Synopsis: Princess Jaelys Targaryen is the eldest daughter of Prince Baelor Targaryen and twin to Prince Valarr Targaryen. Nearly two years after the death of Lady Dyanna Dayne, Jaelys is married to her uncle, Prince Maekar Targaryen. The couple must navigate their blooming relationship while dealing with the tourney at Ashford.
Futile Devices — Rhaenyra Targaryen x OC
Synopsis: FLASH BACK CHAPTER! Rhaenyra and Aelor share their first ever night together, changing their relationship forever and the course of House Targaryen's history.
Lust for Life — Roderick Dustin x Reader (Requested fic)
Synopsis: Roddy the Ruin runs into a lost hiker, things quickly become complicated.
No More Tears — Roderick Dustin x OC
Synopsis: Vacaerys Velaryon had always been stoic like his elder brother Jacaerys, but after learning devastating news, he has no choice but to crawl into the arms of his lover heartbroken and lost.
Driftmark felt abnormally cold and the wind felt as if it could cut a man completely in half. It seemed to be a sign from the god's themselves — a change in the balance is coming and everyone must prepare for it if they do not wish to perish. The stone casket that held the ashes of Lady Laena Velaryon had been sent to the bottom of the sea, now guests from all around lingered outside of the castle.
Aelor Targaryen stood near the wine, he tried to keep his gaze away from his flock — Rhaenyra and their children. Instead his gaze lingered on the crumbling figure of his twin, the very man that he shared not only the same womb, but the same DNA. His brother had not changed significantly since the birth of Joffrey, but he could see the pain and disease eating away at his elder brother — bits and pieces of him slowly crumbling to the floor just to be carried away by the wind just like ash on a funeral pyre.
His gaze was taken away from his brother the moment he heard Lucerys voice breaking over the thought of being the only one left when taking over Driftmark from Laenor. It took everything within Aelor to not immediately go to his son's side to comfort the young boy — to gently caress the silver curls of his son and tell his son that all will be well as he wiped the boys tears.
≫
The sun had set halfway in the evening sky, it sizzled out behind Aelor and Rhaenyra as they walked alongside each other on the beaches of Driftmark. The two of them escaping their duties just for a mere moment under the guise of a 'walk' on the beach to clear their heads of this horrible tragedy. No words were spoken between them until the castle was nearly out of sight, it was Rhaenyra who broke the silence.
"Iksā se mērī mēre qilōni ēza daor geptot nyke, kepus," Rhaenyra spoke in their native tongue, she stopped walking and turned to face Aelor as she placed a hand on his chest. 'You are the only one who has not left me, uncle.' Her hand absent mindedly messed with the front of his doublet where the intricate embroidered onto the fabric, it was a dragon that favored Vermithor — the very dragon her uncle claimed. She kept eye contact with her uncle, his lilac eyes viewing her as if she was the very thing the universe revolved around. She noticed the way his eyes flicked down to her supple lips for a fraction of a second and how he licked his lips before speaking.
"Sesīr isse morghon kesan daor henujagon ao," Aelor spoke back in their native tongue, his voice softer than usual as he gently cupped her face, his calloused thumb carressing her cheek in slow swipes. 'Even in death, I will not leave you.' He watched as Rhaenyra's eyes widened for a split second as she took in every word he said, he went to open his mouth and his words died in his throat as she pulled him into a ravenous kiss. His hand moved from her cheek to cupping the nape of her neck, deepening the kiss as his tongue pushed past her supple lips.
The two of them only breaking the kiss as they push each other inside of a rotted section of wood and what was formerly a piece of a boat. Aelor broke the kiss to take off his red and black leather doublet and lay it on top of the sand as Rhaenyra loosened the strings to her own dress. Once the two were finished, he guided her down to laying on top of his doublet, once she was laying down he inserted himself between her legs and began to kiss her neck. Rhaenyra gasped as Aelor began trailing his kisses down towards her breasts that he had pulled free from their confinement within her dress and she grasped at his tunic trying to take it off — he did as she wished taking his tunic off quickly before resuming his kisses.
His mouth wrapped around one of her nipples as he pinched the other with his hand causing her back to arch slightly, his tongue rolled over the sensitive bud before he sucked slightly and her other was being rolled between his two fingers. After a moment, he switched his mouth to the other making sure both of her breasts got equal amounts of attention before she pushed him off of her, "Fuck me, kepus," she rasped out pulling up her dress and sliding her undergarments to the side. He did not waste a moment before he began undoing his pants and then his own small clothes freeing his throbbing erection.
Aelor spit onto his cock, using his hand to spread the saliva before he pushed into Rhaenyra's cunt with a moan. He leaned over her body, one of his hands beside her head the other gripping her leg as he thrust himself into her with a sensual pace that began to quicken, the two of them not holding back their moans of pleasure knowing that no one from the castle dared to venture out as far as they had. His hand moved from her leg and made its way towards her clit — he began rubbing her clit as his pace became brutal. The two of them were close to their orgasm as his hips began to thrust sloppily and her legs began to tremble with pleasure.
Rhaenyra came first with her eyes rolling back into her head and her legs trembling, not long after Aelor came as well deep inside of her with stuttering hips and a loud groan as he collasped on top of her. The two of them basking in their own sweat, saliva, and secretions as they recovered from their lust fueled coupling. "Avy jorrāelan," Aelor whispered into the ear of his beloved, 'I love you', it was true he did love Rhaenyra beyond anything he had ever felt and he would do anything for her.
≫
The main room of Driftmark was a warzone as Aelor and Rhaenyra entered only twenty minutes after their walk on the beach, Rhaenyra immediately went towards Jacaerys and Lucerys as the two of them were bleeding for an unknown reason — Aelor began to slowly make his way towards them as it all went to hell after Rhaenyra asked who had hurt them. Aemond had spoken first, "They attacked me," and soon after it was Jacaerys who mentioned, "He attacked Baela. He broke Luke's nose," it did not take long before all of the children involved had began to yell accusations at each other, screaming their own version of the story only they had witnessed.
"Silence," Viserys had used much of his strength to yell out his command to the room and everyone listened. Aelor could hear Jacaerys whisper to Rhaenyra, "He called us bastards," and with that both he and Rhaenyra turned towards Alicent and her son pushing Jace and Luke behind them as Viserys asked Aemond what had happened. In the corner of his eye, Aelor had noticed Otto Hightower watching him and how he reacted towards the two Velaryon princes being injured, he couldn't help but sneer at the so-called "Hand of the King" before he focused back onto the argument at hand.
It was Alicent who was speaking once Aelor turned his focus away from Otto, "The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush. He meant to kill my son." Aelor couldn't stop himself from huffing before he spoke, "Prince Lucerys is a child who had went out without guards and seemingly with his brother and cousins — he surely brought the blade for protection of his lady cousins who are incredibly frightened after the death of their mother," all eyes in the room turned towards him as he spoke. It was obvious that Alicent depised Aelor as much as she had grown to depise Jacaerys and Lucerys — the two boys had dragon eggs placed in their craddles and the eggs had hatched while her own children were not so lucky.
Little Lucerys had grabbed a hold of Aelor's sleeve and stood behind him as the little boy peeked out a head full of silver, curly hair which did not match the bright red blood that dripped out of the poor boys mishapen, broken nose. All of the adults were arguing without cause to stop, especially since Alicent kept getting more and more furious about the loss of Aemond's eye – Lucerys tried not to pay any mind to the words that were being shouted and argued until Alicent spewed out, "Then I shall have one of her sons eyes in return," and the entire room seemed to go silent at such the bloodthirsty proposal.
To the children the rest of the ordeal seemed like it was going to fast to understand until the moment Queen Alicent unsheathed the Conquerors dagger from the kings belt and began her march towards Prince Lucerys. The King yelled for Alicent to stop and the kingsguard did not move an inch as they had been comanded by their lord commander Ser Harrold Westerling who made his way towards Alicent to stop her and Ser Criston Cole snuck his way towards Prince Lucerys before being affronted by Prince Daemon.
Aelor moved in front of Rhaenyra as she pushed the screaming Lucerys behind her to protect the young boy. He had met Alicent in the middle of the room grabbing the wrist that held the dagger in an iron grip and the other wrist when it came up to push him away, "You dare to threaten the heir to the throne and the heir to Driftmark? You are more brazen than stupid, my queen," his tone was like venom especially as he nearly spat out Alicent's title as she continued to fight him even though he did not budge. It seemed as if the room was in a standstill other than the heavy breathing of Alicent who had tears streaming down her face.
"Where is duty, where is honor, where is sacrifice? It is trampled underneath her foot," Alicent spoke exacerbatedly as she tried to look around Aelor to catch a mere glimpse of Rhaenyra who stood behind him with her own children held close to her. "Put the blade down, Alicent," Otto spoke from the same spot that he was at in the beginning of this whole ordeal, it was obvious that the man had no true feelings for this other than doing damage control. The moment Otto spoke Alicent let her guard down just long enough for Aelor to wrench the blade out of her hand and push her away towards Aemond who had stood up and grabbed his mothers arm and placed the injured side of his face on her chest.
Aemond looked towards Aelor who sheathed the dagger within his own belt and the young prince locked eyes with the very man who was the exact image of his very own father or at least that was what he was told as he could not longer remember what his father looked like before the sickness had taken over. "I may have lost an eye, but I have gained a dragon. It was a fair trade," Aemond spoke without malice in his voice, but he knew as he continued to make eye contact with his uncle that it was not a fair trade, his uncle nodded at him before he closed his last remaining eye as his mother tried her best to comfort him.
≫
The wedding of Aelor and Rhaenyra took place ten months after the death of Ser Laenor Velaryon who had died at the hands of his lover Ser Qarl Correy. Their marriage was held in secret with only written permission of the king himself — the wedding guests were Maester Gerardys, Prince Jacaerys, and Prince Lucerys who all stood in the drizzling rain of Dragonstone watching the traditional Valyrian wedding take place. Aelor and Rhaenyra were both dressed in the traditional Valyrian attire as they stood in front of one another as Aelor went to cut his niece's bottom lip since the two of them had already cut their palms, once it was done he smeared the blood onto her forehead and she did the same to him binding one another in blood.
"Ēva ñuha morghon, kesan mīsagon ao," Aelor spoke his vows, 'Until my death, I will protect you". Rhaenyra's face changed into a soft smile as she listened to the vows her uncle had said and she replied in their native tongue, "Kesan jiōragon ao isse se tolie ābrar," she felt the same way that he felt about her, 'I will find you in the other life". The two of them smiled before leaning against the other's forehead and then finally sealing their matrimony with a passionate kiss.
Jacaerys Velaryon was no fool – regardless of mere nine years of age, he was smarter than most gave him credit for. He knew that his father was not Ser Laenor Velaryon, at least not by blood. Jacaerys eyed his uncle – rather his father, Prince Aelor Targaryen across the training yard inside of the Red Keep, the young boy knew he favored the Prince already and he would only keep favoring Aelor as the years went by. Why would his mother curse him so? He did not love her any less, but damn did he wonder why she was unable to have children with his 'father'. The wooden sword within his small hand felt heavy as every fear of his came crashing down upon his little body.
The dirt crunched underneath Aelor's boot, his left hand resting upon the pommel of his sword as he walked the training grounds his gaze was stuck on Jacaerys and Lucerys – his boys. Laenor Velaryon might be the one who raised them, but Aelor is their father – their silent protector who wouldn't stop at anything to protect his family. His train of thought was interrupted by Criston Cole, he snapped to pay attention to whatever the knight was saying – he couldn't stop his lip from snarling for a moment when Cole mentioned the boys sparring, it was an obvious jab to get underneath his skin. It was unfortunately working as Aelor was quick to anger and slow to forget of forgive a slight – a typical Targaryen.
Aelor's lilac eyes glanced up at his brother, his brother was sitting above the training yard with Ser Harrold Westerling and the Hand Lyonel Strong. His gaze was directed back to Jacaerys and Lucerys as he made his way closer to the boys – directly across from them were Aegon, Aemond, and Cole. "Prince Aegon, Prince Jacaerys – get in position to spar," Cole spoke to the two princes, but his eyes constantly flickered to Aelor, gaging the Prince's reaction. Aelor kept his expression blank except for a small smirk he shot Cole's way when the two of them made eye contact.
Prince Aegon and Prince Jacaerys stood in front of each other holding their wooden swords just as they had been shown – Prince Aegon had been taught by Cole, Prince Jacaerys had been taught by Aelor. Aelor rivaled both Cole and his younger brother Daemon, if the two boys stayed clean the fight would be neck and neck, but Aelor knew Cole had something up his sleeve. "Remember what I taught you, Jacaerys," Aelor placed his hand on the young boys shoulder for a moment before stepping back to stand opposite of Cole, the two of them keeping their respective sides: Green and Black. The young prince simply nodded his head, his lilac eyes meeting those same ones of Aelor's.
The two boys began their sparring – Prince Aegon used all of his strength and larger body to push Prince Jacaerys back. Aelor crossed his arms against his chest with his eyes narrowing as he watched. Jacaerys did his best to fight back, but the other was had him beat when it came to size and reach – he had nearly lost his wooden sword as Aegon repeatedly kicked at him and swung the sword madly. "Jacaerys, he favors his legs, you know what to do," Aelor called out to his son, their eyes meeting for a mere moment – the identical color irises glimmering in the sun, truly a mirror of one another. Jacaerys did as he was told, he waited for an opening before landing a strategic blow to one of Aegons knees, it wasn't anything to hurt the other boy but a distraction.
It seemed that the blow to the leg angered Aegon just enough to kick Jacaerys in the chest, the younger boy fell to the ground with a loud thud and wooden sword gone from his hand. Aelor moved quicker than a flash of lightning – he disarmed Aegon and grabbed his nephew by the collar of his armor eyeing his alcohol smelling nephew before pushing him away to go help Jacaerys. As his back turned he could hear Cole snickering as he stood with Aegon and Aemond. Aelor didn't care, he helped Jacaerys up and gathered the wooden swords from the ground with Lucerys help. As he put away the wooden swords, Cole spoke up, "Targaryen tradition is queer, but you seem to be closer to those boys than an uncle should be...more like a father."
The entire training yard seemed to freeze in time the moment Cole finished speaking. Aelor squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before he turned to face the smug knight and his two smirking nephews. He made his way towards Cole, before the other could back away he grabbed Cole by the neck. "You must forget that I am not as forgiving as my brother...nor am I as blind," his grip on the others man's throat tightened as he leaned in close to whisper, "I see the way you and the Queen look at each other. It would be unfortunate if your head was given to her, wouldn't it," he let go of Cole's throat and backed away. Cole fell to the dirt, gripping his neck and gasping for air. "I will not be as nice next time Cole," Aelor spoke as he began walking Jacaerys and Lucerys to their mother's room – his left hand on Jacaerys shoulder and his right on Lucerys shoulder.
≫
Aelor laid on the silk sheets of Rhaenyra's grand bed, he had used the secret tunnels built within the Red Keep – he would sneak in during the night and sneak out before the boys awoke. He watched as Rhaenyra brushed her silver locks at her vanity, he couldn't help but break the silence, "Alicent has her claws so deeply within all three of them. We must either leave or double down here," he paused for a moment and so did Rhaenyra, "If the boys and my brother weren't watching, I would've drug my dagger against Cole's stomach and watched his insides pour out." Rhaenyra said nothing as she laid her brush down and began to get in the bed beside Aelor, she got comfortable with her head on his shoulder as he said up against the headboard.
"We must leave, it is not the best decision but it is what is best for the boys and for...us. Her hold will grow stronger over time, but we cannot properly teach our sons in this environment," Rhaenyra spoke after minutes of silence between the two of them, her hand was placed directly on Aelor's chest – the ring that Aelor had given her still on her finger. "I am heir, I should already be ruling Dragonstone," she spoke, mainly to herself as her voice was barely above a whisper and she ran her nails gently against Aelor's lightly clothed chest.
Aelor gently used his fingers to guide Rhaenyra to looking at him, their eyes meeting one another, he spoke no words but a gentle kiss on her lips. When it came to the two of them words were not always needed. His hand moved down to her neck, his hand lightly hung against her throat like a piece of jewelry unlike the grip he had on Cole mere hours ago. Aelor would rather be eaten by a dragon than hurt Rhaenyra, but he would burn the entire world for her and their children. His thumb gently rubbed her neck as the two of them broke the kiss. "I will follow you until the end," he spoke barely above a husky whisper.
The prospect of creating an heir for the irone throne, driftwood throne, and a spare had not been the most important thing in Rhaenyra's mind until she had married. The marriage wasn't loveless – the two of them doing their duties and dining as they saw fit, yet as time went by the prospect of heirs began to show itself. Unable to produce an heir with Laenor, Rhaenyra had to find someone to father her children – it had to be someone inconspicuous as well as deathly loyal. Her first thought had been Ser Harwin Strong, someone she found attractive and loyal, yet as the more she thought of it the more flaws had shown itself – his traits could be more dominant than hers outing their infidelity and treason to the realm. The last option was her uncle; Prince Aelor Targaryen the rider of Vermithor – her father's identical twin. While the two of them looked the same, Aelor was more lean and carried himself completely opposite of Viserys as well as being a skilled dragon rider and duelist – rivaling the skills of his younger brother the Rogue Prince.
≫
In the year 114 AC, the princess and heir to the throne had given birth to her first child. The little princeling was born with the same silver hair as his mother and father, yet his eyes were the same tone of lilac as his grandsire and uncle. Whisps of silver hair adorned the babes freshly cleaned head – Aelor had felt troubled by the prospect of fathering Princess Rhaenyra's children as she was his niece and still yet to be a woman grown. Though, he did his duty to secure Rhaenyra's claim – the act itself was enjoyable for the two of them, especially for Rhaenyra's sake as Aelor mainly focused on her pleasure instead of his own. It was sure to happen again since Ser Laenor sought his own heir; the thought of bedding her no longer plagued him with worry.
𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗝𝗮𝗰𝗮𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘀 𝗩𝗲𝗹𝗮𝗿𝘆𝗼𝗻 had been born – heir to the iron throne behind his mother Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen; official son to Ser Laenor Velaryon. The babe had been swaddled in a blanket adorning both House Targaryen and House Velaryon sigils. Prince Aelor felt as if the poor princeling would break at any given moment if he so dared as move – he shot a glance towards his niece, she was still stricken with the exhaustion of labors. "Issa gevie. Ao gōntan sȳrī, zaldrītsos," Aelor spoke softly to Rhaenyra as he stood by her bedside, "Nyke zūgagon bona ziry favors nyke daor ao."
{ "Issa gevie. Ao gōntan sȳrī, zaldrītsos. Nyke zūgagon bona ziry favors nyke daor ao." = "He is beautiful. You did well, little dragon. I fear that he favors me not you." }
Princess Rhaenyra merely smiled at her uncle Prince Aelor, her father would show up any moment now with her former friend Alicent Hightower in tow. The scene before her would cause gossip amongst the people of the court – yet the royal family knew Laenor Velaryon was away at sea, a poorly scheduled escapade which led for her uncle Aelor to be in the birthing room alongside her for support as it was truly his child. A son, something her mother had yearned for her entire life and yet Rhaenyra succeded at her first try – it almost felt like a betrayal to her mother's memory and she did not know why she felt such a way.
"Iksi lentor, hen rhinka ziry looks hae ao," Rhaenyra finally replied back to Aelor, her voice hoarse from grunting and moaning during the labors. She had opened her mouth to say something else when the doors to her rooms opened – revealing her sickly father with Alicent Hightower in behind him, the eyes of her former friend scanning the room with a hint of distaste. Aelor had turned to face the door, holding the swaddled babe closer to him in case of an emergency – the hold did not falter at the sight of his brother.
{ "Iksi lentor, hen rhinka ziry looks hae ao." = "We are family, of course he looks like you." }
The king went to greet his own daughter before even acknowledging his own grandson. While Viserys checked on Rhaenyra, Alicent stood beside Aelor – the Hightower queen was staring at the babe within Aelor's arms. Within her mind, she noted the lack of Velaryon coloring the babe had – a bastard no doubt, Laenor Velaryon's true nature was no secret. This child was an exception, the next one would be a mistake that much was clear. Or maybe Alicent's own paranoia was getting to her. "It is unfortunate that Ser Laenor missed the birth of his first born," Alicent said tactfully – the tone in her voice did not go unnoticed by Rhaenyra or Aelor, the latter eyed her with distaste.
≫
The year was 117 AC, Princess Rhaenyra had birthed her third son – 𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗝𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗿𝗲𝘆 𝗩𝗲𝗹𝗮𝗿𝘆𝗼𝗻. The babe once again favored his mother rather than his Velaryon father. Once the boy and his mother were cleaned two men opened the door – Prince Aelor Targaryen and Ser Laenor Velaryon. Prince Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon were busy in the dragonpit picking out a dragon egg for their younger brother, so the intimate moment between Aelor and Rhaenyra was untouched as Laenor took the babe. The midwives and servants loyal to Rhaenyra – also knowing that Aelor would feed them to Vermithor himself.
Aelor opened his mouth to speak his words cut off by Elinda one of Rhaenyra's ladies-in-waiting. "The Queen has requested that the babe be brought to her," Elinda spoke timidly but loud enough for the entire room to hear, all faces turned towards her – aghast and anger were the two main emotions. Aelor gripped the hilt of his sword, it wasn't Dark Sister, but it was impressive all the same as it was hand crafted specially for him – it was a mix between Blackfyre and Dark Sister in terms of build though it was wholly Aelor's.
The midwives and ladies-in-waiting all scolded Rhaenyra as she stood, her afterbirth delivered soon after she stood herself up. Aelor's knuckles turned white as he continued to grip the hilt of his sword, "I shall go get the Queen myself. Her legs work perfectly fine, so do my brother's," his voice was laced with malice, but softened at the mention of his elder brother King Viserys – his twin. Rhaenyra opened her mouth to argue, but she couldn't find any reason to argue with what her uncle had just said, she watched as her uncle turned on his heel and left her chambers with heavy footfalls.
Rhaenyra barely had time to freshen up with the help of her ladies-in-waiting when her uncle Prince Aelor opened the door once again, this time with Queen Alicent Hightower and her father King Viserys I Targaryen in tow. Her father looked more sickly by the day–it was a painful reminder that her time on the throne was coming soon. She was ready but was the realm?
'Men would rather see the realm put to the torch, than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne.'
Ser Laenor Velaryon stood himself byside Rhaenyra's bedside where she sat watching her former childhood companion with distaste in her lilac eyes. Laenor cradled the babe within his arms with the same fatherly care he did Jacaerys and Lucerys–he was their father in every way except for biologically. Laenor knew one day the three boys would learn the truth, but for now...they were his children, they would always be his children.
Alicent had no time to recover from the disrespect her husband's twin brother had put her through – who did Aelor Targaryen think he was. Her hands were clasped in front of her in such a pious way as if she were impersonating one of the religious statues she prayed to. Her husband stood beside her with excitement, she wondered if he pretended not to notice the obvious bastardry of Rhaenyra's sons. While the children had obvious Targaryen features – they lacked the obvious Velaryon features, it was easy to see that those children were not of Laenor Velaryon's seed.
Aelor made his way back to Rhaenyra, their eyes meeting for only a moment – yet a multitude of things were spoken between them. They had always had this ability to speak without words as if their brains were on the same wave. He stood on the other side of Rhaenyra, he stood as a knight would beside their monarch – she was his monarch. He could choose her in every lifetime, it was that simple and he would do this all over again if he had to. "I do hope the birth was well," Viserys finally spoke, his voice lacking strength each day, he chuckled as Rhaenyra spoke of calling the midwife a 'cunt'. Aelor couldn't help but chuckle himself.
I have a sequel to "Strangers" coming! I also have a few non-Munch related fics coming out that are based around other Sam Spruell characters when I have the time to write! Thank you for the ask.
⪧ Synopsis: Squire Randyll Webber, younger brother to Lady Rohanne Webber, a young "alpha" squire under the formidable alpha Leo Tyrell, is just the Lord of Highgarden's squire — or that's what most believe.
⪧ CW: Smut (+18), A/B/O dynamics, age gap (Randyll is 20, and Leo is at least late 50s), period typical sexism, power difference, oral sex, heat/rut, mating cycles, mating bites, unprotected sex, intersex omegas, bias towards omegas of all genders, etc.
The spring breeze ran through Randyll's hair as he helped set up the ridiculously large Tyrell camp. At least thirty men and fifteen women were a part of the camp — it was a proper lord's camp, especially one of the richest men of the Reach. He stacked his belongings beside those of his lord for their belongings were to be in the same pavilion; it was not unknown for a knight and his squire to share a pavilion during tourneys, especially not if the two were of the same presentation.
All thirty of the camp's men believed that Randyll Webber was an alpha or at least did not want to upset their lord by questioning the young squire's presentation — it was obvious that the majority of the women within the camp knew of Randyll's true presentation. He was not lucky enough to present as alpha, unlike his elder sister, Lady Rohanne Webber. No, when he presented as an omega at age sixteen, his father sent him off to ward with Lord Leo Tyrell in hopes that the lord of the Reach could make a good knight or whore out of the boy — Lord Tyrell did both.
Randyll had just finished placing his belongings beside those of his secret lover, and he turned to take in a good look at the tourney grounds. In the distance, he could see Lord Tyrell's alpha daughter, Lady Hyacinth Tyrell, seemingly already chatting up one of the participants of the tourney; from what he could tell, it was perhaps Ser Beesbury. Soon his gaze was turned towards a man he had never seen at any tourney before because the size of this man would have been incredibly hard to miss, along with the three horses that he led behind him — most likely a fresh knight from the looks of the tall figure.
He could hear familiar footsteps behind him. Normally, he never even bothered to memorize the way someone walked, but when it came to his Lord Leo Tyrell, he made sure to memorize everything he could about his lord. "Quit lazing about, boy, I have a tourney to win," Leo Tyrell spoke the last part much quieter than he did the beginning, his mouth getting dangerously close to the shell of Randyll's ear. There was no one truly paying any attention to the pair as they wordlessly walked to the jousting grounds after grabbing dull sparring swords and wooden shields to use during their sparring match.
The jousting field was already nearly full of other knights, lords, and their loyal squires who were training for the tourney. It seemed awfully elaborate for a girl's thirteenth nameday, but that was the way lords and lady's were — elaborate parties, and tourneys were an excuse just to show off their houses' wealth. Randyll didn't have much time to think about it as he got into a position to fend off the attacks of Lord Tyrell. He stepped back, blocking a hit with his shield, and he quickly shoved Leo's sword off of his shield and swung an attack of his own. His attack was not nearly as efficient or skilled as Leo's, but he was still better than the majority of the young squires also on the field.
"Come on, my lord, surely your age has not slowed you that much," Randyll spoke to Leo, his face growing a smug smirk as he watched Leo's face harden before faking an attack and then smacking Randyll in the face with the wooden shield that was decorated with a fading golden rose. The shield knocked his head back, but luckily, it did not break his nose but rather busted his bottom lip as he tasted the familiar metallic blood with a flick of his tongue as he stared wide-eyed at his lord.
Leo Tyrell couldn't help but smirk at the boy, his pheromones masking those of Randyll's as he could smell the boy's souring omega pheromones. "How is that for slow, boy," he asked as he couldn't help but flick his eyes down to the blood that was beginning to roll down his squire's chin. A rumble came from his chest — his inner alpha coming awake, he was coming dangerously close to his rut.
The pair trained until the sky began to turn into a beautiful light orange color as the sun began to set. The two of them led each other into Lord Tyrell's tent to spend the night together as they always do. The moment the two of them were inside the tent, Leo grabbed the front of Randyll's doublet and pulled his young squire into a ravenous kiss — his tongue immediately licking at the swollen bottom lip of his lover, tasting dried blood and sweat. Randyll immediately whined the moment Leo kissed him, heat rushing down to his stomach and groin.
Instinctively, Randyll's hand went down to cup Leo's cock, the older man's cock nearly fully erect, but his hand was swatted away by Leo, who let out a soft grumble. The kiss was broken, and Randyll was shoved towards the bed. "Undress and get on the bed, boy," Leo's voice was rough with lust — Randyll did as he was told. He sat on his knees, the bed soft underneath him, and his hands on top of his thighs as he ignored the slick between his legs and his erect cock, he didn't dare touch himself.
"Grab a pillow and rut into it until I say stop, do not stop even if I touch you," Leo spoke as he walked towards the bed where Randyll sat. He sat on the edge of the bed before continuing, "Go on, fuck that pillow like the omega bitch you are." Once again, Randyll did exactly as he was told without questioning his beloved lord — he grabbed the smaller pillow on the bed, putting it underneath him as he lay on top of it and began to rut himself against it with another whine. He had barely been touched, yet it felt like his skin was on fire with ecstasy as he continued to thrust his cock onto the pillow; his thrusts were unskilled and almost awkward, though it did nothing to curb his lust.
The young squire's hips stuttered as Lord Tyrell sank two calloused fingers into his dripping wet cunt. "Gods, you really are a green fucking boy," Leo's words sounded muffled to Randyll as he continued rutting into the pillow, nodding his head along to whatever his lord had said. Leo had stripped himself of all clothes and stroked his large cock with the hand that wasn't busy fucking into the boy's cunt — the rings on that hand added to the pleasure. "Keep going, boy, just like that," his voice was almost drowned out by the sounds of Randyll's moaning and the squelching of the omega's cunt. Randyll kept rutting his cock against the pillow, his hips moving in a steady rhythm now as he was coming closer and closer to his orgasm — the moment his orgasm hit him, a broken moan left his lips, and his hips stuttered to a stop, matching the way Leo's fingers stopped inside of him as his cunt greedily squeezed them.
There was no time for recovery as Leo flipped Randyll onto his back after moving the cum soaked pillow out of the way. Leo slotted himself between Randyll's legs, hooking them over his shoulders as he pushed himself inside of the omega. He began rutting himself into his omega mercilessly, the poor young thing caged underneath him in a mating press. "You are doing so well for me," Leo spoke softly as he repeatedly fucked into Randyll, making the younger man's eyes roll back as the pleasure was overwhelming. He couldn't help but moan as he felt the omega's cunt flutter around him. Randyll couldn't even speak as he was being fucked by his lord, his moans were desperate as he was beginning to become overstimulated as another orgasm ripped through his body, the cum from his cock sticking to his sweaty stomach and the slick from his cunt making an obscene squelching as Leo's cock kept using him.
"One more time, boy, you can do this. I want to feel you draining me of every last drop," the words came out of Leo as more of a groan than anything as his thrusts became more and more sloppy, his own orgasm creeping up, and Randyll responded with a sob. It did not take long for the two of them to orgasm, Leo's cock swelling with a knot inside the young omega underneath him as his own body shook slightly from waves of pleasure. The pair stayed like that for a few seconds before Leo rolled over onto his own back, placing Randyll on his chest as the two of them waited for his knot to deflate. Leo placed a kiss on Randyll's head, "Such a good boy for me," he murmured into the boy's hair, getting a purr-like response from the boy.
Synopsis: Ole Munch is going to be paid for his deeds one way or another.
Warning(s): Smut (18+), Minors DNI, CNC (do NOT read if this triggers you), unprotected sex, rough sex, no aftercare, primal Munch, sexist remarks, reader has female genitalia & pronouns, reader has been brainwashed by Roy Tillman, dark themes, hurt/no comfort, misogynistic thoughts & lifestyles, mentions of abuse. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
It should have been abundantly obvious to her that her father and brother would've never paid the man for his deeds, but there was a part within her brain that was programmed to always trust a man, no matter how heinous the man is. Regardless, it was another reason that she was not surprised in the least that the mysterious man was in her room, standing behind her, and she could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. The room was completely silent except for the conversations that took place downstairs, she could hear the voice of her father and brother yelling at each other once again most likely over the enigmatic figure that stood behind her.
"A man requires payment," he finally spoke in his ghastly, soft spoken voice — to her it seemed as if every single word hurt him to pronounce like his vocal cords were hanging on by a thread. She finally turned towards him, he was larger up close and there was something rotten about him in the way his eyes had no light to them but it was oddly charming to her in the way that she at least knew he was not one to fake anything just for his own personal gain.
She broke eye contact, looking down at the floor just as she had been taught to do as she spoke, "I don't have any money, sir." He didn't even reply to her, just simply pushed her towards the bed roughtly — she obeyed and without being told began to undress herself. Deep inside, she wanted this, she wanted him even though she knew he would never be hers and she would never be his especially since he viewed this simply as another way of payment. Truthfully, she didn't mind being used as a transaction it was what being a woman meant, a tool to be used.
She climbed onto the bed, she watched as he climbed onto the bed after her the bed creaking underneath his weight — she opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by his rough hands flipping her over onto her stomach. "Quiet, mouse," it was spoken just barely above a whisper, his tone unreadable. She could feel him climbing on top of her, pushing her legs apart with his knees — he smelled of old clothes, blood, and cigarettes.
Instinctively she raised her hips towards him as he began unbuckling the belt on his kilt with one hand, the other running a finger between her wet folds. She hissed as he pushed his cock into her hole without any preparation — he pushed her legs together as he stradled her, his hands now at each side of her shoulders. He roughly bucked into her, his thick cock stretching her out leaving her no choice but to bury her head into the bed as she let out a shaky whimper.
The pace he set was animalistic, primal as he moved his hands to her back pushing her further into the bed as he fucked her. Her body quickly became acclimated to the pace as her pain turned into pleasure as her first orgasm ripped through her, causing her to bite down on a blanket to stifle her moans. As he rutted into her an occasional grunt or groan left his lips, it was almost completely drowned out by the sound of the bed creaking underneath the weight and movement. Her pleasure was building up again, she felt the familiar sensation inside of her but as quick as it came it left as he rutted into her deeply — his cum filling her to the brim with a deep groan.
The bed groaned as he climbed off of her, a whimper snuck past her lips as she felt his cock slide out of her. She turned her head slightly so she could see him, he was standing buckling his belt as if nothing had ever transpired between the two of them. Finally, he looked directly into her eyes and he spoke, "A man is grateful," and with that he turned and left — leaving her empty, naked, and alone with his cum dripping out of her.
Pairing: Otto Hightower x OC!Daella Targaryen (younger sister to Rhaenyra Targaryen).
Warnings: Child marriage, violence, war, incest, murder, child death, torture, language, etc.
This is a snippet from a story I have on Wattpad, but haven't finished. This part isn't even in it, I just wanted to write something here. DO NOT repost to other sites without my permission. Please DO NOT read if you are uncomfortable with the topics above.
King's Landing was a prison – a prison that held Daella within, the only reason she didn't escape to her sister's side was her children. Aenys, Uthor, and Maelys – her sons, the youngest only three name-days old. Her paranoia was on high-alert after hearing Helaena constantly spill out prophetic words that always came true. Helaena's most recent was about rats – the look in her younger sisters eyes was something Daella would never forget. Daella Targaryen – daughter of King Viserys Targaryen, sister of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen was no green dragon, she had to pretend to protect her sons from her deranged brothers. She knew that once her uncle and sister took King's Landing – her and her children would be safe, so she stayed within the vipers den.
Little Maelys Hightower, Daella Targaryen's youngest son, took his father's coloring as did Aenys and Uthor. Though, the young boy was a dragon through and through. The little boy stuck to his mother's dress nearly everyday, his eyes had the same spark in them as she did as a young girl. Daella would never admit, but he was her favorite, he was solely for her – his birth brought her out of a deep depression. He saved her, it was that simple. Daella was tucking in Maelys for the night like she had her other two boys, it was a normal routine until the feeling of cold metal met her throat.
"A son for a son."
The voice was inside of her ear, she could feel the stranger's breath on her face. The man was lowborn, she could tell from his smell. Another man joined them, she could tell by the heavy, careless footsteps. "Please," Daella whispered, her voice breaking – she knew who the culprit behind all of this was. Her uncle Prince Daemon Targaryen, she knew he wouldn't target her specifically – she also knew that you couldn't control mercenaries once they were out of grasp.
"A son for a son." The larger one added onto what the other had said. Blood was dripping from her neck, she could feel it as she was turned to face the larger man. She couldn't stop her lip from quivering at the burlap sack in his hand. At that moment she knew what was going to happen, her sister was right once again. The rats were the real danger within the castle.
A tear slipped down Daella's porcelain cheek, "My son, my son is not who you are looking for. I will show you to who you are looking for, just please – please don't hurt him," her voice was surprisingly strong as her mind was whirling. She felt sick to her stomach as she anticipated the response from one of the two men. As she waited, the larger one yanked her necklace off – pocketing it for himself.
"A son for a son, that's what he said. I'm sure this boy will do just fine," said the man whose dagger was digging into her neck by the second. A whimper left Daella's mouth as she squeezed her eyes closed, this was just a nightmare, she would wake up from it. Everything would be fine. Everything would be fine, it had to be. Not another word was spoken between the pair, the larger one just moved towards Maelys bed. The sharp edge pressed against her throat made her open her eyes, as she did a soundless scream would leave her mouth. The larger man had his hands within the small bed Daella's son slept in – a gurgling, crunching, and squelching noise was the only thing Daella could hear. Her eyes were focused as the man worked, chopping the head of her son off. Her legs finally gave out from under her, the smaller man let her go. The cold floor of the castle was a stark comparison to the fire that was within her body.
A scream finally left Daella's lips, it was blood curdling with an anguish only a mother could know. As she screamed her lungs out, the two men scrambled out of the nursery with a blood soaked sack in tow. Just as quickly as the men left, guards appeared with her husband, Alicent, Helaena, and unfortunately Aemond. Daella sat up on her knees, her face was wet with tears as well as spittle from her deranged screams. Her violet eyes finally met the others within the room.
"You. It was supposed to have been you." Daella's words were coarse, full of loathing as her bloodshot eyes locked onto the one-eyed prince. She would have her revenge on the kinslayer and she would have her revenge on the two men who killed her son. "My son is dead because of you, my sister's son is dead because of you – yet you go unpunished," she spat out at Aemond, her words full of venom yet her eyes held nothing but anguish. She was holding on by a thread, that much was obvious.
