HE SAYS HE DOESN'T LOVE YOU, BUT...
ᝰ pairing. aerion x wife!reader
warnings. dark themes, arranged marriage, fluff, aerion is a warning himself, gentle!reader, aerion's only soft with her, obsessive behaviour, ooc aerion.
gifs cr : @ lady-arryn; @ s_attayee
˗ˏˋ He says he doesn't love you, but he never leaves your side at the wedding.
You still remember your mother’s one wish before the mysterious fever had claimed her life – the same words she had been telling you since you were a child.
"Let love always be your choice, darling. Do not repeat my fate."
She never spoke in long speeches, yet you knew. Your mother was too wise a woman – she never put things plainly. There was no need for it; you've always been a clever girl.
Never marry a lord out of duty. It will eat you alive, until nothing of you remains.
And here you were, from head to toe in your wedding attire, dressed entirely in red – the colour of his house.
At least you didn't break the promise you had given to your mother, did you? He is everything but a lord.
Your husband. The one you were meant for.
A cruel prince who has gone mad – that's what people say about him. A monster who takes pleasure in hurting others.
A dragon in human form – his heart is too cold to be tamed, too hot to be approached.
Yet your father didn't care enough to do something about it.
After all, you were truly your mother's daughter.
Turning your head slightly, you studied his profile: pale silver hair that he had run his fingers through countless times, a tense jawline and eyes filled with nothing but irritation.
You couldn't blame him, honestly. The air was thick with the smell of wine, meat, and sweat. Men, treating your wedding feast as just another excuse to get drunk, glance at you with an interest that bordered on the obscene.
"Dragons don't need love," he had said when you first came here. "Don't bother trying. It will make you look pathetic."
But he was there, sitting beside you, even though most of the wedding has already passed, leaving only the drunkards behind. You had expected him to leave as soon as his father had returned to his chambers, but he hadn't.
Instead, Aerion's eyes stayed fixed on someone else.
"I'm going to rip that scum's eyes out right here."
Frowning at his sudden threat, you followed his gaze and noticed an older man with a shaggy beard staring at your cleavage.
You let out a soft laugh. "He's not the first."
˗ˏˋ He says he doesn't love you, but he was mindful of your pleasure on your wedding night.
Aerion's footsteps were loud in your quiet chambers as he slowly entered, still wearing his finery. It seemed you were the only one who needed such preparation.
The wedding night. To consummate the marriage, to fulfill the very reason you had been sent here: into the dragon’s grasp.
You recalled all your aunt’s stories about such nights of pain and impassive husbands. Your heart skipped a beat at the realization that your fate was no different from your mother's – perhaps even worse.
Your father was an honest man. He never loved your mother, nor did he seek to pretend – not for you, and certainly not for his wife.
He wasn't cruel. He never laid a hand on you, never spoke harshly, never punished you for the kind of whims children are prone to. Not once did he force your mother to bear one child after another to secure an heir.
And maybe that was the problem: he felt nothing at all.
Aerion noticed your mood shift – of course he did. He notices everything, you thought. He had taken you to the garden when you could no longer endure your family’s expectations, and after a silent walk, you parted ways to prepare for what was to come that night.
The longer the servants prepared you, the more you felt their sticky, pity-laden gazes. Words never left their lips, but there was no need: you knew exactly what they meant.
“A cruel fate for one so young.”
“You’ve done nothing to deserve this, my princess.”
"May the Gods have mercy upon you."
You smiled softly in response. There were fates far worse than yours.
Lost in thought, you didn't even notice when Aerion came close enough for you to feel his presence. He ran his hand through your hair, slowly combing it with his fingers.
"They're softer than I imagined," he murmured, as if mesmerised.
You froze, his touch somehow soothing you, then slightly leaned towards him, unsure of what to expect.
You slowly turned around to look at him and felt your breath hitch in your throat. His gaze was already roaming over your face, as if he wanted to remember every detail.
He wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you closer until you shared one breath. "You are the dragon's wife now," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "And I'm not interested in hurting what's mine."
Then his lips crashed onto yours with such force you’d have fallen if he weren’t holding you so tightly.
There was nothing gentle about it, nothing subtle. He made no attempt to play the part of a good husband. Aerion kissed you like a man certain of what was his. Hungrily, he pulled you in, while you responded at your own pace. You kissed him slowly, as though you had all the time in the world.
He broke the kiss and let his lips wander along the line of your jaw to your neck, lightly grazing your skin with his teeth.
"Aerion," you whispered his name, and he let out a sound that was almost a growl. His teeth sank above your collarbone, his tongue leaving a mark that would remain as proof of your night.
A part of you wondered if he’d allow you to do the same.
You kept your thoughts to yourself. One day, maybe.
A little moan slipped from your lips, making him lift you so effortlessly – as if you had always belonged in his arms – as he guided you towards the bed. You gasped, wrapping your legs around him as he claimed your mouth once more.
"Perhaps this time," you thought, "your aunt was wrong."
˗ˏˋ He says he doesn't love you, but he won't let you sleep apart from him.
"Egg isn't feeling well, and I need to be there for him." You were supposed to return to Aegon’s chambers to read him a bedtime story about knights. Yet here you were – Gods knew for how long – in your chambers, arguing with your husband about... about what, actually?
"If he is not feeling well, he can call a fucking maid who'll read him those stupid stories. And you certainly don't need to waste your night on him."
"I can’t bear the thought of him waking up in the middle of the night, Aerion," you stepped closer to him. "Terrified that no one is there."
You stopped in front of him and tried to meet his eyes, but he stared somewhere far off, his jaw tight. You did what you’d learned over the last month, what you knew would soothe him. You leaned against him, laying your head on his chest; his heartbeat is quick under your ear. His hands almost automatically – instinctively – wrapped around your waist and squeezed you lightly.
"He's our brother, our little treasure," your voice is soft – as always – you never raised your voice.
That made him snort. "And I'm your husband."
Then pulled back enough to face him and finally understood what the problem was.
How could you have missed that?
Since that night of the wedding, you’d always slept together. He never let you go to your own chambers.
Your hips burn with a sweet pain; you feel every mark he left on your body, every grip that will surely turn into bruises. You are exhausted; your husband is lying on top of you, his nose tracing your neck. The skin-to-skin contact feels so intimate, it’s almost laughable considering what just happened.
You know, however, that comfort like this is only temporary and you can’t let yourself get used to it. You try to get up, the pain in your hips makes it impossible to think clearly, but that’s a worry for another day.
"Where are you going?" his voice is hoarse, heavy with pleasure and something else you can’t quite recognize yet.
You tilt your head slightly. "To my own bed."
He fixes you with a look that leaves no room for argument. The decision has already been made, and all you can do is accept it.
“You will sleep here.” He pulls you back against him, his arm wrapping around your waist in a possessive hold, your back resting against his chest.
You can't help but smile. He wants you to sleep beside him. Together.
He buries his nose in your hair, deeply breathing in the scent of lavender – the soap used by the servants to wash the princess's hair. His hand rests on your stomach in possessive grip, as if protecting what has yet to exist.
"I thought dragons knew nothing of love," you lean towards him, speaking tenderly, causing him to murmur something under his breath. A sense of calm and something you can't name yet blooms in your chest.
"They don't." His voice is rough, but his grip hasn’t loosened at all. "You are my wife, it’s my duty to sleep with you. Do not be fooled."
But when you wake up, sunlight pours over the bed, and he is still holding you as if you could vanish at any moment – you knew better.
And now, waking beside him – even though you clearly remembered falling asleep by Egg’s bedside – you saw that he was not the monster everyone else believed him to be.
˗ˏˋ He says he doesn't love you, but he spoils you.
Taking off another bracelet engraved with his initials, you found your gaze was drawn to the jewelry box, filled with pieces he has given you - dragon pendants, countless bracelets in black and scarlet. Your eyes then move to the armoire, filled with dresses of the purest silk, tailored just for you by the best.
The books you've only ever mentioned once in your morning talks rested on the shelves, which seemed to appear by some unseen hand whenever you spoke of a new one.
"It is likely the servants," he said, avoiding your gaze. "Or one of my stupid brothers who wants to impress you."
A gentle laugh escaped you as you move towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands clung to you immediately, almost without him realizing.
You swayed lightly. "Maybe."
˗ˏˋ He says he doesn't love you, but he comes to you when things get difficult.
It was late at night when you had decided to walk through the garden, enjoying the quiet and breathtaking view that had become so familiar.
You had spent the day guiding Aegon through the history of his ancestors – he couldn’t care less, he only wanted to outdo Aerion – before finally deciding to rest because you had started feeling dizzy.
There had been no time to see your husband; you had simply assumed he was busy with his training.
When you entered the chambers, he was already there, standing with his back to you, staring off into the distance.
He didn't acknowledge you when you entered, yet you noticed the signs of recognition. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, as though he was finally letting himself be at ease beside you.
Instead, he turned and walked toward you slowly. There was none of that teasing sparkle or even a hint of mockery in his eyes—only fatigue and acceptance, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Then, to your surprise, he leaned in and buried his nose in your neck, inhaling the scent that reminded him of home.
"My mother would've loved you," he whispered, a quiet, wry smile in his tone.
No pretense, no show. Sincere.
It was only then that you realized: Egg's sudden urge to learn something new, why it had been so quiet – no servants bustling about, no Daeron pestering you with his philosophical debates.
Their mother. They all needed something to distract them.
You lifted your hands to the back of his head, caressing his hair gently, making him pull you closer. A quiet hum escaped him, followed by a small kiss on your neck. It felt as if you’d melted into him - he held you so tightly as though the slightest distance could carry you away forever.
“I’m sure she was a wonderful woman,” you said, kissing him beneath his ear. “She gave me you, and a few more sisters and brothers besides.”
He smirked but didn't let go for a moment. "Could’ve just stopped at me, my precious wife."
You smiled, not falling for his little act. He tried to play it off as a joke, to hide his weakness - but you wouldn't let him. Not here. Not with you.
“I’m here,” you whispered, leaving small kisses to soothe the tremble he desperately tried to suppress.
His hands roamed across your back, fingers spread wide, his breathing deep and rapid. He clung to you like his life depended on it, and you didn't complain.
You could feel it. He didn't say much, but you knew. He needed you just as much as you needed him.
“You’ll always be here,” he said in a voice so low you’d hardly have heard it unless you were right there. “You’ll never leave me.”
˗ˏˋ He says he doesn't love you, but he cannot stand your tears.
In all the time you’ve spent here, you had never shed a tear. There was no reason to - everything you needed was already yours. People starved, gave their lives for the land; a princess's tears would have seemed ridiculous.
But this time you couldn't keep it in.
It was supposed to be an ordinary day like any other - jousts, a feast honouring the noble guests. Yet everything went wrong when word reached you that Aerion had lost his mind and broken the fingers of an innocent girl.
Your heart ached for the girl who had only been playing and having fun, unaware of how it would all turn out.
He would never hurt you, but that didn’t make it any easier seeing him harm another so calmly.
The door opened and you sensed his heavy steps before you heard them. You didn't give him your usual gentle smile - the one he's used to seeing from you.
"She mocked our family, our very blood," he said. There was a note of irritation in his voice at having to justify his actions so openly to you.
Dragons owed nothing to anyone. They acted, and they took pleasure in the results. Yet here he stood behind you, covered in blood and still proud, unable to bear even the thought that you might be hurting.
"This is treason," he continued, unused to your silence.
You were barely holding back your tears - you didn't want him to see them. Not from shame, never. But because crying wouldn't change anything. But what he said next shattered you completely and your gentle heart couldn't take it anymore.
"She's lucky it was just her fingers. I’d have taken her head if I’d told the King."
A quiet sob escaped you, one you couldn't hold back.
It was foolish. You knew the man he was. Even softened by you, dragon blood still ran through him. And you knew why he was frustrated, why that play had offended him so deeply - after all, his bloodline had been insulted, ridiculed.
And yet the image of a young girl of your age appeared before your eyes; her gaze swimming with tears, her hands powerless.
At first, Aerion froze at the sound. You’ve never cried, he thought. You’ve never looked away from him.
Then, as if the realization struck him, he strode across the room and turned you to face him, gently taking you by the elbow.
His eyes wandered across your face, as if he physically needed to ensure you were unharmed. You knew he would behead anyone who even dared think of hurting you.
And for the first time that didn't bring you any comfort.
It didn't scare you either - he had never scared you. He was your husband, the other part of your soul and you would always choose him. You would always stand by his side.
Still, a tiny piece of sorrow remained inside you – a quiet awareness that no one else would ever know just how loving and caring he could be.
He would always be a monster to them.
His eyes didn't leave yours, which were now red and swollen from tears that wouldn't stop falling. You noticed the frown that crossed his face as he realized why you were like this.
He leaned in and kissed your damp, flushed cheeks, letting his lips linger a moment longer than expected.
“Dragons do not pardon traitors, my love,” he said softly, confused as to why you were so concerned about a mere commoner, unworthy of any of your attention. Your normally bright face was covered with such a deep sorrow that his heart ached.
I’ll let her go,” Aerion murmured. “Would that make you feel better?”
You nodded slowly, still unsure whether he would keep his promise, unsure whether your wish alone could tame his temper. “Yes, my love.”
His eyes remained on you, studying your face for the smallest sign of doubt that might hurt you further. When he found none, he nodded and pulled you into his arms.
