roe, 23, she/her, with many hyperfixations <3 comments, rbs and asks are always appreciated <3
!! WARNING !! most of my work falls under the 18+ category - please heed the MDNI tags on my fics (of course, i am not in any way shape or form responsible for your media consumption. on that note - please read content warnings!).
★ do not use my fics on c.ai, or any other ai shit. ai sucks ass. ★
♡ a song of ice and fire
♡ call of duty
♡ dc
♡ devil may cry
♡ ghost
♡ jjk
♡ marvel
♡ resident evil
♡ "f(uck)'me" masterlist ♡ christmas 2025 ♡ valentines 2026 ♡ dilfs
things i've been part of! (go read everyone's works!):
bwa collabs ♡
-`✦´- roe's faves -`✦´-
fics of mine that are my personal favourites. whether it be to work on, because they've created fun memories for me, or anything else - these are my top fics (personally). of course i love all my fics dearly, but these are my favourites <3
-`✦´- "There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.” jason todd x f!reader, frankenstein au (series)
[masterlist link]
we all know jason todd is almost frankenstein's monster-esque as a character, right? well what if we took the original setting of frankenstein, tweaked it to make it more... gotham-y and then some? frankenstein jason is probably my favourite au to date, and i always have fun writing for this series (to date this is the only series im also willing to write on my phone, as opposed to waiting patiently to get back to my laptop to write <3)
-`✦´- "still so good f'me, after all these years…" (or, dilf!jason takes his sweet, sweet time with you~)
pt 1 | pt 2
that one panel of knightfight jason todd really had me in a chokehold all december, and from that came this beautiful fic... plus its follow up - jason todd in a thong singing the thong song (everybody say thank you uni and hyde for the wonderful inspiration behind that one <3)
-`✦´- "hold the line, love isn't always on time~" (dilf! maekar targaryen x reader) (series)
[masterlist link]
okay. i know i wrote chapter one pretty close to this being put on here but listen!!! i have not been this excited ab a fic in a while! the idea of maekar and reader thinking they despise each other, when in fact they are so very maddeningly in love with one another... couple that with the sweet maekarlings... how can i not love this one?
-`✦´- "ain't it funny how the honey wanted you all along..." (dilf!robb stark x chambermaid!f!reader) (series)
[masterlist link]
so - hear me out - what if robb stark was older. with that gorgeous grey streak. also what if he was depressed as fuck. and then we gave him chambermaid reader. and what if they fell in love, then what? this series kinda gives me softer, pride and prejudice type vibes! this one's the one that started my dilf-y series, so it's a pretty good place to start <3
pro tip “he freed his erection” is the most useful phrase in any smut writer’s arsenal because it means never having to figure out a dude’s pants situation. how did he do it? were there zippers? buttons? some kind of bizarre lacing situation? maybe he cut off his pants with scissors. maybe it was a wizard. maybe it busted out like the hulk busts out of his shirts. no one knows. no one cares. his dick is out now and that is all that matters. thank you helpful dick wizard.
...half of these are from the trip to morocco 😭 and i have way more pictures of the moon lol no pressure tags !! @emmathefanficgal @kryptidfiles @dreambigdreamz + anyone else interested!!!
i've officially finished my masters degree !!!! all that remains is graduation ceremony now, and then back to the "finding a job" grind but im done !!!!! whooo !!!! 🩷🩷🩷
i've officially finished my masters degree !!!! all that remains is graduation ceremony now, and then back to the "finding a job" grind but im done !!!!! whooo !!!! 🩷🩷🩷
hold the line, love isn't always on time | dilf! maekar x f! reader
Chapter 3: "I do not yearn, Baelor. I am not a man of yearning!" (a lie, obviously.)
masterlist ★ chapter 2 ★ chapter 4
★ word count: 4.6k
★ series summary: Prince Maekar Targaryen was more than content with his life. Well.. content is a strong word.. Nonetheless, he disagreed with his father's insistence upon his remarrying. Something foolish like "securing the realm's future", is what his father had said. To which, he had naturally stormed out of the room, with his older brother trailing after him. "Married. Married, again? Really?" But what happens when his wife is just as headstrong as him, and incredibly sexy annoying?
roe speaks: i suppose it is a good thing i have no job right now because i can write as much as i want. with no consequence. which is how this got written, over the span of around sixteen hours, and many, many doomscroll breaks T_T also i love the idea of reader and maekar being baelor's current Primary Source Of Stress.
As Maekar walked back to his chambers, with a very sleepy child in his arms, he could not ignore the slowing of time around him. The way things suddenly felt less stressed, and more normal. Out of nowhere, the draft that usually swept around the corridors - brushing past cold ankles - now felt more prominent than ever. The corridors felt quieter, less busy than ever. Even the usual sound of children that would often fill the space felt empty.
The guards stood outside his chambers - as always, ever vigilant of his safety. He never really greeted them, but tonight he looked at them. Really, genuinely looked at them, before pushing the doors open. Inside, the fire kept warm, but the walls remained cold. The curtains swung low - the night's breeze waffling through them. Paintings on the wall that he had not thought of in many, many years, and old books that lay wide open on his desk - why did it all feel so important now? He approached the long mirror - the one he had long since avoided looking at - and finally took in his appearance. By the Gods, he had aged. Tonight, more than ever, he seemed lost. He was not Maekar "The Anvil" Targaryen tonight - no, he was a confused and unsure man.
He knows he should take Rhae to the nursery, leave her with the house help instead. It is not his concern, how she sleeps. But there is something in how she slumbers - arms splayed around him, and a face filled with a peace he long ached for. So tonight, he allows himself to rock his daughter to sleep.
The night is long, and perhaps a little unkind too, given how thunder rumbles and the wrath of the Seven fills the lands below. It feels almost as though the turmoil outside reflects upon the turmoil within his heart. But he does not have long to think about it - not when the doors to his chambers creak open. He opens one eye, moving his head upwards to see who it is that dares to trespass upon his room,
"Who the fuck-"
"I cannot sleep, Father."
"…very well, Daeron. Do not expect me to cuddle you."
"I would not dare!"
He grunts in response, shifting over to give his son room. Despite his colder words, he does not push his eldest away when he unintentionally moves closer in his sleep. The rain only gets louder and louder - rumbling through the walls now - as his door opens again. In walk two different footstep patterns, and Maekar groans, rolling his eyes,
"You have to be fucking joking."
"The rain is loud, and Aegon and I-"
"Could not sleep? Fine."
Both Aegon and Daella slot themselves on either side of Maekar - who now sits up in bed with a pillow behind him for support. Daella falls asleep quickly, but Aegon struggles more - sniffling as he tentatively places a hand on Maekar's arm. Maekar frowns briefly, before pulling the boy closer, having remembered his fear of storms. Not one soul speaks, yet the fire's warmth spreads across the chambers, finally warming the walls around them. Somewhere through the night, both Aerion and Aemon find their ways inside.
By the time the rays of the sun begin to peek in through the curtains, seven souls sleep soundly in the bed - light snores rumbling from Maekar as his children lay clambered around him. A warm glow lays across them, the sun coating them in the softest blanket as Maekar begins to awaken. His neck aches and hurts (a consequence of sleeping whilst sat up, of course), but he cannot feel particularly mad. Not when he looks around him.
He thinks back to the night before, and the image of you with Rhae in your arms. A strange feeling crosses his chest again - the very same as the one that filled him when you walked away from him. A strange emptiness, that he does not understand. It is uncomfortable, to say the least. How he is surrounded by all his children, yet feels weirdly empty - he cannot fathom what it is that has caused this. All he does know is that somewhere along the line, he owes it to you to at least apologise.
Little does he know that he has no time to do so, not with the wedding creeping closer with every passing day.
The night was cold and grim, as you wrapped blankets around yourself in an attempt to keep some kind of warmth around you. Your tears had long since dried and you felt a numbness that you swore ached whenever you remembered him. Why would it ache like that? You knew that marriages were often loveless, or that people fell in love after marriage. After all - marriage was a duty first and foremost. And you were only here to fulfill that duty. Duty to your father, to your husband to be and his children, and a duty to the people, of course.
But none of the handmaidens, none of the old women - nobody prepared you for the way your heart tugged and tore itself apart. How it kept you up all night, through the painfully loud storm and the billowing winds threatening the walls around you. You did not understand what it was that had plagued you. Why did your heart beat like that around him?
When the morning came by, and the maids came to prepare you for the day, you had already been wide awake (much to their surprise). Just like the day before, you were bathed and dressed, covered in perfumed oils and jewels as you made your way to breakfast - on time, this morning.
In fact, you walk in to see Maekar wrangling three separate children - Aegon on one arm, Daella on the other, Rhae tugging on his hair as he tries to maintain control. Without saying a single word, you tug Aegon and Daella away - never stopping to look at your soon to be husband's face as you bring the children to their seats at the table. Rhae climbs down from Maekar's head, settling in his arms as he watches you, unable to tear his eyes away.
Had you done your hair differently? Was it the jewels you wore? Something had changed, and he could not pin down exactly what it was that it had been - and it was beginning to drive him wild. Baelor appeared out of nowhere (Maekar had been so lost in watching you that he had not realised his elder brother approaching him, not until his hand rested upon his shoulder),
"Fuck me, Baelor - announce yourself!"
"I did."
"No, you did not."
"Thrice, brother. Twice further away - I waved and then I said your name. The third time was just a moment ago."
"You lie."
"I lie? My, my, you wound me!"
"You did not announce yourself, and I did not see you!"
"Or perhaps you were lost in a sea of yearning that-"
"I do not yearn."
"Really?"
"Really."
"…"
"I do not yearn, Baelor. I am not a man of yearning!" (a lie, obviously.)
A knowing smile graced Baelor's face as he locked eyes with his youngest nephew, who already had a mischevious glint in his eyes as he looked between Maekar and you. Baelor looked back towards Maekar (and Rhae took the moment to reach for her uncle, who was more than glad to take her), a look on his face that no one else could quite understand.
Confusion.
"I see. You are plagued, brother."
"Plagued?"
"Plagued!"
"By what?"
Baelor does not respond, laughing as he walks back with Rhae, leaving a grumbling Maekar to find his seat at the table. Somewhat similarly to yesterday, you still feel out of place - even with both Daella and Aegon talking your ear off as you work through the food in front of you. But unlike yesterday, when you look up at Maekar, there is not a look of annoyance in his eyes.
It is then that - for the first time since you had bloomed into a woman - your eyes soften upon a man. Granted, it was the man that you were to marry (which eases your nerves ever so slightly). You had not considered him outside of the duty and obligation you had owed, and there was something about him that suddenly lurched out towards you. His face, which you had not thought about before, looked less like an unapproachable, stern and angry man - and more like.. well.. a man. A regular, normal man. One that made something bloom across your chest. His lips parted as the two of you held each other's gaze - and Seven forgive you, but you could not stop your brain from conjuring the scenario of his lips slotting against yours. How they would fit perfectly, and his breath would fan across your face. How his arms would wrap around you, or his hands would splay themselves over your waist - tugging you closer to him as he-
"-and then we all woke up in a pile on Father's bed!"
"Hmm? Oh, yes - because of the storm?"
"Yes! Is.. is everything alright?"
How do you tell a child who had been busy rambling about how his elder brother almost crushed him by accident in the morning that you had just spent the last five minute imagining his father's lips against yours? You nodded, forcing a smile onto your face as you broke eye contact.
When you looked away, Maekar shifted his gaze too - suddenly finding the meat on his plate all too interesting. Ah, the various streaks of colour that danced through the plate truly were an incredible feat. Very much worthy of his attention, of course.
In the background, Daeron's eyes found Baelor's - both shaking their heads and whispering silent prayers. Baelor decides he will take matters into his own hands, one way or another,
"My Lady - I believe you have not had the chance to see the gardens yet, have you?"
You do not realise at first that he is addressing you, not until Daella pokes your arm, leading to you looking up with wide eyes and processing the words he had said,
"Oh, erm.. not quite, no!"
"And I hear the preparations for the wedding begin soon. Perhaps it would do both yourself and my brother some good to visit them today, after we are finished breaking fast."
It was not a question, both of you had realised. A command, disguised under the carefully woven diplomatic softness that Baelor had long practiced. Neither of you could say no, and you both found yourselves nodding as you returned to your meals,
"Excellent! And I think today, I shall take young Rhae with me - give the soon to be couple some time alone."
Half an hour of rustling through your chambers to prepare for whatever a walk through the gardens could entail (and attempting to find a pair of shoes that would not make your feet ache whilst walking through the gardens) later, you hear a knock at your door. The maids finish getting you ready as you find your voice, stumbling slightly over your words,
"C-come in!"
The door swings open, and strong footsteps only make it four paces in before faltering slightly. Maids rush out of the chambers, and Maekar's mouth drops for perhaps the third annoying time today as the light shines upon your face. There is something that has changed here, something about how the light casts a glow upon you - or is that just the way you are? Either way, he pauses before announcing himself by clearing his throat. You look away from trying to tie the final strings on your dress (and failing, horribly. Who in their right mind places strings so far behind, and how would they expect someone to reach around to them?), and look towards him - dropping the strings,
"Ah, Your Gra-"
"Maekar."
"Hmm?"
"My name. You should call me by it, considering we are to be wedded."
Oh. Right. Yes. That made sense, now that you think about it. It would be a bit awkward if you continued to call him 'Your Grace', or 'My Prince' everywhere you went. And so, you do not even see the olive branch he extends towards you,
"Very well, Maekar. You will have to forgive me, I have a few strings to lace before we can go."
"Take your time, I am in no rush."
"Thank you."
The air between the two of you was still thick with a tension neither of you could lessen. It was not angry, nor was it something you could ever say you recognised. You could feel his eyes on you as you returned to the source of your mild anguish as you recall that you had, in fact, dropped the strings,
"Seven above!"
"My Lady??"
"I dropped the damned strings - forgive me, I will have to start again with this stupid thing. Who puts the strings so far back? How irritating!"
His eyebrows rise up, and his mouth moves into what is no longer a look of annoyance, but perhaps something a little more tolerable as he watches you try (and struggle, only to fail entirely) to lace yourself up. You do not realise that he moves closer, not until you let out a noise of frustration and feel two hands move you around by your waist, and then begin to tug at the strings. At first you almost gasp, only to look up in the mirror, where he is stood behind you. Hands that were much more used to the handling of a mace or the wrangling of unruly children were now gently lacing up your gown. Your heart quickens, and you pray that he does not hear nor feel it, lest it betray you. Though it would be frowned upon, you allow yourself the mild sin of committing his touch to your memory - especially when it brushes past your back, and how his hands had felt around your waist.
Neither of you speak, and the only sounds between you are that of the breathing you try to stabilise and his own slower breathing. His eyes flick up to find yours in the mirror in front of you, eyebrows crossed over in concentration,
"Is that okay or do you need it tighter?"
"Could you tie it a little tighter please?"
He nods and loosens the strings to tie them again. If he is irritated by your request, he does not show it - tying the strings tighter this time. When he looks up again, you nod in approval and his hands move back to his side. Neither you nor him address the slight emptiness that fills both of your hearts when he moves back,
"Shall we? The gardens are not far, but the weather may not be so kind for long."
You lace your arm into his as he leads you out of the chambers and towards the gardens. Both of your footsteps are measured - his, so that he does not end up tugging you towards the gardens by accident with his usual long strides, and yours, so that you are able to steady your nerves with every step. As the two of you step out into the brighter sunlight, Maekar stiffens for a moment. You look up at him, and see him wince,
"…"
"…"
"I regrettably have not been out in the sunlight in a while."
"Ah, I see."
Nonetheless, he still takes you around the gardens. There is still little conversation between you both as your eyes drink in the sights around you. The warmth of the sun, the reddish tint of the walls. The birds as they flew past you - settling on branches of orange trees. This time, it is you who pauses and Maekar who searches your face for explanation. He realises that your eyes have settled upon the orange trees, biting your lip as if you were holding yourself back. He (somewhat regrettably) lets go of your arm, twists an orange off and almost hands it to you - only to remember something his brother had said a few nights before,
"I heard once, that it is an honour to peel an orange for someone."
"Where the fuck did you hear that? Old hags chattering about?"
"Not quite, brother. You should try it sometime."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
He did not understand Baelor's words at the time, but perhaps his not-so-spoken apology would be more.. apologetic, if he peeled an orange for you? Even as he thought this, his thoughts groaned and grumbled - until he looked at you. The way your eyes glimmered with the slightest tinge of hope - but you would not let it spread across your face, for fear that he would not do such a thing for you.
Unbeknownst to either of you, a very invested crowd had been watching you, from their safety up upon a balcony. Baelor and his wife had given his own children and Maekar's incredibly strict instructions to not be found, but to watch quietly. So when Maekar began to peel the orange and hand you segments as you continued to walk through the gardens, a collective sigh of relief rushed through the Red Keep. Specifically, Baelor finally felt his stress ease slightly at the sight, and prayed that it would only continue to lessen.
Each segment was sweeter than the last, and though neither of you spoke much, it seemed as though things were finally beginning to settle between you. He even - and this was shocking both to yourself and him - walked you back to your chambers! Upon reaching them, it appeared as though he had something to say. Both of you stood there, waiting for him to speak (even the guards stepped back slightly). But as he opened his mouth, the tailor finally arrived,
"Ah, we must turn you into a princess! Come, come, my Lady!"
Before you knew it, you had been whisked away into your chambers - leaving Maekar outside with his hand outstretched and mouth agape, words still forming on his tongue. He stood there for a minute (a full, long, unhurried minute) as the guards shuffled back into their positions, awkwardly. For a moment, all three of them (the two guards and Maekar, of course) looked between each other, before the usual grump returned to him and he spun on his heel, striding away,
"That was close."
"You're tellin' me, mate!"
"He has changed though, don't you think?"
"You speak as though you are particularly close with the Prince."
"No, of course not.."
Inside, you are immediately presented with the finest silks from the world. Pinks and greens and reds and blues - every colour you can imagine, with every embellishment possible. The tailor has you try on dress after dress as your ladies-in-waiting compliment each and every one - all as they sit comfortably eating lemon cakes. You are… overwhelmed. Overwhelmed and slightly dizzy after the fifteenth dress.
How many dresses could you even get through in one day?
On the other side of the Red Keep, Maekar grumbled. He sat in a chair - opposite his brother, who was supposed to be reviewing the accounts. Instead, he found himself busy with his brother's grumbling. His brother, whom he loved dearly, but wished that at this current moment, would let him finish the work that lay in front of him,
"-and then the fucking tailor fucking took her away!"
"Is that so?"
"Yes! All I did was peel a fucking orange and take her on a fucking walk like a child! I did not even get a fucking chance to-"
"Hang on, brother - these accounts are getting-"
"-and now we will both be too fucking busy-"
"Seven help me."
"-and I will not have the fucking chance to-"
"Perhaps we could divert some spending across here.."
"…"
"Oh! You have stopped!"
"…"
"Ah, the sound of peac-"
"I will not see her until the wedding. She will think me an aloof fucking idiot until the wedding."
"Fuck me."
"Baelor??"
"Seven above, Maekar! You sound like some green boy, twiddling about like a fool!"
"I do not twiddle!"
"You are twiddling. Right now."
"What the fuck even is twiddling?"
"Fidgeting nervously-"
"I am not fidgeting nervously!"
One wonders what the walnut shell in his hands - entirely disintegrated as it lies powdered in his hands from his 'non nervous fidgeting' - has to say about that. Maekar scoffs and rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair as Baelor watches on - amused. And as if she knew it was a strange moment to turn up, Rhae suddenly clambered up Baelor's leg, then his torso and finally rested - perched up on his shoulder as she grabbed onto his head. The older man made no move to remove her as Maekar sat in disbelief,
"Why does she do that??"
"She is your daughter."
"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"
"Well… you were not so different as a babe.."
"How dare you! You take that back!"
"I will not! You were just as mischevious and impertinent! You used to climb onto Father's head, you know."
Maekar only groaned, facepalming in response as Baelor and Rhae both laughed,
"You cannot be serious."
"Oh but I am. Deathly serious, brother. Now, if you will allow me to attend to the accounts?"
"Very well, attend to your fucking accounts. I'm taking Rhae - she has been inside far too long."
Baelor only smiles in response as Maekar yoinks the babbling child back into his arms. For the second time today, he walks through the gardens - only with his youngest daughter this time. Who makes for a much better listener than his brother,
"I hate tailors. I hate tailors and their stupidity."
Rhae only looks up at her father in curiosity.
"They always turn up at the worst times!"
She smacks his chest, as if to disagree, and Maekar stops - looking down in disbelief as she giggles,
"Where did you learn that? You do not smack me- Ouch, Rhae! That is enough!"
She responds with a third smack. Maekar groans again, grabbing at an orange and sitting down in the grass with his youngest - quite unlike what most around him would expect of him. She crawls around on the grass, grabbing fistfuls of it and almost raising it to her mouth, only for him to tug it out of her hands and replace it with segments of oranges. That seems to tame her as he continues to complain,
"She makes me feel strange, Rhae. I do not understand it - I never felt this strongly with your mother."
Rhae babbles, and Maekar lets his head roll back onto the tree trunk behind him,
"I know. I still have not apologised to her. But the wedding is so near, and we will both be busy now - I will not get a moment with her alone."
She tuts disappointingly, poking her father's leg. He gives her more pieces of orange as she settles in his lap now. The sun is much less warm, more of a soft orange glow across the setting sky. Red streaks paint the clouds above as the evening begins to settle in. And yet, Maekar Targaryen continues to complain to his young daughter - who's only words right now are:
"Bah Bah!" - reserved for Maekar alone.
"Dae! Awon! Mon! Dah! Ag!" - her siblings. Naturally.
"Mau mau!" - Tiberius. You try teaching a babbling babe to say 'Tiberius'!
"Chichipatti!" - exclaimed loudly, usually at stray hairs. Typically these were left behind by Tiberius, Aegon's pet cat.
As the wind begins to chill, and the leaves start to scatter across the grounds, Maekar finally lifts the two of them up - making their ways back inside. He pauses, however, to look up to where the balcony of your chambers would be. Oh, how fate looks kindly upon him sometimes! You stand in the balcony - eyes closed as the wind brushes through the gown you wear. He lets his gaze soften on you - ignoring how Rhae tugs on him - and licks his lips as you finally seem to be relaxed. That is, until one of your ladies-in-waiting opens the curtains and tugs you back inside, exclaiming something about more dresses.
And so as Maekar lowers his sleeping daughter into her crib, before returning to his own chambers, you find yourself exhausted after spending the whole afternoon and evening trying dress after dress. You have long lost count of how many dresses you have tried on - knowing only that the number is maddeningly high. Luck befalls you, as the tailor finally gathers his materials and vows to return tomorrow with newer, more fashionable clothing. Your ladies-in-waiting bid you good night too, and you waste no time in quickly dressing for bed.
But sleep does not find you quickly.
Not when you close your eyes, only to see the image of Maekar's hands around your waist - touching you, teasing you. You shoot up in bed, eyes wide open as you cannot stop thinking of how close he was to you, how you could feel his breath fanning over the back of your neck as he focused on the strings of your dress. As you lay back in bed, your fingers slowly raise your shift up - just above your already perked up breasts. The cool draft does little to soothe them, and they only ache more as your fingers lightly pinch and twist them.
You try to not imagine Maekar - hovering above you, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead as he presses his lips to your shoulder, voice rumbling through you. Yet your body betrays you, fingers dancing across your body as you find the source of your ache. Your pearl, throbbing and practically begging for your attention as you drag your slick from your wet folds over it. You start slow, with small circles as you hold back your whines and gasps.
But the thought of him pushes through in your mind again. This time, your mind conjures an image of him, with you, both sat in front of the mirror. Instead of your own fingers, it is his that pleasure you as you arch into his touch. He would groan into your neck, soft kisses pressed along your skin as he brought you closer and closer to your peak. You would turn your face towards his - foreheads pressed together as you both would struggle with your breathing. His free arm would snake around you, under your legs as he held you up - and you would feel his thick, long cock pressing up against you from behind as yo-
It does not take long to reach your peak, but you are far too embarrassed to call for anyone to help you clean. Lucky for you though, it does not stain your bedclothes, nor your sheets. After you wipe yourself down, you lie in bed again, attempting sleep once more. But a new thought - one that you had not been able to consider before - enters your mind. One that may just make sense of the insanity you have been suffering through…
On the other side of the Red Keep, Maekar struggles quite similarly. With his painfully hard cock in one hand, he curses himself as he strokes faster and faster, trying so very hard not to think about how perfect you looked up on the balcony today. How your hair fell just right around your face, or how the dress hugged you in a way that could only send blood rushing to his cock. He tried to cast such thoughts aside - but the idea of you lying beside him as you would press kisses to him, whispering softly as your hand would replace his has him entirely ruined. When he releases, something clicks in his brain. Something that he still did not understand, but came slightly closer to it.
A shame, that the two people who are so maddeningly in love with one another, cannot see their feelings - nor each other - for what they are.
maekar throughout this chapter, at various points:
hold the line, love isn't always on time | dilf! maekar x f! reader
Chapter 3: "I do not yearn, Baelor. I am not a man of yearning!" (a lie, obviously.)
masterlist ★ chapter 2 ★ chapter 4
★ word count: 4.6k
★ series summary: Prince Maekar Targaryen was more than content with his life. Well.. content is a strong word.. Nonetheless, he disagreed with his father's insistence upon his remarrying. Something foolish like "securing the realm's future", is what his father had said. To which, he had naturally stormed out of the room, with his older brother trailing after him. "Married. Married, again? Really?" But what happens when his wife is just as headstrong as him, and incredibly sexy annoying?
roe speaks: i suppose it is a good thing i have no job right now because i can write as much as i want. with no consequence. which is how this got written, over the span of around sixteen hours, and many, many doomscroll breaks T_T also i love the idea of reader and maekar being baelor's current Primary Source Of Stress.
As Maekar walked back to his chambers, with a very sleepy child in his arms, he could not ignore the slowing of time around him. The way things suddenly felt less stressed, and more normal. Out of nowhere, the draft that usually swept around the corridors - brushing past cold ankles - now felt more prominent than ever. The corridors felt quieter, less busy than ever. Even the usual sound of children that would often fill the space felt empty.
The guards stood outside his chambers - as always, ever vigilant of his safety. He never really greeted them, but tonight he looked at them. Really, genuinely looked at them, before pushing the doors open. Inside, the fire kept warm, but the walls remained cold. The curtains swung low - the night's breeze waffling through them. Paintings on the wall that he had not thought of in many, many years, and old books that lay wide open on his desk - why did it all feel so important now? He approached the long mirror - the one he had long since avoided looking at - and finally took in his appearance. By the Gods, he had aged. Tonight, more than ever, he seemed lost. He was not Maekar "The Anvil" Targaryen tonight - no, he was a confused and unsure man.
He knows he should take Rhae to the nursery, leave her with the house help instead. It is not his concern, how she sleeps. But there is something in how she slumbers - arms splayed around him, and a face filled with a peace he long ached for. So tonight, he allows himself to rock his daughter to sleep.
The night is long, and perhaps a little unkind too, given how thunder rumbles and the wrath of the Seven fills the lands below. It feels almost as though the turmoil outside reflects upon the turmoil within his heart. But he does not have long to think about it - not when the doors to his chambers creak open. He opens one eye, moving his head upwards to see who it is that dares to trespass upon his room,
"Who the fuck-"
"I cannot sleep, Father."
"…very well, Daeron. Do not expect me to cuddle you."
"I would not dare!"
He grunts in response, shifting over to give his son room. Despite his colder words, he does not push his eldest away when he unintentionally moves closer in his sleep. The rain only gets louder and louder - rumbling through the walls now - as his door opens again. In walk two different footstep patterns, and Maekar groans, rolling his eyes,
"You have to be fucking joking."
"The rain is loud, and Aegon and I-"
"Could not sleep? Fine."
Both Aegon and Daella slot themselves on either side of Maekar - who now sits up in bed with a pillow behind him for support. Daella falls asleep quickly, but Aegon struggles more - sniffling as he tentatively places a hand on Maekar's arm. Maekar frowns briefly, before pulling the boy closer, having remembered his fear of storms. Not one soul speaks, yet the fire's warmth spreads across the chambers, finally warming the walls around them. Somewhere through the night, both Aerion and Aemon find their ways inside.
By the time the rays of the sun begin to peek in through the curtains, seven souls sleep soundly in the bed - light snores rumbling from Maekar as his children lay clambered around him. A warm glow lays across them, the sun coating them in the softest blanket as Maekar begins to awaken. His neck aches and hurts (a consequence of sleeping whilst sat up, of course), but he cannot feel particularly mad. Not when he looks around him.
He thinks back to the night before, and the image of you with Rhae in your arms. A strange feeling crosses his chest again - the very same as the one that filled him when you walked away from him. A strange emptiness, that he does not understand. It is uncomfortable, to say the least. How he is surrounded by all his children, yet feels weirdly empty - he cannot fathom what it is that has caused this. All he does know is that somewhere along the line, he owes it to you to at least apologise.
Little does he know that he has no time to do so, not with the wedding creeping closer with every passing day.
The night was cold and grim, as you wrapped blankets around yourself in an attempt to keep some kind of warmth around you. Your tears had long since dried and you felt a numbness that you swore ached whenever you remembered him. Why would it ache like that? You knew that marriages were often loveless, or that people fell in love after marriage. After all - marriage was a duty first and foremost. And you were only here to fulfill that duty. Duty to your father, to your husband to be and his children, and a duty to the people, of course.
But none of the handmaidens, none of the old women - nobody prepared you for the way your heart tugged and tore itself apart. How it kept you up all night, through the painfully loud storm and the billowing winds threatening the walls around you. You did not understand what it was that had plagued you. Why did your heart beat like that around him?
When the morning came by, and the maids came to prepare you for the day, you had already been wide awake (much to their surprise). Just like the day before, you were bathed and dressed, covered in perfumed oils and jewels as you made your way to breakfast - on time, this morning.
In fact, you walk in to see Maekar wrangling three separate children - Aegon on one arm, Daella on the other, Rhae tugging on his hair as he tries to maintain control. Without saying a single word, you tug Aegon and Daella away - never stopping to look at your soon to be husband's face as you bring the children to their seats at the table. Rhae climbs down from Maekar's head, settling in his arms as he watches you, unable to tear his eyes away.
Had you done your hair differently? Was it the jewels you wore? Something had changed, and he could not pin down exactly what it was that it had been - and it was beginning to drive him wild. Baelor appeared out of nowhere (Maekar had been so lost in watching you that he had not realised his elder brother approaching him, not until his hand rested upon his shoulder),
"Fuck me, Baelor - announce yourself!"
"I did."
"No, you did not."
"Thrice, brother. Twice further away - I waved and then I said your name. The third time was just a moment ago."
"You lie."
"I lie? My, my, you wound me!"
"You did not announce yourself, and I did not see you!"
"Or perhaps you were lost in a sea of yearning that-"
"I do not yearn."
"Really?"
"Really."
"…"
"I do not yearn, Baelor. I am not a man of yearning!" (a lie, obviously.)
A knowing smile graced Baelor's face as he locked eyes with his youngest nephew, who already had a mischevious glint in his eyes as he looked between Maekar and you. Baelor looked back towards Maekar (and Rhae took the moment to reach for her uncle, who was more than glad to take her), a look on his face that no one else could quite understand.
Confusion.
"I see. You are plagued, brother."
"Plagued?"
"Plagued!"
"By what?"
Baelor does not respond, laughing as he walks back with Rhae, leaving a grumbling Maekar to find his seat at the table. Somewhat similarly to yesterday, you still feel out of place - even with both Daella and Aegon talking your ear off as you work through the food in front of you. But unlike yesterday, when you look up at Maekar, there is not a look of annoyance in his eyes.
It is then that - for the first time since you had bloomed into a woman - your eyes soften upon a man. Granted, it was the man that you were to marry (which eases your nerves ever so slightly). You had not considered him outside of the duty and obligation you had owed, and there was something about him that suddenly lurched out towards you. His face, which you had not thought about before, looked less like an unapproachable, stern and angry man - and more like.. well.. a man. A regular, normal man. One that made something bloom across your chest. His lips parted as the two of you held each other's gaze - and Seven forgive you, but you could not stop your brain from conjuring the scenario of his lips slotting against yours. How they would fit perfectly, and his breath would fan across your face. How his arms would wrap around you, or his hands would splay themselves over your waist - tugging you closer to him as he-
"-and then we all woke up in a pile on Father's bed!"
"Hmm? Oh, yes - because of the storm?"
"Yes! Is.. is everything alright?"
How do you tell a child who had been busy rambling about how his elder brother almost crushed him by accident in the morning that you had just spent the last five minute imagining his father's lips against yours? You nodded, forcing a smile onto your face as you broke eye contact.
When you looked away, Maekar shifted his gaze too - suddenly finding the meat on his plate all too interesting. Ah, the various streaks of colour that danced through the plate truly were an incredible feat. Very much worthy of his attention, of course.
In the background, Daeron's eyes found Baelor's - both shaking their heads and whispering silent prayers. Baelor decides he will take matters into his own hands, one way or another,
"My Lady - I believe you have not had the chance to see the gardens yet, have you?"
You do not realise at first that he is addressing you, not until Daella pokes your arm, leading to you looking up with wide eyes and processing the words he had said,
"Oh, erm.. not quite, no!"
"And I hear the preparations for the wedding begin soon. Perhaps it would do both yourself and my brother some good to visit them today, after we are finished breaking fast."
It was not a question, both of you had realised. A command, disguised under the carefully woven diplomatic softness that Baelor had long practiced. Neither of you could say no, and you both found yourselves nodding as you returned to your meals,
"Excellent! And I think today, I shall take young Rhae with me - give the soon to be couple some time alone."
Half an hour of rustling through your chambers to prepare for whatever a walk through the gardens could entail (and attempting to find a pair of shoes that would not make your feet ache whilst walking through the gardens) later, you hear a knock at your door. The maids finish getting you ready as you find your voice, stumbling slightly over your words,
"C-come in!"
The door swings open, and strong footsteps only make it four paces in before faltering slightly. Maids rush out of the chambers, and Maekar's mouth drops for perhaps the third annoying time today as the light shines upon your face. There is something that has changed here, something about how the light casts a glow upon you - or is that just the way you are? Either way, he pauses before announcing himself by clearing his throat. You look away from trying to tie the final strings on your dress (and failing, horribly. Who in their right mind places strings so far behind, and how would they expect someone to reach around to them?), and look towards him - dropping the strings,
"Ah, Your Gra-"
"Maekar."
"Hmm?"
"My name. You should call me by it, considering we are to be wedded."
Oh. Right. Yes. That made sense, now that you think about it. It would be a bit awkward if you continued to call him 'Your Grace', or 'My Prince' everywhere you went. And so, you do not even see the olive branch he extends towards you,
"Very well, Maekar. You will have to forgive me, I have a few strings to lace before we can go."
"Take your time, I am in no rush."
"Thank you."
The air between the two of you was still thick with a tension neither of you could lessen. It was not angry, nor was it something you could ever say you recognised. You could feel his eyes on you as you returned to the source of your mild anguish as you recall that you had, in fact, dropped the strings,
"Seven above!"
"My Lady??"
"I dropped the damned strings - forgive me, I will have to start again with this stupid thing. Who puts the strings so far back? How irritating!"
His eyebrows rise up, and his mouth moves into what is no longer a look of annoyance, but perhaps something a little more tolerable as he watches you try (and struggle, only to fail entirely) to lace yourself up. You do not realise that he moves closer, not until you let out a noise of frustration and feel two hands move you around by your waist, and then begin to tug at the strings. At first you almost gasp, only to look up in the mirror, where he is stood behind you. Hands that were much more used to the handling of a mace or the wrangling of unruly children were now gently lacing up your gown. Your heart quickens, and you pray that he does not hear nor feel it, lest it betray you. Though it would be frowned upon, you allow yourself the mild sin of committing his touch to your memory - especially when it brushes past your back, and how his hands had felt around your waist.
Neither of you speak, and the only sounds between you are that of the breathing you try to stabilise and his own slower breathing. His eyes flick up to find yours in the mirror in front of you, eyebrows crossed over in concentration,
"Is that okay or do you need it tighter?"
"Could you tie it a little tighter please?"
He nods and loosens the strings to tie them again. If he is irritated by your request, he does not show it - tying the strings tighter this time. When he looks up again, you nod in approval and his hands move back to his side. Neither you nor him address the slight emptiness that fills both of your hearts when he moves back,
"Shall we? The gardens are not far, but the weather may not be so kind for long."
You lace your arm into his as he leads you out of the chambers and towards the gardens. Both of your footsteps are measured - his, so that he does not end up tugging you towards the gardens by accident with his usual long strides, and yours, so that you are able to steady your nerves with every step. As the two of you step out into the brighter sunlight, Maekar stiffens for a moment. You look up at him, and see him wince,
"…"
"…"
"I regrettably have not been out in the sunlight in a while."
"Ah, I see."
Nonetheless, he still takes you around the gardens. There is still little conversation between you both as your eyes drink in the sights around you. The warmth of the sun, the reddish tint of the walls. The birds as they flew past you - settling on branches of orange trees. This time, it is you who pauses and Maekar who searches your face for explanation. He realises that your eyes have settled upon the orange trees, biting your lip as if you were holding yourself back. He (somewhat regrettably) lets go of your arm, twists an orange off and almost hands it to you - only to remember something his brother had said a few nights before,
"I heard once, that it is an honour to peel an orange for someone."
"Where the fuck did you hear that? Old hags chattering about?"
"Not quite, brother. You should try it sometime."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
He did not understand Baelor's words at the time, but perhaps his not-so-spoken apology would be more.. apologetic, if he peeled an orange for you? Even as he thought this, his thoughts groaned and grumbled - until he looked at you. The way your eyes glimmered with the slightest tinge of hope - but you would not let it spread across your face, for fear that he would not do such a thing for you.
Unbeknownst to either of you, a very invested crowd had been watching you, from their safety up upon a balcony. Baelor and his wife had given his own children and Maekar's incredibly strict instructions to not be found, but to watch quietly. So when Maekar began to peel the orange and hand you segments as you continued to walk through the gardens, a collective sigh of relief rushed through the Red Keep. Specifically, Baelor finally felt his stress ease slightly at the sight, and prayed that it would only continue to lessen.
Each segment was sweeter than the last, and though neither of you spoke much, it seemed as though things were finally beginning to settle between you. He even - and this was shocking both to yourself and him - walked you back to your chambers! Upon reaching them, it appeared as though he had something to say. Both of you stood there, waiting for him to speak (even the guards stepped back slightly). But as he opened his mouth, the tailor finally arrived,
"Ah, we must turn you into a princess! Come, come, my Lady!"
Before you knew it, you had been whisked away into your chambers - leaving Maekar outside with his hand outstretched and mouth agape, words still forming on his tongue. He stood there for a minute (a full, long, unhurried minute) as the guards shuffled back into their positions, awkwardly. For a moment, all three of them (the two guards and Maekar, of course) looked between each other, before the usual grump returned to him and he spun on his heel, striding away,
"That was close."
"You're tellin' me, mate!"
"He has changed though, don't you think?"
"You speak as though you are particularly close with the Prince."
"No, of course not.."
Inside, you are immediately presented with the finest silks from the world. Pinks and greens and reds and blues - every colour you can imagine, with every embellishment possible. The tailor has you try on dress after dress as your ladies-in-waiting compliment each and every one - all as they sit comfortably eating lemon cakes. You are… overwhelmed. Overwhelmed and slightly dizzy after the fifteenth dress.
How many dresses could you even get through in one day?
On the other side of the Red Keep, Maekar grumbled. He sat in a chair - opposite his brother, who was supposed to be reviewing the accounts. Instead, he found himself busy with his brother's grumbling. His brother, whom he loved dearly, but wished that at this current moment, would let him finish the work that lay in front of him,
"-and then the fucking tailor fucking took her away!"
"Is that so?"
"Yes! All I did was peel a fucking orange and take her on a fucking walk like a child! I did not even get a fucking chance to-"
"Hang on, brother - these accounts are getting-"
"-and now we will both be too fucking busy-"
"Seven help me."
"-and I will not have the fucking chance to-"
"Perhaps we could divert some spending across here.."
"…"
"Oh! You have stopped!"
"…"
"Ah, the sound of peac-"
"I will not see her until the wedding. She will think me an aloof fucking idiot until the wedding."
"Fuck me."
"Baelor??"
"Seven above, Maekar! You sound like some green boy, twiddling about like a fool!"
"I do not twiddle!"
"You are twiddling. Right now."
"What the fuck even is twiddling?"
"Fidgeting nervously-"
"I am not fidgeting nervously!"
One wonders what the walnut shell in his hands - entirely disintegrated as it lies powdered in his hands from his 'non nervous fidgeting' - has to say about that. Maekar scoffs and rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair as Baelor watches on - amused. And as if she knew it was a strange moment to turn up, Rhae suddenly clambered up Baelor's leg, then his torso and finally rested - perched up on his shoulder as she grabbed onto his head. The older man made no move to remove her as Maekar sat in disbelief,
"Why does she do that??"
"She is your daughter."
"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"
"Well… you were not so different as a babe.."
"How dare you! You take that back!"
"I will not! You were just as mischevious and impertinent! You used to climb onto Father's head, you know."
Maekar only groaned, facepalming in response as Baelor and Rhae both laughed,
"You cannot be serious."
"Oh but I am. Deathly serious, brother. Now, if you will allow me to attend to the accounts?"
"Very well, attend to your fucking accounts. I'm taking Rhae - she has been inside far too long."
Baelor only smiles in response as Maekar yoinks the babbling child back into his arms. For the second time today, he walks through the gardens - only with his youngest daughter this time. Who makes for a much better listener than his brother,
"I hate tailors. I hate tailors and their stupidity."
Rhae only looks up at her father in curiosity.
"They always turn up at the worst times!"
She smacks his chest, as if to disagree, and Maekar stops - looking down in disbelief as she giggles,
"Where did you learn that? You do not smack me- Ouch, Rhae! That is enough!"
She responds with a third smack. Maekar groans again, grabbing at an orange and sitting down in the grass with his youngest - quite unlike what most around him would expect of him. She crawls around on the grass, grabbing fistfuls of it and almost raising it to her mouth, only for him to tug it out of her hands and replace it with segments of oranges. That seems to tame her as he continues to complain,
"She makes me feel strange, Rhae. I do not understand it - I never felt this strongly with your mother."
Rhae babbles, and Maekar lets his head roll back onto the tree trunk behind him,
"I know. I still have not apologised to her. But the wedding is so near, and we will both be busy now - I will not get a moment with her alone."
She tuts disappointingly, poking her father's leg. He gives her more pieces of orange as she settles in his lap now. The sun is much less warm, more of a soft orange glow across the setting sky. Red streaks paint the clouds above as the evening begins to settle in. And yet, Maekar Targaryen continues to complain to his young daughter - who's only words right now are:
"Bah Bah!" - reserved for Maekar alone.
"Dae! Awon! Mon! Dah! Ag!" - her siblings. Naturally.
"Mau mau!" - Tiberius. You try teaching a babbling babe to say 'Tiberius'!
"Chichipatti!" - exclaimed loudly, usually at stray hairs. Typically these were left behind by Tiberius, Aegon's pet cat.
As the wind begins to chill, and the leaves start to scatter across the grounds, Maekar finally lifts the two of them up - making their ways back inside. He pauses, however, to look up to where the balcony of your chambers would be. Oh, how fate looks kindly upon him sometimes! You stand in the balcony - eyes closed as the wind brushes through the gown you wear. He lets his gaze soften on you - ignoring how Rhae tugs on him - and licks his lips as you finally seem to be relaxed. That is, until one of your ladies-in-waiting opens the curtains and tugs you back inside, exclaiming something about more dresses.
And so as Maekar lowers his sleeping daughter into her crib, before returning to his own chambers, you find yourself exhausted after spending the whole afternoon and evening trying dress after dress. You have long lost count of how many dresses you have tried on - knowing only that the number is maddeningly high. Luck befalls you, as the tailor finally gathers his materials and vows to return tomorrow with newer, more fashionable clothing. Your ladies-in-waiting bid you good night too, and you waste no time in quickly dressing for bed.
But sleep does not find you quickly.
Not when you close your eyes, only to see the image of Maekar's hands around your waist - touching you, teasing you. You shoot up in bed, eyes wide open as you cannot stop thinking of how close he was to you, how you could feel his breath fanning over the back of your neck as he focused on the strings of your dress. As you lay back in bed, your fingers slowly raise your shift up - just above your already perked up breasts. The cool draft does little to soothe them, and they only ache more as your fingers lightly pinch and twist them.
You try to not imagine Maekar - hovering above you, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead as he presses his lips to your shoulder, voice rumbling through you. Yet your body betrays you, fingers dancing across your body as you find the source of your ache. Your pearl, throbbing and practically begging for your attention as you drag your slick from your wet folds over it. You start slow, with small circles as you hold back your whines and gasps.
But the thought of him pushes through in your mind again. This time, your mind conjures an image of him, with you, both sat in front of the mirror. Instead of your own fingers, it is his that pleasure you as you arch into his touch. He would groan into your neck, soft kisses pressed along your skin as he brought you closer and closer to your peak. You would turn your face towards his - foreheads pressed together as you both would struggle with your breathing. His free arm would snake around you, under your legs as he held you up - and you would feel his thick, long cock pressing up against you from behind as yo-
It does not take long to reach your peak, but you are far too embarrassed to call for anyone to help you clean. Lucky for you though, it does not stain your bedclothes, nor your sheets. After you wipe yourself down, you lie in bed again, attempting sleep once more. But a new thought - one that you had not been able to consider before - enters your mind. One that may just make sense of the insanity you have been suffering through…
On the other side of the Red Keep, Maekar struggles quite similarly. With his painfully hard cock in one hand, he curses himself as he strokes faster and faster, trying so very hard not to think about how perfect you looked up on the balcony today. How your hair fell just right around your face, or how the dress hugged you in a way that could only send blood rushing to his cock. He tried to cast such thoughts aside - but the idea of you lying beside him as you would press kisses to him, whispering softly as your hand would replace his has him entirely ruined. When he releases, something clicks in his brain. Something that he still did not understand, but came slightly closer to it.
A shame, that the two people who are so maddeningly in love with one another, cannot see their feelings - nor each other - for what they are.
maekar throughout this chapter, at various points:
hold the line, love isn't always on time | dilf! maekar x f! reader
Chapter Three: "I do not yearn, Baelor. I am not a man of yearning!" (a lie, obviously.)
masterlist ★ chapter 2 ★ chapter 4
★ word count: 4.6k
★ series summary: Prince Maekar Targaryen was more than content with his life. Well.. content is a strong word.. Nonetheless, he disagreed with his father's insistence upon his remarrying. Something foolish like "securing the realm's future", is what his father had said. To which, he had naturally stormed out of the room, with his older brother trailing after him. "Married. Married, again? Really?" But what happens when his wife is incredibly sexy annoying?
roe speaks: i suppose it is a good thing i have no job right now because i can write as much as i want. with no consequence. which is how this got written, over the span of around sixteen hours, and many, many doomscroll breaks T_T also i love the idea of reader and maekar being baelor's current Primary Source Of Stress.
As Maekar walked back to his chambers, with a very sleepy child in his arms, he could not ignore the slowing of time around him. The way things suddenly felt less stressed, and more normal. Out of nowhere, the draft that usually swept around the corridors - brushing past cold ankles - now felt more prominent than ever. The corridors felt quieter, less busy than ever. Even the usual sound of children that would often fill the space felt empty.
The guards stood outside his chambers - as always, ever vigilant of his safety. He never really greeted them, but tonight he looked at them. Really, genuinely looked at them, before pushing the doors open. Inside, the fire kept warm, but the walls remained cold. The curtains swung low - the night's breeze waffling through them. Paintings on the wall that he had not thought of in many, many years, and old books that lay wide open on his desk - why did it all feel so important now? He approached the long mirror - the one he had long since avoided looking at - and finally took in his appearance. By the Gods, he had aged. Tonight, more than ever, he seemed lost. He was not Maekar "The Anvil" Targaryen tonight - no, he was a confused and unsure man.
He knows he should take Rhae to the nursery, leave her with the house help instead. It is not his concern, how she sleeps. But there is something in how she slumbers - arms splayed around him, and a face filled with a peace he long ached for. So tonight, he allows himself to rock his daughter to sleep.
The night is long, and perhaps a little unkind too, given how thunder rumbles and the wrath of the Seven fills the lands below. It feels almost as though the turmoil outside reflects upon the turmoil within his heart. But he does not have long to think about it - not when the doors to his chambers creak open. He opens one eye, moving his head upwards to see who it is that dares to trespass upon his room,
"Who the fuck-"
"I cannot sleep, Father."
"…very well, Daeron. Do not expect me to cuddle you."
"I would not dare!"
He grunts in response, shifting over to give his son room. Despite his colder words, he does not push his eldest away when he unintentionally moves closer in his sleep. The rain only gets louder and louder - rumbling through the walls now - as his door opens again. In walk two different footstep patterns, and Maekar groans, rolling his eyes,
"You have to be fucking joking."
"The rain is loud, and Aegon and I-"
"Could not sleep? Fine."
Both Aegon and Daella slot themselves on either side of Maekar - who now sits up in bed with a pillow behind him for support. Daella falls asleep quickly, but Aegon struggles more - sniffling as he tentatively places a hand on Maekar's arm. Maekar frowns briefly, before pulling the boy closer, having remembered his fear of storms. Not one soul speaks, yet the fire's warmth spreads across the chambers, finally warming the walls around them. Somewhere through the night, both Aerion and Aemon find their ways inside.
By the time the rays of the sun begin to peek in through the curtains, seven souls sleep soundly in the bed - light snores rumbling from Maekar as his children lay clambered around him. A warm glow lays across them, the sun coating them in the softest blanket as Maekar begins to awaken. His neck aches and hurts (a consequence of sleeping whilst sat up, of course), but he cannot feel particularly mad. Not when he looks around him.
He thinks back to the night before, and the image of you with Rhae in your arms. A strange feeling crosses his chest again - the very same as the one that filled him when you walked away from him. A strange emptiness, that he does not understand. It is uncomfortable, to say the least. How he is surrounded by all his children, yet feels weirdly empty - he cannot fathom what it is that has caused this. All he does know is that somewhere along the line, he owes it to you to at least apologise.
Little does he know that he has no time to do so, not with the wedding creeping closer with every passing day.
The night was cold and grim, as you wrapped blankets around yourself in an attempt to keep some kind of warmth around you. Your tears had long since dried and you felt a numbness that you swore ached whenever you remembered him. Why would it ache like that? You knew that marriages were often loveless, or that people fell in love after marriage. After all - marriage was a duty first and foremost. And you were only here to fulfill that duty. Duty to your father, to your husband to be and his children, and a duty to the people, of course.
But none of the handmaidens, none of the old women - nobody prepared you for the way your heart tugged and tore itself apart. How it kept you up all night, through the painfully loud storm and the billowing winds threatening the walls around you. You did not understand what it was that had plagued you. Why did your heart beat like that around him?
When the morning came by, and the maids came to prepare you for the day, you had already been wide awake (much to their surprise). Just like the day before, you were bathed and dressed, covered in perfumed oils and jewels as you made your way to breakfast - on time, this morning.
In fact, you walk in to see Maekar wrangling three separate children - Aegon on one arm, Daella on the other, Rhae tugging on his hair as he tries to maintain control. Without saying a single word, you tug Aegon and Daella away - never stopping to look at your soon to be husband's face as you bring the children to their seats at the table. Rhae climbs down from Maekar's head, settling in his arms as he watches you, unable to tear his eyes away.
Had you done your hair differently? Was it the jewels you wore? Something had changed, and he could not pin down exactly what it was that it had been - and it was beginning to drive him wild. Baelor appeared out of nowhere (Maekar had been so lost in watching you that he had not realised his elder brother approaching him, not until his hand rested upon his shoulder),
"Fuck me, Baelor - announce yourself!"
"I did."
"No, you did not."
"Thrice, brother. Twice further away - I waved and then I said your name. The third time was just a moment ago."
"You lie."
"I lie? My, my, you wound me!"
"You did not announce yourself, and I did not see you!"
"Or perhaps you were lost in a sea of yearning that-"
"I do not yearn."
"Really?"
"Really."
"…"
"I do not yearn, Baelor. I am not a man of yearning!" (a lie, obviously.)
A knowing smile graced Baelor's face as he locked eyes with his youngest nephew, who already had a mischevious glint in his eyes as he looked between Maekar and you. Baelor looked back towards Maekar (and Rhae took the moment to reach for her uncle, who was more than glad to take her), a look on his face that no one else could quite understand.
Confusion.
"I see. You are plagued, brother."
"Plagued?"
"Plagued!"
"By what?"
Baelor does not respond, laughing as he walks back with Rhae, leaving a grumbling Maekar to find his seat at the table. Somewhat similarly to yesterday, you still feel out of place - even with both Daella and Aegon talking your ear off as you work through the food in front of you. But unlike yesterday, when you look up at Maekar, there is not a look of annoyance in his eyes.
It is then that - for the first time since you had bloomed into a woman - your eyes soften upon a man. Granted, it was the man that you were to marry (which eases your nerves ever so slightly). You had not considered him outside of the duty and obligation you had owed, and there was something about him that suddenly lurched out towards you. His face, which you had not thought about before, looked less like an unapproachable, stern and angry man - and more like.. well.. a man. A regular, normal man. One that made something bloom across your chest. His lips parted as the two of you held each other's gaze - and Seven forgive you, but you could not stop your brain from conjuring the scenario of his lips slotting against yours. How they would fit perfectly, and his breath would fan across your face. How his arms would wrap around you, or his hands would splay themselves over your waist - tugging you closer to him as he-
"-and then we all woke up in a pile on Father's bed!"
"Hmm? Oh, yes - because of the storm?"
"Yes! Is.. is everything alright?"
How do you tell a child who had been busy rambling about how his elder brother almost crushed him by accident in the morning that you had just spent the last five minute imagining his father's lips against yours? You nodded, forcing a smile onto your face as you broke eye contact.
When you looked away, Maekar shifted his gaze too - suddenly finding the meat on his plate all too interesting. Ah, the various streaks of colour that danced through the plate truly were an incredible feat. Very much worthy of his attention, of course.
In the background, Daeron's eyes found Baelor's - both shaking their heads and whispering silent prayers. Baelor decides he will take matters into his own hands, one way or another,
"My Lady - I believe you have not had the chance to see the gardens yet, have you?"
You do not realise at first that he is addressing you, not until Daella pokes your arm, leading to you looking up with wide eyes and processing the words he had said,
"Oh, erm.. not quite, no!"
"And I hear the preparations for the wedding begin soon. Perhaps it would do both yourself and my brother some good to visit them today, after we are finished breaking fast."
It was not a question, both of you had realised. A command, disguised under the carefully woven diplomatic softness that Baelor had long practiced. Neither of you could say no, and you both found yourselves nodding as you returned to your meals,
"Excellent! And I think today, I shall take young Rhae with me - give the soon to be couple some time alone."
Half an hour of rustling through your chambers to prepare for whatever a walk through the gardens could entail (and attempting to find a pair of shoes that would not make your feet ache whilst walking through the gardens) later, you hear a knock at your door. The maids finish getting you ready as you find your voice, stumbling slightly over your words,
"C-come in!"
The door swings open, and strong footsteps only make it four paces in before faltering slightly. Maids rush out of the chambers, and Maekar's mouth drops for perhaps the third annoying time today as the light shines upon your face. There is something that has changed here, something about how the light casts a glow upon you - or is that just the way you are? Either way, he pauses before announcing himself by clearing his throat. You look away from trying to tie the final strings on your dress (and failing, horribly. Who in their right mind places strings so far behind, and how would they expect someone to reach around to them?), and look towards him - dropping the strings,
"Ah, Your Gra-"
"Maekar."
"Hmm?"
"My name. You should call me by it, considering we are to be wedded."
Oh. Right. Yes. That made sense, now that you think about it. It would be a bit awkward if you continued to call him 'Your Grace', or 'My Prince' everywhere you went. And so, you do not even see the olive branch he extends towards you,
"Very well, Maekar. You will have to forgive me, I have a few strings to lace before we can go."
"Take your time, I am in no rush."
"Thank you."
The air between the two of you was still thick with a tension neither of you could lessen. It was not angry, nor was it something you could ever say you recognised. You could feel his eyes on you as you returned to the source of your mild anguish as you recall that you had, in fact, dropped the strings,
"Seven above!"
"My Lady??"
"I dropped the damned strings - forgive me, I will have to start again with this stupid thing. Who puts the strings so far back? How irritating!"
His eyebrows rise up, and his mouth moves into what is no longer a look of annoyance, but perhaps something a little more tolerable as he watches you try (and struggle, only to fail entirely) to lace yourself up. You do not realise that he moves closer, not until you let out a noise of frustration and feel two hands move you around by your waist, and then begin to tug at the strings. At first you almost gasp, only to look up in the mirror, where he is stood behind you. Hands that were much more used to the handling of a mace or the wrangling of unruly children were now gently lacing up your gown. Your heart quickens, and you pray that he does not hear nor feel it, lest it betray you. Though it would be frowned upon, you allow yourself the mild sin of committing his touch to your memory - especially when it brushes past your back, and how his hands had felt around your waist.
Neither of you speak, and the only sounds between you are that of the breathing you try to stabilise and his own slower breathing. His eyes flick up to find yours in the mirror in front of you, eyebrows crossed over in concentration,
"Is that okay or do you need it tighter?"
"Could you tie it a little tighter please?"
He nods and loosens the strings to tie them again. If he is irritated by your request, he does not show it - tying the strings tighter this time. When he looks up again, you nod in approval and his hands move back to his side. Neither you nor him address the slight emptiness that fills both of your hearts when he moves back,
"Shall we? The gardens are not far, but the weather may not be so kind for long."
You lace your arm into his as he leads you out of the chambers and towards the gardens. Both of your footsteps are measured - his, so that he does not end up tugging you towards the gardens by accident with his usual long strides, and yours, so that you are able to steady your nerves with every step. As the two of you step out into the brighter sunlight, Maekar stiffens for a moment. You look up at him, and see him wince,
"…"
"…"
"I regrettably have not been out in the sunlight in a while."
"Ah, I see."
Nonetheless, he still takes you around the gardens. There is still little conversation between you both as your eyes drink in the sights around you. The warmth of the sun, the reddish tint of the walls. The birds as they flew past you - settling on branches of orange trees. This time, it is you who pauses and Maekar who searches your face for explanation. He realises that your eyes have settled upon the orange trees, biting your lip as if you were holding yourself back. He (somewhat regrettably) lets go of your arm, twists an orange off and almost hands it to you - only to remember something his brother had said a few nights before,
"I heard once, that it is an honour to peel an orange for someone."
"Where the fuck did you hear that? Old hags chattering about?"
"Not quite, brother. You should try it sometime."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
He did not understand Baelor's words at the time, but perhaps his not-so-spoken apology would be more.. apologetic, if he peeled an orange for you? Even as he thought this, his thoughts groaned and grumbled - until he looked at you. The way your eyes glimmered with the slightest tinge of hope - but you would not let it spread across your face, for fear that he would not do such a thing for you.
Unbeknownst to either of you, a very invested crowd had been watching you, from their safety up upon a balcony. Baelor and his wife had given his own children and Maekar's incredibly strict instructions to not be found, but to watch quietly. So when Maekar began to peel the orange and hand you segments as you continued to walk through the gardens, a collective sigh of relief rushed through the Red Keep. Specifically, Baelor finally felt his stress ease slightly at the sight, and prayed that it would only continue to lessen.
Each segment was sweeter than the last, and though neither of you spoke much, it seemed as though things were finally beginning to settle between you. He even - and this was shocking both to yourself and him - walked you back to your chambers! Upon reaching them, it appeared as though he had something to say. Both of you stood there, waiting for him to speak (even the guards stepped back slightly). But as he opened his mouth, the tailor finally arrived,
"Ah, we must turn you into a princess! Come, come, my Lady!"
Before you knew it, you had been whisked away into your chambers - leaving Maekar outside with his hand outstretched and mouth agape, words still forming on his tongue. He stood there for a minute (a full, long, unhurried minute) as the guards shuffled back into their positions, awkwardly. For a moment, all three of them (the two guards and Maekar, of course) looked between each other, before the usual grump returned to him and he spun on his heel, striding away,
"That was close."
"You're tellin' me, mate!"
"He has changed though, don't you think?"
"You speak as though you are particularly close with the Prince."
"No, of course not.."
Inside, you are immediately presented with the finest silks from the world. Pinks and greens and reds and blues - every colour you can imagine, with every embellishment possible. The tailor has you try on dress after dress as your ladies-in-waiting compliment each and every one - all as they sit comfortably eating lemon cakes. You are… overwhelmed. Overwhelmed and slightly dizzy after the fifteenth dress.
How many dresses could you even get through in one day?
On the other side of the Red Keep, Maekar grumbled. He sat in a chair - opposite his brother, who was supposed to be reviewing the accounts. Instead, he found himself busy with his brother's grumbling. His brother, whom he loved dearly, but wished that at this current moment, would let him finish the work that lay in front of him,
"-and then the fucking tailor fucking took her away!"
"Is that so?"
"Yes! All I did was peel a fucking orange and take her on a fucking walk like a child! I did not even get a fucking chance to-"
"Hang on, brother - these accounts are getting-"
"-and now we will both be too fucking busy-"
"Seven help me."
"-and I will not have the fucking chance to-"
"Perhaps we could divert some spending across here.."
"…"
"Oh! You have stopped!"
"…"
"Ah, the sound of peac-"
"I will not see her until the wedding. She will think me an aloof fucking idiot until the wedding."
"Fuck me."
"Baelor??"
"Seven above, Maekar! You sound like some green boy, twiddling about like a fool!"
"I do not twiddle!"
"You are twiddling. Right now."
"What the fuck even is twiddling?"
"Fidgeting nervously-"
"I am not fidgeting nervously!"
One wonders what the walnut shell in his hands - entirely disintegrated as it lies powdered in his hands from his 'non nervous fidgeting' - has to say about that. Maekar scoffs and rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair as Baelor watches on - amused. And as if she knew it was a strange moment to turn up, Rhae suddenly clambered up Baelor's leg, then his torso and finally rested - perched up on his shoulder as she grabbed onto his head. The older man made no move to remove her as Maekar sat in disbelief,
"Why does she do that??"
"She is your daughter."
"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"
"Well… you were not so different as a babe.."
"How dare you! You take that back!"
"I will not! You were just as mischevious and impertinent! You used to climb onto Father's head, you know."
Maekar only groaned, facepalming in response as Baelor and Rhae both laughed,
"You cannot be serious."
"Oh but I am. Deathly serious, brother. Now, if you will allow me to attend to the accounts?"
"Very well, attend to your fucking accounts. I'm taking Rhae - she has been inside far too long."
Baelor only smiles in response as Maekar yoinks the babbling child back into his arms. For the second time today, he walks through the gardens - only with his youngest daughter this time. Who makes for a much better listener than his brother,
"I hate tailors. I hate tailors and their stupidity."
Rhae only looks up at her father in curiosity.
"They always turn up at the worst times!"
She smacks his chest, as if to disagree, and Maekar stops - looking down in disbelief as she giggles,
"Where did you learn that? You do not smack me- Ouch, Rhae! That is enough!"
She responds with a third smack. Maekar groans again, grabbing at an orange and sitting down in the grass with his youngest - quite unlike what most around him would expect of him. She crawls around on the grass, grabbing fistfuls of it and almost raising it to her mouth, only for him to tug it out of her hands and replace it with segments of oranges. That seems to tame her as he continues to complain,
"She makes me feel strange, Rhae. I do not understand it - I never felt this strongly with your mother."
Rhae babbles, and Maekar lets his head roll back onto the tree trunk behind him,
"I know. I still have not apologised to her. But the wedding is so near, and we will both be busy now - I will not get a moment with her alone."
She tuts disappointingly, poking her father's leg. He gives her more pieces of orange as she settles in his lap now. The sun is much less warm, more of a soft orange glow across the setting sky. Red streaks paint the clouds above as the evening begins to settle in. And yet, Maekar Targaryen continues to complain to his young daughter - who's only words right now are:
"Bah Bah!" - reserved for Maekar alone.
"Dae! Awon! Mon! Dah! Ag!" - her siblings. Naturally.
"Mau mau!" - Tiberius. You try teaching a babbling babe to say 'Tiberius'!
"Chichipatti!" - exclaimed loudly, usually at stray hairs. Typically these were left behind by Tiberius, Aegon's pet cat.
As the wind begins to chill, and the leaves start to scatter across the grounds, Maekar finally lifts the two of them up - making their ways back inside. He pauses, however, to look up to where the balcony of your chambers would be. Oh, how fate looks kindly upon him sometimes! You stand in the balcony - eyes closed as the wind brushes through the gown you wear. He lets his gaze soften on you - ignoring how Rhae tugs on him - and licks his lips as you finally seem to be relaxed. That is, until one of your ladies-in-waiting opens the curtains and tugs you back inside, exclaiming something about more dresses.
And so as Maekar lowers his sleeping daughter into her crib, before returning to his own chambers, you find yourself exhausted after spending the whole afternoon and evening trying dress after dress. You have long lost count of how many dresses you have tried on - knowing only that the number is maddeningly high. Luck befalls you, as the tailor finally gathers his materials and vows to return tomorrow with newer, more fashionable clothing. Your ladies-in-waiting bid you good night too, and you waste no time in quickly dressing for bed.
But sleep does not find you quickly.
Not when you close your eyes, only to see the image of Maekar's hands around your waist - touching you, teasing you. You shoot up in bed, eyes wide open as you cannot stop thinking of how close he was to you, how you could feel his breath fanning over the back of your neck as he focused on the strings of your dress. As you lay back in bed, your fingers slowly raise your shift up - just above your already perked up breasts. The cool draft does little to soothe them, and they only ache more as your fingers lightly pinch and twist them.
You try to not imagine Maekar - hovering above you, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead as he presses his lips to your shoulder, voice rumbling through you. Yet your body betrays you, fingers dancing across your body as you find the source of your ache. Your pearl, throbbing and practically begging for your attention as you drag your slick from your wet folds over it. You start slow, with small circles as you hold back your whines and gasps.
But the thought of him pushes through in your mind again. This time, your mind conjures an image of him, with you, both sat in front of the mirror. Instead of your own fingers, it is his that pleasure you as you arch into his touch. He would groan into your neck, soft kisses pressed along your skin as he brought you closer and closer to your peak. You would turn your face towards his - foreheads pressed together as you both would struggle with your breathing. His free arm would snake around you, under your legs as he held you up - and you would feel his thick, long cock pressing up against you from behind as yo-
It does not take long to reach your peak, but you are far too embarrassed to call for anyone to help you clean. Lucky for you though, it does not stain your bedclothes, nor your sheets. After you wipe yourself down, you lie in bed again, attempting sleep once more. But a new thought - one that you had not been able to consider before - enters your mind. One that may just make sense of the insanity you have been suffering through…
On the other side of the Red Keep, Maekar struggles quite similarly. With his painfully hard cock in one hand, he curses himself as he strokes faster and faster, trying so very hard not to think about how perfect you looked up on the balcony today. How your hair fell just right around your face, or how the dress hugged you in a way that could only send blood rushing to his cock. He tried to cast such thoughts aside - but the idea of you lying beside him as you would press kisses to him, whispering softly as your hand would replace his has him entirely ruined. When he releases, something clicks in his brain. Something that he still did not understand, but came slightly closer to it.
A shame, that the two people who are so maddeningly in love with one another, cannot see their feelings - nor each other - for what they are.
maekar throughout this chapter, at various points:
hold the line, love isn't always on time | dilf! maekar x f! reader
Chapter Two: "I had not realised how long it would take to get ready in the morning, Your Grace."
masterlist ★ chapter 1 ★ chapter 3
★ word count: 2.8k (super short, i know!)
★ series summary: Prince Maekar Targaryen was more than content with his life. Well.. content is a strong word.. Nonetheless, he disagreed with his father's insistence upon his remarrying. Something foolish like "securing the realm's future", is what his father had said. To which, he had naturally stormed out of the room, with his older brother trailing after him. "Married. Married, again? Really?" But what happens when his wife is just as headstrong as him, and incredibly sexy annoying?
roe speaks: i have literally been sat at my desk all day writing this bc i could not stop thinking about this also. do i make a dilf masterlist at this point? i think so... anyway guilty maekar >>>
The morning light peeked in through the curtains, casting a soft red glow across the chambers. Your chambers, though you had not quite gotten used to the idea of that. Thinking of your chambers only reminded you of home. Or rather, what was your home. Ah, yes. You would have to get used to this first, and then Summerhall. So much change in so little time already made your head hurt, and you had only just opened your bleary eyes - still getting used to the early rays of the sunlight outside. By your estimate, it was neither too early nor too late to awaken. Your father would likely already be awake, settling into the temporary solar as he busied himself with some matter or the other. You could not imagine anyone else was awake so earl-
KNOCK, KNOCK!!
"My Lady, may we come in?"
"Oh! Erm, yes, I suppose so..?"
You had not expected visitors, not this early! You raise the sheets up to your chin as four maids walk in -trays in their hands. As you tilt your head to one side, you make a sound of confusion, to which one of the maids (presumably the head chambermaid) clears her throat,
"You will bathe and dress this morning, yes? That is what we are here for, my Lady."
Well of course you would bathe and dress! But surely.. surely..
"Surely it is too early in the morning, no?"
"Ah, perhaps you are unused to the weather here. Though it appears awfully early outside, most of the household has awakened already."
"Already?"
"Yes, my Lady. Will you take lavender, sandalwood or rose in your bath today?"
"I suppose I should rise too then. Sandalwood sounds perfect to me."
"Wonderful choice, my Lady."
A part of you guessed sandalwood might be more appealing to your husband to be - though for all you know, he could absolutely despise sandalwood, and despise you too. You shake the thought out of your head, allowing the maids to take you towards your bath - where hot water has already been poured in. The steam is refreshing, and your muscles only relax more as you are lowered into the bath. An oil - presumably sandalwood, given both your choice and the sweet almond-like scent that rises from it - is poured into the water, and then rubbed over you.
One maid attends to your hair, another to each arm and a third to your legs as you allow your eyes to close once more. The steam rises to your face, creating a warm, fuzzy feeling that you quite enjoy as you bask in a comfortable morning.
Mornings before used to be filled with stress - you being rushed about as you and your chambermaid ran about the chambers trying to prepare yourself for the day. It seemed as though mornings here were much more different, much more comfortable. A small part of you feels hopeful - perhaps this is a good sign, perhaps this will all work out after all.
However, all good things must come to an end - even an incredibly comfortable, soothing bath. And so, you are helped back out and dried down. Oils are once again applied to your skin - more concentrated this time - and your hair is carefully dried down. Soon enough, you are dressed and sent off for breakfast with your new family. As you walk into the hall, everyone turns towards you, and the sudden realisation that you are very much late - to breakfast, no less - has you feeling awfully embarassed. Nonetheless, you find your seat, taking it and trying your very best to blend in, as if nothing had ever happened.
Extremely unfortunately for you, it appears your husband to be is not so keen on letting it go,
"You are late."
"I had not realised how long it would take to get ready in the morning, Your Grace."
"Then awaken yourself earlier - that is no excuse!"
"I understand, but-"
"Just - try to be here on time from now on."
You could not speak. Not when tears almost threatened to spill out - over being late at breakfast, of all things! You took in a shaky breath, nodding at Maekar as you slowly cut your eggs, wishing to become invisible at that very moment.
Next to Maekar, Baelor had witnessed everything, and took to elbowing his youngest brother. In response, Maekar scowled at him - and almost yelled too, were it not for Baelor subtly gesturing in your direction. With a frown on his face, he finally looked at you. Your head had remained lowered, but you could not hide the tears that had collected on your lashes. Maekar felt something in his heart - something uncomfortable. Something ugly, twisting and turning as he grimaced, swallowing back his pride. On the one hand, asking you if all was well could easily result in a great deal of unnecessary bullshit - all of which he did not wish to handle. On the other hand, it did not feel right, the way you had shrunk immediately.
Instead of doing what he feels he should have done, he says nothing - going back to his breakfast. Beside him, Baelor sighs - unable to do anything - and you do not say a word for the remainder fo your meal. Whilst it is unbearably long for both yourself and Maekar, it appears to rush swimmingly for everyone else - and you are whisked away into a solar soon enough.
Apparently, the children were all too eager to meet you.
Okay, not all of them.
Aerion could care less either way, much more interested in the training grounds than his father's soon to be wife. And though sweet Rhae probably would have cared, she was much too young to understand what was happening around her - allowing herself to be dragged by her other siblings. Finally, Daeron was… well, no one knew where Daeron was this morning, leaving you with four children. Four, excitable children. No, that is not quite right either, is it? For Aemon was more than content to sit with his books than to rush around causing mayhem.
Daella and Aegon tugged at you, pulling you between them. Daella - as any good princess would - wanted to play princess tea parties with you (in which she would hopefully convince you to convince Aegon to join in too). Aegon did not wish to play princess tea parties. No, instead he wanted you to meet his pet cat - Tiberius.
Rhae could not care less, babbling in her own little language as she clung to you - easily making your heart swoon at her sweet little antics.
"No, come play with meeee! We have tea, and cakes, and princesses!"
"But Tiberius wants to meet you!"
"Well, Father banned Tiberius from the solar anyway, silly!"
"Shhhhhh!"
"Princesses!"
"Tiberius!"
"Tea and cake!"
"A cat! A really cute cat!"
You were unable to tame the unruly beasts that tugged at your gown, and to make matters worse, the door swung open! In walked a somewhat irritated Maekar (though you began to suspect that he was almost always somewhat irritated. You could not blame him, as you remained struggling between the children that probably caused much of his irritation). The children almost falter their attempts at the sight of their father, only to lock eyes with one another again and begin tugging once more. You are… utterly helpless, unfortunately.
"What in the name of the Seven is happening here? Aegon, your pet cat better not be in here - so help me Gods!"
Maekar walks towards you with a stern look in his face, and you pray you have not done anything wrong. However, he directs his attention to the two children - now growling at each other,
"Stop that! I have not raised you to grow- Daella?! That is quite enough, both of you, let her go!"
And let go they do.
Immediately.
Which, you had not expected - at all. You lose your footing immediately, and trip over something just behind your feet - a toy, perhaps? Somewhat instinctively, you clutched Rhae closer. If you were about to fall, at the very least the child in your arms should be safe, no? You never fall all the way though - and instead, one strong arm finds itself under your back. You should not think such things, but your mind immediately fixates on just how perfectly toned the arm feels. Its hand wraps itself at your waist, tugging you up to the owner. It is then that you realise who must have stopped your fall, and embarassment creeps into your skin (for the second time today, mind you),
"My Pri-"
"Give me Rhae. You should not have held her. Aegon, Daella - apologise for your actions and leave. Aemon…"
Aemon raises his head, eyes wide as he finally takes in the situation around him,
"…go read in the library. Leave me, all of you!"
His words strike you most, and you do not waste time in collecting yourself and rushing out of the solars - intent upon returning to your chambers as soon as possible. When you leave, the children did not - much more attuned to their father than you were yet,
"It was not her fault, Father."
"…"
"Aegon tells the truth, Father. We should not have done what we did, it was our fault!"
"…"
Both Aegon and Daella share a look. Something that neither can explain, but both understand all too well as they approach their father. Even Aemon lowers his book, making his way to where Maekar has now seated himself - upon an old chair (which he mentally notes as being far too uncomfortable for anyone to sit on). Maekar finally relaxes his face (and smooths his fingers over his eyebrows in an attempt to release the tension locked up within them. It works, temporarily) and the children all look up at him, expectant,
"You are all right - it was not her fault. What were you both thinking? What if I had not been here, and she had fell?"
"Rhae would have been fine, Father, you saw how she-"
"Rhae would have been fine, yes, but she would not. She would have hit her head on the desk! I understand you are all excited, but you must be more careful!"
Under his breath, Aegon mutters something that Maekar does not quite catch - causing his eyebrows to furrow once more. Daella does hear it though, and lightly smacks her brother on the back of his head,
"Aegon!"
"Do I lie?"
Maekar shakes his head, shushing the two immediately before focusing on Aegon,
"What was it you said?"
"Promise you will not be mad, Father."
"I cannot promise that."
"Fine. I said that you should be more careful."
"More careful? I have all six of you to handle, and you think you know more than I do now?"
"No, I only meant that-"
"Pick your words wisely, Aegon."
Daella huffs. Maekar huffs back. Daella pulls a face, and Maekar frowns - unsure of what it is his daughter is doing. Sweet, young Rhae giggles as she watches her sister and father in a strange standoff,
"What Aegon is trying to say, Father, is that perhaps you were a little careless with your new wife!"
"I was not!"
"You were mean!"
"I caught her! I stopped her from being hurt - what more do you want of me?"
"She left the room crying.. and she almost cried earlier today too!"
"…you saw that??"
"Yes! Clear as day, Father."
He groans - his head rolling back as Aegon and Daella tut in disappointment. Rhae takes her usual glee from the situation, and Aemon returns once more to his book. But Maekar.. Maekar feels a pang of guilt stab through his heart, and then wrap itself around - choking and strangling him until his throat feels as though it will close up. He should have asked you if you were well, if you were okay. You had almost fallen - and could have badly injured yourself - and instead of caring, he pushed you away. He had acted like a complete and utter fool, when he knew better. He stands up abruptly (still carrying Rhae with him) and leaves the solar. Both Aegon and Daella wink at each other, before winking at Aemon (who just nods. Very, very slowly.). Somewhere in the vast halls of the Red Keep, Baelor finally releases a sigh he did not know he had been holding back.
You held yourself pretty well, all the way up to your chambers. Smiled where you needed to, greeted those who required greetings and all in all, there was no reason for anyone to suspect a thing. Right before you entered your chambers, you instructed the guards to not allow a single soul past your door, unless an emergency arises, so that you may 'complete your sleep'. But as soon as you enter your chambers, tears begin streaming down your face - like the Sevens' own sadness, a never ending flow as you try your very best not to sob out loud. Regrettably, it was a difficult task, given how you could not stop crying - nor could you stop your brain from replaying the sight of Maekar's face when he helped you up.
The way he had not even stopped to check on you. You expected he would be more concerned for Rhae, given that she was so young and such a fall could have been terrifying for her - and that you could understand. But to push you away? As if you were not about to become his wife?
Even if neither him nor you had chosen this arrangement, you were both stuck in it. And surely it was the least he could have done - ensured that you were okay?
Unfortunately, your brain likes to spiral quickly. You find yourself making links between this morning and the incident that had only occurred mere moments ago, drawing connections that any rational mind would not and you come to an awfully dangerous conclusion - your husband to be must despise you.
Unbeknownst to you, Maekar had stormed out of his solar (Rhae still babbling away in his arms, drooling over his clothes as he brushed past every single person in the corridor), intent upon correcting his mistakes, and ensuring you were in good shape after all that had happened. The idea of you crying because of his own foolishness did not sit well with him, no matter how hard he tried to ignore the weird feeling in his chest (and no, it definitely was not Rhae, who had now taken to chewing on her father's clothing).
When he approached your chambers, the guards held their hands out to him as he pulled a face of indignation,
"What is the meaning of this?"
"The Lady has requested none disturb her sleep. She did not sleep well last night."
"Well fuck that, and fuck this. Let me through!"
"Many apologies, your Grace, but-"
"You would stop me speaking with my future wife?"
"At her own orders, yes."
"Fuck me!"
He let out a very slow exhale, pinching his nose as he turned away. For a moment, all was silent as he thought of what to do. If they would not let him through, he would have no choice but to walk away. But as he does walk away, he hears your choked sobs squeeze out of the wall - as if the sound could sense that he was there, as if it knew exactly who to find. The sound buries itself in his brain - despite him wanting it to leave immediately - and he tries one last time, turning around,
"She is not happy, and I must speak with her."
"We are under strict orders-"
"Fuck your orders!"
Maekar almost attempts to push past the guards himself (and all three of them know very well that it would not be difficult for him to push past into the chambers), only for Rhae to begin crying. Soft, small sniffles quickly become loud wails and sobs as he rushes the youngest princess away, with a heart heavier than stone. Inside, you heard very little past your own crying, but the sound of the young child's crying has you rushing out of your chambers. Without even thinking, you run down the corridors - right up to a bewildered Maekar,
"What are yo-???"
You do not answer him - instead, you take her into your arms, bouncing her and patting her until her crying eases. He does not say anything, letting you take control of the situation as he takes in your appearance. Tears stain your cheeks, and you face seems somewhat drained, yet you did not hesitate in rushing forwards for a child you barely even knew. When she has fully settled, you return Rhae to his arms and walk back to your chambers as he just watches in bewilderment, with only one word on his lips,
hold the line, love isn't always on time | dilf! maekar x f! reader
Chapter Two: "I had not realised how long it would take to get ready in the morning, Your Grace."
masterlist ★ chapter 1 ★ chapter 3
★ word count: 2.8k (super short, i know!)
★ series summary: Prince Maekar Targaryen was more than content with his life. Well.. content is a strong word.. Nonetheless, he disagreed with his father's insistence upon his remarrying. Something foolish like "securing the realm's future", is what his father had said. To which, he had naturally stormed out of the room, with his older brother trailing after him. "Married. Married, again? Really?" But what happens when his wife is just as headstrong as him, and incredibly sexy annoying?
roe speaks: i have literally been sat at my desk all day writing this bc i could not stop thinking about this also. do i make a dilf masterlist at this point? i think so... anyway guilty maekar >>>
The morning light peeked in through the curtains, casting a soft red glow across the chambers. Your chambers, though you had not quite gotten used to the idea of that. Thinking of your chambers only reminded you of home. Or rather, what was your home. Ah, yes. You would have to get used to this first, and then Summerhall. So much change in so little time already made your head hurt, and you had only just opened your bleary eyes - still getting used to the early rays of the sunlight outside. By your estimate, it was neither too early nor too late to awaken. Your father would likely already be awake, settling into the temporary solar as he busied himself with some matter or the other. You could not imagine anyone else was awake so earl-
KNOCK, KNOCK!!
"My Lady, may we come in?"
"Oh! Erm, yes, I suppose so..?"
You had not expected visitors, not this early! You raise the sheets up to your chin as four maids walk in -trays in their hands. As you tilt your head to one side, you make a sound of confusion, to which one of the maids (presumably the head chambermaid) clears her throat,
"You will bathe and dress this morning, yes? That is what we are here for, my Lady."
Well of course you would bathe and dress! But surely.. surely..
"Surely it is too early in the morning, no?"
"Ah, perhaps you are unused to the weather here. Though it appears awfully early outside, most of the household has awakened already."
"Already?"
"Yes, my Lady. Will you take lavender, sandalwood or rose in your bath today?"
"I suppose I should rise too then. Sandalwood sounds perfect to me."
"Wonderful choice, my Lady."
A part of you guessed sandalwood might be more appealing to your husband to be - though for all you know, he could absolutely despise sandalwood, and despise you too. You shake the thought out of your head, allowing the maids to take you towards your bath - where hot water has already been poured in. The steam is refreshing, and your muscles only relax more as you are lowered into the bath. An oil - presumably sandalwood, given both your choice and the sweet almond-like scent that rises from it - is poured into the water, and then rubbed over you.
One maid attends to your hair, another to each arm and a third to your legs as you allow your eyes to close once more. The steam rises to your face, creating a warm, fuzzy feeling that you quite enjoy as you bask in a comfortable morning.
Mornings before used to be filled with stress - you being rushed about as you and your chambermaid ran about the chambers trying to prepare yourself for the day. It seemed as though mornings here were much more different, much more comfortable. A small part of you feels hopeful - perhaps this is a good sign, perhaps this will all work out after all.
However, all good things must come to an end - even an incredibly comfortable, soothing bath. And so, you are helped back out and dried down. Oils are once again applied to your skin - more concentrated this time - and your hair is carefully dried down. Soon enough, you are dressed and sent off for breakfast with your new family. As you walk into the hall, everyone turns towards you, and the sudden realisation that you are very much late - to breakfast, no less - has you feeling awfully embarassed. Nonetheless, you find your seat, taking it and trying your very best to blend in, as if nothing had ever happened.
Extremely unfortunately for you, it appears your husband to be is not so keen on letting it go,
"You are late."
"I had not realised how long it would take to get ready in the morning, Your Grace."
"Then awaken yourself earlier - that is no excuse!"
"I understand, but-"
"Just - try to be here on time from now on."
You could not speak. Not when tears almost threatened to spill out - over being late at breakfast, of all things! You took in a shaky breath, nodding at Maekar as you slowly cut your eggs, wishing to become invisible at that very moment.
Next to Maekar, Baelor had witnessed everything, and took to elbowing his youngest brother. In response, Maekar scowled at him - and almost yelled too, were it not for Baelor subtly gesturing in your direction. With a frown on his face, he finally looked at you. Your head had remained lowered, but you could not hide the tears that had collected on your lashes. Maekar felt something in his heart - something uncomfortable. Something ugly, twisting and turning as he grimaced, swallowing back his pride. On the one hand, asking you if all was well could easily result in a great deal of unnecessary bullshit - all of which he did not wish to handle. On the other hand, it did not feel right, the way you had shrunk immediately.
Instead of doing what he feels he should have done, he says nothing - going back to his breakfast. Beside him, Baelor sighs - unable to do anything - and you do not say a word for the remainder fo your meal. Whilst it is unbearably long for both yourself and Maekar, it appears to rush swimmingly for everyone else - and you are whisked away into a solar soon enough.
Apparently, the children were all too eager to meet you.
Okay, not all of them.
Aerion could care less either way, much more interested in the training grounds than his father's soon to be wife. And though sweet Rhae probably would have cared, she was much too young to understand what was happening around her - allowing herself to be dragged by her other siblings. Finally, Daeron was… well, no one knew where Daeron was this morning, leaving you with four children. Four, excitable children. No, that is not quite right either, is it? For Aemon was more than content to sit with his books than to rush around causing mayhem.
Daella and Aegon tugged at you, pulling you between them. Daella - as any good princess would - wanted to play princess tea parties with you (in which she would hopefully convince you to convince Aegon to join in too). Aegon did not wish to play princess tea parties. No, instead he wanted you to meet his pet cat - Tiberius.
Rhae could not care less, babbling in her own little language as she clung to you - easily making your heart swoon at her sweet little antics.
"No, come play with meeee! We have tea, and cakes, and princesses!"
"But Tiberius wants to meet you!"
"Well, Father banned Tiberius from the solar anyway, silly!"
"Shhhhhh!"
"Princesses!"
"Tiberius!"
"Tea and cake!"
"A cat! A really cute cat!"
You were unable to tame the unruly beasts that tugged at your gown, and to make matters worse, the door swung open! In walked a somewhat irritated Maekar (though you began to suspect that he was almost always somewhat irritated. You could not blame him, as you remained struggling between the children that probably caused much of his irritation). The children almost falter their attempts at the sight of their father, only to lock eyes with one another again and begin tugging once more. You are… utterly helpless, unfortunately.
"What in the name of the Seven is happening here? Aegon, your pet cat better not be in here - so help me Gods!"
Maekar walks towards you with a stern look in his face, and you pray you have not done anything wrong. However, he directs his attention to the two children - now growling at each other,
"Stop that! I have not raised you to grow- Daella?! That is quite enough, both of you, let her go!"
And let go they do.
Immediately.
Which, you had not expected - at all. You lose your footing immediately, and trip over something just behind your feet - a toy, perhaps? Somewhat instinctively, you clutched Rhae closer. If you were about to fall, at the very least the child in your arms should be safe, no? You never fall all the way though - and instead, one strong arm finds itself under your back. You should not think such things, but your mind immediately fixates on just how perfectly toned the arm feels. Its hand wraps itself at your waist, tugging you up to the owner. It is then that you realise who must have stopped your fall, and embarassment creeps into your skin (for the second time today, mind you),
"My Pri-"
"Give me Rhae. You should not have held her. Aegon, Daella - apologise for your actions and leave. Aemon…"
Aemon raises his head, eyes wide as he finally takes in the situation around him,
"…go read in the library. Leave me, all of you!"
His words strike you most, and you do not waste time in collecting yourself and rushing out of the solars - intent upon returning to your chambers as soon as possible. When you leave, the children did not - much more attuned to their father than you were yet,
"It was not her fault, Father."
"…"
"Aegon tells the truth, Father. We should not have done what we did, it was our fault!"
"…"
Both Aegon and Daella share a look. Something that neither can explain, but both understand all too well as they approach their father. Even Aemon lowers his book, making his way to where Maekar has now seated himself - upon an old chair (which he mentally notes as being far too uncomfortable for anyone to sit on). Maekar finally relaxes his face (and smooths his fingers over his eyebrows in an attempt to release the tension locked up within them. It works, temporarily) and the children all look up at him, expectant,
"You are all right - it was not her fault. What were you both thinking? What if I had not been here, and she had fell?"
"Rhae would have been fine, Father, you saw how she-"
"Rhae would have been fine, yes, but she would not. She would have hit her head on the desk! I understand you are all excited, but you must be more careful!"
Under his breath, Aegon mutters something that Maekar does not quite catch - causing his eyebrows to furrow once more. Daella does hear it though, and lightly smacks her brother on the back of his head,
"Aegon!"
"Do I lie?"
Maekar shakes his head, shushing the two immediately before focusing on Aegon,
"What was it you said?"
"Promise you will not be mad, Father."
"I cannot promise that."
"Fine. I said that you should be more careful."
"More careful? I have all six of you to handle, and you think you know more than I do now?"
"No, I only meant that-"
"Pick your words wisely, Aegon."
Daella huffs. Maekar huffs back. Daella pulls a face, and Maekar frowns - unsure of what it is his daughter is doing. Sweet, young Rhae giggles as she watches her sister and father in a strange standoff,
"What Aegon is trying to say, Father, is that perhaps you were a little careless with your new wife!"
"I was not!"
"You were mean!"
"I caught her! I stopped her from being hurt - what more do you want of me?"
"She left the room crying.. and she almost cried earlier today too!"
"…you saw that??"
"Yes! Clear as day, Father."
He groans - his head rolling back as Aegon and Daella tut in disappointment. Rhae takes her usual glee from the situation, and Aemon returns once more to his book. But Maekar.. Maekar feels a pang of guilt stab through his heart, and then wrap itself around - choking and strangling him until his throat feels as though it will close up. He should have asked you if you were well, if you were okay. You had almost fallen - and could have badly injured yourself - and instead of caring, he pushed you away. He had acted like a complete and utter fool, when he knew better. He stands up abruptly (still carrying Rhae with him) and leaves the solar. Both Aegon and Daella wink at each other, before winking at Aemon (who just nods. Very, very slowly.). Somewhere in the vast halls of the Red Keep, Baelor finally releases a sigh he did not know he had been holding back.
You held yourself pretty well, all the way up to your chambers. Smiled where you needed to, greeted those who required greetings and all in all, there was no reason for anyone to suspect a thing. Right before you entered your chambers, you instructed the guards to not allow a single soul past your door, unless an emergency arises, so that you may 'complete your sleep'. But as soon as you enter your chambers, tears begin streaming down your face - like the Sevens' own sadness, a never ending flow as you try your very best not to sob out loud. Regrettably, it was a difficult task, given how you could not stop crying - nor could you stop your brain from replaying the sight of Maekar's face when he helped you up.
The way he had not even stopped to check on you. You expected he would be more concerned for Rhae, given that she was so young and such a fall could have been terrifying for her - and that you could understand. But to push you away? As if you were not about to become his wife?
Even if neither him nor you had chosen this arrangement, you were both stuck in it. And surely it was the least he could have done - ensured that you were okay?
Unfortunately, your brain likes to spiral quickly. You find yourself making links between this morning and the incident that had only occurred mere moments ago, drawing connections that any rational mind would not and you come to an awfully dangerous conclusion - your husband to be must despise you.
Unbeknownst to you, Maekar had stormed out of his solar (Rhae still babbling away in his arms, drooling over his clothes as he brushed past every single person in the corridor), intent upon correcting his mistakes, and ensuring you were in good shape after all that had happened. The idea of you crying because of his own foolishness did not sit well with him, no matter how hard he tried to ignore the weird feeling in his chest (and no, it definitely was not Rhae, who had now taken to chewing on her father's clothing).
When he approached your chambers, the guards held their hands out to him as he pulled a face of indignation,
"What is the meaning of this?"
"The Lady has requested none disturb her sleep. She did not sleep well last night."
"Well fuck that, and fuck this. Let me through!"
"Many apologies, your Grace, but-"
"You would stop me speaking with my future wife?"
"At her own orders, yes."
"Fuck me!"
He let out a very slow exhale, pinching his nose as he turned away. For a moment, all was silent as he thought of what to do. If they would not let him through, he would have no choice but to walk away. But as he does walk away, he hears your choked sobs squeeze out of the wall - as if the sound could sense that he was there, as if it knew exactly who to find. The sound buries itself in his brain - despite him wanting it to leave immediately - and he tries one last time, turning around,
"She is not happy, and I must speak with her."
"We are under strict orders-"
"Fuck your orders!"
Maekar almost attempts to push past the guards himself (and all three of them know very well that it would not be difficult for him to push past into the chambers), only for Rhae to begin crying. Soft, small sniffles quickly become loud wails and sobs as he rushes the youngest princess away, with a heart heavier than stone. Inside, you heard very little past your own crying, but the sound of the young child's crying has you rushing out of your chambers. Without even thinking, you run down the corridors - right up to a bewildered Maekar,
"What are yo-???"
You do not answer him - instead, you take her into your arms, bouncing her and patting her until her crying eases. He does not say anything, letting you take control of the situation as he takes in your appearance. Tears stain your cheeks, and you face seems somewhat drained, yet you did not hesitate in rushing forwards for a child you barely even knew. When she has fully settled, you return Rhae to his arms and walk back to your chambers as he just watches in bewilderment, with only one word on his lips,
hold the line, love isn't always on time | dilf! maekar x f! reader
Chapter Two: "I had not realised how long it would take to get ready in the morning, Your Grace."
masterlist ★ chapter 1 ★ chapter 3
★ word count: 2.8k (super short, i know!)
★ series summary: Prince Maekar Targaryen was more than content with his life. Well.. content is a strong word.. Nonetheless, he disagreed with his father's insistence upon his remarrying. Something foolish like "securing the realm's future", is what his father had said. To which, he had naturally stormed out of the room, with his older brother trailing after him. "Married. Married, again? Really?" But what happens when his wife is incredibly sexy annoying?
roe speaks: i have literally been sat at my desk all day writing this bc i could not stop thinking about this also. do i make a dilf masterlist at this point? i think so... anyway guilty maekar >>>
The morning light peeked in through the curtains, casting a soft red glow across the chambers. Your chambers, though you had not quite gotten used to the idea of that. Thinking of your chambers only reminded you of home. Or rather, what was your home. Ah, yes. You would have to get used to this first, and then Summerhall. So much change in so little time already made your head hurt, and you had only just opened your bleary eyes - still getting used to the early rays of the sunlight outside. By your estimate, it was neither too early nor too late to awaken. Your father would likely already be awake, settling into the temporary solar as he busied himself with some matter or the other. You could not imagine anyone else was awake so earl-
KNOCK, KNOCK!!
"My Lady, may we come in?"
"Oh! Erm, yes, I suppose so..?"
You had not expected visitors, not this early! You raise the sheets up to your chin as four maids walk in -trays in their hands. As you tilt your head to one side, you make a sound of confusion, to which one of the maids (presumably the head chambermaid) clears her throat,
"You will bathe and dress this morning, yes? That is what we are here for, my Lady."
Well of course you would bathe and dress! But surely.. surely..
"Surely it is too early in the morning, no?"
"Ah, perhaps you are unused to the weather here. Though it appears awfully early outside, most of the household has awakened already."
"Already?"
"Yes, my Lady. Will you take lavender, sandalwood or rose in your bath today?"
"I suppose I should rise too then. Sandalwood sounds perfect to me."
"Wonderful choice, my Lady."
A part of you guessed sandalwood might be more appealing to your husband to be - though for all you know, he could absolutely despise sandalwood, and despise you too. You shake the thought out of your head, allowing the maids to take you towards your bath - where hot water has already been poured in. The steam is refreshing, and your muscles only relax more as you are lowered into the bath. An oil - presumably sandalwood, given both your choice and the sweet almond-like scent that rises from it - is poured into the water, and then rubbed over you.
One maid attends to your hair, another to each arm and a third to your legs as you allow your eyes to close once more. The steam rises to your face, creating a warm, fuzzy feeling that you quite enjoy as you bask in a comfortable morning.
Mornings before used to be filled with stress - you being rushed about as you and your chambermaid ran about the chambers trying to prepare yourself for the day. It seemed as though mornings here were much more different, much more comfortable. A small part of you feels hopeful - perhaps this is a good sign, perhaps this will all work out after all.
However, all good things must come to an end - even an incredibly comfortable, soothing bath. And so, you are helped back out and dried down. Oils are once again applied to your skin - more concentrated this time - and your hair is carefully dried down. Soon enough, you are dressed and sent off for breakfast with your new family. As you walk into the hall, everyone turns towards you, and the sudden realisation that you are very much late - to breakfast, no less - has you feeling awfully embarassed. Nonetheless, you find your seat, taking it and trying your very best to blend in, as if nothing had ever happened.
Extremely unfortunately for you, it appears your husband to be is not so keen on letting it go,
"You are late."
"I had not realised how long it would take to get ready in the morning, Your Grace."
"Then awaken yourself earlier - that is no excuse!"
"I understand, but-"
"Just - try to be here on time from now on."
You could not speak. Not when tears almost threatened to spill out - over being late at breakfast, of all things! You took in a shaky breath, nodding at Maekar as you slowly cut your eggs, wishing to become invisible at that very moment.
Next to Maekar, Baelor had witnessed everything, and took to elbowing his youngest brother. In response, Maekar scowled at him - and almost yelled too, were it not for Baelor subtly gesturing in your direction. With a frown on his face, he finally looked at you. Your head had remained lowered, but you could not hide the tears that had collected on your lashes. Maekar felt something in his heart - something uncomfortable. Something ugly, twisting and turning as he grimaced, swallowing back his pride. On the one hand, asking you if all was well could easily result in a great deal of unnecessary bullshit - all of which he did not wish to handle. On the other hand, it did not feel right, the way you had shrunk immediately.
Instead of doing what he feels he should have done, he says nothing - going back to his breakfast. Beside him, Baelor sighs - unable to do anything - and you do not say a word for the remainder fo your meal. Whilst it is unbearably long for both yourself and Maekar, it appears to rush swimmingly for everyone else - and you are whisked away into a solar soon enough.
Apparently, the children were all too eager to meet you.
Okay, not all of them.
Aerion could care less either way, much more interested in the training grounds than his father's soon to be wife. And though sweet Rhae probably would have cared, she was much too young to understand what was happening around her - allowing herself to be dragged by her other siblings. Finally, Daeron was… well, no one knew where Daeron was this morning, leaving you with four children. Four, excitable children. No, that is not quite right either, is it? For Aemon was more than content to sit with his books than to rush around causing mayhem.
Daella and Aegon tugged at you, pulling you between them. Daella - as any good princess would - wanted to play princess tea parties with you (in which she would hopefully convince you to convince Aegon to join in too). Aegon did not wish to play princess tea parties. No, instead he wanted you to meet his pet cat - Tiberius.
Rhae could not care less, babbling in her own little language as she clung to you - easily making your heart swoon at her sweet little antics.
"No, come play with meeee! We have tea, and cakes, and princesses!"
"But Tiberius wants to meet you!"
"Well, Father banned Tiberius from the solar anyway, silly!"
"Shhhhhh!"
"Princesses!"
"Tiberius!"
"Tea and cake!"
"A cat! A really cute cat!"
You were unable to tame the unruly beasts that tugged at your gown, and to make matters worse, the door swung open! In walked a somewhat irritated Maekar (though you began to suspect that he was almost always somewhat irritated. You could not blame him, as you remained struggling between the children that probably caused much of his irritation). The children almost falter their attempts at the sight of their father, only to lock eyes with one another again and begin tugging once more. You are… utterly helpless, unfortunately.
"What in the name of the Seven is happening here? Aegon, your pet cat better not be in here - so help me Gods!"
Maekar walks towards you with a stern look in his face, and you pray you have not done anything wrong. However, he directs his attention to the two children - now growling at each other,
"Stop that! I have not raised you to grow- Daella?! That is quite enough, both of you, let her go!"
And let go they do.
Immediately.
Which, you had not expected - at all. You lose your footing immediately, and trip over something just behind your feet - a toy, perhaps? Somewhat instinctively, you clutched Rhae closer. If you were about to fall, at the very least the child in your arms should be safe, no? You never fall all the way though - and instead, one strong arm finds itself under your back. You should not think such things, but your mind immediately fixates on just how perfectly toned the arm feels. Its hand wraps itself at your waist, tugging you up to the owner. It is then that you realise who must have stopped your fall, and embarassment creeps into your skin (for the second time today, mind you),
"My Pri-"
"Give me Rhae. You should not have held her. Aegon, Daella - apologise for your actions and leave. Aemon…"
Aemon raises his head, eyes wide as he finally takes in the situation around him,
"…go read in the library. Leave me, all of you!"
His words strike you most, and you do not waste time in collecting yourself and rushing out of the solars - intent upon returning to your chambers as soon as possible. When you leave, the children did not - much more attuned to their father than you were yet,
"It was not her fault, Father."
"…"
"Aegon tells the truth, Father. We should not have done what we did, it was our fault!"
"…"
Both Aegon and Daella share a look. Something that neither can explain, but both understand all too well as they approach their father. Even Aemon lowers his book, making his way to where Maekar has now seated himself - upon an old chair (which he mentally notes as being far too uncomfortable for anyone to sit on). Maekar finally relaxes his face (and smooths his fingers over his eyebrows in an attempt to release the tension locked up within them. It works, temporarily) and the children all look up at him, expectant,
"You are all right - it was not her fault. What were you both thinking? What if I had not been here, and she had fell?"
"Rhae would have been fine, Father, you saw how she-"
"Rhae would have been fine, yes, but she would not. She would have hit her head on the desk! I understand you are all excited, but you must be more careful!"
Under his breath, Aegon mutters something that Maekar does not quite catch - causing his eyebrows to furrow once more. Daella does hear it though, and lightly smacks her brother on the back of his head,
"Aegon!"
"Do I lie?"
Maekar shakes his head, shushing the two immediately before focusing on Aegon,
"What was it you said?"
"Promise you will not be mad, Father."
"I cannot promise that."
"Fine. I said that you should be more careful."
"More careful? I have all six of you to handle, and you think you know more than I do now?"
"No, I only meant that-"
"Pick your words wisely, Aegon."
Daella huffs. Maekar huffs back. Daella pulls a face, and Maekar frowns - unsure of what it is his daughter is doing. Sweet, young Rhae giggles as she watches her sister and father in a strange standoff,
"What Aegon is trying to say, Father, is that perhaps you were a little careless with your new wife!"
"I was not!"
"You were mean!"
"I caught her! I stopped her from being hurt - what more do you want of me?"
"She left the room crying.. and she almost cried earlier today too!"
"…you saw that??"
"Yes! Clear as day, Father."
He groans - his head rolling back as Aegon and Daella tut in disappointment. Rhae takes her usual glee from the situation, and Aemon returns once more to his book. But Maekar.. Maekar feels a pang of guilt stab through his heart, and then wrap itself around - choking and strangling him until his throat feels as though it will close up. He should have asked you if you were well, if you were okay. You had almost fallen - and could have badly injured yourself - and instead of caring, he pushed you away. He had acted like a complete and utter fool, when he knew better. He stands up abruptly (still carrying Rhae with him) and leaves the solar. Both Aegon and Daella wink at each other, before winking at Aemon (who just nods. Very, very slowly.). Somewhere in the vast halls of the Red Keep, Baelor finally releases a sigh he did not know he had been holding back.
You held yourself pretty well, all the way up to your chambers. Smiled where you needed to, greeted those who required greetings and all in all, there was no reason for anyone to suspect a thing. Right before you entered your chambers, you instructed the guards to not allow a single soul past your door, unless an emergency arises, so that you may 'complete your sleep'. But as soon as you enter your chambers, tears begin streaming down your face - like the Sevens' own sadness, a never ending flow as you try your very best not to sob out loud. Regrettably, it was a difficult task, given how you could not stop crying - nor could you stop your brain from replaying the sight of Maekar's face when he helped you up.
The way he had not even stopped to check on you. You expected he would be more concerned for Rhae, given that she was so young and such a fall could have been terrifying for her - and that you could understand. But to push you away? As if you were not about to become his wife?
Even if neither him nor you had chosen this arrangement, you were both stuck in it. And surely it was the least he could have done - ensured that you were okay?
Unfortunately, your brain likes to spiral quickly. You find yourself making links between this morning and the incident that had only occurred mere moments ago, drawing connections that any rational mind would not and you come to an awfully dangerous conclusion - your husband to be must despise you.
Unbeknownst to you, Maekar had stormed out of his solar (Rhae still babbling away in his arms, drooling over his clothes as he brushed past every single person in the corridor), intent upon correcting his mistakes, and ensuring you were in good shape after all that had happened. The idea of you crying because of his own foolishness did not sit well with him, no matter how hard he tried to ignore the weird feeling in his chest (and no, it definitely was not Rhae, who had now taken to chewing on her father's clothing).
When he approached your chambers, the guards held their hands out to him as he pulled a face of indignation,
"What is the meaning of this?"
"The Lady has requested none disturb her sleep. She did not sleep well last night."
"Well fuck that, and fuck this. Let me through!"
"Many apologies, your Grace, but-"
"You would stop me speaking with my future wife?"
"At her own orders, yes."
"Fuck me!"
He let out a very slow exhale, pinching his nose as he turned away. For a moment, all was silent as he thought of what to do. If they would not let him through, he would have no choice but to walk away. But as he does walk away, he hears your choked sobs squeeze out of the wall - as if the sound could sense that he was there, as if it knew exactly who to find. The sound buries itself in his brain - despite him wanting it to leave immediately - and he tries one last time, turning around,
"She is not happy, and I must speak with her."
"We are under strict orders-"
"Fuck your orders!"
Maekar almost attempts to push past the guards himself (and all three of them know very well that it would not be difficult for him to push past into the chambers), only for Rhae to begin crying. Soft, small sniffles quickly become loud wails and sobs as he rushes the youngest princess away, with a heart heavier than stone. Inside, you heard very little past your own crying, but the sound of the young child's crying has you rushing out of your chambers. Without even thinking, you run down the corridors - right up to a bewildered Maekar,
"What are yo-???"
You do not answer him - instead, you take her into your arms, bouncing her and patting her until her crying eases. He does not say anything, letting you take control of the situation as he takes in your appearance. Tears stain your cheeks, and you face seems somewhat drained, yet you did not hesitate in rushing forwards for a child you barely even knew. When she has fully settled, you return Rhae to his arms and walk back to your chambers as he just watches in bewilderment, with only one word on his lips,
so like. i have been brainrotting hold the line (maekar series) and i may have written chapter 2 all today,,, (in my defence it is not a long chapter at all, and i have had nothing else to do today)..
hold the line, love isn't always on time | dilf! maekar x f! reader
Chapter One: "Am I some fucking prize cow, to be married to whoever at your insistence?"
masterlist ★ chapter 2
★ word count: 4.1k
★ series summary: Prince Maekar Targaryen was more than content with his life. Well.. content is a strong word.. Nonetheless, he disagreed with his father's insistence upon his remarrying. Something foolish like "securing the realm's future", is what his father had said. To which, he had naturally stormed out of the room, with his older brother trailing after him. "Married. Married, again? Really?" But what happens when his wife is just as headstrong as him, and incredibly sexy annoying?
roe speaks: i have brainrotted this and this is what you guys GET ik they're only awkward rn but dw they are ab to find each other so fucking annoying that they will fall in love >:)
Prince Maekar 'The Anvil' Targaryen was well known to the realm. Prince of Summerhall, fourth son of King Daeron II and a strong army commander serving in two of the Blackfyre Rebellions, Maekar Targaryen was incredibly well known to all across the realm. And alongside being such a well decorated Prince, our Prince was also well known for an incredibly impatient temper. A harsh man - quick to judgement and quicker to condemnation. Was it a result of his time as a commander, or the youngest of four Princes? None would truly know, but all would beware his wrath nonetheless.
Today of all days, he had been summoned to meet with the small council, to discuss a matter of great importance to the realm. Two years had already passed since the sorrowful passing of his late wife, Lady Dyanna Dayne (who had already provided more than enough in Maekar's eyes), and both the King and his council were in agreement that Prince Maekar was in need of a new wife.
Maekar, however, did not agree.
"What the fuck do you mean, marry me off? Am I some fucking prize cow, to be married to whoever at your insistence?"
"Maekar-"
"No! This is entirely absurd, Baelor!"
The King raised a fist, looking sternly between his two sons as he commanded a silence from them. Both sons fell silent - immediately feeling as though they were young children, being chastised once more - and the King spoke,
"We must secure the realm's future, and your children are in dire need of a mother-"
"I am mother and father enough for my children, Father-"
(This particular comment almost has the Master of Laws snickering, only to be served a particularly nasty glare from Maekar and a stern one from Baelor. He responded by shrinking in his seat and lowering his head.)
"-and we must strengthen our ties across the Realm, Son."
Ties across the Realm. Ties his fucking foot, Maekar thought, as he grumbled and pulled a face. He exhaled sharply, eyebrows crossing over into the shape that they often spent most of their time in. Baelor sighed, and the King let out a noise of exasperation,
"Ties across the realm?"
"Indeed."
"You are the King. Surely you could just tell them to bend to your will or some fucking shit."
"No."
"At least tell me who is in mind?"
"A Stark girl has been considered, but she is less suitable to you. The other options is a Tully girl - of Riverrun, from the Riverlands-"
"I know who the fucking Tullys are. I have no choice, do I?"
"It is for the-"
"For the fucking realm, yes. I am very well aware of that, Father."
With that, he spins on his heel and storms out of the council room, with his older brother Baelor following behind him, sending apologies to all his younger brother had bumped into on his way out,
"Brother-"
"Married. He wants for me to be married again. This is fucking absurd! And to a fucking Tully girl, with whom I'll have absolutely nothing in common and I am expected to smile and wave like a pretty damsel meeting her fucking knight fucking shinging in bright fucking white armour?"
"Well.."
Baelor briefly considered saying 'If the boot fits..' but he could already hear the headache that his brother would have responded with, and promptly chose against it. Probably for the best, to be entirely honest. Instead, he puts a hand on his shoulder, waiting for his brother to turn around. He almost does not, and Baelor finds himself almost pushing his brother to face him,
"Listen, I understand this agreement is not to your liking. But you cannot disagree with the fact that the children need a mother in their lives. It is not good enough for them, that you are divided between them and the realm."
"…"
"Besides, six children for one person is too much - even with the added royal help. Would you at the very least, do me the favour of meeting her? Seeing how things go?"
"And then I will have to marry her, won't I."
"Probably."
"I am in no position to deny, either. Brother, you truly are bothersome."
"Nevermind none of that, I hear Aerion has challenged Daeron to another duel!"
"AGAIN?"
Away in Riverrun, you were stood in front of your own father in his solar, sat at his desk filled with letters and melted candles - arms crossed over as you pout, shaking your head as you find yourself struggling with your own predicament,
"A Targaryen? You wish for me to marry a Targaryen? Father, do you really mean for me to-"
"Marry a Targaryen? Yes, yes I do, sweet daughter."
"But-"
"You will marry Prince Maekar, and I will not hear another word about it - is that understood? You are long past your years of wishing upon stars for a knight to whisk you away, so I implore you - daughter - do not drag my name through the mud. You will do what is required of you, and that is that!"
Tears pool in your eyes, blurring your vision as you sniffle quietly. Your father sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, unable to handle the sight as he makes his way around the desk towards you - pulling you into his arms as you cry onto his shoulder. His heart breaks, thinking back to when you would rush around him, and he would make you flower crowns - oh, the sweet innocence of youth! A hand pats your back as the other rests atop your head, in attempt to soothe your concerns.
Yet, Westerosi culture dictated that you must be married soon. For it was not socially acceptable for a young woman to be unmarried so long. Add to that the fact that it was a match that most would beg for, and you really had no choice but to nod.
At the very least, for your father's sake,
"Good, good. We shall leave on the morrow, for King's Landing."
"Already?"
"Indeed. Your items have already been packed and set aside for you, so I would take this day to finish whatever final things you wish to do."
But there was so much you wished to do. Feel the cool air drift up from the rivers outside, rush through the gardens with your maidens and imagination once more. Make silly little daisy chains, and lay in the fields as sun gleamed through the leaves above. And to think that you would quickly have to leave that all behind to marry a man you knew nought of - aside from his temper. Your shoulders sink as your father ushers you out of the room, and your feet drag you back to your own chambers, where you slump onto your bed. Tears flow more quickly now - easily staining the pillow beneath your face. Outside, muffled sobs echo past your doors, but inside, all your emotions tumble out. Before you know it, exhaustion takes over, sending you off to a sleep you desperately needed.
Back in King's Landing, Maekar paces. Back and forth, back and forth. Completely ignoring his gaggle of children, waiting patiently as their father paces, placing bets on how long it would take before he finally absolutely lost it (of course, Rhae was too young to bet - being a babbling babe of only two - and Aemon refused to join on principle, leaving a glimmering Daeron, a pouty Aerion, a mischevious Daella and an easily excitable Aegon).
So much had happened today, that he had no choice but to make a list:
The Tully Girl - enough said.
Aerion challenging Daeron to yet another duel (after Maekar had explicitly told him under no circumstances is he to challenge his older brother to a duel, especially not after the last time, when Daeron returned practically battered).
Daella convinced Aegon that he could fly. Gods bless Aemon, for if he were not there, the poor boy may have actually attempted to fly.
Rhae. Would. Not. Stop. Crying.
Aerion (Serial Maekar Offender) threw a pillow at his older brother, who ducked. Instead, the corner of the pillow - which was stupidly pointy - struck Maekar in his eye. The two boys immediately began pointing fingers, leading to Maekar shushing the two of them.
Maekar now stood with a very watery eye, anger flaring out of his soul as he tried his very best to not start yelling at his children.
And so, Maekar paces in his solar, a hand over his pained eye - attempting to ignore the water that pools in his eye. Despite his childrens' protests, he refuses to see a maester - "It was just a fucking pillow, Aemon." - but he cannot ignore that it stings so very bad.
After the fourth time pacing, Aerion pulls a face - handing two silver to Daeron, Daella and Aegon, and whispering,
"I cannot fucking believe he has not lost it yet!"
The other three merely shush him, pushing him aside. Maekar pauses his pacing to glare at his children, before returning to it. The remaining three players stay sharp and determined, as Aemon sits with Rhae and Aerion slumps into a chair, bored out of his mind.
The sixth pacing has Daeron out, tossing two silver to Daella and Aegon as he shakes his head and joins Aemon and Rhae. Rhae, for one, seems incredibly joyful at the appearance of her oldest brother, who takes her into his arms and plays with her - finally allowing Aemon to return to his book. Aerion has now taken to crushing walnuts and chewing very loudly, which might just skew the game.
The eighth pacing is where Maekar almost loses his mind. A flash of hope sparks in Daella's eyes, and Aegon has to plant his feet where he is to hold himself back as even more lines crease across Maekar's face. However, to Daella's disappointment, Maekar stays strong - and Daella hands over all her money, and the extra two silver to Aegon.
Now, between the siblings, there was always a secret extra stipulation to fulfill. You could only win the money, if the number you guessed was correct. Which meant that for Aegon to win his twenty silver pieces, Maekar must lose his mind on the ninth pacing. For a moment, he fears it will not happen. His father has already come close to breaking on the eighth pacing, and it is unlikely he will break immediately on the next one, right? Surely he would not. All children leaned forwards just a little bit, as they watched their father, eager to see Aegon return the silver back when Maekar inevitably would not lose his mind on the nint-
"AERION. STOP FUCKING CHEWING SO LOUDLY."
Ah.
It appears the children had forgotten their father's hatred for loud chewing. Aerion's eyes widen, an innocent look on his face as he chews slowly now, looking left and right before pointing at himself. Maekar massages his temples, shaking his head as he continues,
"It is incredibly irritating, and grinding. Stop that immediately."
"But-"
"NO. That is enough. And Daella, stop trying to convince Aegon that he can do stupid things - he cannot fly, NO ONE CAN FLY."
"He has not tried yet, Fathe-"
"AND HE WILL NOT TRY. Humans, cannot fly."
"But we used to-"
"Yes, when our ancestors had dragons. Look around, Daella. Do we have dragons? Would I be here, if we had dragons? Probably not. I would probably be on my fucking dragon, far away from this nonse- Aerion, I will not tell you again. Stop. Chewing. So. Loudly."
"I am just eating, Father."
"Close your fucking mouth when you eat then! Is it so difficult?"
"Yes."
He knew not to say in response, and only scowled at his second son, groaning. Daeron pulled Aemon a little closer, and Aegon took the moment to move slightly closer to his siblings - lest he be the next to receive his father's temper. Instead, Maekar turns and lets out a noise of frustration - hands pushing into the wood of the desk in front of him, grounding him somewhat. For what feels like an eternity (but is in fact, only two brief minutes) the room is silent. The corridors outside appear to be silent. No sound, but that of birds outside the window is to be heard. And then-
CRUNCH
"AERION!"
"I am hungry!"
"Everyone is hungry, Aerion. Some of us are in pain too, you know."
"It was a pillow."
"A pillow, with a sharp corner for some bizarre fucking reason!"
"…"
"I have had it - do not approach me for the next two hours, unless one of you is dying!"
Aemon rose, rushing to his father's side and tugging on his clothes. Maekar looked down at the small child - book in one hand and the corner of his shirt in the other,
"Yes, Aemon?"
"Where will you go?"
"My chambers. You may find me there if some situation arises."
The young boy nodded solemnly, returning to his book as Maekar left the solar. Yet despite wanting peace, he knows better than all that he will inevitably be interrupted by one of the children doing something or the other. Still, he makes his way back to his chambers, lying in the bed and staring up at the canopy that had felt so empty all these years. Soon, it would not be just him in this bed.
The thought worried him more than it should have.
Would his bride be young? Gods, please no. The embarassment of being likened to one of those old men who took a young bride - no, no, he could not do that. What if she hated children? That would not do him any good, given that he had six of them. What if she hated him? Well, he surmised, she probably did. She probably despised him. It would not shock him to hear that. He twiddled his thumbs, lying awake - boots still attached to his feet, hanging off the edge of the bed as he could not be bothered to remove them. Part of him wished to skip dinner entirely, to remain wallowing in his own sorrows and pities. But that would not do, nor would it be proper of a Prince. Plus, the thought of his children running amok without him to stop them was more than enough to bring him back to reality.
Still, a short nap would not be so bad, would it?
You had slept through dinner. It was not intentional, nor was it an act of protest. Your own father knew as much, given that he had come to check in on you after dinner - only to find you fast asleep, snoring quietly on the pillows. A small smile found his face as he pulled the duvet around you, kissing your forehead and leaving your chambers. He could only hope his sweet daughter would remain as peaceful in the hellhole that was King's Landing.
Unfortunately, you awoke in the dead of night - the hour of the wolf, no less. Your brain felt incredibly foggy and hazy, and for all you knew you could have slept through the last three days. Yet you knew your father would not allow that, given the proposal that had been-
Ah!
The proposal!
You remember now the fate you are damned to - to become Maekar Targaryen's wife. Tears begin collecting at your eyes again as you lower your head to the pillow once more. How could you marry a man you had never met? Sure, it was common amongst most, but you had hoped it would not happen to you…
A small part of you considered running away. If you sold all of your jewellery, surely you could make it as far as Essos, no? Live a new life, under a new identity. But the image of your father - alone and in a state of distress as he finds the news of you running away - flashing through your mind is more than enough to stop you from doing so. And so, you lie there, praying to the Seven. Praying that your future husband is not so unkind, and maybe his temper is justified. Perhaps you will find a way to temper his.. temper? Hopefully he will not be so easily angered as the rumours say.
The morning arrives sooner than you would have thought, and you are bundled into your dresses before you can even collect your thoughts, perfumed oils adorning your skin as various jewels sparkle in the morning's warm light. You enter the carriage first, your father after, and the two of you set off on the journey that would ultimately decide your fate.
The journey is long, and irritatingly slow. You feel each and every bump in the unkempt road, through the various layers you don't particularly enjoy being so wrapped up in. Each rocky bump has you grimacing just a little more, and what's worse is the fact that you cannot sleep! Whenever you are slightly close to falling asleep, your eyes rip open at yet - yes, you guessed it - another hump.
Still, there was a certain beauty in the world throughout your journey, and perhaps it was slightly childish of you to do so, but you could not help the glimmer of hope that surrounded your heart.
The day of your arrival had finally come by. Maekar had been pestered enough today, a characteristically irritated scowl upon his face. He had been bathed, scrubbed, oiled (to which he protested heavily. Something about, "If she cannot handle my natural self, should she even be married to me?". No one knew what to respond with to that one) and then clothed. That too, in uncomfortable clothes that clung to his skin in a way he absolutely despised, forcing him to try to pull it away from his neck at every given opportunity.
That was not even the worst part of it all.
The barber attempted to shave him (key word - attempted). He merely swatted his hands about, like an angry horse as his children watched on, unable to hold back their giggles. When the barber had been done cutting the ends of his hair, he brushed him away, only to look at the man that remained in the mirror.
He saw not a groom to be, but a man filled with an anger that perhaps his new bride did not deserve. He tried - he really did - to loosen his eyebrows, unclench his jaw, and make a face that seemed somewhat friendly, only for Aerion to throw a walnut shell at Aemon. And so, Maekar was once again in a state of anger.
Still, he stood now, at the gates of the Red Keep - his children finally somewhat well behaved (or as well behaved as they were capable of being) and beside his whole family. He had initially attempted to hide behind one of his brothers, only for Baelor to have him pushed forward (to which Maekar had muttered under his breath, "Like a fucking prize cow". King Daeron did not approve of this comment.).
Finally though, the carriage arrived. Inside, you sat with your father, covered in the very best garments that could have been put together, just for you. You could not deny it - despite all the fear that filled your heart, you did look like a bride. Seeing yourself briefly in the reflection of a mirror did bring a smile to your face, and your father moved to sit beside you - mere moments before the doors to the carriage were to open. He took your hands in his, raised them to his forehead and let a single tear drop onto them before pulling you in for what felt like the most important hug of your life,
"You will do well - he will be good to you, I am sure of it. I am proud of you, my sweet daughter. Do not give him too much trouble now, yes?"
You nod, though you cannot quite promise to do as he asks.
The doors to the carriage open, and your father exits first. And for a moment, Maekar thinks this is some kind of stupid practical joke being played on him. He almost scowls, except one of the knights offers his arm to help you down from the carriage.
By the Gods, were you a sight to witness. Maekar could not help but let his lips part, only to briefly wet them as he watched you closely. The most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on, and here he was. Almost scowling, with his petulant children giggling behind him. He almost turns to chastise them, but he sees you lift your head slightly. The two of you making eye contact is agreeably more important that Aegon and Daella teasing each other.
As the two of you stare at each other, and your fathers (and Baelor) make their greetings, neither you nor he say anything. You allow yourself to be led inside, and Maekar continues to silently observe you. All the way until Baelor nudges him,
"You are staring, brother."
"Am not."
"I disagree!"
"Then disagree - what is it to me."
"Now, now - you promised to give it a go. Approach her, talk with her. She is sure to be nervous, and a word from her husband to be will surely ease her soul..?"
"…"
"…for me?"
"…fine."
Maekar hides a grimace, pushing himself off the chair in which he sat and approaching you. He points to the seat next to you - somewhat awkwardly - and you shrug - equally as awkwardly,
"So."
"Your Grace."
"Erm.. yes."
"King's Landing seems lovely."
"Oh.. erm.. thank you, I suppose..?"
He had half a mind to yell, 'No! Gods, no! King's Landing is horrible, and stuffy, and horrendously overpacked - I hate this fucking place!', but a quick glance over to Baelor stops him. On the other hand, your heart only sinks further and further. Were you really about to marry someone so aloof?
"How was your journey?"
Long. Miserable. Bumpy. Those were your three options - which would you pick? Long woudl make you seem as though you were some spoilt child, unused to long journeys. Miserable would make you seem ungrateful - which of course, was less than ideal. Bumpy… was accurate, you suppose.
"Bumpy."
"Oh."
"I mean, it is to be expected, no?"
"Sure."
Ah. It seems you may have offended him. You let out a small sigh, unsure of where to take the conversation next. Perhaps you should ask about the children? Though, remembering the scowl that he quickly pushed away when you had left the carriage, perhaps that was not such a good idea. As you struggle with where to take the stiff conversation between you, he sits there, thinking.
Were the roads really that bumpy?
Baelor's eyes were almost popping out of their sockets, watching his brother uncomfortably work through conversation with you. He has half a mind to send the two of you far away from the Hall right now, and pray that being alone without prying eyes would somehow create some kind of conversation between you. Unfortunately, that is not for him to decide, and he remains staring in horror as you both just… go quiet.
Later that night, you all have dinner together. Naturally, you are somewhat overwhelmed by the number of people, and the amount of noise. At the upper end of the table, everyone sits deep in conversation as they eat. On the lower end of the table, Aerion throws morsels of food at his siblings and cousins. Smack in the middle of the table are you and Maekar, sat opposite each other.
Maekar promised his brother that he would not yell at the children tonight. He also made Aerion promise not to cause any problems at the table tonight. One of those promises has already been broken, yet he cannot break his own promise.
He stands from his seat, walking over to Aerion and whispering into his ear,
"If you do not fucking stop this stupidity right this moment, I swear I will lock you in your chambers for the next three days. Is that understood?"
The boy immediately lowers his spoon, and Maekar returns to his seat and his food. Yet dinner is still strange between the two of you, given that neither of you have yet found common ground to work with. So far, all you have seen of him is that he is grumpy, aloof and irritable - and incredibly awkward. All he has seen of you is that you are spoilt, strange and cause him a deal of irritation, just like he had predicted.
Baelor's eyes once again flick between the two of you, worry stirring in his mind.
