dark!baelor and his niece-wife
warnings: obviously targcest! babytrapping, smut, dubcon? noncon? manipulation, older man/younger woman, woman viewed as a possession, time typical relationship dynamics.
Building off of this and the incredible asks from darkbaelorfreakanon! Mostly doing this to consolidate all the thoughts we've been having on my blog about Baelor if he survived the mega-whack he got.
Baelor survives the trial of seven at Ashford Castle, but he's not the same – the hit of the morningstar damaged the part of his brain responsible for rational thinking and impulse control, as well as the part that held his knowledge of social cues and politeness.
Baelor comes out a changed man, no longer the kind and thoughtful prince who gave hope to the Seven Kingdoms. Now, the people call him the reincarnation of Maegor the Cruel; he's brash, rude and quick to anger, and even his sons tiptoe around him now.
Before his injury, he was content with his widower status. He didn't have any need or desire to remarry, but deep down... he held a shameful secret – he lusted over his younger brother's daughter.
However, he'd never thought properly about acting on his thoughts. You were young, energetic and full of life. Which young woman would wish to be tied to an older, greying man such as him?
He was always eager for Maekar's annual visits to the Red Keep, pleased to spend time in your company. You never minded speaking with him, happy to discuss politics or literature unlike your twin. He grew fond of you, and despite how much he hated the feelings brewing inside of him, he denied himself. It wasn't right.
Maekar tried to betroth you once you were of age, hoping to find someone worthy of your hand, and yet every suitor seemingly fizzled out – either they revoked their offer, or a scandal of theirs would come to light. So here you were, unwed and on the edge of spinsterhood.
And then Baelor's accident happened.
No longer did he feel guilt, disgust, or shame at the sight of you. Instead, he felt young again... lustful, shamelessly this time. His desire to pull you into his lap had never been so strong.
When Maekar receives a letter demanding that you visit the Red Keep, it's clear to him what's happening. And yet, your father can't say anything against it.
Baelor is deceptive – he's gentle at first, reminiscent of the uncle you used to know. You don't feel so bad tending to his wounds or helping pour his wine at council meetings, not even when the looks start to grow. Baelor was growing suspiciously close to his niece now, more than appropriate, they were saying.
You don't even notice when he starts isolating you, replacing your guards from Summerhall with those loyal to him. You're too occupied being by Baelor's side, and his pain is worse now, he says. You spend evenings by his side in his chambers, reading the histories as he requests. But, truly, you've only ever seen him as your uncle.
Never had you wished to follow the strange customs of your ancestors, instead hoping to marry a kind lord far away from the Crownlands and live peacefully.
Soon, Baelor's making his way to his father, demanding the hand of his niece as payment for the grave wound he's suffered. He wants you, and he doesn't want to have to play polite anymore. But it's only been a few months since the trial, and King Daeron is still grateful that his eldest son is alive and healthy... and as a princess, it is your duty to marry.
Even when you're pleading with your father, begging him not to marry you to your uncle, there is nothing he can do. It's been decided. Maekar's guilt grows tenfold; first, he'd almost killed his brother, and now he's gifting his daughter into the arms of the monster he's created.
The wedding, or more aptly, the wedding night, was horrific for everyone except Baelor. He forces Maekar to watch the consummation, pretending it's to make sure he sees his daughter will be treated right. Instead, Baelor is on top of you, heavy and punishing with his thrusts, and you can only lie there and take it. He doesn't stop for hours, moving you however he likes, even when you grow floppy and weak. He's not a brute, though – he's going to bring you to your peak, as many times as he deems necessary, even when you tell him it’s too much. And when you can't move unassisted in the morning (after he's taken you once more)? Well, he knows he's consummated his second marriage properly.
After that, there's no telling what Baelor will do, for he holds no shame. He'll push you up against the stone walls and hike your skirts up, shouting at those around you to leave, lest he order their eyes to be plucked out. He'll make you ride with him through the forest, only to order you to ride him by the riverbank, his hands guiding your hips up and down before he’s dragging you back onto your shared horse, cum seeping down your thighs.
The injury made his hunger all the more insatiable, and he doesn't see anything wrong with taking you wherever he likes, whenever he wants. The court is too scared to say anything, having heard how the last man to comment on the 'prince's whore of a wife' disappeared from court overnight.
The one incident that made the King speak to him was when he demanded you, as his wife, sit on his lap during the council meeting. He made no effort to hide when he rucked your skirts up your thighs halfway through the meeting, slotting you down onto his hardened cock in front of the council members, despite the desperate twists of your head in resistance. He made you sit there with his cock inside for the remainder of the meeting, your cheeks warm and eyes teary with sheer embarrassment, clear to all in the room. But no one can say anything to the Hand of the King, and once they finally leave, he’s flattening you against the table and finally having his way with you.
He isolates you until you have no one but him, burning the letters your father sends you, and then holding you when you cry at your father's neglect. His moods are so volatile – one moment he's sweet, praising you, and making you reminisce on the man your uncle used to be, and then the next, he's telling you that the only way you will ever leave his side is if you kill him yourself. You can never quite keep up.
Speaking of, he's going to give you his babe, that way, you could never leave his side. He is determined to give you more than one, but he knows that the mother of the future King's heirs isn't going to make it far from the Keep if she does manage to get outside the walls. He's already got two sons, but he's whispering to you about how he wants a daughter, a chubby-cheeked thing with your hair and his eyes. How he hopes you'll only give him sweet daughters like you.
He's seen the way you eye the small, giggling children at court and play with your younger siblings – being a mother would suit you so well, whilst occupying all your time with tending to his children. They'll be as needy as he, he guesses, and you’d have no time to fill your head with other fanciful notions. Just him and the life he’s given you.
And well, when your belly starts to swell – much to the horror of your visiting father, he's overjoyed. Now everyone will know who you belong to, and he supposes that you'll warm even more to him when he gives you such a precious gift.
(90 years later, when Joffrey reads the histories, he’s speaking of his favourite couple - King Baelor II and his wife. He speaks of how in love they were, how she bore him a bounty of sons and daughters, and how she never left his side throughout the years… Baelor ensured their history was written to his liking, threatening the lives of those who dared to try and write the truth.)