war & leisure

rhaegar, rhaegar, rhaegar.

[starryharps]

masterlist

aeri | she/her

who i write for: open to all, currently working on rhaegar fics.

disclaimer: i am an adult! minors & ageless blogs, dni!

rhaegar targaryen

series: heartlines

summary: a collection of moments navigating their story. reader is of house arryn.

tags: angst, fluff, smut.

part one, heartlines: the veil of love, read on ao3 or tumblr

drabbles/oneshots

wildflowers (smut): tumblr / ao3

requests are: open, only taking for rhaegar and jaime atm!

[shripscapi]

The queen wore a high-collared black silk gown, with a hundred dark red rubies sewn into her bodice, covering her from neck to bosom. They were cut in the shape of teardrops, as if the queen were weeping blood.

[sycamorality]

i will never be normal about The Character. hope this helps 💖

[starryharps]

twow: 28th november

[starryharps]

wildflowers

pairing: rhaegar targaryen/ reader

summary: they fuck in a forest, what more do you want

word count: 1,509

tags: smut. fluff

read on ao3 | masterlist

The brook’s tattering breaks your mid-afternoon daze, with the sunlight chiding your vision as you sit quietly under the impossibly huge tree.

Rhaegar is picking flowers nearby, his harp resting against the bark of another tree. Beautiful thing, it is, to watch him strum those strings, how nimble his fingers look as they dance across the harp, how it plucks and pulls, and-

Gods. Your ears flush red.

What a sinful thought.

You bring your knees together, resting your head over the heavy robes.

For another day.

You hear Rhaegar’s boots become louder and louder, padding gently across the grass before he sits next to you.

Wildflowers. He bought wildflowers.

“Quite a collection,” you remarked.

He hummed, holding some of them in his hands. White, yellow, green, all beautiful and dainty small things.

“Do you know, you can make tea from them.”  he starts, “read it in a maester’s scrolls.”

“You can make tea from almost any flower or leaf if you dry and roast them enough.”

He gazes at you, unimpressed.

“Smartass.”

You chuckled, “logic.”

The prince watches you pick the pennyroyals up.

“Intriguing, you found these here.” You remark.

“Figured you’d appreciate the selection, for you keep collecting flowers.” Referring to your apothecary.

“Oh, so it is not for making flower crowns?”

“I do not know how to make them.”

“Why not?”

Confusion colors him, “What do you mean why not?”

“You’re bookish to a fault, thought you’d know how to make flower crowns to charm ladies.”

“I do not read such books.”

“Explain me tales of the wench and the sailor on your shelf then?”

He sputters, looking away.

“That was a gift.”

“Certain. Boys and their collection of literary erotica they swear to the seven they have never read, but forget to take out the glaring red bookmark.”

He calls out your name, indigant.

“This is unladylike.”

“I thought we dropped court formalities when we entered these forests.”

“This conversation has turned indecent.” Rhaegar quickly picks up the harp, playing it, you notice the heat on his cheeks and smirk.

He pretends to not notice you crawl slightly towards him, playing his harp.

“What crown prince would ever be caught reading naughty tales of a wench covered in flowers,”

Rhaegar’s hand shakes, and the harp’s tune wavers. You reach his shoulder and slightly move the long hair behind his ear as you whisper.

“as she gets deflowered by a dashing Essosi sailor-“

His breath hitches.

“How unbecoming of a noble to read such a debauched work.”

“Y-you.”

His indigo eyes are so beautiful as they lace in fear and arousal.

“Tell me, which one did you imagine yourself as? The sailor?” You hook your finger on the collar of his tunic.

Rhaegar shakes quietly, his harp sounding like a cacophony of nerves. You admire the small braids in his hair. He’s inlaid them with ruby pins.

“Or perhaps, the wench?” You whisper, putting his harp away.

He starts, your name, leaving his lips as he sighs.

You crawl on top of him, straddling his lap, smiling sweetly.

“Hmm?”

You don’t wait for him to reply, tilting your head to meet your lips against his plush ones.

Rhaegar is on fire. you are certain, His blood heats up at your touch as you sense him descend further and further into the kiss. He’s so open, desperate, and wanting. His red and black robes bristle and rustle against the grass as he moans out and squirms. You press down further as his hands find your waist.

He’s a sight, red flushed against his pale skin, indigo eyes staring at you, mesmerized, and glossy-lipped. The forest behind him. From this angle, he looks every bit of a wench from the novels you have seen him read in his chambers in privacy.

You rock your hips, and he groans. The fabric creates a barrier that somehow intensifies the pleasure rather than inhibiting it.

“You even moan like one.” You open button down his tunic and toss out his robes. The sunlight kissing his pale skin, you watch the flush travel to his lithe chest.

Hands travel down his naked body, your digits toying with his nipples. They look so supple, hard, and slightly puffed. A wicked idea takes over you.

“How does it feel?” gently squeezing his nipple.

Rhaegar throws his head back. “Tickles.”

“Ah,t.” He groans as you rub circles gently with both of your hands on each nipple.

He bucks his hips up.

“Ah…”

“Sensitive?’

He moans.

“Want me to continue?”

He stutters out a barely coherent, please.

You take him in your mouth. The foreign feel of his soft, round nipples gives you pleasure as you suckle them, quietly flicking.

Rhaegar has stilled, only gasps of his breath reverberate in the forest.

You stay attacking his chest, languid as your tongue latches on him, messy and mean in its sucking. Payback for what he does to you.

His hand reaches your back, digging into your hips as he mewls loudly, unable to stop as you rock your hips against his while playing with his chest.

“Please, please.” His repeats your name like a prayer. Bucking his hips up like an animal in heat.

“If you had a cunt and a womb, I promise you, you would’ve never walked a day without it being swollen.” Rhaegar nods, fervent.

“N-never, I would-“

“Do you wish it?” Your movements become quicker, the squelching noises sending pleasure down your spine.

“I do, gods, I would carry, I would-“

“How many?”

“As many- until I”

“Until your feet hurt and you stay debauched, swollen, and needy for me, every night?”

You see tears prick rhaegar’s eyes, he’s close.

“I’d never let you touch the moon tea. Ever.”

“N-never.”  He groans as you halt your movement.

“Off.” You command, referencing his breeches.

He complies quickly, sitting up to kiss you as his cock springs out.

You smirk at the length, the rosy color making it look almost endearing.

“Might wear robes of this color tomorrow.”

Despite his arousal, rhaegar manages to smile.

“I’d be most pleased to see it.”

Touching his chin, “filthy.” You remark.

“Let me touch you.”

“Not today.”

Rhaegar frowns.

“Why?”

“Today I wish to ride.”

He gasps as you toss him down to the grass. His naked body, covered his bruises, shivering slightly at the contact.

“Then so be it.” He whispers to no one.

You quickly rid yourself of your small clothes, making sure you remain nude as well, and straddle him, sinking down and groaning, both of you turning blank at the pleasure that overtakes.

“Fucking hell.”

“Move....” Rhaegar has his hand over his eyes, his other hand between his lips, he’s red like a cherry, and the sun makes the sweat on his body shimmer like gold as he shakes and quivers with every move you make on top of him.

You grab both of his hands and place it next to his head, lacing your fingers together as you tilt towards him, your breasts swollen and stopping just by his lips.

“Suck.” You instruct, and descend your breast into his mouth. Eyes rolling back at the heat that engulfs your nipple, your movements turning animalistic.

Heaven was so hot it felt like the flames of hell. As if the fourteen flames have bloomed within you. The heat of the sun, his mouth, his cock, your cunt. The sweet music of your moans intermixing, it was too much, too fucking much.

Your knees buckled after a few moments and Rhaegar sat up immediately, holding you and kissing you mercilessly as you rode him in his lap, almost growling and tearing into his hair, ruffling it up and scratching his back with your other hand at the feeling of his hands all over you, pressing down at your belly.

With a loud moan and a whimper, the two of you collided and met your high, stilling amidst your kiss as you felt each other release in each other, quietly mumbling each other’s names.

You felt him drip down your legs. Soaking in the pleasure, you open your eyes to see him and gasp at the beauty that is Rhaegar Targaryen. His eyes were blown wide open, pretty white lashes and red face, messy hair, and his pouty lips, begging to kiss you more and more.

The two of you just looked at each other, and then, a chuckle left you at the same time.

“We are animals.” He starts as he lies down, with you climbing on his chest.

“Indeed. Two pretty animals mating in the wild.” You begin putting flowers in his hair. daffodils, forget-me-nots, heliotropes, and tulips.

He hums.

“No one else I’d rather mate with.”

“Not even your harp?”

He laughs.

“The poor thing’s probably traumatized by now, the things we do, the filth we speak.” He glances at the harp resting quietly below the tree, long forgotten.

“Rhae?”

“Hmm?”

“Pick up some tansy when we leave, I need to brew the tea.”

He blushes furiously, nodding as the breeze picks up.

[starryharps]

the veil of love

pairing: rhaegar targaryen/ arryn! reader

summary: rhaegar visits an old flame at the eyrie, determined to do things right this time.

word count: 2,741

part of: heartlines series

tags: angst with a happy ending (smut, fluff in later parts)

a/n: prefacing this by saying that this is a nonlinear series titled "heartlines", many questions about the reader and the nature of her relationship with rhaegar will be subsequently answered. but I will say, the next chapter is smut. haha.

read on ao3 | masterlist |

there was a storm picking up, the prince noted as he cursed his way into the journey across the narrow bridges that connected the formidable fortress of the vale.

you were situated in the last tower of the eyrie, according to jon arryn. the most isolated one of it all. rhaegar grimaced at its height as he entered the reception hall, nodding to the ladies in waiting. the climb towards the top of the tower proved to be endless, but he found himself in front of a grand door of mahogany regardless.

how will you react? will you smile kindly on him, eyes sparkling upon seeing your lover after four years? or would you throw a shoe at him, cursing whatever is left of his scant bloodline and hoping he falls through the moon door? or would you do nothing, ignoring his presence like you always did when he teased your inability to play the harp or when he read a couple of chapters of the romance novel you shared in advance?

his cheeks flushed slightly at the memory, remembering how you once asked him to act out a few scenes with him. oh, the things you had teased out of him.

rhaegar shook his head.

he knocked.

the door creaked on its own, almost inviting him in. he could swear he heard the sounds of pages turning. you were most likely reading, he inferred. the ivory light crept in his vision as he opened the door fully, taking in the blue chambers cloistered at the top of the tower, and gasped at the regality of it.

blue so dark, it was indigo. everywhere. constellations drawn on every bit of the ceiling stretching up and up and up, to the cosmic hand-painted tapestries and scattered paintings, a few left to dry. there were instruments of all types scattered in an organized manner: telescopes, vials, maps, and books. gods above, so many books were pouring out of the shelves. by the glowing white canopy bed was a giant glass-stained window that refracted a rainbow of lights. rhaegar could hear the echoes of the strong wind howling. he marveled at the strength of the glass to hold up at such an altitude.

his eyes shifted to the corner of the room, where a window lay open, and there, in all your glory, alive and breathing, you sat. clad in arryn blue, reading a book, the wind kissing your cheeks as you leaned by the window.

he looks at you. you’ve paled a bit in these unforgiving heights, there’s a certain sense of unease in him as he notes your figure hidden by the loose robes. you’ve thinned out, there’s a lack of something in you that he can’t quite pinpoint.

you raise your eyes at him and quietly lock in a staring contest with the prince regent of the seven kingdoms.

the winds howled louder.

neither of you speaks, rhaegar stands by the door. gripping it like a terrified child, he wants to run to you, do ablutions, prostate, and beg. but your aura is one of quiet lethality. he could do angry, he could do sad, he could do hysterical….but he couldn’t do….whatever this was…an air of nothingness that seemed to emanate from you.

“your grace.” he winced. it was always rhae.

he held back his tongue. watching you put a bookmark and close what you were reading.

“what brings his grace to the eyrie?” he hates this. he hates the tone. the lack of musicality and mirth in your voice. how you would harmonize with his vocals and run around, laughing as he took in the happy tones he wanted to drown in, those memories being one of the few things he remembered from his otherwise somber childhood.

he calls out your name, unable to stop the wavering in his mouth, and takes a shy step forward, boots clacking against the smooth marble. gods, you were so close, just within his reach.

you depart from the reading nest, shuffling towards the solar of the room, and put your hands in front of yourself, almost protective.

“i came…to see you.” rhaegar exhaled.

“there was no need to your grace. i am well. a letter would’ve done. you needn’t climb the eyrie for me.”

he quietly put his sword to the table in front of him, and walked closer. “i had to. letters wouldn’t be able to do justice to what i wished to say.”

he met her questioning gaze, restraining himself from slipping further into them, but the task seemed more and more so arduous.

“you…you fled. that night.” he watched as you took interest in the sword at your table.

“my family had to return sooner or later.”

“lord arryn and his retinue were to embark within a month, yet you rode out on horseback weeks in advance, vanished into the vale…left the palace within hours.”

“the vale cannot be left alone for long.”

rhaegar pressed on, frustrated. “no,” “the royce and lord arryn’s fostered wards were present at the eyrie. you fled. you ran away.” you left me.

he watched you watch the window.

“there was nothing left for me there, in that palace.”

“i was there.”

“the prince of dragonstone was there. but rhaegar wasn’t. to be wed to elia of dorne. for political purposes. with zero fight from the groom-to-be. despite the court knowing he had a lover of three years lurking right next to him as the deal was finalized by the king.”

rhaegar recoiled at the jab, it was as if dragonglass pierced him straight into his heart. the iron tones of your voice hammering him, wounding his chest at the cruel remark.

“n-no.”

“you promised me. underneath the star showers to be mine. you told me over and over in the kingswood, by the waterfalls that i am yours. that we would run hand in hand by the grasslands together, plucking fruit and making play endlessly. rule the realm with peace and prosperity, rebuild the peace your father had ruined brick by brick with me by your side. our song of sky and the dragon.

there is no emotion but a hollowed loss in your voice as you continued, “for years. you promised me. for years of this endless winter, i thought a spring of our love would bloom and i would vow myself to you till the end of my days. you said you were mine. i thought you were mine.”

rhaegar felt tears prick his eyes, he breathed deeply.

“i…” he took your name again. “politics..”

then, rage seethed in your icy gaze.

“politics?” you scoff. “you wish to lecture me on politics? your match was political, yes. but let me remind you dorne is already on good terms with westeros. the alliances with house dayne, yronwood and martells were strong regardless and were stable. viserys showed an interest in doran’s daughter from a young age itself when she had visited. what does the vale lack that the dorne has for us to be cast aside over and over in alliances? your king demands of our warriors but won’t wed one of his kin despite openly knowing that his son has been besotted with jon arryn’s niece for years!”

“you know the girl is weak, you know she is frail! i doubt she’ll be able to handle a child, leave the poor girl alone, let her be in dorne. grant her this mercy. you rejected the tyrell match, the dayne match, the blackwood match, yet you accepted the martell match. but why couldn’t you for once in your life grow a spine and run after the one thing you have claimed to love more than your god forsaken prophecy for once? let me suffer in her place, I am begging you, let me burn with you."

“my father will murder you!” he spoke out, frantic.

“and you’ll let somebody else take in my place?” i gasp out. “are you that cruel your grace?”

“i was trying to protect you.”

“you’re shit at protecting things.”

“from him.” his voice cracked “from myself.”

“..what?”

“the prophecy.”

“shut the fuck up.”

his eyes blazed. “listen to me!”

“no!”

“i didn’t want you to be part of my suffering!”

you gawked at him.

“tread carefully.”

rhaegar put his hands up, breathing deeply before he continued. 

“i didn’t want to hurt you.” rhaegar was on his knees by now, holding your blue robes.

“i know how i can get. i know it. i know i would’ve forced you into a life you didn’t want.”

“so just scurry me to the side under the garb of care, an awfully easy excuse.”

a flash of irritation crossed rhaegar’s face. “you do not understand, the prophecy-“

“your ego is as magnanimous as the oily black stones that make the citadel. your entire sense of self is trapped within the five lines you read when you were a boy and made to believe it was for you and only you. the only time you feel ease with the shadows of your mind is when you take points of your life and bend them to fit the narrative of the eight thousand year old prophecy in a language you don’t even speak properly. did you ever stop to think how many in the past have tried the same? how many of them believe themselves to be azor ahai?”

your chest was rising up and down like a madman as you seethed. “the only time you stood up for yourself and not the identity of the prince who was promised was when you kissed me for the first time near the godswood. i threw a wrench in your plans by existing. and you were frightened by the way we completed each other. perhaps you loved me for a bit, but ultimately you kept me to bide your time with me for three years until you found a suitable match for yourself and sire three heads of a dragon who will save the world and be this all powerful messiah while you overthrow your father.”

“you are a selfish, spineless, cowardly prick of-“ rhaegar didn’t let you finish the sentence, grappling your knees and knocking you down to the myrish carpets, holding you close to him. he smelled like lilac and gooseberries.

“you weren’t a wrench,” he muttered, refusing to let go.

“and i never used you to bide my time until a, so you say, better match came up.” you sighed.

“i swear on my honor. i love you. i didn’t use you. we learned to walk together, played together, i watched you lose teeth and you saw mine, we studied together. hunted together. played as king and queen in the godswood. can a seven-year-old plot that early?”

“i know i hurt you. i know it was stupid of me to agree to that arrangement in front of you. i humiliated you. i should’ve said something. but i had plans.” he shuddered. “we…we were planning on rallying dornish support to remove the king. i intended to…take over.”

“and what does dorne have the vale doesn’t? one word from you and uncle would’ve descended our knights.”

“i didn’t have a choice…the king was set on a dornish alliance, i was merely trying to make the best of a situation. i would’ve joined the vale’s support had..had the match not been forced on me.”

putting the palm to your head. “and then?”

“i…i turned to you, only to see your face, you, you were so distraught, i….followed you, but you were gone. and i didn’t hear from you for months.” his voice broke.

“everybody told me you accepted the match happily and chatted with her.”

rhaegar had tears in his eyes. “poor elia. the…the emotions she’s seen of me. i ..i cried to her. pleaded to her and oberyn. please. to do something. they know about you. they were uncomfortable with aerys as elia’s father in law too. they convinced doran to withdraw the offer but aerys was resolute in watching the match go forth.”

rhaegar continued, “so i….i did the unthinkable.”

your heart dropped. this idiot.

“...what did you do?” 

“i broke it off.” he murmured to the floor. “i couldn’t do it. wrote to all the lords. citing my intentions for the throne. many responded…then, i ran.”

you stilled, aghast.

“did you…don’t tell me…did you start a rebellion against the crown?”

he nodded slowly.

you felt the earth shift under your feet.

what in the seven fucking hells is wrong with you? you wanted to scream.

“why?” you asked instead.

he responded, feverishly. “he burns people to death. he upsets century-long relations. he hurts my mother. he exiles my guard. he sabotages my relationships. the lords are stewing, ready to overthrow, i can’t keep seeing this. i can’t keep watching this.”

“please. besides this, i did for you. i do not want to live out my life without you by my side.”

“-but your prophecy.”

he shut his eyes, as if in pain.

“i,” he takes a deep breath, as if his lungs are shattered with glass. “heeded. to what you said. i lulled on it…when you were gone. i heard your ballads and songs…i….realised that in the quest for a future that may or may not exist, i failed to see the beauty that surrounded me in the very present moment.”

he gathers himself as he continues, “prophecies…may be true, and they mostly come true when one steers clears of them. i remembered this as i recalled everything that i’ve chased at the end has run away from me..unlike things that hold onto me for far too long when i haven’t been paying attention.” he looks at you, smiling softly.

he breathes, burying his face into your lap, “i came to the realization, after years of being away from you that, even if the prophecy doesn’t come true, i won’t base my existence off it anymore, i would, do what the realm needs me to, be a good ruler, and assure happiness..make song and love, and hope of being loved in return by the one i want.”

rhaegar notices you take his hand, and he quivers, as he continues.

he kisses your hand.

“i have come to ask you for your hand in marriage. not just as the future king of the seven kingdoms who would have the privilege of a lifetime to have you as his queen. but as the rhaegar you grew up with and made flower crowns with. who watched me play the harp over and over till my fingers bled, carved stars within the wood of the same. who snuck in food in my satchel when i disappeared to summerhall. who dreamed of running away to lys or pentos with you when all of this is over for a long vacation.”

silence. silence greets him. you seem frozen to him, looking at him with pensive eyes and a neutral face.

he softly calls out the name he had given you, indigo eyes wide, and sad, yet tinged with hope, of longing.

slowly, your face broke. it began with the eyes, slowly melting like a glacier, joining the sea of emotions that colored your face red with tears as you shook. rhaegar couldn’t help himself, his tears followed as you grabbed your robe your free hand, sobbing into your other.

he put his head in your lap, feeling your hands run across his silver-white hair, remembering how often you used to do it those nights in his chambers. and he let himself cry.

he called out your name weakly, “…please.”

you kicked him slightly, muttering a “of course i would, you fool.” before taking him in your embrace, the two of you crying within each others arms as the storm picked up.

“of course i will. i have loved you since for as long as i could remember. how could i deny you? how could i ever say no to you?”

rhaegar chuckled wetly. his dourness subsided a little as he relished in your warmth.

“i don’t have much of good memories, and despite them being only a handful, i know that, my happiness begins and ends in the shape of your face, written in the tongue of your soul.”

the winds rattle the eyrie once more.

[starryharps]

hello tumblr, i finally decided to make a blog for game of thrones/asoiaf self inserts. i’ve been a book stan since 2010!

i’ll be more than happy to write one shots for the most characters but currently im going to focus on rhaegar and jaime for a bit because they are my main loves.

if you’d like to request a fic, drop by the the ask box (: . otherwise don’t mind me just yapping my imagines in this little corner i have made for myself.

i will however not write underage, non con, large age gaps, and incest. thank you ✨