“She was Queen of England as the first wife of Edward I. She was educated at the Castilian court and also ruled as Countess of Ponthieu in her own right (suo jure) from 1279. After diplomatic efforts to secure her marriage and affirm English sovereignty over Gascony, 13-year-old Eleanor was married to Edward at the monastery of Las Huelgas, Burgos, on 1 November 1254. She is believed to have birthed a child not long after. Eleanor took an active role in Edward's reign as he began to take control of Henry III's post-war government. The marriage was particularly close; Edward and Eleanor travelled together extensively, including the Ninth Crusade, during which Edward was wounded at Acre. Eleanor was capable of influencing politics but died too young to have much effect.”
A/N: I’m baaack! What can I say, inspiration strikes when it wants. I’ve got a few more ideas like this so just hope I get it out in time for my inspo to last. Hope you enjoy <3
✦ It all started because you were low on funds but you still needed the high, and you knew just the guy to go to for this particular problem. Aegon was infamous for letting a goodie bag slide for a blowie from a pretty girl. You did your best desperate pout, and got down on your knees. “Come on Aeg, you know how bad I want it.” Before you knew it he was hooked and so were you.
✦ You’d usually call for any quick fix, pills, weed, but now it was becoming sex. “I’m not looking for anythin-” he’d swiftly cut you off, “I know darlin’.” All clothes are tossed to the floor after that.
✦ His hands splayed across your body, your face pressed against the cool living room wall as you arch your ass over the old leather couch. Sweat from him, you, or a mix of both you can’t be sure, making the sound of skin slamming together only that much louder.
✦ Aegon sometimes likes to keep you around when he’s filling out other orders. Nothing special he just likes the company, and to squeeze at your thighs while he does the math (never his strongest subject, ironically). Of course you do end up fucking soon after he’s done to relax his mind again.
✦ You agree since you’re both too exhausted from all the sex that you should just spend the night more often.
✦ He hasn’t made you pay for any of his services in months, though lately you hardly feel like you need them at all.
✦ You’ve managed to acquire some nicknames from him over the time spent together: darlin, baby, cheeks, puppy.
✦ The neighbours have lodged many complaints against the goings on in that house to the cops, but none more than your incessant noise. This led to you both being taken in for indecent exposure after opening the door in the nude.
✦ Hands down the best sex you’ve ever had was after his 3 month stint in jail. His stubble had grown into a full-on beard that left red marks all over your body.
✦ “Next time those fuckers bring me in, they’ll have to take you in with me baby. Can’t wait this long to touch you ever again.” His right hand rips through your top with ease, as his left finds itself groping your ass like you’ll certainly fall to your death if he doesn’t. “Then don’t get caught next time, idiot.” You smirk against his mouth.
✦ You were sitting together on his worn couch sharing a joint he’s rolled, a usual Friday night. He suddenly pulled you firmly onto his lap, petting your hair and reminded you that you’re his number one girl. In reality at this point there are no other girls, you both know this but there’s no need to say it out loud.
the three times the dragon prince has been denied your bed, and the one time he succeeds (and finds out why)
genre/warnings:
very suggestive, crack, fluff, hardcore enemies to lovers, aerion being protective (and a simp), slight breeding kink(?), mentions of pregnancy, lannister!reader
notes:
still in the universe of lannister!reader but can be read as a standalone. we all need a simp aerion :))
To take one’s wife to bed was, in Aerion’s mind, not merely a matter of desire— it was a husband’s right.
And yet, for three days now, he had been denied of that very right.
He had wanted you—badly, with a heat that coiled low in his stomach and only flared when ignored. The discomfort clung to him, followed him through halls and councils and restless nights. Three days of wanting, and three days of you slipping through his grasp like smoke.
On the first night, you had looked at him with that practiced poise and told him, almost apologetically, “I cannot tonight. I’m bleeding.”
A frown tugged at his brow as he did the calculations in his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Lies. It is not due for another week.”
Your brow arched at that. “Since when have you been keeping count of my cycles?”
Aerion could feel heat rising to his cheeks by your question. Hell would freeze over before he admitted that he was anticipating your days.
Thankfully you only shrugged, and didn’t question further. “Bodies change, my prince. Perhaps yours does not, but mine does.”
You had already begun guiding him toward the door, your hands firm against his chest despite your gentle tone.
“That is not how—”
“Out,” you said sweetly, already pushing the door open. “Surely a man of your endurance can survive one night of restraint.”
The door had shut in his face before he could argue further.
The second time had been worse.
You had been furious.
Aerion had barely stepped into your chambers before you turned on him, eyes blazing, lips tight with anger.
“What have I done now?” he questioned, already bracing himself.
“You threw Aegon’s cat into the well, you brute!”
He blinked. “It was an accident—”
“An accident?” you echoed sharply, both hands on your hips. “Do cats fling themselves into wells at your command?”
“It scratched me!” he retaliated in defense, holding up his arm to show you the claw mark as if he was the more injured party. “That beast leapt at me and—!”
“You are cruel,” you snapped, turning away from him entirely. “Leave before I decide you belong in that well next.”
“Do not play with me, wife,” Aerion warned, his voice low. “Men are known to start wars when denied what they want.”
You scoffed. “Yes, I have heard all men are fools, all men are knights, and that one famous High Valyrian proverb says all men must die. Now, I am no man. But you, Aerion—”
You stepped closer, your gaze dragged over him, taking in everything from his tousled silver-gold hair to the faint scatter of freckles across his cheeks, sharp enough to cut.
He should be mad that this outrageous wife of his dared to even rebuke him— but for reasons he could not quite name, he found his pulse quickening and his throat tightening by the minute as he swallowed it down instead.
Gods, why do you look pretty when you are angry?
“You are a man, a knight, a fool… so tell me, does that mean you ought to die?”
Aerion forced himself to stand his ground, yet failing miserably. He was questioning himself and his sanity because how could he find you attractive while insulting him?
He had to leave that night too—more stunned than angered, though the frustration simmered all the same.
By the third day, Aerion was no longer certain what to make of it.
You were avoiding him. But why in the seven hells did you do so?!
The question needled at him, and so did his curiosity. Which was why he found himself before your chambers again. The door to your chambers had been carelessly left not fully shut, and he made mental note to rebuke your maid later.
Perhaps you were indeed bleeding just as you claimed you were. Although he was fairly certain you were not because he could recall that the last time you had been intimate was a day before your moon blood had come and that was not even one moon ago—
However, all his thoughts halted the moment his gaze caught you.
You stood before the long mirror, only in your lacy undergarments, still unaware of him. Your corset pressed tightly at your bosom, accentuating your figure—and the very said bosom. Your hair fell loose, and you were bereft of any rouge, just the way he liked it.
Gods, you were a sight to behold. Aerion found himself rooted where he stood, unable and unwilling to look away. He felt hot and disturbed already— imagining how soft your curves were and how pleasurable it was for him to shove himself inside you—
Your fingers traced your own form as though you were studying yourself. From the swell of your chest, down along the line of your waist, to the gentle curve of your lower belly— you seemed lost in your own quiet contemplation. Your fingers lingered there, pressing it slightly and you frowned.
You looked restless. What had troubled you? Whatever it was, he was certain he could fix it.
Aerion shifted slightly, ready at last to make his presence known, only to have the floor creak under him.
Your head snapped up and silence fell like a blade.
“…Aerion.” Your eyes had already narrowed to slits, putting both hands over your body. “Were you peeping?”
“What.” He straightened, gathering his dignity and put a show as if he intended all of it. “Is it so wrong to ogle my own wife?”
“From behind a half-open door like some skulking court fool?”
“I was ensuring your well-being.”
“With your eyes?” you shot back. “What a great pair of eyes you have.”
His violet eyes twitched. “You have been neglecting your wifely duties for long enough—”
“Consent,” you hissed, “requires two people, husband. And at present, you only have one. You have also thoroughly displeased me, so off with you.”
He barely had time to react before your hands were on him, pushing him back toward the threshold.
Aerion caught the door before it could shut, catching your gaze. “You cannot avoid me forever—”
A mocking smile touched your lips. “Watch me.”
And then the door slammed shut in his face. Aerion stared at it for a long moment, utterly still.
Three days already that he had been bested by this door!
The following day, Aerion had had enough.
He would have answers today, one way or another. This absurdity had to end now.
With that resolve, he made his way towards your chambers. But when he arrived, he found your maids gathered outside, all collectively looking at unease.
Then he heard it— soft and muffled, but it was clear that you were crying.
“Why is she in tears?” he snapped, turning to the servants, who flinched and cowered instantly, hands trembling where they clutched their skirts.
His jaw tightened when he received no answer, and without another word, he pushed past them and stepped inside. He quickly found you, and the sight that met him stilled him where he stood.
You were on the bed, shoulders shaking, your face buried in your hands as quiet sobs slipped through your fingers.
This was the first time he had seen you this mournful. Something twisted at his chest as he crossed the room in quick strides.
You were surprised with his presence, but before you could turn away, Aerion was already beside you—pulling you into him, one arm firm around your shoulders as his other hand came up to cradle the back of your head.
“Enough,” he murmured, far gentler than anything he had said these past days as he pressed you against him to offer comfort. “No more tears, wife.”
However, you seemed to have some tears to spare as you leaned into his chest. Bit by bit, your sobs softened, your breathing evening out against him until only faint sniffles remained.
“Shh,” he hushed, almost awkwardly, his palm patting your back in slow, steady motions. “That is enough.”
Aerion exhaled, glancing down at you as soon as you were calmer.
“…Alright,” he said after a moment, voice returning sharper. “Give me a name.”
You blinked, still dazed. “What?”
“A name,” he repeated, already sounding irritated on your behalf. “Who dares to make you cry? I will have him flayed and hung from the gates before sunset.”
Somehow, something in your chest warmed at his question. You knew him well enough to know that he meant every word, that he truly would rain fire and blood upon anyone who dared to wrong you—and somehow, it made your heart flutter.
“Aerion…” you murmured weakly, pulling away from him.
“Well? Who is it?”
You hesitated, then looked away, your voice quieter now. “No one has… done anything.”
His frown deepened. “Then why are you crying?”
You drew in a breath, fingers curling lightly into his sleeve.
“I thought…” you began, faltering, feeling your face heating. “I thought I was with child.”
That surprised him, his violet eyes widened by a fraction.
“I have been unwell these past few days. I thought perhaps—” You swallowed, fiddling with the hem of your dress. “So I waited out. But my moon blood came this morning, so...”
So he was right with his calculations after all!
Aerion’s hold on you did not loosen as he cleared his throat. “…I see.”
You shook your head quickly, as if to dismiss it. “It is nothing. Truly. I am likely just… taking things too personally.”
“It is not nothing,” he retorted at once.
You huffed faintly, wiping at your eyes. “It is. Everyone expects it, do they not? A royal babe—”
“So someone has said something to you. Who?”
Sometimes you cursed how sharp Aerion was regarding these things. You hesitated again, then forced it out.
“Prince Aerys made a comment.”
Aerion’s expression darkened instantly.
“He said… for all the... boldness that comes out of your mouth, it seems we cannot even manage to— well, since we haven’t conceived a child yet...”
He caught the implication almost instantly.
“He questioned my virility?” he repeated slowly, incredulity laced with offense. “Him? The man who has not managed to put a child in his own wife?”
You winced faintly, knowing this would be his reaction.
“Don’t mind me,” you murmured, looking down. “It was foolish of me to let his words affect me so. It’s just most ladies in the court always go on and on about either womanly pursuits or childrearing—”
“No.” He squinted his eyebrow. “He wouldn’t dare to question me again after tonight.”
Before you could react, he guided you back against the bed, his hands firm but not unkind as he pressed you into the mattress.
“Aerion—?”
“If it is a child you want,” he declared, his violet eyes glinted, hovering above you, “then that is what you will have.”
His hand came up, brushing stray tears from your cheek—surprisingly gentle for a man speaking of fire and punishment only moments ago.
Truthfully, he hadn’t put much thought about having children. Sure, he knew both of you would eventually, but there had never been urgency in it for him. Not when he still found himself wanting more of you.
Still, the very idea of you bearing his child enticed him now. His hand lingered at your cheek for a moment longer before drifting downwards. From the softness of your face, to the curve of your neck, until it came to rest at your waist.
The thought came unbidden— of you round, full and ripe with his child. The image settled into his mind with surprising clarity, and with it, something carnal in himself was awakened.
He surged forward, capturing your lips in a kiss.
“Mmph—” It was hunger, three days of restraint snapping all at once.
His hand tightened at your waist, pulling you flush against him as though he meant to erase whatever distance had dared exist between you. His other hand found your jaw, tilting your face just enough for him to deepen the kiss.
Your hands pressed lightly against his chest, breath uneven. “My moon blood—”
“It has been too long,” he cut in with a hiss, before devouring your lips again.
Aerion intended to make good of his word. He took his time with you, reverent in a way that was different with his usual intensity— and you were like sitting duck, a little coaxing and string of kisses and you were like a puddle for him.
A quiet, satisfied hum left him at that.
“You—” he breathed in your scent, nibbling on the skin of your neck that made you squirm, “really want this, don’t you? Worry not— will do it… until you are so full that you couldn’t walk.”
You should never fall so easily... but how could you, when your husband worshipped you and made you feel this good?
His lips and fingers trailed everywhere— sucking your breasts first, fondling them, flicking one as he took the other in his mouth. He had mastered the art of pleasures, and he was determined to lay it all on you.
And his whispers when he finally claimed you, gods—
“I—” he rasped in your ear as he thrusted into you from behind, with you squealing and trembling underneath him. “will fuck this babe into you— and everyone in the Seven Kingdoms... would know to whom you belong to.”
Your husband was maddening, insensible, sometimes treacherous too, but still, the thought of being known across the realm as his was not an unpleasant one in the slightest.
But he could be gentle too—protective in a way, however warped it might seem. And when his voice dropped low against your ear, laced with that dark, tempting sweetness, any lingering doubt within you simply faded.
“Rest assured... you will have my child within you when this night is over, sweet wife.”
the bleeding wounds of a tortured mother's womb. her honor and judgement. crucifixion and glory. two mirrors of maternal grief: the sacrifice made and its consequences
it is a SHAME we were denied any close and comforting scenes between aegon and helaena the king and queen the riders of sunfyre and dreamfyre !!!!!! i swear you cannot make me believe that they did not find comfort in each other after what happened to their baby boy !!!!!! they may not be able to communicate their feelings BUT in no scene do we get any kinda hint that aegon abuses her or that helaena dislikes him during their marriage !!!!!! no, we get “the queen is in enduring mystery” and “don’t be afraid” and them loving their beautiful children and finding joy in their presence and those babies are the product of their maybe unusual and complicated but real and existing connection !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
gummygunk
areudirty
germansingergirl
2087
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ellievsbear
