear that? That was a cough.❞           

        CHILDREN -

❝ The kids won’t stop fighting. ❞ ❝ We should have another. ❞ ❝ Stop giving them dessert before dinner! ❞ ❝ You’re going to spoil them rotten… ❞ ❝ You need to learn not to fall for the puppy dog eyes.  ❞ ❝ I just love them so much!? ❞     ❝ How are we going to break the news to them that they’re getting a brother/sister? ❞ ❝ Their screaming woke the baby… ❞     ❝ I’m a horrible mother/father… ❞ ❝ How can you make the baby hush and I can’t? ❞ ❝ Was that a word!? ❞ ❝ His/her first word better not be a damn cuss word! ❞     ❝ You look exhausted. ❞ ❝ First steps! First steps! ❞ ❝ Watch, s/he can roll over now! ❞ ❝ I don’t want anyone else watching our baby/children. ❞     ❝ They totally wanted to build the pillow fort, not me. ❞ ❝ Can you manage dropping them off? ❞ ❝ Damn terrible twos, right? ❞ ❝ How did they outgrow their clothes so fast!? ❞    ❝ I think we make damn good parents. ❞ ❝ Why are both you and the baby crying? ❞ ❝ Here, I’ll watch him/her, you go relax. ❞ ❝ I haven’t been able to put her/him down all morning/day/night. ❞     ❝ S/he doesn’t want me, s/he wants you! ❞ ❝ S/he just ran into the coffee table, don’t worry. ❞ ❝ Stop fighting with me in front of the kid/s! ❞ ❝ We shouldn’t have dressed the twins in matching outfits… ❞     ❝ Can I hold him/her? ❞ ❝ S/he has separation anxiety because you never put them down! ❞ ❝ My mother always hoped my kids would end up like me…I’m so sorry. ❞ ❝ I wouldn’t let them do ____, so they started crying. ❞   ❝ Oh, s/he’s just a little angel! ❞ ❝ Hello, little one! ❞ ❝ I can babysit if you’d like. ❞ ❝ Guess who broke your favorite ____. ❞   ❝ Finally got him/her/them to sleep. ❞ ❝ It’s your turn to put him/her/them to bed. ❞ ❝ I hate bath time. ❞ ❝ Can you help me with the kids for five goddamn minutes!? ❞   ❝ I think ____ is jealous of the baby. ❞ ❝ ___ just hit ___, can you do something!? ❞ ❝ Is locking kids in the basement against the law!? ❞ ❝ They’re cute when they’re quiet. ❞ ❝ Maybe taking them to the park will let out all their energy. ❞ ❝ _____ colored on the walls today… ❞ ❝ Look at the mess they made again… ❞                            

[ruinmemes]

CARING SENTENCE STARTERS 

for muses that need a little love. 

❝  i’m here for you.  ❞

❝  let me help with that.  ❞

❝  i’m here.  ❞

❝  nothing’s gonna hurt you.  ❞

❝  if they do it again, you tell me.  ❞

❝  i’ll protect you. ❞

❝  i’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you.  ❞

❝  let me take a look…  ❞

❝  i’m a phone call away.  ❞

❝  you should have called me.  ❞

❝  here, sleep.  ❞

❝  if you wanna talk, i’m here.  ❞

❝  hey, shh, it’s okay.  ❞

❝  i’ll never let you go.  ❞

❝  you’re with me now.  ❞

❝  nothing’s gonna take you from my side.  ❞

❝  i’ll do what i have to.  ❞

❝  i need you to stay here, okay? i got this.  ❞

❝  it’s safe here.  ❞

❝  i’m fine, let me see your face.  ❞

❝  we’re gonna have to keep ice on that.  ❞

[crownburdened]

You and the night slip by. You are incomplete without me. You were made great. How men left you, a dying star — I almost loved you.

@sunsetelm.

[sunsetelm]

Dunk couldn't stop looking. Baelor was already terribly pretty as a dragon-- and in truth Dunk mourned not being able to touch his scales, even though he knew the reptilian form would only be in pain here-- but somehow, miraculously, he was just as pretty in the flesh, too. The creature was perhaps the clumsiest he had ever been, but Dunk's eyes were glittering as he watched him stumble and hiss, and it was hard not to laugh not because of mocking, but because the affection he felt was remarkable.

He'd had Baelor's little ball on his lap before, and so it stood to reason that he could have him sat there without the ball, too. Questions about Baelor's change in make-up and density rose in Dunk's mind, but as the Valyrian's weight pressed itself onto Dunk's thighs, what measure of control he might have had faded away. He had imagined Baelor would be cool, considering his propensity for warmer conditions, but the creature that pressed into him felt like a star condensed in human form.

Dunk's face warmed, even as found himself laughing around a "what are you doing". But between Baelor's easy slaps and all the fidgeting he made in discomfort, he couldn't not laugh, not when he was so happy.

"I know you always have a lot to say," he started, setting his hands on Baelor's waist, "but it's bloody unreal hearing you keep goin' like this, you know that?"

The touch on his middle felt too intimate, so Dunk moved up to Baelor's arms, then shoulders, then gave up entirely to cup either side of his neck and rub at his jawline with his thumbs. Gods, his skin was soft.

"You're wearing clothes 'cause it's inappropriate for humans to go around without." Dunk's thumbs pressed gently into Baelor's cheeks, watching the flesh dip under the pressure. "Do you see me take my clothes off around you? No, 'cause I'd look a right fool if I did.

"Do you want to look a fool? Surely not. So clothes you will have."

[crownburdened]

Baelor wrinkled the bridge of his nose at the feeling of Dunk's thumbs on his ... face ? a different thing anatomically than his head — or another piece ... ? Humans were confusing. The alien grumbled. He lifted his hands, placed them on Dunk's, and lowered his companion's palms back to his waist with intent. Upon releasing them, Baelor shifted closer.

❝Dunk keep there,❞ he sniffed. ❝ — better secure.❞

There was also a preference for the weight of Dunk's hands on that part of his body that Baelor couldn't deny. It was almost comforting, as much as he could understand that notion. Perhaps, he thought, it was similar to the way his Jena used to coil up with him. Whether they were their natural selves or devoid of limbs to be nearer to each other, to be physically connected to her brought a sense of safety that nothing else inspired. The world was alright, and they were alright.

Was that what he liked from this ?

Baelor's eyes locked onto Dunk's. One purple, one brown, matching the strange pools of color from his dragon - ish shape. They were pretty : the shade of violet there was unlike any found on Earth. Even bringing it to this shape had not dulled it.

The alien abruptly leaned forward. His arms wrapped loosely around Dunk's neck, as he saw humans do in the moving programs Dunk displayed for him. Baelor's torso pressed to the engineer's. He settled in with another low grumble, curls tickling the underside of Dunk's chin. Idly, his brow knocked into the proper human's chest — but Baelor remembered that produced a duller pain he was not fond of. Another hiss, another much softer bump, and with that he seemed satisfied with his display. This was no different ( to him ) than when he had cuddled up against the edge of his ball in Dunk's lap.

❝Watch Baelor sleep ?❞ he asked. Warmth pooled inside of him and outside of him, fueled by a contentment that pleased him. ❝For Baelor make new body for Dunk ... much energy needed.❞ In his tired confession, one he hadn't meant to ever say, laid the truth of his transformation : he had crafted this figure for Dunk to touch, and know, in the hopes that the engineer and himself would be less lonely.

[thoughtkick]

“Don’t allow your wounds to turn you into a person you are not.”

— Paulo Coelho

[crownburdened]

@dragonxwed / from here.

is that a bruise?

❝Hm ?❞ Baelor hummed out the note. He lifted his right hand and pulled back the dark sleeve. Indeed, a splotchy red - and - purple bruise extended from the heel of his palm to his inner elbow, stark against his pale skin. ❝ — you mean this, Mother ?❞ The prince smiled reassuringly.

❝Behold : the progress of your grandson's training.❞ Baelor chuckled with something like pride. ❝Perhaps I was being a fool, wanting to join in his teaching, missing the days when he was too young to practice sword - work ... regardless of my bleeding heart and its intent, I sorely misjudged Valarr's arm. He will be a stronger fighter than his grandfather thinks.❞

Still, Baelor could see the concern in her face. With two children of his own now, he couldn't blame her. Baelor's demeanor was soft as he stepped nearer, fully unclasping his sleeve so that its parts hung loose from his shoulder. The muscled, scarred flesh of his limb was thusly bare — free to examined.

❝Go on, Mother, if you would like to look.❞ He leaned in and kissed her cheek. ❝I cannot leave you so anxious, and I know you will worry. It is nothing, truly ...❞

[imsupposedtobestudying-whoops]

Who are they thinking of? ⚔️

[crownburdened]

@draeggon / from here.

can you stay? just for a little while? it would help.

Stay, Aegon asked, and Baelor's heart went into his throat. He stared at his hand, ready to pull open the door that would lead him out of his nephew's rooms, and watched it begin to shake. There was no denying how hard these past few years had been for either of them — the king who never was, the king who was never meant to be — nor how close they had become as a result of them.

Of course I will stay, Baelor wanted to say. In the perplexing manner of their House, though, that would have been too simple. Instead, Baelor turned his wheelchair with a raised brow. He moved back toward Egg, slow so that his pace might seem playfully ominous ( and hopefully inspire a smile ).

❝You are a menace to this old man's sleep, nephew,❞ Baelor said somewhat sternly. His hand lifted and patted the arm of a much cozier, plush chair close to the fire. ❝Come on, then — assist your uncle, Egg. Free me from this infernal contraption.❞ That commanding voice softened then, purple - and - brown eyes studying the young ruler with the same sort of love that used to drive his sons mad.

❝Perhaps, Your Majesty will be kind enough to truly share what is on your mind.❞

[sunsetelm]

A father to dragons, his love said, and Dunk's head swam with possibility. There was more glory in this than any feat Dunk had achieved, and as he pressed his ring finger into Baelor's heat, he wondered at the selfishness of love over duty-- and, perhaps more pressingly, how right it felt all the same.

Baelor laughed, demanded, and Dunk grinned, fingers spreading the soft walls of his king's cunt open just to admire the gape. He was so pink inside, so wet and wanting, and the shine of his slick made his own cock throb with need.

"I know it," he said, hand lifting from the side of Baelor's throat to slide his thumb over the swell of his bottom lip. It dipped in, briefly, then swiped, then pressed inward again.

"But I don't want to break you, now..."

The thrust of his fingers persisted, buried to the last knuckle, and quickened in pace to stretch Baelor proper. He felt the drool of his juices, listened to the dirty squelch of him, and in his shallow thrusts shook his own wrist to feel every inch of Baelor's core. The first time they'd done this, Dunk had been so careful he used three fingers to prepare him; now, though, he'd made love to his king enough times to know he could take it.

So, pushing his thumb into Baelor's mouth, Dunk hummed, "Least not so early."

That last bit of resistance melted around his fingers, and Dunk felt it in the smoothness of his thrusts. Baelor stayed open, and even as Dunk pulled out all he saw was the neediness of those walls clenching around nothing. Each time they fucked it made him feel drugged thinking of how badly Baelor could want someone like him, but nothing was quite so potent as feeling the proof of his arousal drooling against Dunk's own skin.

He'd drawn the top of his trousers down just enough to pull himself out. Hand around the base of his length, Dunk traced the line of Baelor's sweet core with the tip of him, twitching there and leaving a line of pre-cum in his wake. His hips angled, the tip of his length spread Baelor's lower lips apart, and Dunk pushed.

"Gods" -- the moan he let out was shameless, wrought with pleasure as he fed himself into that heat -- "yes."

Dunk's stomach tightened, his hips rolled, and he sighed as each thrust pushed him deeper: past that first resistance, and second still to make them whole again.

Baelor had taken him to the hilt before, a feat so marvelous Dunk had felt dizzy coming against that tight, tight spot buried so deep in his body. Surely he could do so now, splitting open wider and wider as he accommodated the throbbing length of him. Surely Baelor could take that swell of flesh at the base of Dunk's cock again, and this time they could let it grow inside.

[crownburdened]

Baelor's vocalizations were low, and rolling, like the grumble of the ancient beasts his strange figure harkened back to. Sweat trailed over his scales, making them shine more in the light. He resisted the urge to bite Dunk's thumb and steal a bead of blood to stain his teeth. Wouldn't that look pretty, as they made their egg ? Wouldn't that satisfy something for the gods, something old and strange that made him wish to be an animal instead of a man ?

He remembered, briefly, the conception of Valarr — how cold, removed, and embarrassed he felt by it all. The way the maesters carried out the rituals they deemed necessary at the time had caused Baelor to be ashamed of his blood.

Here, with Dunk, was starkly different. Baelor's body was on fire, trembling with pleasure, and the smell of his own need was so strong that it overwhelmed all ellse. The sound of Dunk's fingers stretching him wide, puncturing in and out of that wetness, seemed to come with the thump of Baelor's heart. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip.

Baelor raised his head, craning his neck to see what he could of Dunk's actions. It was then that the knight chose to take himself out of his trousers — and the whimper that left Baelor was pitiful compared to his earlier, deep sounds. He needed it. That first tease around his entrance produced a shudder and gasp. A please almost came, but he was grateful to swallow it back. Dunk was perhaps as eager as he ; he did not make his beloved royal wait.

Even with all of Dunk's efforts to make their union comfortable, Baelor still clenched his teeth against the pressure of it. He had heard rumor from the maesters who oversaw the Lord Commander's physical health that Dunk was ... greatly blessed by the gods. To Baelor, who possessed no other comparison, that meant little. There was no denying the sheer size of the man's endowment, though, especially as it slid along his walls. Baelor's nostrils flared with every breath out through them. His spine curved, showing the tension in his body. Deep down, he knew he could take it — take all of it — and the relief and pride that came with Dunk being fully seated was the same he once knew after great battles.

Baelor wiggled his hips, unable to help the sharp whines that came with the motion. He was full, almost painfully so. The world was bright, and dizzying, and Baelor was nearly drunk on the sensation of lying in the grass amid its beauty with Dunk's cock pushing into where he fancied his womb lay. What debauchery, what bliss, what sweet promise of life to come ( no matter how cursed it could be ). Hot tears pricked at the corners of Baelor's bright eyes as he stared up at Dunk.

❝You're there,❞ he breathed, awed. ❝ — go - go on, Ser Duncan, claim them. Claim your hatchlings ... and their mother.❞ Baelor was sick with the desire to lay an egg that belonged to the knight ; in such a short time, the idea had possessed him entirely.

❝My man.❞ Baelor laughed at that, voice full of wonder. ❝You are my man ... and their f - father.❞

[mournfulroses]

Tove Ditlevsen, from a poem featured in There Lives a Young Girl in Me Who Will Not Die: Selected Poems

[belciiboo]

𝔅𝔞𝔢𝔩𝔬𝔯 𝔗𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔢𝔫 🫦

[crownburdened]

Baelor struggled with his physical appearance as a teenager / young man in his early twenties. This was the point at which he really became aware of his importance, how he was judged by those around him, and what the world would be willing to accept from a dragon - kin that did not resemble its ancestors. He sought out plants to dye his hair, only to realize no such natural trick existed. At his lowest point, he snuck flour for bread into his room and humored himself by dusting it atop his hair in a mirror. Before long, the stuff would fade or turn to mush, highlighting the mess and ache in Baelor. Twice, he broke the mirror and his own pitiful reflection by striking it. The scars from the glass are still cut deep into his knuckles.

The prince's reckoning with his Dornish blood was not swift or really healthy. He was never ashamed of it, it is important to note ; simply, Baelor just wanted to fit in better so that his people would evaluate his rule for his actions instead of his looks. That was how heavy the burden of his future crown came to feel on him.