you were almost turned into a vampire, but before you could be fully turned, the vampire was staked. This left you with a vampire weakness, while still being human.
Spin the wheel to find out your weakness!
How much does this effect you?
Nothing changes
It's inconvenient but I can deal with jty
It will be hard to adjust but I'll figure it out
I don't know if I'll be able to live like this
Maybe I can find another vampire to finish the turning?
I might just kill myself
Results/other
Remaining time: 5 days 5 hours
thanks @theemmjay for submitting this poll idea!! Seriously it's such a cool concept I love it so much
Hi! How would the AKOTSK men handle their wife having a cryptic pregnancy?
⋆˙⟡ CRYPTIC PREGNANCY — akotsk men
⋆˙⟡ summary how they react to your cryptic pregnancy.
⋆˙⟡ notes formatting these differently because i am noncommittal, can you tell I locked in for this?
⋆˙⟡ warnings 18+, allusions to sex, valarr's is lowk sad as hell, maekar's was my favourite to write.
MASTERLIST
AERION would have trouble maintaining his emotions against your own. He would feel nigh on exhaustion at your weariness, your temper, and your dramatics. You were not bleeding, you were not with child — so why were you wreaking havoc on his own mind? You would complain of nausea, only to regain your health with some water. You would be fatigued, despite only having moved from your chambers to the gardens.
It would torment him, but he would never falter in his affection for you. You would keep him awake through the night, twisting and turning restlessly, only to be lulled to sleep with a silent stroke of your back. It was only when you had yelled in anguish, Aerion quick to his feet and at your side to aid you.
“I have grown tired of this nonsense!” You had exclaimed. “Wake a maester, husband. It feels as if I have ingested wildfire.”
And it had all made sense when the maester laid you down, assessed you, and had taken Aerion out of your chambers. He could not believe the words falling from his mouth, it was a farce. A tale to further aggravate the cruel Prince.
“She is not swollen with my child, you fool.” Aerion pushed the door open, observing your turmoil as your maiden blotted your forehead with a cloth. “Look at her. There is no stomach to her, she has not thrown up her meals.”
“It is a rare happening, my Prince.” The maester would tell him. “But your Lady Wife is in labour.”
Aerion joined your side, taking your maiden’s place in drying your sweltering flesh. He looked at you like you hung the moon, his hand gently against your stomach as you winced in pain.
“Sweet wife,” he would coo at you, “we have a babe coming. You must push.”
“What?” You whimpered, staring at your stomach, willing this to be some cruel nightmare and not a harsh, forced reality.
“This Dragon was deceitful. Smart.” He would kiss your temple to ease you, his grip on your hand firm. “And it is demanding its birth on its own terms.”
Aerion was little help. You pushed through pain, torment, confusion, and he only soothed you. Told you of your glorious purpose, in the birth of his Dragon. He would tell you of your triumphs when the babe would come out screaming, telling you of your worth for such a beautiful moment.
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VALARR would be on his death bed had he not had a postpartum wife to care for. You had been trying, and failing, to conceive for years. Enjoying the creation, but never the failed result. You felt like angry waves, ebbing and flowing between joy and misery. It tore through your marriage; and you had soon felt like two passing ships in the night.
You were at your worst, weeping in the corridors of the Keep at night. Baelor having to comfort you, sending you back to your chambers, whilst Valarr hollowed himself out. You were full of anguish, and stress, tears your only companion in both day and night.
"Wife." His word was blunted, and still ripped through the flesh of your stomach.
"Sweetheart." He urged, bending his knees to meet you on the shaved grass you sat amongst. "Please, talk with me. Walk with me."
You gave him nothing. He had given you nothing to warm your womb, not a morsel of comfort to cushion your fall into madness; so you would do the same.
Throughout your grief, you seldom ate, seldom slept, only woke and cried. Stole moments of peace amongst the foliage, the warmth of the sun remained the most affection you received in your day. It was no wonder at all, you had not felt what was so secretly growing within you.
You were tired, the only blood you saw were droplets on your sheets, the maester advising you to ease your stress for your full blood to return. Not a soul saw it coming.
Your weeping mutated, from sadness to pain. Your soft whimpers traded for sharp hissing. You clutched your stomach, collapsed on the floor at your chamber door.
Valarr had woken, abruptly, having learnt to drown your tears out. You would soon succumb to sleep, but that did not happen. He scarcely dressed himself to fetch for the maester, warring with himself to leave you collapsed against the door. The minutes blurred together, all his mind heard and saw was you, in a spiral of grief and misery.
"Please, wife. Talk with me." He pleaded against your closed fist, through your screams. "What is troubling you so terribly? What hurts?"
"My Prince." The maester was firm in his word, beckoning your Husband to where he stood between your legs. Muffled words exchanged, as you whined through the pain in your stomach.
Valarr stumbled, steadying himself against the pillar of your bed. His fingers dug into the wood, measuring this moment against the turmoil he felt the past few moons. He wasted but a second pacing toward you, taking your cheeks into his hands.
"Sweet wife, the Lords have heard our prayers." He cried, aching in a satisfying relief. "A babe that is both yours and mine. We are bound eternally once more."
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BAELOR was away more oft than not. So shackled with duty and responsibility, that he felt no more a Husband than you did a Wife. Your moments together were fleeting, and so filled with taking one another, you had little time for words. He would be sure to wake before the sun, just to take you silently, the only air between you saved for your soft whimpers as he rocked into you. And he would soon disappear, not a moments rest until he succumbed to sleep as he hit his pillow.
The possibility of you being with child felt impossible, you certainly had no time in trying. So your temperamental moods, your bloated belly, and fatigue felt as if your blood was soon to appear. Yet it never did. You would speak with your maester, eyes burning with repressed tears as you asked what the problem could be. The maester could not know for certain, only warning you of stress, and to take a bath.
Your Husband would find you, of an eve, sunken within the water. Your chambers smelt faintly of rosewater, and your hair draped down the ledge of the tub. The steam sat on your chest like a thick fog, the weight had you dancing on the edge of sleep.
Baelor bent to kiss your forehead, running his fingers down the lengths of your hair. "Are you settled?"
"Yes, Husband. In fact, I think I might just stay in here forever." You hummed at the contact; only your mind had the energy to think further of what his hands could do to you in this moment.
Baelor chuckled softly. "You would prune, sweet girl. We do not want that."
"It is the only thing to soothe my stress, Husband. I do not know why my body must war so violently." You sat up in the water, arms wrapped around your legs as you brought them to your chest.
Baelor heard of your worries through maesters in passing, stress the likely cause of it. You spent most days without him, your heart only settling at night when he would hold you tightly. But the discomfort persisted, doubled in your Husband's absence. He had taken a progress across the Stormlands, and you had reached your lowest.
Only when a Guard stood at your chamber door, hearing the soft whines and passing them off for self-pleasure. Your Husband was gone, but you could not wait, he thought. It continued, worsened, even as he knocked at the door.
Maesters stormed your chambers, a muffled blur of voices and hands pushing at your limbs. You thought you were dazed, dreaming lucidly, when you heard a babe's cry. And Baelor was nowhere to be seen, performing his duties as Hand, unknowingly adding to his heap of responsibility as a Father.
Seeing you in the gardens with the babe in your arms had his legs faltering where they stood. He had not thought to have children with you, for he had his heir and his spare. But his world shifted once more at your newfound role as a Mother. It squared his shoulders, filled the holes of worry and torment in his soul. You were his once more.
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MAEKAR had been right. All along. He had been through this more than most Lords had, he knew all the signs and warnings. He could see it inside you before you could even feel it.
And of course, you would dismiss it. You were the only one who would ever truly know. So he must grin through his teeth, hold his tongue, and wait.
He would wait as you complained of tender breasts, of which he would be a fool not to tend to. Massaging them every morning as he dismissed the serving men coming to dress him.
"Thank you, Husband." You would sigh against his shoulder, the ache subsided until the eve. It had been the case most nights.
"Tenderness is common amongst women with child." He noted, and you could see the smirk on his face. Even as his head was turned away from you.
"Oh, would you cease these foolish claims?" You huffed, pulling the sheets from your body to call for your maids to dress you. "I shall fetch the maester for tests if it shuts you up."
He would wait as you had taken to sleep around the castle. Eyes closed, chin in your palm against the table at breakfast. Amongst the grass and foliage in the gardens, curled tightly in a ball. Daella, his first daughter, too asleep against you. It was only when Aerion had told him of your slumber in the gardens that he fetched you himself.
"Fatigue is—"
"A cause of being with child, yes. I know. You have said." You would huff, fists rubbing your eyes and mirroring his daughter who stood beside you. The pair of you so rudely awoken.
"Daella and I were reading together. The sun was warm, it was quiet. We dozed off, that is all." You reasoned, taking the girl's hand and trailing away from your doting Husband.
Maekar would only look at you with smugness since then. As you dismissed his urgings to get a conclusive result, end this madness of feeling groggy and know for sure. But you did not believe him. You had felt this way for five moons now, and no swollen belly, no inklings to tell you a babe was forming inside you.
To please your complacent Husband, you had visited the maester. Begged him to tell you what you already knew. That you were not with child. But, the maesters sorry look up at you had only aroused the feeling in your stomach. You could nigh on hear your Husband laugh at you, mock you about him being right and you being wrong.
But the joke was truly on him.
He had not taken into account that this was a babe, not a told you so moment. He could only laugh, or else he would cry. As if he did not have a surplus of kin to his name already, there you sat with another bundled into your arms. He only prayed this one had abandoned his genetic madness.
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DAERON would feel immense guilt. How had he not seen this? And if he had, how had he not made sense of it? He spent so much of his time finding solace in the bottom of his cups, his sober moments spent on you.
When he must perform as a Husband, as a Prince, as an Heir. He enjoyed being a Husband, truly, he did. He took comfort in you, found a smile came easier at your side, his hands did not shake when they cradled yours. It was not duty, but love. And it was so simple to crawl into bed and make you see stars every night, when you loved him so gently.
Yet as of late, it felt fierce. Like a wolf guarding its own. He need not dismiss his devilish brother, for you did it in his stead.
"Gods, Aerion. Are you bored? Or must you act a fool to feel mighty?" You would retort, shoving the cruel Prince as he puffed his chest at your Husband.
"I could have you sent away for that." He threatened, such close proximity to your face you could feel the heat in his words.
"No." You laughed. "You could not. Your Father much prefers me to you, says I am a delight to this Family."
You thought he would storm away. But he panted heavily, controlling his tongue in the presence of a Lady.
"Does that upset you?" Your voice was poison, and it was hard for Daeron not to laugh in the face of his brother.
The joke came when you laid on his chest of an eve, both bare and sticky from a swift, intimate moment between you.
"Your temper is scarce, sweet Wife." He sighed into your hair, mind moving faster than it ever had before. "Could a babe have taken root so quickly?"
You giggled against him, nestling into his heat further. "I do not think it possible, sweet Husband. I would be giving more than temper, if I were."
How foolishly wrong you were. The joke died that night when you both slept, even as your stomach remained unchanged. The only blood you saw was spotty and false. It could not be true.
But dreams plagued him nightly, the alcohol only delaying what he spent his life so tormented by. And yet, it nigh on felt worth its weight at the sight of you both in his arms. His wife, and his kin, both reliant on him. He had another to live for.
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DUNCAN thought he would be completely out of his depth. He did not much know how a woman acts when she was with child, how was he to tell?
He supposed your moods had shifted. You were ever the sweet lady, so kind and polite. Smiled with both your mouth and eyes. Spoke to him as if he were born akin to you, not on the streets of Fleabottom. You fought so valiantly through whatever hardships hit you, danced through them with but a smile.
And now, you were irked by the wind blowing your hair in your face. Bunching it in your hands and tucking it into the back of your gown. Now, you were vexed by the birds tweeting above you. He would look upon your reddened face as you stared at them in the tree. Looking away for but a moment, and returning his gaze to see you chasing them through the gardens.
He supposed you had taken to sleep far more oft than usual. You were typically full of energy, full of life, the only one could keep up with Egg's childlike energy. You would wake him with a sweet song, engage him in dance when you felt your happiest.
And now, you would slump against his chest as he woke before you. His limbs frozen to not wake you. You would sit to watch him train Egg in swords, closing your eyes for a mere moment and waking in Dunk's arms.
He supposed your appetite wavered. He remembered every sweet pastry, every fruit, every warm meal you loved. He would search for them through every town, if you so much as spoke a memory of it.
And now, you shook your head at the lemon tarts he offered you. You turned your nose up at the fruit he had cut open, scrunching your nose at the sour smell. You could not stand the odour of such things.
Whether the pregnancy was cryptic, or he had such a lack of awareness of changes a woman faced, he was not ready regardless. Your stomach did not round with his child, how was he to expect you to be in labour at the maester's confirmation?
His hands clasped his head, eyes wavering between consoling you and watching his child be born. He would kiss your cheek, let you crush the bones in his hand with your brutish strength, wipe every tear as it fell. And hearing his babe cry, the sound was to be remembered.
It echoed in his chest. Holding the tiny thing against his chest, tears now springing from his own ducts at his beautiful daughter. A product of his beautiful wife.
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LYONEL was sure you were sick. With the spring sickness, with death, with something. He ordered maesters from around the Realm to tend to you. He could not stand to watch, it hurt more than any impaled lances he had suffered.
They watched you, aided you around the castle. His sweet wife tormented with fatigue and low moods, with terrible stomach pains and sleepless nights. He would only help it during the night, when he would hold you so steadfastly against him, fending off any aches or pains that troubled you.
You were vexed by everything. The noise of the rain against the windows, the firm footsteps you took, the smell of your supper. It all coiled tightly around your chest, threatening to expel in such a violent manner, or a sob. You could not tell which.
You would cry into his chest, pleading to feel normal once more. And there was not a thing he could do for you.
Maesters were silent as they tested you, watched you, studied you. And they had come to a flooring conclusion, one of which both you and your Husband had not anticipated.
"Well, fuck." He sighed into his hands. A babe was a welcomed thing upon marriage, when knowingly trying for such a thing. But you had not spoken of kin, of heirs, duty was simply forgotten in the blooming of your marriage.
He warned the maesters not to tell you, that would be his job. When he took to your side at night, you swiftly took your place against his chest. His warmth the only comfort you could find as of late.
"Sweet wife," he hummed so gently against your hair, finding any signs of you remaining awake, "you are normal. You are as normal as any Lady in the Realm, except in beauty and kindness, of course."
"That you exceed in." He added, in case it was not clear to you. Not much had been lately.
"So there is answer to my troubles?" You croaked, sleep nigh on embracing you. But you looked up, needing to be settled with his words.
He nodded. "You are with child."
"What?"
"The maesters say it is a rarity. That a woman will not show any signs until the cusp of labour." He explained, his eyes closing in relief. Relief that you were not dying, or being ripped from his grasp in any way.
He would fend off Death until it were ready for you both.
How do you think the men of Akotsk would deal with a bossy and bad-tempered wife?
I would love to see that
⋆˙⟡ MOODY WIFE — akotsk men
⋆˙⟡summary how they deal with a moody wife.
⋆˙⟡ notes have had the worst week to date so this might be awful
⋆˙⟡ warnings rude reader I guess? implication to sex, reader slapping aerion (overdue tbh)
MASTERLIST
AERION
i think at first he would hate it, he was not keen on his wife butting heads with him so often.
but only when you grown used to being the dragon's wife, and ordered some lord to leave you be during a banquet, had he settled into it.
he looked at you with nothing but adoration since then.
the dragon fire was nestled within you, you and him were fated, the Gods knew to put you both together.
he would only encourage you, to be honest.
if you would order one of his serving men to ready a bath for you both, and he had not yet moved until aerion's approval.
aerion would only respond with, "you heard my wife, run along."
VALARR
he would find it hilarious. and adorable.
you would be bothered by such minuscule things. the weather not being to your liking, the food being cold and bland, your corset too tight.
and valarr would seek to solve each worry, though he could not change such a mighty thing as the weather.
but he loved it, secretly.
he was one of the only people you were sweet on, thanking him, caressing his cheek for undoing your torments.
and even if you had ordered him to do something, like rub your feet at night or brush your hair, he would do it without hesitation.
of course, lords and ladies alike would look at your relationship unfavourably. seeing you boss the heir's heir around, but he was right where he wanted to be.
BAELOR
he's a man of patience and humility. but that did not mean his wife should be.
it did take him some time to adjust to your stubbornness, defying him, your husband, had been something foreign to him.
but he grew to enjoy it. much like his son, he would seek to ease your tensions.
at night, when you would prepare for slumber, you would tell him of your eavesdropping of conversations at the feast. how lords and ladies saw you as stubborn as a mule.
for every insult, he adapted it for your taste.
"they called me domineering, husband."
"you are simply assertive, a natural leader of sorts." he would mumble into your hair, as he cradled you in your bed, "what better a wife is suited to me than you?"
MAEKAR
he LOVES it.
you match his energy, and it works. who says only opposites attract?
it would lead to more frequent disagreements, but none he could not earn your forgiveness from in bed.
he especially loved it when your children were being particularly bratty, and you would scold them at supper.
aerion would be cruel to his youngest brother, the little prince telling you of his doings, earning aerion a slap round the back of the head.
nothing too damaging, just enough to curb his ego.
and he would storm to his father's solar, telling him of his wife's savagery.
"i cannot say you did not deserve it, my boy." he would speak, not looking up at his vengeful son stood before him. "learn from it."
and he would listen to your ranting in bed, your head against his chest.
it would be his lullaby every night, never tiring of it.
DAERON
again, would LOVE it.
would follow his wife around, trailing behind her blindly as she dragged him to assist her with something or other.
would be entranced by you, even if you scolded his brother for being such a brat.
would play with your hair like a lovesick child, doing exactly as you asked.
some would think he was trapped, imprisoned by a woman more suited to aerion.
but do not disturb him, he is exactly where he wants to be.
DUNC
would find it hilarious.
and i don't think you'd have the heart to be so bossy with him, his big, round, puppy eyes staring fondly at you, expecting you to order him around.
you couldn't, though he would do absolutely anything for you had you asked for it.
would definitely apologise to anyone you had shown your temper to, but did not scold you for your behaviour.
he had spoilt you, why would you not expect the world to treat you in such a manner as your loving husband?
LYONEL
again, would find it hilarious.
bowed to you, even.
much like aerion, if someone had not listened to the Laughing Storm's wife, he would act as offended as you were.
"were you cursed with deafness, boy? listen to my wife."
would let you boss him around, for sure.
in bed, in your daily routine, in your duties. he was at your command.
summary: how do they act when their wife already has a child from her previous marriage?
pairing: Dark! Aerion Targaryen x Wife Reader | Dark! Valarr Targaryen x Wife Reader | Dark! Daeron Targaryen x Wife Reader.
warning: dark content, sexual content, death of the child (Aerion), depression, conspiracy and death, psychological abuse, child neglect (Daeron), infidelity, violence, etc.
Hello everyone! I'M BACK!!; I honestly don't know what I did with Valarr's part (for some reason I have almost no ideas for him). I've had this in drafts since Akotsk came out, but I never finished it because I've been having a lot of health problems lately, although I'm feeling better now. Anyway, I hope you like it!
ASOIAF MASTERLIST
Aerion Targaryen
When you married Aerion, you had already been a widow for two years and had a three-year-old child to care for. You still hadn't fully recovered from the death of your first husband; it was an open wound in your heart. You had truly loved your husband and married him for love, but your father considered your mourning excessive. You were still a young and beautiful woman; your womb could still bear more children. He had called your mourning a "waste" and a "dispossession of time."
That's why, when you caught Aerion's attention and he asked for your hand in marriage, your father didn't hesitate to arrange a betrothal. It wasn't long before you were married. Aerion was a difficult husband... nothing like your first husband. He demanded your time and constant attention, becoming enraged when you paid attention to anyone other than him. No one was safe from his anger, not even your son. He seemed to feel a particular disdain for your young son, making it clear more than once that he disliked his presence. He even used to say that it would be best to send the child to live with your family so he wouldn't "get in the way."
Aerion flew into a rage when you rejected his idea, causing him to yank hard at your hair and squeeze his free hand against your throat. You simply told him, "He's a child and needs his mother close." He hissed at you disdainfully, very close to your face, "That child is no longer your priority. Now you must take care of me and my future children."
Aerion had taken the idea of getting you pregnant very seriously. There wasn't a night he didn't force you to share his bed, even when you were exhausted and your femininity ached. He simply wouldn't give you a break. You couldn't spend time with your little one because Aerion wouldn't allow it; he had sent wet nurses to care for him. All to keep him away from you. The truth was that Aerion hated the child and would rather have him dead than have him near you. At night, he often thought that if he had a dragon, he could have it devour your annoying child.
Although years passed and your son was able to live with you at the court, you didn't see him often. Aerion demanded that you give all your attention to the children you had with him. Your son had grown into a handsome and charming young adult, perhaps a little reserved. It devastated you when you learned that he had been accidentally killed while at the training camp. You simply couldn't believe it; you were deeply hurt. Anyone would think that a husband would comfort his wife in such a situation, but Aerion wasn't that kind of husband.
He simply looked at you with disdain and disgust as you sobbed in your chambers, dressed head to toe in black, sitting at the foot of the bed with your hands covering your face and clutching the doublet your son used to wear. Aerion cleared his throat, approaching you and without hesitation grabbing the cloth and roughly pulling it from your hands. You gasped and looked at him with tearful eyes. Before you could say anything, he firmly gripped your jaw, digging his fingers into your cheeks. He spoke to you reproachfully and demandingly.
“Enough. Stop embarrassing me. Everyone talks about how depressed you are. What does one dead child matter? Focus on the living children you have, especially the one inside you now.”
Valarr Targaryen
Valarr had known you since you were both children. Your father worked at court and later on the council, so you spent a lot of time with the princes, especially Valarr, since he always sought you out whenever he had free time. He had been in love with you throughout your childhood and adolescence, so he didn't take it well when you married someone else, although he accepted it. You were happy, and so he was happy, even though he wanted to kill your husband.
When your husband died of a fever less than a year after you married, leaving you with a large pregnant belly and a broken heart, Valarr didn't hesitate to become your rock. He took care of you and ensured you continued living in the Red Keep with him, under his almost controlling care.
Valarr was there for you when you were sad, he was there when your baby kicked for the first time, he was there when your water broke, and he was there for you during childbirth. Everything was meticulously planned to make you feel safe and protected, wanting you to feel indebted to him so that when he asked you to marry him, you wouldn't be able to refuse.
When he married you, your son was just a baby, so he didn't hesitate to raise him as his own. He was a constant father figure in the little boy's life, and even after his own children were born, he never abandoned your son. He cherished the child, though he preferred the power that having the boy's affection gave him over you. When you were upset with him because of his controlling attitude, he always used your son as a weapon to keep you under his control.
That always worked. You thought he acted that way only because he was trying to protect you and your child. You thought that with time he would calm down, but that didn't happen. When you became pregnant, everything worsened; he was even more controlling, not even letting you leave your chambers unless he was with you. You felt like all the servants were watching you; you felt cornered and suffocated.
One day, while your husband was in a council meeting, you decided to send your servants to the kitchen to prepare some delicacies for yourself. When you were sure you were alone, you took your child in your arms and slipped out into the garden. It was the best ten minutes of your life: the scent of the flowers, the sun, the birds singing... without anyone bothering you.
It was a brilliant plan. You slipped back into your chambers unnoticed; no one knew you were gone, and you had a few seconds to yourself. You thought it would all end there, a harmless little rebellion that would become your little secret... but you hadn't counted on your husband having taught your son very well. The little one revealed everything to Valarr.
“Father! Mother and I went to the gardens... just her, me, and the baby, it was great!”
You tensed at your son's excited squeal. Valarr held the child in his arms, his shoulders stiffening. He gave you an icy look that made you swallow hard, but what frightened you most were his words and the seriousness with which he spoke them.
“Is that so...? That was dangerous for you and the children... but don't worry, my dear, I'll make sure that from now on you're safe in our quarters throughout your pregnancy and even after... who knows?”
Daeron Targaryen
Your marriage to Daeron was arranged between his father and yours, so at first, he didn't care much about you. You were a little older than him and quite attractive; he wouldn't deny it. As far as he knew, you had been a widow for some time and had a young daughter of six. Your first marriage was also arranged when you were very young; it wasn't a happy or loving one.
So it didn't surprise him that you were so quiet and reserved. During the first few months of marriage, he ignored you, only spending time with you occasionally to fulfill his marital duty. He continued with his normal routine of getting drunk, going to brothels, and sleeping with any woman who crossed his path.
That was until Daeron fell ill. As his wife, you took care of him and spent sleepless nights with him. This awakened strong feelings in Daeron; your touch relaxed him, made him feel appreciated and loved. Before he knew it, he was obsessed with you. Even after he recovered, he would feign illness from time to time just to receive your attention.
Everyone seemed to whisper about the prince's sudden change. He was still a drunk, but he no longer frequented brothels or slept with the maids. Instead, he was with you and your daughter all the time, though he was clearly uncomfortable around the child.
Daeron ignored your daughter. He wasn't cruel or anything like that (at least he didn't think he was). He simply didn't want to be near her because he wasn't her father, and that gave him an uncomfortable feeling. He didn't like the idea of you having a child with another man. When you became pregnant, your daughter started getting jealous. The little girl clearly didn't want you to stop spoiling and caring for her.
Daeron noticed the girl's attitude, which made him paranoid and worried that she might harm the baby. He'd also had dreams and visions where he was sure he saw your daughter in the crib of his unborn child, and when he approached, he saw the baby dead. He began to subtly manipulate you, suggesting that perhaps the best thing would be for the girl to go to her father's house or even to your house so that you could take care of her and raise her. Although you initially refused, you eventually agreed due to your husband's pleading pleas.
Shortly after your daughter left, Daeron seemed more relaxed and at ease, still following you everywhere, as always. You exchanged letters frequently until, gradually, over the years, the letters stopped arriving, which worried you. Your husband comforted you, unaware that he was the one intercepting and burning the letters your daughter sent you.
Daeron hoped you would forget your former daughter. Now you have a daughter with him, a new marriage, a new family. You, Vaella, and he were the perfect family. He didn't want anyone to destroy the harmony. He hoped your daughter would marry and never see you again. He didn't hate her; he simply wished she didn't exist. He comforts you when he sees you sadly gazing out the window. He comes closer and hugs you, placing kisses on your cheek.
“Relax, dear, I'm sure she's very busy. After all, she's a young lady now... she must have many responsibilities. Come, darling, let's go see our little Vaella.”
Includes: Duncan the Tall, Daeron Targaryen, Aerion Targaryen, Valarr Targaryen x f!reader
Summary: How they’d be with an easily jealous wife
Warnings: NSFW 18+ work includes smut, I am not responsible for the media you consume.
A/N: Request from @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, sorry this took so long!!
Dunk would be oblivious until you straight up told him that him talking to any fair maidens bothered you. He would never mean to irritate or upset you, and he wouldn’t know the ladies were flirting with him either, he truly believed they wanted to know “how a sword works.” He’d think you’d taken ill when you ignored him for a week, or that you were just on your moonblood. He simply would not come to the conclusion on why you were mad on his own. He’d pick up on your vexation eventually, he wasn’t that unaware, but try as he might, he’d be unable to find the reason. You probably wouldn’t be the one to tell him, too. He’d have to rely on Egg to slap him upside the head and knock some sense into him. “If you ever anger your wife, ser, you need to beg for forgiveness, whether you’re right or wrong. Honestly, you’d think you were the child here.” It might earn him a clout to the ear, but Dunk would get the idea. He never realized that was the reason for your outrage because Dunk would find it ridiculous that you would ever be afraid he’d cheat on you, or even look lustfully upon another woman! This man needs you more than air, so he’d ask Lyonel for assistance on how to charm a woman and do everything he could to earn your favor and forgiveness. Make-up sex, people. Lots of make-up sex. It would take several rounds, and possibly several days for you to stop looking at him disdainfully after you’ve cum. He would not, under any circumstances, allow you to go down on him during this time unless you asked. He’d be between your sheets, between your tits, between your lips, anything you wanted. He’s a capital g GIVER. Safe to say he would never look another woman in the eyes again unless he was forced to.
Daeron is a manwhore, he always has been. Once he’s married to you, he’s not going to keep sleeping around, but some habits are hard to break, like flirting with his cupbearers. He doesn’t know how to show thankfulness properly, which is something that definitely needs to be talked about, but you don’t know every little thing about him! Especially if you’re newlyweds, so in retaliation, you’d keep the doors to your bedchambers locked. He can go to bed with the cupbearers he likes so much. Daeron has slept in many uncomfortable places throughout his life, but he’s going to be crying outside the door quietly and stay there the whole night. He’d wake up early so he’d see you as soon as you stepped out of the room, and he’d beg and plead for you to forgive him. He is not above doing anything to show how sorry he is. He would never, ever assume that you were overreacting, because he knows he’s a mess. Daeron would force himself to stop drinking, wanting to be alert and conscious for you, and he’d go through awful withdrawals. If you haven’t forgiven him at this point, you’d find him sitting against your door waiting, resisting the urge to vomit. He really needs a drink. You berate him for being such a fool and going cold turkey off of the wine, but he’d disagree. “This is all worth it, my love. At least you’re looking at me again.” The night ends with his head between your legs, not necessarily eating you out, he could just be kissing all over your thighs and mumbling apologies. Who needs the alcohol when he could just get drunk on your cunt?
Aerion does not apologize. The dragon ought never lose, so why should he say sorry that you misread a situation between him and a whore at Ashford? She offered her services, he engaged in conversation for under a minute, and declined! He did the right thing! But all you saw from your high horse was him smiling at another woman, a prostitute, no less. You’d have to be around him constantly for appearances, and you had to share chambers, so you couldn’t close your doors like with Daeron. What you could close was your legs. Aerion was getting frustrated. He hadn’t bedded you in what felt like decades. An heir was not expected yet, you were both young and marriage still fresh, but fuck’s sake, he missed the sex. He missed the way you moaned, the way you arched for him, the way you kissed him. You slept in the same bed as him, but you wouldn’t let him so much as trace your perfect skin. The poor man had to resort to keeping your used smallclothes from the maids and holding them to his face while he pleasured himself. If you were going to be petty, so was he. He would not relent, he had sworn it. And he did uphold this promise, for about a week. He tried so hard, really, he did, but Aerion can’t not be inside you for so long. It was torture. “Wife. I hereby decree I will never entertain any other woman. Ever. Which you should already know I would not and have not done, but we can’t all be sharp. If you wish for me to arrange for that whore to be slaughtered, I will see it done.” This was his way of taking accountability. A reparation seeded with insult and belittlement, tied together with a thinly-veiled threat, just not toward you. It was shite, yet it was also the closest thing to “I’m sorry” anyone ever got from him. He wouldn’t even look at you, focused on staring at the walls or the furniture, his cheeks turning a delicious shade of pink. Aerion had never swallowed his pride for the sake of someone technically beneath him. He was going to have to work on his apologies for when he fucked up in the future, but you let him off this time with a very strong warning.
Valarr hates himself when he sees you’re upset. He’d only talked to another lady of the court in passing, she’d fawned over him as all the ladies do, and he’d politely found a way to excuse himself, as he always does. Unlike Dunk, he doesn’t need anyone to tell him you’re upset, he’ll notice every minuscule reaction from you. Since he’s such a sweetheart, you dont stop letting him bed you, you know how important an heir is, but there’s no passion. You don’t kiss him. You don’t let him hold you in the aftermath. You don’t let him take care of you once it’s over. Valarr will be king one day, he must be strong in the face of conflict, but he’ll become the most pathetic man ever to get you to like him again. You never really stopped liking him, per se, but you were sad! You buried yourself in conversation with your ladies-in-waiting, you spent time with the smaller children, you even had Aerion try and teach you how to wield a sword. Anything you could do to get away from Valarr. He’d give you gifts, arrange for your family to visit, make a point to speak with you whenever the opportunity presented itself, but you stayed cold. You bristled when he touched you, snapped at him for no reason, brushed off his affections. Valarr is not a confrontational person. We saw that when he said “Begone, Ser Duncan,” in the saddest and sweetest voice ever, but your ignorance would push him. “Must you torture me like this? I have apologized, I have begged, I have tried to appease you, and you still won’t look at me as you used to. It ruins me, wife. I can hardly focus without you by my side, and to know you dislike me so is tearing me apart. Tell me what to do. I will do it. Please.” It’s only after you see how broken he is that you forgive him. You can consider the lesson learned when he’s whining that night against your lips for more of you.
repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. but she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within….
Includes: Duncan the tall, Daeron Targaryen, Aerion Targaryen, and Valarr Targaryen x f!reader
Summary: How they'd react to being interrupted during the act
Warnings: Freaky nasty smut, I really went the extra mile for my actual real boyfriend Aerion. This is 18+, read at your own discretion.
A/N: Thinking of writing more fics instead of just headcanons and trailer trash Aerion is speaking to me
Dunk had been knuckle deep inside you, stretching and turning his fingers, thumb dragging back and forth against your clit, murmuring softly into your ear. Your skirt was rucked up to your thighs, and there was a noticeable bulge where his own arousal grew. "That's it. Come on, tad bit more for me." He was trying to coax a third orgasm out of you when a knock sounded from the door. Raymun's voice was on the other side, inquiring on whether or not he was going to him for training. "You coming along with the rest of us, mate?" You hadn't touched Dunk yet, but that didn't mean he wasn't trembling from the need running through him like lightning. Every part of him froze save for his fingers, still pumping in and out of you, warmth trailing up his neck and ceasing at his ears. He rested his head on your chest for a moment, breathing hard and fast, then turned to the door. "Er...I'll need a few m-minutes! Just wait by the...fuck...far, far, away. Go. Just g-go! I'll be out soon 'nough!" You could hear Raymun falter, leaning against the wall. "Everything...decent in there?" Dunk would stifle a groan, vowing he was just tired, and would come shortly. (Like you were about to.) After Raymun left, Dunk silenced your flustered protests with a soft kiss, hastily pulling down his trousers and replacing his fingers with his cock. "Quickly, I'll do it quickly. 's alright, you're alright with that?" He questioned, soft thrusts punctuating his words. Your fingers interlaced behind his neck, cunt clenching in sync with the plunges of his length within you. He'll ensure you finish but will leave in a hurry, kissing your cheek and promising to make it up to you. "I'll give you my tongue, my fingers, whatever you want, I just—I really have to go. I'll make amends, I swear it. I love you, I do. Bye. Fuck. I love you, goodbye."
Daeron would be entranced by you, as he always is when his head is in between your thighs while you sat on his desk. He’d notice that you’d been interrupted when your moans abruptly ended, and your hands stopped grabbing at his hair. His hooded eyes gazed up at you, and your focus was on the door behind him, motionless. He sighed, not bothering to turn around, rather irked by the disturbance if anything. "Leave us." The servant, holding a basket of sheets, mouth agape, quickly nodded their head in a reluctant bow and closed the door behind them. Daeron went right back to his task until you ungracefully pushed his head back. "My love?" He wouldn't let you leave him, hands bracketing your hips, his lips in a tiny pout to convince you to stay. "Daeron, that unfortunately-timed intrusion was mortifying! That poor maid could have seen my...or, or your...they could've seen certain...things, you understand!" He was thoroughly unimpressed with your outburst, resting his cheek against your thigh and toying with a stray thread on your dress. "Yes, I realize. May I continue? I fear you haven't been satisfied." He'd attempt to lift your skirts for him but you would scoff at his apparent indifference, stalking off into the other room. Daeron would groan, doing his best to coax you back to his bed with soft words and gentle pleas. "I'll remember to lock the doors next time, just let me fucking finish, please. I need this."
Aerion has you under his desk, fingers threaded loosely in your hair, manspreading as you sucked him off. He was in the middle of writing back to a few of his comrades, if you could call them that, from nearby kingdoms when his father walked in, no knock, no warning, no announcement. The Anvil himself intruding on you performing oral sex on your husband. Your first instinct is to move off of his cock, terrified, but Aerion holds you there, the once gentle grip now achingly stern. You would've protested had you not seen what he was doing. Maeker couldn't see you just yet from where he stood by the door, so as long as you remained where you were, your mouth on Aerion, Maekar needn't know of the very explicit deed unfolding only a few yards away. "Aerion. You neglect your courtly duties. I am not one to frown upon the happiness of newlyweds, but you have missed several gatherings, including a banquet. This behavior cannot persist." Aerion could only nod. He could not trust his voice to stay calm, nor his words to stay even. "You will answer me when I speak to you, boy!" You didn't mean to swirl your tongue around his slit, you were simply uncomfortable with the position, still, Aerion looked down at you with a gaze that could melt a glacier. "I-I'll be at the next one, father." He grit out. You had a beautiful epiphany in that moment. You liked seeing him like this. And you liked the risk even more. You bobbed your head, taking him deeper, an experimental gulp, and his eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenching. "Are you well?" Maekar inquired, lips pulled into a scowl. You traced a vein on the underside of Aerion's shaft with your tongue. "Get out." He grunted, eyes narrowed in a glare at his father. "I beg your pardon?" Maekar questioned softly, bewildered. "Get. Out." Aerion repeated, venom coating every syllable. "We will have words about this, son. Remember this." Right as the door slammed and Maekar departed, Aerion turned his steely gaze to you, and your epiphany morphed into regret. He hauled you up into his lap, your lips red and slick with spit, grabbing your chin. "You are going to suffer for this, wife."
Valarr never does sex halfway. There will be no quickies, no head, no handjobs. He'd do it for you if you asked, but it would be wrong of him to ever let you get him off without doing the same for you. The majority of the time, your sexcapades end with him finishing inside you. Therefore, you were in one of the secluded stairways of the Red Keep, hardly ever used this time of night, breaths mingling in the winter air. You sat in his lap, slowly grinding up and down on his cock where it was sheathed inside of you, muffling your noises as best you could. "Gods. Keep going, please, just like that." He whined, pulling your hips down harder to meet his tender thrusts. You'd nearly reached your second peak, eyes shut and head hiding in the junction of his neck when the sound of Valarr's strangled gasp had you cease. "Seven hells...I'll be on my way." A voice that was most definitely not Valarr's said. You couldn't force yourself to look, feeling the heat of shyness rise in you, but you knew that voice. Baelor Breakspear, the Hand of the King, the fucking crown prince. "Father, I can explain—" Valarr began, but Baelor must have held up a hand because he spoke no excuse. "I wish not to see this again, in my lifetime, if that's quite alright with the two of you. Son. My lady...er...enjoy yourself. Goodnight." You raised your head once you no longer heard the retreating footsteps. The skin of his high cheekbones were a faint shade of pink, growing deeper with your eyes on him. "He is going to annihilate me tomorrow. I hope this was worth it. We will never do this outside of our chambers without the doors securely latched ever again."
