Charlotte @sw0zzle - Tumblr Blog

Aug 6

AND I SHALL BE WHAT YOU NEED—Aerion Targaryen

Aerion Taragryen x younger!sister!reader

content: No one had ever quite taken care of you, after blaming you for what happened to your mother, but big brother Aerion is here now promising he will take care of you.

words: 3.1k

cw: targcest!!, mention of smut, violence, co-dependent situationship, mommy issues, daddy issues, both are fucked, based off this, but some details have been changed, unspecified age gap (reader is nineteen and Aerion is older), reader is described to look exactly like Dyanna, but now descriptions are ever used (Plus we don’t really know what Dyanna looks like)

a/n: idek how I feel about this

You had spent ten named days in King’s Landing. Ten years watching as Maekar could not look at your face for too long or that could not function on your name days. Aerion’s harsh glares, hissed whispers of his obvious disdain for you or how even kind Aemon could not meet your eyes.

It was not a celebration of life to your family, it was a reminder of the loss. Of the life you had taken to make your entrance into the world. It was a wound that felt as if it was being pressed into year after year.

It was what led to your name day being forgotten almost every year like clock work, and those who did remember it did not make it seem like a grand affair. There were no feasts, nor tourneys, or even more than a present from Daeron.

It was not a shock to herself that a fortnight after your tenth nameday you were told you were going to ward with your mother’s family. You didn’t even think Maekar did it in malice. It was a simple fact that you were a reminder of loss, a reminder of death, and worse of all the reminder of what they all have to live without.

Now almost nine and ten as you approached King’s Landing for the first time in close to nine years you were sure they would all trade you in to get her back, without hesitation. You did not know much about her. Only small stories that Daeron and Daella would tell you. Now she at least had Dyanna’s family retelling of you from her younger days, but for almost two decades she belonged to the Dragon House.

But as if the Gods had not punished you enough, but merely given existence rather than her. You were now told how much you resembled her. Everything was her, eyes, nose, mouth, and even down to height.

You were her mirror, and the closer you got back to your home, the more it began to gnaw at you, because you could imagine their reactions. Other than the letters from Daeron and Daella, and the once yearly from Maekar, no one had truly kept in contact with you, and that was when they couldn’t see you. Now you imagined they would want nothing to do with you, not that you looked like her.

The wheel house came to a stop as did you breathing. You could hear the clanking of armour moving to open the door for her as you stood slightly, your legs trembling as you stepped out. You kept a close look on Maekar’s face watching as his mouth opened slightly.

You swallowed, moving forward slightly, and before you could even react. Your father was in front of you pulling into his chest, as his body shook slightly as he held you tightly to his chest, “I am so glad you are home,” he admitted, but you did not answer, because you were not sure she was glad to be home.

Everyone is different from you now. Gazes lingering when they thought you weren’t looking. Aerion was the only one who stared obviously. He stared at you across the table every night, with something you could not place in his eyes.

Which put you even more on edge, because though he seemed distant the look in his eyes had changed. He did not stare at her in disdain, with his teeth barred and venom dripping from his mouth. He was quiet, withdrawn, and always kept his eyes on her.

You did not fully understand it until one night. You lounged on the love seat, a book propped open on your lap as you heard the door open. You turned slightly, but tensed when she saw Aerion in the doorway. “Aerion,” you greeted, and he immediately went forward.

He moved the book for a moment, his head moving to your lap, as he curled into himself on the couch before handing you back the book. You stared down at him a minute blinking, “Read to me,” he whispered. It was not a command, but not a request either. It sounded awful coming from his throat, and you would have performed violence to the softness.

You did as you were told, reading to him, as he directed your hand to his silver locks running through it as he closed his eyes, moving into your touch, causing your heart beat to pick up. Aerion was violent, he was volatile, and this was not him.

But what if it was, a voice screamed. Before the loss of her. And then the pieces all started to pull together. He was pretending you were her. You started to read and now even a moment later the compliments started to flow. The praise that you so lacked, and with the silver hair you thought for a moment.

You could be what he needed.

He could be what you needed.

“I am going to make everything alright for you. I am going to make you happy here and that way you won’t leave me again,” he told you, once your eyes had begun to droop.

You did not know exactly what he was referencing. If it was the fact that you felt unwanted here or even neglected, there was something eerie about his words. An edge that could turn to a blade at the drop of a hair, but mayhaps that is what caused you to feel a warmth spread inside you.

He was going to take care of you.

Someone for once was going to be there for you.

“I am just happy here with you,” and though a few days prior it would have been a lie. You weren’t sure it was at this moment, because you believed him. He was going to take care of you, like no one else had before.

And looking back on it this would be when you realized you had made the very bed you would be forced to lay in, but even years later you were still sure you would do the very same.

Your back was to the door when you heard it open. It was late. Much too late for anyone to be coming into your room unannounced. You sat up slightly, the sheets pooling at your waist as your eyebrows drew together in confusion, “Aerion?” you questioned.

“I could not sleep without you any longer, little dove,” he told you, sliding in beside you.

Your body let him guide you, laying back down. It instantly recognized his hands as they pulled you back into his chest, his hands splaying across your belly, causing something to stir inside you.

“We will get in trouble if we are discovered,” you whispered.

“Shh. You already know I would never let anything happen to you. I will take care of you,” he reminded you of the words you already knew. The ones that had driven themself cracking open your ribs and taking their place with your heart without any real say from you.

This was wrong.

But why did it feel so nice it was wrong? Why did you feel a warmth spreading through you as he held you so carefully like you were glass? It was not wrong. This was Aerion and he was going to take care of you, right?

He was what you needed. He was always exactly what you needed over these last few weeks, and right now you needed him. You needed him to continue to hold you, and take care of you so instead of fighting it. You pushed down the voices in your head, and turned toward him.

He let you. As his hands moved, tangling through your hair as he held you, before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “Aerion,” you whispered, thinking of something from earlier in the day.

He hummed tiredly, keeping his eyes closed, “One of the knights made a crude remark about me earlier,” you told him.

You knew you shouldn't have, and you would always know you should keep things from him, because he was Aerion. His methods did not reflect the proper ways of doing things, but you wanted to test him.

To see if his words truly matched his actions.

Would he take care of you?

Would he do anything for you? Gods you hoped so. Despite how sick and twisted you once would have thought it. You wanted to see how far he would go. If you were truly his. If he truly meant everything he said about making sure you were taken care of.

You just wanted someone, anyone to take care of you, and that was the problem wasn’t it. You wanted from him what you lack. And he was there willingly with open arms being exactly what you needed.

Just like you were to him.

His eye instantly shot open and you could see the violet orbs clearing despite the lack of light. It was as if the fire that burned through him currently ill-terminated them as they bore into you, “Who?”

“I do not know his name,” you answered, honestly, “He is my age I believe with red hair, he’s smaller, and he is often following Yorkell around,” you described.

You watched your brother’s jaw set tight, and though you did not know what was going through his mind you weren’t sure you wanted to. At your very core you knew Aerion, especially now. He was unpredictable.

‘Aerion,” you whispered, once more. It was as if you had broken a trance, his eyes clearing as he looked down at you.

He moved cupping the side of your face, before leaning forward pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, “I will take care of it,” he assured, “Now sleep, little dove. I am here and nothing shall hurt you now.”

You nodded before snuggling back into him, stealing his warmth as you closed your eyes letting sleep take you as you found comfort in the monster blissfully ignorant of the quiet storm of his mind.

And he took care of it. Just like he had promised, because he was going to make sure you were happy. Because you were his now. Though you did not quite fully understand the lengths he would go to just yet.

But you would.

Family dinner was never anything spectacular. It wasn’t anything in what you assumed it was supposed to be. How it would be if your mother was still alive. You mainly all sat eating in silence. Daeron half drunkenly passed out on the table as you all avoided Maekar’s gaze.

Tonight it was set solely on you though, and it had begun to make your skin crawl. His eyes would slowly scan over every feature of your face before taking a bite of his mood and then repeating the action once more.

Your eyes kept looking at Aerion, who now sat across from you every night. You had asked him why this change one evening and he said it was to have a better view of you. The comment made your heart flutter, and every time you glanced at him you remembered it.

A blush spreading to your cheeks causing you to look down fighting a smile. Then you heard the call of your name from the head of the table causing you to turn toward your father.

“I have been talking with the King…and he believes to have found you the perfect match for a betrothal."

You stared at him blinking for a moment, and you did not dare to glance across from you, because you could already feel it. The burning rage that felt as if it was seeping into you.

It felt as if it was your rage instead of his own. Mayhaps it was. Mayhaps you had already been connected sewn together by a blessing from the Gods of what you had already known.

“What?” you asked, eyes wide as your silverware clattered against your plate. You could feel the tears gathering in your eyes. You did not want to marry a stranger. You did not want to leave Summerhall, after just having gotten back.

You did not want to leave Aerion. No you could not leave Aerion. You would die without him. Your life would be a series of agony as he was a part of you now. He was your heart and soul. He was everything.

“He will be here in a fortnight to meet you and to make the announcement,” your father told you, his tone was clipped, but something close to guilt shined in his eyes.

You stared at him a moment, your gaze going hazy as your mouth hung wide. You pushed yourself away from your seat ignoring the calling of your name as you ran toward your chambers.

You moved to slam the door, but a hand reached out intercepting it, causing you to turn with frantic eyes meeting the violet orbs.

“Aerion,” you breathed out something close to relief.

“Oh, my little dove,” he cooed, noticing the tears gathering in your eyes. He pushed the pair of you into the room, closing the door behind him. You missed the sliding of the bolt, your head buried in his chest letting out a loud sob.

“He is going to send me away!” you cried, your hand clutching his doublet trying to keep him there. To keep you grounded. To keep you tethered to him.

His hands moved gently, running themselves through your hair softly. They were always much too gentle to you Especially for the violence and pain they were capable of causing, but not with you. Never with you.

“Say those words, little dove,” he whispered to you. HIs hands moved, pulling you away from his chest, forcing you to meet his eyes.

You instantly knew exactly what he meant. Say the words and he would take care of it. Though you imagined he would anyway.

He needed you just as much as you needed him. The lines of where he stopped, and he began long having fading into each.

You were nothing without Aerion.

He was everything.

You hiccupped slightly holding his gaze,”Take care of me. Please. Please fix this for me,” you pleaded. You would have dropped down to your knees shamelessly kissing his feet, but you did not have to stoop that far tonight at least.

He nodded, smiling at you. One that used to put you on edge, but now brought you nothing but life, “I will take care of you, my little dove. Let me make this alright,” he whispered, his hands moving to the ties of your dress causing you to nod. “Let me have you.”

“I am already yours,” you told him, and that was all that needed to be said, before your clothes were being stripped from your body. You were bare before him, not only in clothing, but your soul. You were his. Everything about you was his and this was only solidifying that.

He was so gentle that night. It would not last forever, but that was okay. You would learn to adapt, because you would be all he ever needed. Just as he would be all you needed.

He was perfect.

He was yours.

And he would take care of you just like he had promised.

You could not even remember the Hightower's name. Something with a G. Mayhaps Gamund? Gwayne? Gerald?

It did not truly matter. Not really. Aerion was going to take care of it, and you trusted him. You were surprised he had made it through the walls of Summerhall let alone a whole feast.

He had sent you to your chambers directly after a remark the man had made. Something innocent about your beauty, but it had rubbed Aerion the wrong way causing him to send you off.

Now you sat waiting. Your mind is constantly trying to conjure what he could possibly be doing to handle this, but you had learned long ago that Aerion was never predictable.

You heard your door open, and your body instantly recognized that you could feel his presence in the room with you. It was the first time in days that you felt at peace since the Hightower’s had arrived.

You finally turned, immediately on your feet, but you stopped noticing Aerion’s hand. The gentle ones that held you covered in red that you knew to be blood.

Your eyes moved from his violet orbs. They shined with something you couldn’t quite place, but it resembled something eerily close to what he looked like chasing his own pleasure the other day.

He enjoyed this. He thrived in whatever violence he had brought upon the man you had been set to marry.

And worse of all, that thought did not scare you.

Because he had done it FOR you.

He had taken care of you. Just like he promised. Like no one else had ever done, but him.

He watched you carefully. Your eyes guided back to his hands once more as you tilted your head, “You took care of it?” you asked, voice steady lacking any fear.

He grinned, widely, proudly. He knew you were perfect for him. You could handle the violence of him. He wondered now if he could even provoke some violence from you.

“You took care of it?” you asked, but you knew the answer. You wanted to hear him confirm he made good on his promise. That he would continue to make good on his promise.

“I took care of it…” he smirked, his eyes scanning over you, causing you to smile too. “I promised I would take care of you. I intend to make good on that promise.”

“Then do not let them separate us, ever,” you pleaded, moving toward him, closing the space in between you, as it did not deserve to resist. Anything that dared to keep you apart did not deserve to exist.

“I shall be all you ever need,” he took a step forward, his bloodied hands cradling your face. You should have pulled away. You should have been disgusted, but he held you so gently, causing you to nuzzle further into his touch, “I will take care of you. I will not let anyone rip you from me. Not again.”

His hands moved from your face down to your belly, as they rested over your womb . He left a stain of blood on the cloth like the stain of ruin that had spread through you, “And I will make it so that he can not even dare separate us. Not now. Not ever.”

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