c/w- Heavy drinking, inappropriate sibling relationships, swearing, references to sex, lots of flirting, toxic/unhealthy relationships, Maekor's family is chaotic, threats of violence, Targcest, Aerion is extremely possessive of his twin
wordcount- 4,600
a/n- Clearly, I love writing dialogue. A ton of sexual tension in this one; smut in part 3. I originally wrote it altogether, but I went a bit overboard and decided it will flow better if split into two parts. Please leave a like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed!
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“He is a fool. A spineless coward, a bastard, and a stain on our family name. How dare he say no to you?” Your brother was fuming, his knuckles whitening as he strangled his goblet of wine. “You must tell father of his treachery,” Aerion declared.
It was a warm day in King’s Landing, the sun shone brightly and birds flitted in and out of the trees happily. Today, you wore a burgundy gown that was rather simple for your tastes, no frill or tulle or extravagant lacework. You felt bare without any of your jewels or adornments, a stark contrast to your twin, who was wearing a new silk tunic and his ridiculously expensive leather boots.
“Father has already attempted to wipe his hands clean of me. He told Valarr that he is expected to pay for at least half of the trip,” you inform Aerion as you sip your wine, a sweet Dornish red that reminds you of your time spent at Summerhall.
“And why is that an issue for him? He certainly has the money, seeing as he never allows for you to spend any of it,” Aerion scoffs. The two of you are lounging in the gardens, under the new orange tree. Many others stroll by, but no one bothers to greet either of you beyond a half-hearted nod. Even from a distance, they know that Aerion is angry, and no one wishes to be in his path while he is in such a state.
“He thinks the trip is too much. Too expensive, too decadent, too scandalous. And I must say brother, perhaps he is not entirely wrong. You truly asked father for a hundred gold dragons to spend on whores?” You had flipped through the entirety of Aerion’s requests after your husband had left this morning, and even you could admit that some of his ideas were rather ludicrous.
“Father knows that I am a man, a man with needs,” he tells you with a wave of his hand. “Surely you will not allow your husband to refuse you this, sister? Why did you not begin crying when he told you no?” A butterfly flies out from the tree, landing on the table. Aerion swats it away quickly, and you frown at him.
“That kind of thing does not work on Valarr, believe me when I say I have tried.” You finish the wine with a long gulp, and reach for the bottle. Your brother notices your empty cup and quickly goes to pour you more.
“Have you been allowing him to share your bed?” His question is blunt and slightly unexpected, but not without reason. Nonetheless, you flush.
“On occasion,” you admit. Aerion scowls, kicking his feet up to rest his shiny boots on a stool. You know that your twin does not like hearing about that particular aspect of your marriage, he made that much clear when you came to him with questions after your wedding night.
“Well, start doing so more frequently. You are a woman after all. Valarr wouldn’t dream of denying you after you get down on your knees and suck his cock.”
You spit out your wine, laughing at the ridiculous statement. Were it any other man you were discussing, then perhaps Aerion would be correct.
“What are you laughing at? You do know how to do that, don't you?” His tone is accusatory, his eyes darkening as if you have wronged him in one way or another.
“Of course I do! But my efforts in that department failed me as well. Valarr was not convinced by anything I said or did to him.” You reach across the table suddenly, grabbing the dagger that Aerion had been fiddling with moments ago. You flip it, examining the large rubies encrusted to the hilt. “This is nice. When did you get it?” Aerion glides his finger along the edge, pointing out to you the dragon design that has been forged into the steel.
“Yesterday, when I bought you that necklace. Whatever happened to it?” He glances at your bare neck, and you tug at your collar self-consciously.
“I sent it to be cleaned. You forgot to examine it for dust before you purchased it.” Your brother scowls, but says nothing more about the necklace.
“Well, if you cannot manage to subdue your husband, then I will be traveling to Lys on my own. Your ladies are still welcome to join me.” You are unsure if he jests, and you shove his shoulder as you grunt in frustration. He laughs at you, grabbing your wrist and holding it in the air. “I jest, sister. You will be joining me in Lys, whether your husband likes it or not.” Although he does not lay out a plan, you know Aerion well enough to know what he intends to do.
“He will not respond well to threats,” you tell your brother. He releases your hand and reaches for his wine, his eyes remaining on you as he drinks deeply.
“Valarr is not stupid; he knows a threat from you is meaningless. He will learn that I will allow nothing to stand in the way of what I want.” Aerion’s violet eyes have been lit ablaze.
“What if we extend an invitation to him? I am sure that he will feel more in control of things if he came with us,” you offer as you brush your hair behind your shoulders and reach for your wine yet again. You have already had too much to drink; you will be stumbling on the way back into the Keep. Aerion scoffs at you.
“Valarr is so boring! He would sully all of our fun and likely prevent anything truly interesting from happening.” Aerion is staring at you as if you are meant to know what he means, but all you can focus on is the way that his jaw clenches when he says your husband’s name. You stretch out your arm, squeezing his hand before tracing your fingers along your brother’s forearm. As always, his skin is hot to the touch.
“At the very least will you consider it? If all else fails and Valarr refuses to be persuaded in by other means?” You do not realize it, but your bottom lip quivers slightly and your eyes glisten as you speak to him. A tactic so often employed by you, that you have become practically unaware that you are invoking it. And it works on your brother, who lets out a reluctant sigh.
“Fine, but not before I speak to him. You underestimate my influence, sister.” And with that, he finishes the rest of the wine, his brows furrowing and posture straightening as he devises a plan.
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Some time later, Aerion leaves you in order to go bug Daeron about a borrowed chestplate that was never returned. You wait for him in the gardens, sprawled out across the grass and enjoying the feeling of the warm sun across your face as you finish off the second jug of wine. On a normal day, you would not allow yourself the pleasure of indulging so deeply, not when you know that you will have to face Valarr come suppertime. But your husband is out hawking with his father, and it is likely he will not return until late in the evening. Hours pass before you realize that your brother has no intention of returning, and you begrudgingly decide to return to your chambers.
Your journey back inside is a treacherous one, stumbling and slipping and drawing the attention of several maids, all of whom offer assistance that is quickly refused by you. When you finally reach the hall that leads to your chambers, you hear a voice calling out your name. You spin quickly, and you see that your husband has returned.
“Are you quite alright, wife?” He rushes to your side, steadying you by grabbing your waist with one arm and offering you the other one. His dark hair has been rustled by the summer winds, and his skin is tinged pink from time spent in the sun.
“Valarr. My dashing husband.” You sing his name before grabbing at his face, pulling him downwards to meet your lips in a kiss. He allows it for a second, his tongue darting out to taste you before he pulls away, frowning.
“You are drunk. Of course you are, why am I surprised? I have already told you, several times for that matter, that I will not tolerate this sort of behavior. Especially not during the middle of the day.” He steps away from you, causing you to lose your balance momentarily. You pout your lips as you reach for his shoulders to steady yourself.
“I did not expect you to return for another several hours. Aerion said that we had plenty of time.” Your words slur and your body sways back and forth. You would have been wise not to mention your brother, but you are far too inebriated to think of such things.
“So this is your brother’s doing? You would allow him to manipulate you into such a state?” You reach for Valarr’s hair, wanting to run your fingers through his silver streak, which you have always found rather fascinating. He turns his head, not allowing you the pleasure of doing so.
“We had nothing better to do! Besides, Aerion said that so long as I sobered up before you returned, then you would be none the wiser.” You giggle as you are reminded of the rather crude joke that your brother had made to go along with that statement, but Valarr does not share in your laughter. “If you were not so serious all of the time, then you would understand.” You begin to hum a tune, twirling around and causing your vision to blur slightly.
“Get inside before somebody sees you and you shame yourself,” Valarr commands. His eyes narrow and his nostrils flare, yet he does not shout at you.
“No, I do not wish to do that,” you say, pouting. Your attention has been redirected to the longsword hanging from his hips, and you reach for its pommel. Suddenly, you feel the world turn upside down as Valarr grabs you by your waist and tosses you over his shoulders. He moves quickly toward the door of your chambers, all the while you slam your fists into his back and scream at him to put you down.
Once you are inside and the door has been slammed shut behind you, Valarr bends down half-way to the ground and positions you back onto your feet. He runs his fingers through his hair, clearly distressed by your antics.
“Go lay down and sleep this off,” he points toward the bed. “Clearly, I need to have a conversation with Aerion.”
“But Valarr,” you begin to whine.
“No. Get on the bed and go to sleep, before I lose my patience with you entirely,” he tells you sternly.
“I cannot sleep in this gown, I’ll ruin the fabric!” It was partially true, although you had not been too concerned with the integrity of your dress when you were rolling around in the grass earlier. Valarr lets out a long sigh as he shakes his head.
“Fine. Come here then.” You heed his words and return to where he is standing, expecting him to forget his earlier frustrations and begin kissing you frantically in the way that you wish to kiss him. But instead he spins you by the waist, turning your back towards him as he begins to quickly unlace you. He is careful not to brush his fingers against your skin, especially as he pulls the dress off your shoulders and down past your waist. Valarr mumbles something incoherent, the only word that you catch is your brother’s name.
“There. Now, go to bed and perhaps try to ponder what has brought about this display of poor decision-making. I will speak to you at suppertime, once you are sober.” He tilts his head toward the bed, and you decide to obey. After all, your head has begun to feel light and your feet ache from the tight shoes you have been wearing. Without so much as another glance, your husband exits the room, locking the door behind him. Right before you fall into sleep, it crosses your mind that he had mentioned something about speaking to your brother….
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When you are awoken by one of your ladies maids hours later, she tells you that tonight’s supper will be a formal one. Your head throbs during the entirety of your bath, the ache not even beginning to dull until you are already dressed and your hair is being braided back into a thick circlet. You have chosen a deep purple gown cinched tightly at your waist by a decadent strand of pearls. Your father had paid a rather large sum for this one; you remembered having to feign a fit of tears in order to get him to open his pocketbook. It was a beautiful gown, your brother would tell you every time you wore it. But you had not worn it since before you had been married, and you were uncertain of what your husband would think of it.
“Would you like the sapphires tonight, Princess?” your maid asked as she presented one of your seven jewelry boxes to you. “They match your eyes quite perfectly.”
“Yes, and the diamond earrings as well. The ones shaped like raindrops,” you tell her. Those particular earrings had actually been a wedding gift from your husband, they once belonged to his grandmother he had told you. It was a rather extravagant gift, especially coming from Valarr. They were very beautiful, but you didn’t wear them often, seeing as whenever you did Aerion would taunt you for having donned “jewels of an old crone.”
Your husband had not returned, and you were considering if he was indeed angry enough with you to attend dinner dressed in his hawking outfit rather than returning to your chambers in order to don something more suitable. But you pushed the thought from your mind as you decided which shoes to wear, opting for something that would not pinch your feet in the way that the ones from earlier in the day had.
You walked to the Tower of the Hand by yourself, seeing as no guard was stationed outside of your chambers. Guards seemed to be sparse in your presence ever since your marriage, which was indeed a rather positive thing. As you turned the corner on the final corridor of your path, you spotted Aerion lingering outside of the door.
“Sister! What a beauty you are this evening!” He kissed your hand before offering you his arm. “I see that your husband is not with you. I shall escort you in.” You accepted his arm, knowing but not caring that he did not offer it out of chivalry alone. He was correct that Valarr was not with you, and you would much rather enter the room with your brother than do so alone.
Prince Baelor sat at the head of the table, your father on his right side. Your brother Daeron sat across from Matarys, Valarr’s brother. Daeron was already deep into his cups and did not bother to even glance in your direction as you entered. There were three empty seats remaining, and Aerion took his place on your father’s left, and you the one next to him. Aemon and Aegon were nowhere to be seen, likely they had been excluded due to their ages.
“Daughter! How wonderful to have you join us!” your father said as he reached past Aerion in order to kiss your hand. “Where is your son?” He turned to Baelor to ask this question, rather than directing it to you.
“Likely just delayed. I am certain he will be joining us shortly,” Baelor responded as he motioned for a servant to set down the pigeon pie she was carrying. “But I am feeling rather famished, so I believe we must begin without him.”
You took note of the fact that neither of the men bothered asking you where your husband was, but decided to say nothing. The smell of roast goose was rather strong, and you had not eaten anything since much earlier in the day. When you reached to cut yourself a slice, Aerion immediately pushed your hand out of the way and grabbed the carving knife, sawing away at the tender flesh before plating it before you. He reached for a flagon of wine, filling your glass to the brim before you could stop him.
“Thank you brother, but I believe I will stick to water tonight.” A look of shock and betrayal crept across Aerion’s face as you said this.
“Your husband is not here. Drink as much as you would like.” His tone was stern and assertive, causing your father to glance disapprovingly in his direction.
“I am still recovering from the Dornish red this morning,” you tell him under your breath. “Valarr has nothing to do with it.” This is only a partial lie, one that Aerion sees right through. Nonetheless, he chooses not to press the issue and instead pushes the wine towards Daeron, who accepts.
“You must bring me back a flask of Lyseni Red Cuvee,” Daeron tells your other brother. The mention of the Lys trip catches you by surprise, and your first reaction is to glance at your father, who is too engaged in his conversation with Baelor to notice this. You wonder if Valarr has spoken to him since last night.
“Perhaps, brother. But perhaps you should delegate that task to our sister, seeing as she has a better mind for such mundane tasks.” You frown at your twin, taken aback by his slight at you that has seemingly come out of nowhere. Aerion pays you no mind, instead choosing to fidget with a carving knife that he has stolen off the goose platter.
“Ah, speaking of Lys, when were you two planning on departing? You should leave sooner rather than later, so you will be back home before Aemon’s nameday. And I will expect to see you in the lists this year Daeron, it is high time you earned yourself a knighthood.” Your father speaks to you at first, before turning to face Daeron for the last bit. Your elder brother forces a smile to his face as he raises his glass in a mock-toast, but you catch the look of disgust that he hides as soon as his face is turned away from your father.
“Father, I believe that my beautiful sister has a question that she means to ask you. Something regarding additional funds for our trip.” You swiftly kick Aerion in the shins, and he responds by grabbing at the outside of your thigh, harshly pinching it. You yelp, but only Daeron seems to notice this, as you bite down on your lip to stifle any further noises as Aerion’s nails dig into your flesh.
“Yes, father. Aerion and I have decided we want Daeron to come with us. We will require more money,” you put rather bluntly. Both of your brothers turn to you in shock, as that is something that neither of them seem to like the idea of. Your father lets out a long sigh as he presses his palm against his forehead.
“Let us not discuss money during supper, dearest. It is rather improper,”Maekar says as he turns his head toward Baelor with a knowing glance. You take this moment of distraction to reach underneath the table in an attempt to pry Aerion’s hand off of you, but the sudden movement causes your elbow to bump into his wine glass and spill its contents across the table.
This sets off a chain of events that leads to the carving knife crashing to the floor, inches away from your father’s foot. He begins shouting at Aerion, who is now shouting at Daeron, who is in turn shouting at you. Baleor is shouting at Matarys to move from his seat before spilt wine soaks his sleeve, and the servants are shouting at each other as they attempt to clean up the spills. No one notices that Valarr has entered the room, not until he loudly clears his throat.
“Apologies for my lateness, family. I was rather caught up in my work.” He makes no mention of the chaos that he has walked in on, and instead chooses to ruffle his younger brother’s hair before crossing over to where you are seated. Valarr looks to you, then to Aerion, whose hand has thankfully lost its hold on your thigh during the shouting match.
“Aerion, you are in my seat.” His voice is calm as his eyes trail to you once again, taking in your purple gown that he has yet to see you wear.
“Is it not a son’s place to sit beside his father?” Aerion counters lightly, although his expression is anything but.
“It is a husband’s place to sit next to his wife. You appear to be seated next to mine.” Aerion is glaring at Valarr now, but you instead look to Daeron, hopeful that he might say something, anything to ease the tension between the two. He offers you a shrug rather than the words you were hoping for.
“Someone had to keep her company while you were gone,” Aerion states as he cracks open a large walnut with the hilt of his knife.
“Have you already forgotten the conversation we had just hours ago? The one in which we discussed the extent of which you have been keeping company with my wife?” Valarr’s speech is poised and perfect and only slightly threatening, but you see that Aerion’s jaw has begun to clench in the way it always does right before he does something stupid.
“Brother…” you start, but are interrupted by the loud noise of your brother stabbing his knife into the table.
“No. I was here first!” He declares loudly.
“Gods Aerion! Everything must be such a spectacle with you! Go sit with your cousin and brother and relieve me of this headache you are causing!” Your father shouts at him. Aerion falters for a moment but eventually decides to obey, pulling his knife out slowly and causing the wood to splinter. His eyes do not leave yours as he crosses the room to take his place in between Matarys and Daeron. Had he not thrown you under the rug about Lys just moments ago, then you might have actually sided with him in this scenario.
Baelor clears the awkward silence by beginning to speak to Daeron about jousting, and Valarr slides into the now-empty seat at your side. He brings his head close to yours and speaks to you in a whisper as he adjusts the tablecloth to cover Aerion’s damage to the mahogany.
“Have you recovered from your indulgent afternoon?”
“When did you speak to my brother?” You ask him rather than answering. He also chooses not to answer, instead asking Matarys about his studies. You look at Aerion in hopes that his face will reveal something to you, but he is still sulking about being told to move seats.
The rest of the meal continues rather peacefully, with no more mentions of Lys or loud quarrels between your family members. Only the older men at the table speak directly to you, neither your twin and your husband address you for quite some time. Dessert is served, a rich chocolate cake and glasses of chilled sweet wine. Valarr does not offer you the wine, but he does cut a piece of cake and set it in front of you.
“She doesn’t like that kind. Never has,” Aerion remarks loudly, his mouth full as he speaks. You pull the slice of cake closer to you and take up your dessert fork in response.
“I have grown rather fond of chocolate these last few months,” you tell him as you take a rather large bite. A lie, and Aerion knows it.
“Liar, liar, liar,” he sings as he smacks Daeron’s hand away; they had both reached for the same flute of wine. “You are such a liar sometimes sister. Tell me cousin, does she lie to you with such ease as well?”
“She has,” Valarr says. ”Usually in an attempt to protect your honor, Aerion. But she won’t be doing that anymore, not after the conversation we had last night. Isn’t that right, my darling?” His callback to what transpired in your bed chambers the night prior makes you flush rather deeply. Aerion is too busy glaring at Valarr to notice this, but Daeron’s uncomfortable expression leads you to believe that he has an inkling as to what your husband references.
“Hmm, interesting. I have always known my sister to be rather good at getting what she wants. I would imagine that she is a better liar than you think,” Aerion counters.
“Your dress is quite nice. Rather vibrant color,” Daeron interjects in an attempt to change the conversation. His efforts fall flat in a way that you are sure he did not intend as Valarr speaks up.
“Yes, it is very beautiful. Tell me my love, wherever did you get the funds to have such a dress made? I certainly cannot remember approving such an extravagant purchase,” Valarr questions as he traces his fingers across your sleeve, speaking to you but looking at Aerion.
“Ah, do not fret, nephew! That one came at the behest of my account, nearly six moons ago if I remember correctly. But you are right in guessing that it was very costly,” your father interjects. You are surprised that he remembers this, but thankful for his interference nonetheless. “Pray that The Seven bless you with many sons; daughters are a great deal more expensive!” He laughs and you smile lovingly at him. You are certain that Aerion’s indulgences are just as, if not more costly than yours, but now does not seem an apt time to mention it.
“Well, seeing as we are on the topic of expenses…” Aerion starts as you feel his boot suddenly collide with your calf underneath the table. You recoil, and Valarr shoots you a look of concern.
“Are you feeling quite well?” He asks and you quickly nod your head.
“Supper is over now and we never finished our earlier conversation about…” Aerion speaks over Valarr and it is quite obvious that he means to bring up Lys once again. Your brother has unknowingly offered you a way out of this conversation by kicking you, you realize as you turn to face Valarr.
“Actually, no, I feel very ill. I wish to retire now,” you tell him hurriedly. You figure that if you can leave the room now, Aerion will not ruin your plan of convincing Valarr privately. “Brother, would you escort me back to my chambers?” You ask the question in an attempt to re-direct Aerion, not realizing that you have slighted your husband by doing so.
“That is not necessary,” Valarr says as he quickly stands. “I will go with you.” He says his goodbyes to his father and brother as you look to Aerion once again, who swiftly gets up and crosses to your side of the table. You expect him to do something to push back against Valarr, but it appears that he has another idea in mind. He embraces you, pulling your ear up to his lips.
“Seduce him. Go back to your chambers and strip naked and do whatever you must to entice him, but do not let him fuck you until he agrees to the trip. Do not fail us, sister.” His words are hot against your skin and send tingles down your spine. Valarr gives Aerion a disapproving look as he wraps an arm around your waist and guides you away from him. Aerion smirks madly as you walk away, his eyes flickering with wickedness as you exit the room with your husband.
Like any northern man Cregan is hard minde. If he sets his mind on something it will happen and there is no one to change his mind. The same way if he says something, everyone better listen to him. Well that was before you, his wife, came into his life. It’s safe to say Cregan is smitten for his wife. Even if he doesn’t admit it to himself, as soon as he saw you, he knew he’d do anything you asked him to and that he could never say ‘no’ to you.
Now here he is, standing outside as he watched you kneeling in the freshly snowed ground “no we cannot keep it” he states in hopes that you will agree with him and let it go. “But it has nowhere to go and look it has already taken liking to me” you argue as you continue do coddle the little direwolf pup you found wandering around. “Sweetheart I said no”. Which earns him a glare as you turn your back at him.
After few long minutes of silence Cregan sighs wearily and speaks up “fine we can keep it”. Because in the end he will always say ‘yes’ to you, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Bf's brother daeron who is completely drunk when he first meets you, it's at a family reunion and he's had far too many.
Bf's brother daeron who has to bite his tongue when he sees you sitting on aerion's lap. It's just not fair, what has aerion done to deserve someone so sweet and beautiful and naive as you?
Bf's brother daeron who spends every hour of every waking day staring at your Instagram, tiktok, Facebook, everything. He needs to know you if he's gonna be your brother in law!
Bf's brother daeron who is constantly touching you, whether it's a slight graze on your arm or a hug when you come over for dinner.
Bf's brother daeron who stares at you while you're around, he knows it pisses aerion off and that's what makes it better.
Bf's brother daeron who threatens aerion into giving him your number, he claims it's for emergencies but aerion has never been stupid.
Bf's brother daeron who strokes himself to videos of you that aerion had posted, it's gross and he knows it..but he can't help himself :(
Bf's brother daeron who thinks ur the most beautiful person in the world and literally stops watching porn becuz he can't touch himself without thinking of u
Bf's brother daeron who gets drunk another night and finally makes his move, it's amazing and he wants needs more. He craves it.
Bf's brother daeron who throws a FIT when aerion says he can't be around you anymore. To the point where he begs his dad to make some moves with your family.
Bf's brother daeron who kisses away every pretty tear on ur face when u hear that your father has created a business deal with the Targaryens which involves u and him getting married!
