DEVOUR ( prince aerion x sister!reader )
synopsis: prince aerion had never felt the need to devour one so ravishingly, as he did his twin sister. two bodies in one womb, for nine warm months, until the wretched world forced its way in and pulled them out. and now, he’s out to close the gap between them once and for all.
trigger warning: targcest, knifeplay, penetration with a knife, dubious consent, slut shaming, mentions of rape
Two in one, you came together.
A boy and a girl, two cells growing into bodies together. Each one of you took up as much space as the other did.
Inside it was warm. Comforting. The feel of maternal presence without knowing what it truly was yet.
But when that all ended, a cry of anguish as the doctor etched his claws in between the legs of woman Dayne, and gripped the girl’s head.
And then, he pulled and pulled, sending the girl smeared in blood, to cry into the open cold air of the new world.
The boy came soon thereafter, his cries not because of the anguish and anger of being introduced to this new space, but rather because of the newfound space between him and the girl.
“Aerion. Aerya.” the woman croaked, falling into a deep slumber.
Aerion. Aerya. The newest addition to the Targaryen dynasty. Two peas in a pod.
Both beautiful on the outside, but one is rotten.
“Aerya! Watch!” six-year-old Aerion grinned as he climbed the tree up, climbing and climbing until he knew she would be impressed.
But she wasn’t impressed. Rather shocked.
“Come down!” she sobbed, in a state of shock.
He was confused. Why wasn’t she proud? Why wasn’t she admiring his strength?
“I am fine, Aerya.” he soothed her, grinning that same grin he always grinned.
“No. You’re not. Come down!” she demanded, to which he obliged, jumping down to the green grass. “I don’t want you to fall! You could have perished or be really hurt!”
And for the first time, Aerion felt something lovely bubbling inside him. She wasn’t impressed. Not because she didn’t care. But because she cared too much. Cared about him.
The feeling of being cared for, other than the knights, who, admittedly, only cared at the order of the King and the safety of its spares.
But to be cared for willingly, by your own flesh. Not bound as just family, but bound by a self made closeness through intimacy and grown love.
Sure, you love your family. But do you willingly? Or is it that you are convinced blood is thicker than water, to which you are bound by the shackles of flesh and blood?
No, she loved him out of willingness. He knew it, deep in his heart. This love is deeper than the others. It runs through these veins.
And this was the first time it dawned on him. That twins had a soulmate with them.
“Aerya.” thirteen-year-old Aerion hissed, grabbing her by the arm. “I told you. No speaking to squires.”
“Why not?” Aerya protested, looking up at him. “They’re good company.”
“They’re dirt below the ground.” he affirmed, pressing her back to a wall. “I am the one you should be speaking to. I. I. Do you understand?”
She looked at him as if he just spoke in a foreign language. A forgotten one.
She’s drifting away. To him, at least. As he clings onto their bond, she unknowingly drifts away.
“Is there someone telling you these lies? That you are allowed to speak to others? Other boys?” he asked, shaking her. “The truth, Aerya. I demand it.”
“No, but if there was, what would you do about it?” she asked, trying to shrug his hands off, avoiding his gaze.
“You know what I’d do about it.” he answered lowly. “There is not going to be anyone else.”
His gaze softened, filled with desperation. “You don’t want anyone else to be there. I know it. You know it’s always been us. Never not been us.”
His hands cupped your jaw. “You can’t even say it. Can you? Because you know it would be a lie.”
“That’s enough. One day I will marry a great lord. Not you, you mad fool.”
“Marry?” he scoffed, looking at her. “You think I’d let that happen? We belong together. Even if you refuse to give into it. You think some other boy would love you like I do? Like I always have? They would not even know where and when to start, Aerya. Not as I do.”
And then the day came. Aerya, ten-and-eight, grew into a beautiful woman. And with beauty, came marriage.
Bryant Swann, oldest son of House Swann, had won her heart. From poems, to beautiful descriptions of the lake near his home in letters addressed to her.
But Aerion couldn’t bear it. The thought of his beautiful, sweet, thoughtful sister leaving him.
The water to his flame. The sanity to his insanity. The calm to his storm.
The wife to his husband.
That wouldn’t happen. Never.
“Never. Never. Never.” he affirmed, sharpening his blade.
It was the hour of the owl. He was dressed in his night clothes. The silver white hair, grown over the years, was swept to his right side.
The chamber was eerily cold, infested by his presence.
But these weren’t his chambers.
On the bed, lay the princess, sleeping soundly, unaware of the looming threat of his presence.
He just sat and sat, sharpening his blade.
“Hm…” she stirred, the feeling of doom finally over-washing her. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Wha…? Aerion? My shield will have your head if he saw you here.”
“Your shield sleeps. As all wise men do when I wish them to.” he said simply, staring at the glistening blade.
“Bryant Swann, is it not?” he simply asked, sitting at the edge of the bed. His blade in front of him. His back was turned to Aerya.
“A-aerion? W-what are you…” she asked, eyes rubbed open.
“Is it not?” he asked again, voice breaking. not in sadness, but in disgust. “Bryant Swann. Is it not?”
However, Aerya perceived it as sadness. The naive princess didn’t grasp the fact that the mad prince could never feel sad, for anger has the higher ground.
“Oh… Aerion, darling…” she said pitifully, crawling over behind him to wrap her arms around his neck, unaware of the blade he equipped. “Aerion… be not sad.”
“How could I be sad…?” he asked, standing up. “How could I be sad…”
He pointed the blade at her, causing her to instinctively crawl back, like a big spider ambushed.
“…when I am here to ensure that won’t happen?”
“A-aerion. Put that down…” she coed gently, always knowing how to soothe him. but this time, he had to stay firm.
“You belong to me, Aerya. In life. Or death. That is your choice.” he whispered. “See? I’m giving you a choice. That’s how generous I am. How much I love you. Would a man who hadn’t love you, still give you a choice? No. He would have raped you on the spot, but the whore you are would delight in it.”
He followed her retreat, the blade pointed at her.
“I protect what is mine.” he said, brushing the blade against her leg.
“The only one allowed to hurt this pretty skin…” he soothed, knife running down her thigh. “…is me.”
She swallowed, eyes wide. “Don’t hurt me.”
“Take off that nightdress. Slowly. And I won’t.”
She obliged, slowly peeling off the silk-ish fabric imported from the warm Southern region.
The first thing he longed to see were her breasts. Her beautiful, full, ripe breasts. The second most womanly thing she could have. Reminiscent of the breast he used to drain the milk off.
And maybe, their future child, a spawn born out of sin and disgust and fear and attachment, could suck out of hers.
Of course, a child born between them would be the ultimate proof of sin. A spawn of the devil. A child born out of desire instead of duty.
He crawled over her, lips descending from her neck to her plump breast. Tongue peeking out to feel the hardened nipple.
She sighed softly, head thrown back. “A-aerion.”
“Shut your mouth. Just feel.” he spoke, before descending his lips again. “Just feel my lips.”
She nodded hesitantly, allowing herself to give in to the fine sensation she hadn’t felt before.
He used his hands to spread her legs as he let his kisses descend all the way down to her smooth stomach.
“Open them. This instant.” he demanded, to which she, half fearfully, obliged.
“It won’t be me who will have you tonight. After we marry, I’ll get the pleasure of being inside your sweet little soul.” he said, turning the sword so he held the blade. “But tonight, a child will be made.”
You looked confused, before eyes widened as he pushed the handle of the knife inside of you.
“That’s right. Just be patient, sweet thing. Be patient.” he soothed, gripping the blade so tight his muscled hands began to bleed, dripping down to his wrists.
“You always have been a dramatic, sister. Such pretty sounds.” he twists the knife, loosening your hole up.
She let out a tear of discomfort, shifting aggressively before his free hand began to hold her hips down.
“It hurts.” she sobbed.
“I know it does.” he said. “This is your punishment for being willing to marry that wretched Swann. For being willing to bear his children. Tell me, do you think he’d like you now, knowing that this sword has been inside you before he could have been?”
“N-no.” she sobbed, wiping her tears.
But he held her wrist, preventing it. He stilled the handle inside of her, hovering over her to lick the salty taste of her watery tears.
“But I do. No matter how disgusting and vile you look. I love you. Not him.” he whispered, making it seem like his hand hovers over her head to stroke her hair.
But he tugged on it, forcing her to sit up. “Up, little cat.”
She sat up, utterly humiliated as he unfastened his trousers, his hard as a rock cock showing through his trousers.
He gave it a firm stroke, throwing his head back.
“Ah. That’s right. Go figure, sister. Go tell that Swann fool how you’re carrying my kin. Like you were always meant to.”
He hummed, cruelly laughing. “No - even better - I should have you summon him, and watch you suck my cock.”
“Or is it that I should just let him watch you grow swollen, like the whore you are, with my kin? Our kin? Our son? Yeah, our son. That sounds right.”
With one final grunt, he shot his hot load inside of her, covering the fruit of her womb with a personal dressing.
“Tell him.” he leaned in, whispering against her lips. “Tell him our son is growing strong.”