Aerion Targaryen x f!reader. (He’s named her.)
Warnings: +18, MDNI, NSFW. P n V
The corridors of Summerhall were quieter than they had been in weeks.
Tomorrow, they would be filled with nobles.
Tomorrow, the sept would be overflowing.
Tomorrow, Prince Aerion Targaryen would take a bride.
Aerion wandered the castle long after everyone else had retired. In one hand, he carried a single white rose he’d stolen from the gardens that afternoon and in the other, an apology up his sleeve for the previous night’s behaviour.
It had looked perfect when he’d plucked it now, after absentmindedly twirling it between his fingers for the better part of an hour, half its leaves had fallen away. “Pathetic,” he muttered to the flower but more about himself.
He stopped outside her chambers.
The guards bowed. “My prince.”
He pushed open the door without ceremony. “Alyssa?”
The candles still burned.
Her wedding gown stood upon a mannequin near the hearth, embroidered with silver dragons and crimson thread.
Aerion frowned and for a fleeting moment, something cold settled in his chest.
Then he scoffed at himself. “Gods.”
He turned and headed back into the corridor.
He knew exactly where she’d be.
She always wandered to the gardens.
Sure enough… She sat beneath the great oak, knees tucked beneath her gown, watching the stars through the branches above.
She didn’t hear him approach.
“I’ve been looking everywhere.”
She looked over her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve become rather fond of apologising.” He mused, stepping one foot in front of the other.
“I thought I worried you.” She looked at her wrist, the bruising from his fingers now a dark shade of purple.
“No, i was inconvenienced.” He tried to be playful, failing but a small smile still tugged at her lips. “My mistake.”
“It was.” He stepped beside her and held out the rose. “I brought you this.”
Her smile softened. “For me?”
He looked at the flower. “I was going to eat it but, think you’d appreciate it more.”
She laughed quietly. “I’ll save you from that, then.” She accepted it carefully. She had wondered might the prince be similar to a rose? Beautiful but covered in thorns. As soon as she took it, another leaf drifted lazily onto the grass.
She looked down before laughing again.
“I think it’s dying.” She turned the stem between her fingers. “I think it’s prettier like this.” He admitted, “With half of it missing?” She looked up at him then back at the wilted rose. She had been correct.
“It isn’t perfect, neither am I.” Aerion looked at her for a long moment, his voice was surprisingly quiet.
“You aren’t.” She looked up. “I thought princes preferred perfection.”
“I prefer honesty.” He lowered himself beside her, stretching one leg out across the grass.
She raised an eyebrow. “That’s an unexpected answer.”
“I’ve never claimed to be a good man.”
For several moments, they simply listened to the wind moving through the trees.
Finally, Aerion spoke. “My father wanted me to tell you something, that I should promise you’ll always be happy.”
She smiled faintly. “That’s sweet of him.”
He looked straight ahead. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep, I won’t promise patience.” He picked a blade of grass from the ground. “I won’t promise kindness every day.” Another pause.
“I won’t promise I’ll suddenly become gentle because I’m married.”
She listened without interrupting.
“I am what I am.” He shrugged. His violet eyes found hers. “If you’re waiting for me to wake tomorrow a different man…” He shook his head once. “don’t.”
She searched his face. “You really believe people can’t change?”
“I believe people pretend to.”
She lowered her gaze to the flower in her lap, another leaf slipped free. “I think…” She spoke so softly he almost didn’t hear her. “there must be kindness in you.”
Aerion laughed. “You’ve spent too much time with my uncle.”
“He speaks highly of you.”
“Then he’s becoming sentimental in his old age.”
“He said you laugh less than you used to.” Aerion’s smile disappeared.
The silence returned, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Only… thoughtful.
Finally, she spoke again. “I’m frightened.”
He looked at her. “Of tomorrow?”
She nodded. “I don’t remember my family, i don’t remember ever wanting to be married, I don’t remember…” Her voice wavered. “falling in love.”
Aerion watched her for several long seconds, without his usual arrogance or mockery, he reached over and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes shined like the steam of the rose, bright green. A remarkable and strong colour.
His fingers lingered against her cheek, “You did.” He exhaled.
She looked into his eyes. “I did?”
A faint, crooked smile appeared. “You were impossible, you argued with me constantly.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You lost every argument.”
She smiled. “I think that’s the lie.”
She laughed quietly. “There you are.”
“What?” She fiddled with her sleeve again, it caught his attention. A wave of shame rolled his body, he didn’t mean to hurt her. ‘You choose this, she didn’t.’ His father’s voice in his ear.
“I’ve missed that laugh.”
“It suits you.” The words escaped before he could stop them, for the first time in his life he felt annoyed with himself, a battle to tell her the truth but also an internal battle that said she’d leave and she’d have every right to leave.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve kissed you before.”
She froze. “You have?” She looked embarrassed, he chuckled lightly to himself. “Several times.”
His thumb brushed lightly beneath her jaw. “But I do.” He tilted her chin upward, his confidence never faltered.
“If you don’t want me to…” he said quietly, “say so.”
She searched his face for sincerity, then gave the smallest nod.
Aerion closed the distance between them, the kiss was slow. Certain.
He kissed as though he had every right to, almost cautiously, her fingers tightening around the stem of the rose until another leaf floated silently to the ground.
When he drew back, their foreheads rested together. “There.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “You remembered enough.” She looked down at the fading flower in her hands.
“I hope tomorrow goes well.”
Aerion smirked. “It will.”
He stood, offering her his hand. “I’m Prince Aerion Targaryen.” The familiar arrogance returned to his smile. “I rarely concern myself with being wrong.”
She slipped her hand into his, as he helped her to her feet. Catching a glimpse of her wrist he brought it to his lips never breaking contact and placed a small kiss that screamed of an apology.
The wind caught the rose one final time, the last leaf broke free and disappeared into the darkness behind them, unnoticed by either of them as they walked back towards the lights of Summerhall together.
The bells of Summerhall began ringing at sunrise, their deep voices rolled across the hills, announcing a royal wedding to every soul within earshot. Servants hurried through the corridors carrying flowers, bolts of silk and polished silver.
The kitchens were alive with noise.
The sept filled steadily with lords, ladies and knights dressed in their finest colours, Everywhere.. There was excitement.
Her chambers buzzed with activity.
Handmaidens laced ribbons through her hair.
Another adjusted the sleeves of her gown.
A third knelt to smooth the long train of white silk embroidered with crimson dragons that trailed behind her.
She caught her own reflection in the polished silver mirror and for a long moment…She barely recognised herself.
The handmaidens glanced towards the door.
Prince Baelor entered with his usual quiet dignity, his neatly kept beard was streaked with more silver than black today, his mismatched eyes warm despite the solemnity of the occasion.
“My lady.” He inclined his head respectfully. “If I may…” He looked towards the women gathered around her.“I should like a private word with the bride.”
The room immediately fell silent.
One by one the handmaidens curtsied before quietly filing from the chamber.
The door closed behind the last of them.
The bells rang once more.
Aerion stood before the altar beneath the seven pointed crystal, He wore black velvet trimmed with crimson, the three headed dragon of House Targaryen stitched proudly across his breast.
For perhaps the first time in his life Prince Aerion Targaryen looked genuinely restless.
Aegon stood beside their father in the front pew, swinging his legs impatiently.
Daeron was already nursing wine from a silver cup despite the early hour.
Maekar noticed. “You couldn’t wait?”
Daeron grinned. “I did wait.”
“I waited until barely morning.”
Every conversation ceased.
Aerion looked up and forgot to breathe.
She stepped into the sept bathed in morning light, white silk shimmered with every careful step, silver thread caught the sunlight like frost.
A delicate veil rested over her hair, framing a face that seemed almost unreal.
For a heartbeat, the prince who mocked everything, the prince who laughed at sentiment, the prince who had never once believed the songs of courtly love…
The arrogance left his face.
Something softer settled there instead.
By the Seven, she was beautiful.
Aerion offered his arm almost automatically.
She accepted it with a nervous smile.
“You look…” he murmured. She waited.
“better than I imagined.” She laughed softly. “I thought princes were supposed to be poetic.”
“I’ve never been very good at pretending.”
The High Septon began the ceremony.
The vows echoed beneath the crystal ceiling.
When at last they were pronounced husband and wife, the bells rang louder than before.
Applause filled the sept.
Aerion looked at his bride.
He would tell her everything.
He had rehearsed the words a hundred times.
Whatever happened afterwards he would face it.
The celebration lasted until evening.
Music poured into the castle courtyards.
Tables bent beneath roasted meats, sweetcakes and overflowing goblets of wine.
Children darted between nobles without a care in the world.
Aegon came charging across the hall.
“There you are!” A small grey kitten shot between guests’ feet with its tail held proudly aloft. Aegon laughed, chasing after it. “Come back!”
The kitten ignored him entirely, disappearing beneath the high table.
“I nearly had him!” Aegon complained to anyone willing to listen. “You’ve nearly had him all week,” Daeron called, raising another goblet, his words slurred together. Aegon stuck out his tongue before diving after the cat once again.
Nearby, Daeron had somehow convinced three hedge knights that he could still outdrink every man in the room.
Maekar wisely refused to wager on it.
“My princess.” She turned.
Standing before her was a young knight she had not met before.
Handsome in a quieter way than Aerion.
His hair brown with an unmistakable flash of Targaryen silver along the side and his expression carried the same calm dignity she’d noticed in Prince Baelor, his eyes were kind. “Forgive me.”
He bowed deeply. “I wished to introduce myself.”
She returned the gesture. “I’m afraid we’ve not met.”
“No.” He smiled. “I’m Prince Valarr, the son of Prince Baelor. It is an honour.”
“The honour is mine, Your Grace.”
There was something remarkably gentle about him, Aerion’s voice interrupted from behind. Valarr turned. “Cousin.”
Aerion clasped his shoulder briefly.
“You’ve finally escaped King’s Landing.”
Valarr chuckled. “I’ll survive.”
Aerion’s hand found his wife’s almost instinctively. “The musicians are waiting.” She looked towards the centre of the hall.
Every eye had turned towards them.
“Our dance.” She nodded while aerion led her onto the polished floor.
The first notes of a slow melody drifted through the hall, one hand rested lightly against her waist and the other held hers.
His violet eyes never left hers. She searched his face, almost expecting one of his usual quips but instead found there was an intensity there she’d never seen before.
The hall blurred into candlelight and distant music.
Lords and ladies watched in respectful silence.
Even Daeron lowered his goblet for a moment.
Only the crackle of the fires and the musicians’ gentle tune remained as the prince and his new bride turned slowly across the floor, neither speaking a single word.
The music lingered long after the first dance had ended.
Neither of them had spoken a word.
The applause finally broke the silence.
Aerion inclined his head only slightly before leading his wife from the centre of the floor.
Almost immediately they were surrounded.
Congratulations came from every direction.
“The Seven smile upon this union.”
Aerion endured each well wisher with remarkable patience, for nearly ten whole minutes.
Then his smile began to tighten.
By the fifteenth… He was visibly irritated.
When the eighteenth lord attempted to recount the history of his own marriage, Aerion interrupted him halfway through.
“Fascinating.” He wasn’t listening. “But you’ll forgive me if I prefer the company of my wife.”
The old lord wisely bowed himself away.
She looked up at him. “That wasn’t very kind.”
“He’ll either recover or die.” He shrugged. “At his age, either seems equally likely.”
She couldn’t help it, a laugh escaped her.
“There.” Aerion smirked. “I knew you preferred my company.”
“You laughed because of me.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.” His hand settled lightly against the small of her back as they walked.
Every few moments another guest attempted to stop them.
Every few moments Aerion found increasingly inventive ways to avoid conversation.
He took a sip from the goblet a passing servant offered him. “But half the realm believes you to be impossible.” There was that smile again, the one that was handsome enough to hide how dangerous it truly was. “You’ll grow used to it.”
“AERION!” Daeron stumbled across the hall with a wineskin in one hand and an arm slung around the shoulders of a thoroughly embarrassed hedge knight.
“I’ve been avoiding you.”
“I know!” Daeron beamed. “You’ve done exceptionally well.” He looked at the bride. “You married him!”
“You poor girl.” Aerion snorted.
“I’ve been told the same.” She admitted,
Daeron burst into laughter. “Oh, I like her already.” He leaned far too close. “If he becomes a bore..” he stopped for a second, a devilish smile on his lips. “come and find me.”
Aerion folded his arms. “What exactly are you proposing?”
“I don’t know.” Daeron frowned thoughtfully. “I’ve forgotten.” He stared into his empty cup. “Where did my wine go?”
Daeron looked genuinely offended.
“Who allowed that?” With that profound observation, he wandered away in search of another goblet.
She watched him disappear. “He’s…”
“I was going to say entertaining.”
“He becomes both after enough wine.”
Aerion looked after his brother for a moment. “He tolerates me.”
Aerion didn’t answer instead, he glanced across the hall, his father stood speaking quietly with Baelor. Neither man had taken their eyes off him for very long all evening. “They’re watching us.”
She followed his gaze. “They’re watching you.”
He looked back at her. “For me to ruin something.”
For several moments he simply looked at her then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
A quiet laugh. “You may be right.” He offered her his arm once more. “Come.”
“Precisely.” He looked around the crowded hall with obvious disdain. “I’ve fulfilled my duty.”
She laughed again, this time, he found himself smiling before he could stop it.
He led her through the great doors and out into the cool evening air. Behind them, the celebration carried on without its bride and groom.
Inside the hall, Prince Baelor watched them disappear into the darkness beyond the torchlight.
Maekar appeared beside him. “They’ve gone.”
“They won’t be back tonight.”
Baelor’s gaze remained fixed on the doorway. “No.”
After a long silence, Maekar spoke quietly. “Do you think he’s finally become the man we hoped he might be?”
Baelor watched the empty entrance for another moment before answering.
“I think…” His mismatched eyes reflected the flickering candlelight. “he has finally found something he cannot control.”
Neither man realised just how true those words would prove to be.
Aerion glanced over his shoulder once.
Then, with the unmistakable grin of a man about to do something he absolutely shouldn’t he caught her hand and ran.
She barely had time to gather the skirts of her wedding gown before he was pulling her down the moonlit path, laughter escaping him as she struggled to keep pace.
The sound rang through the warm evening air, neither noticed when a pair of curious guards exchanged bewildered glances behind them.
The prince and his new bride disappeared into the darkness like mischievous children escaping lessons.
Aerion never once let go of her hand.
Whenever she stumbled, he steadied her before she could fall, only to tug her onward again with renewed determination.
Her veil caught upon a low branch, he stopped just long enough to free it, his fingers surprisingly gentle as they untangled the lace and for a fleeting second, they simply looked at one another.
Then he was pulling her onward again.
The castle lights vanished behind the trees.
The familiar scent of pine surrounded them.
Branches arched overhead, shutting out almost every star.
She looked around curiously, trying to guess where he was leading her.
Aerion only glanced back with that infuriatingly smug smile before urging her forward again.
A warm glow appeared between the trees.
Then another and another.
Soft golden lights hung from low branches, swaying gently in the evening breeze like fallen stars caught amongst the leaves.
The clearing beyond had been transformed.
A canvas pavilion stood beneath the great oak where they had first met.
Its entrance had been tied open with crimson ribbons inside, thick furs and embroidered blankets covered the ground.
A small fire crackled nearby, its warmth dancing across polished goblets, fresh fruit, bread, honey, roasted pheasant and sweetcakes stolen or more likely demanded from the royal kitchens.
Wildflowers she’d admired in Summerhall’s gardens rested in clay vases beside the entrance, even the cushions had been arranged with impossible care.
She slowed to a stop, her smile faded into quiet astonishment.
Aerion released her hand at last.
Not to step away but to watch.
He wanted to see her face.
She turned slowly, taking in every lantern, every flower, every careful detail hidden deep within the forest.
When she looked back at him, he was already watching her.
There was no arrogance in his expression now.
Only a young prince standing awkwardly in the middle of a forest, almost uncertain whether his absurdly extravagant surprise had been enough.
Until barely a breath remained between them her fingers found the front of his black velvet doublet, smoothing an imaginary crease near his collar.
He watched every movement.
Their eyes met, his hand rose almost instinctively to brush a loose curl away from her face before resting lightly against her cheek.
She leaned into the touch without thinking.
The corner of his mouth lifted.
A smile so small most people would have missed it.
She answered it with one of her own.
Around them, the lanterns swayed gently beneath the branches.
Beyond the trees, the music from Summerhall had become little more than a distant memory and for the first time all day… The prince and his bride belonged to no one else. Only to the quiet forest and to the place where everything had begun.
The lanterns swayed gently overhead.
Beyond the clearing, the sounds of Summerhall had disappeared entirely.
Only the crackle of the fire remained.
She reached up first, smoothing the collar of his wedding doublet where it had twisted from their run through the woods, his eyes followed her hands.
Then lifted to her face, his own hand found her waist.
As though giving her every chance to step away.
She didn’t. Instead, she rose onto her toes.
Their lips met softly, the kiss was unhurried, there was no urgency in it.
No septon waiting for vows.
Just two figures beneath a canopy of lanterns, the world beyond the trees forgotten for a little while.
When they parted, they remained close enough that their foreheads brushed.
His breathing was uneven.
“I asked you once,” she said softly.
“You told me marriage was duty.”
“‘Kindness is optional.’”
A shadow of embarrassment crossed his face. “I said that.”
“You did.” She searched his expression.
“And now?” The question lingered between them. “How do you feel about me now?”
Aerion looked away for the first time that evening.
“I’ve been trying to decide.” Aerion smiled with her, but only briefly.
The smile faded into something more serious. “I spent years believing affection made men weak.” His hand tightened gently around hers.
“I mocked my brothers whenever they looked at women the way they ought to.” He drew a slow breath. “And now? I find myself searching every room for you.” He looked directly into her eyes.
“If you’re gone too long?” His jaw tightened. “I become angry.”
“If someone else makes you laugh…” A crooked smile appeared. “I dislike them immediately.”
Another quiet moment passed, then he lifted a hand, resting it gently against her cheek. “I don’t know when it happened.” His thumb brushed her skin.
“I only know…” He swallowed. “that somewhere between the forest, the gardens and watching you walk towards me today…”He gave the smallest shake of his head. “I stopped pretending this was duty.”
Her heartbeat quickened. “So…” she whispered. “You have allowed yourself to fall in love with me?”
Aerion was silent for a long moment.
Then the arrogant prince returned, if only for a heartbeat. “I wasn’t given much choice.”
She laughed softly. “You sound inconvenienced.”
“You make it sound dreadful.”
“It is.” His eyes sparkled with the first hint of mischief she’d seen all evening.
“I’ve become insufferably attached to my own wife.”
“And whose fault is that?”
He leaned forward until his forehead rested against hers once more. “Entirely yours.”
She smiled. “I don’t think that’s fair.”
“Love rarely is.” Before she could answer, he kissed her again.
Above them, the lanterns glowed warmly beneath the ancient trees, while the forest that had once witnessed the beginning of a lie now held, at least for this one quiet night, the beginning of something that felt dangerously close to the truth. The kiss deepened, becoming intense, teeth clashing and tongue fighting for dominance over one and another and he was winning.
Breaking free, she turned her back towards him while glancing over her shoulder. “Remove my dress.” It’s barely an audible whisper, Aerions heartbeat raced. The inability to think, it was there wedding night and things had to be expected but he is lying to her, he has been since the start. “Are you sure.” His hand reached out, thumb brushing the side of neck to her bare shoulder.
Her eyes looked towards him as if she was pleading, full of want for him. “Yes, my prince.” He had wondered if she would have been a virgin or not, it wasn’t a question he had thought to ask her. His hands reached for the lace on her back, making slow work at removing every single piece until the sides lay flat and she had to hold it up at the breasts.
She turned to him, allowing it to slip from her body. He kept his head forward, only eyes quickly darting down her body then back up, his mouth felt suddenly dry and neck a little warmer. She closed the space, a small kiss planted the corner of his mouth as she took his left hand and placed it on her waist. “You can touch me.” She whispered into his ear giving him permission. She took his right hand and guided it to her breast, his lips parted as he looked down, fingers gently kneading at the skin. He wanted her, gods he could have taken her there and then but his guilt stopped him.
“I must confess..” he gulped, fighting back the bile that creeped his throat. She placed a finger to his lips and another sneaking between their bodies and down the front of his pants. She took him firmly, a gasp left his mouth as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead on hers once more. “Sweet thing, you can tell me on the morrow.” She stroked him carefully as if she knew how, he is a man and a man liked to be pleased. He nodded almost frantically, it could wait he told him wrapping his free arm around her shoulders and embracing her in a tight kiss.
His left hand pulled from her breast and down her waist, to the back of her thigh and down to the back of her knee where he hitched it upwards over his hip. He practically dragged her until her back was flushed with the old oak and him at her front, rocking his hips into her. She gasped when his mouth removed from hers and found her neck, teeth nipping at her collarbone. She found herself arching and bending to his will, the feeling of the bark scratching her back sure to be leaving marks worse than finger nails. She hurried, making quick work of the lace that held his pants up and pushed them down.
Reaching down, she grabbed hold of his member once more and lined it up perfectly with her entrance. “I want you.” He thought for a moment, while in her hand. Did he really want to take her maidenhood against a tree? “Aerion, I need you.” She whispered, breaking him from his own mind. He rocked his hips forward while still in her hand allowing the tip to entry, a gasp escaping both their lips that soon got swallowed by a heated kiss, unmoving just pressed together. “Deeper.” She whined, he thought she sounded beautiful whining and taking his cock.
Further he pushed and was giving the confirmation that he seemed to be looking for before, she wasn’t a virgin. As must as he was disappointed about not being his brides first, he was also a liar and some what glad he wasn’t stealing a special moment from her. “You take me so well princess.” His eyes closed momentarily, the feeling around him blissful, he’s die a happy man if no one stole this from him. She inclined her other leg for him take it, raising it on his hip to wrap around his waist meeting the other, the free space allowing him to do even deeper.
Aerion held her for a moment, he wanted to look at her. She smiled at him and something inside him settled. It wasn’t the dizzy rush he’d expected love to be, it felt quieter, softer, it felt like coming home. She looked back at him with such quiet trust that his chest ached, he’d never felt more undeserving of anything in his life. “Are you okay?” She took his chin, forcing his glaze but he fought against it and continued to look away. “Aerion.” She whispered his name, it sounded like a silent prayer.
He looked at her again, keeping her pinned to the tree while he rocked his hips back and forth against her, sliding out and back in again with such ease as if she was made for him and only him. “I’ve falling so madly.” He admitted, holding her hip and tracing small circles. She smiled back at him, flicking her nose against his for attention. “Take me, kiss me.” He kissed her harder than before, pulling her away from the tree still inside her, wrapped around his waist. He pulled her to the nearby tent with the pillows and furs he had brought and laid her down on her back, he sat him upright to look at her, marvelling at her body. Something so beautiful only the gods could have blessed him with it.
He began to moved again, each thrust harder than the next. His mouth falling open when every thrust made her breasts bounce. She crawled at his forearms, then to his shoulders. Eyes begging, lips parted and cheeks flushed. He took her hand and guided it down her body, to the most sensitive part of a woman’s body. “Rub yourself, while I fuck you.” He commanded, she rubbed her fingers up and down slowly until finding the rhythm that worked for her.
Belong long, he had her screaming his name in bliss, crawling at his back and biting his shoulders. His hips moving fast, pounding into her as if he might start a fire that brings dragons back to the world. Her face sweating, hair sticky from the heat, he asked if she was close to finishing around him. All she could muster was a faint sound of a yes, “do it, finish on your prince and I’ll give you my seed.” Her neck arched back, nails gripped on his hips as she began to clench around him, he soon followed, hips becoming sloppy as he emptied deep into her, normally he’d pull out. Have moon tea on stand by but he did neither, he had neither. He filled her up, his mouth close to hers.
Surely, he thought for a moment..
He could tell her the truth, after an heir was born.
kianamaiart
discoholicmusic
yousharknotpass
origamiaround
romaincrisis