He desired the look, not the love
Aerion Targaryen x Blackfyre Reader
synopsis: With the entire Blackfyre family slain, exiled or forgotten, Daemon Blackfyre’s daughter is forced into a life she had never quite foreseen for herself.
word count: 3,370
warnings: timeline is not canon compliant, aerion does not have violet eyes in this fic he has blue (this is important to the fic), female reader, blackfyre reader with valyrian features described, topics of being a bastard, reader is working in a pleasure-house, talks + themes of ongoing prostitution, blackfyre x targaryen (targcest??), slight brief smut (spitting included?), mentions of pregnancy + having a child (reader), unconventional relationship dynamics, aerion - YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT AND MEDIA THAT YOU CHOOSE TO CONSUME
DISCLAIMER: All themes, plot, images used in general and characters from A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms + elsewhere belong to the rightful owners, I hold no rights to the original media - but my writing belongs to me.
℘
Your family were slain, put down in the third and final Blackfyre rebellion, those that were not slain were exiled to the free cities forbidden from returning to Westeros. You were sold to the pleasure-house, an untouched girl of age and Valyrian blood regardless of parental bastardy was a rare find.
The madame of the pleasure-house was a kind lady, she valued her girls and kept her prices high, if you could not afford one of her girls then you could not touch them. She would not be berated, if she said your coin was not accepted in her house then your coin was not accepted. This was what forced her pleasure-house to take high standings within the street of silk, causing it to only be frequented by wealthy noblemen, and royalty.
Every girl had her own room and board, many of the girls there were like yourself- born as a true born daughter yet the family fell, to now from disgraced families forced to sell their bodies in exchange for survival. The world was cruel, to girls most of all. Low-born to high-born some all bore the same fate. Women in Westeros who could not afford to survive alone in the world had few choices, marriage if you were still susceptible, which many were not. Being a servant to a higher family, yet many would not take in girls from disgraced families for fear of harbouring a traitor. Or selling your body to the street of silk, a fate more and more seemed to be falling to these days.
Your room was pleasant at most, warm stone wrapped around it, windows encased by pillars allowing you a high overview of the city. Your mattress resided on the floor, multiple thin sheets of red and gold lay over it, warm pillows scattered at the head as similar rugs and cushions adorned the floor also. It was nice, the madame of your pleasurehouse provided comfort, not just stable living. The house itself was vast, at the top of the street overlooking the many lesser that passed down the road. It signalled status, something the others seemed to lack. But at the end of the day you were all the same, working to survive. You were just fortunate your survival held more comfort than others because your name still meant something, even if it was so unpleasant.
Your appearance meant you were reserved for the highest bidders or now more frequently, Princes. The Targaryens were known for desiring their women that were reflections of themselves, and Aerion Brightflame was no exception to this rule. He had been your first and only customer for the three moons you had worked in the pleasure-house. He had ordered the madame keep you for his desires only, and with such persuasive coin it was stupid to turn down a Prince of the blood. Whilst he was callous, and cruel, and more rough than gentle, you had to endure no one but him. And for that it made it worth the price you paid.
A dress of lilac silk fell over your skin, matching your eyes and enhancing the natural beauty that you so effortlessly possessed. You did not understand why Aerion came to you. He found it infuriating how effortlessly you captured the epitome of Valyrian beauty. Your hair, your eyes, your figure. Wasted on a common whore, he had said. But if you were such a common whore you would not be reserved for his touch only. He did not know the origins of your birth, and he seemingly did not care, he had presumed you the bastard of a distant relative- learning the truth seemingly did not worry him.
“That colour washes you out.” He bit, eyes lashing over you top to bottom. Ir was a blatant lie and he knew it, yet he didn’t want you to be brought any comfort in his presence, he liked to remind you that you may look more the part than him, but in this world you were lesser. And you always would be. “If you say so, my Prince.” You smiled, the violet shawl hanging low over the backs of your arms as you clutched it. He snarled, “Do not give me lip, do not forget your place.” His hands grasped roughly at the softness of your hips as he pulled you closer, burying his face in the flush of your navel. He muttered something you did not quite hear, your hand coming to brush back the stray silver strands of the infamous Targaryen hair that crowned him. “I was not giving you lip my Prince I was agreeing with you.”
“Your agreement is still insolence because you know it will wind me up.” He grit out, nose stabbing into your stomach before he took the violet cloth between his teeth and pulled, catching some of your skin and causing you to yelp at the pinch, pulling away slightly. “Did I say you could move, wench?”
“You hurt me.”
“And you are paid to endure it.”
You frowned, untwining your fingers from his ever growing hair. It was not the short it once had been, now it hung toward his shoulders, the shorter strands that had once made his fringe framing his jaw which made him look so entirely ethereal. Had there not been such an ever burning fire behind his icy eyes he may have been the picture of obscure innocence, but as the hunger burned his mouth ever sought to release it. Kind words were few and far between, he seemingly did not recognise when he was being so callous toward you, not understand why you recoiled from him when he was gentler with you than he ever was to anyone else. “I am, my Prince.” You nodded, though now at a gentle distance that felt firmer than he desired. “You forget yourself. You are too comfortable, you should never get comfortable, lest not in a place such as this.” Eyebrow raised he almost frowned in thought, catching himself before allowing it, causing the corner of his mouth to twitch downwards ever so slightly. “You said I should not fear you.” You refuted as his hand clasped around your wrist to pull you back impossibly closer, “And you should never take a man’s word as truth. You work in a pleasure house and you still believe the lies of man? Are you so utterly dense?”
“I am paid to agree with you my Prince.”
“Speak freely, but tread carefully.” He warned, drawing your eyes to level as he stared into the mauve abyss of your own. He watched your eyes with the intensity as if merely looking at them would draw the colour to bleed out, until there was nothing there but ash grey. It would be easier to look at you, he thought. Eyes that do not mirror what he so desires could not be taken as such an insult. “Agreeing with you is the safest option. You said you would never hurt me yet you do it accidentally almost every time you visit. My word is my only protection, and truth.” An explanation that fell wildly on deaf ears, for the Prince before you had become entranced by the movements of your lips and lifted himself to kiss you hungrily, before pulling you back down to the bed on top of him. “You told me to speak my Prince.”
“And now I am telling you to shut up, think you can do that just fine for me?” He snarled, biting your lower lip and drawing blood, which he sucked at feverishly. You did not respond, for he was not looking for one. If it was silence he wished for he would get it on a silver platter, as he got everything. He turned your bodies so that yours became trapped beneath his own, the thin silk of your gown pulled free from your body as your skin prickled and adjusted to the cool air. His lips were not kind but they were merciful, there was a certain lack of teeth, something he usually used prominently in all forms of pleasure yet not this night. He lowered his head to suckle at your chest, taking your nipple between his lips as his hand massaged the soft fat around it. His teeth brushed gently against the wetness he had created but he did not injure, he lapped and suckled as though milk would come from his touch alone. You knew it would not, yet you allowed him to act as though it would. You pulled gently at the hairs at the nape of his neck, light sweet moans escaping your lips in motion but not in sound. If he wanted silence, he would have it, and enjoy it.
“You are being silent.”
“You asked me to shut up, my Prince.”
“I did. Why you listened is beyond my understanding that’s for certain.” He scoffed, turning his attention to leaving red blooming marks up the trail from your collarbone to the dip behind your ear. “Don’t give me the exaggeration of a common whore, just let me hear what I am doing to you without need for forcing it.”
He had lowered his breeches, his cock stood intimidating, in both length and width. You felt the blunt brush of his tip prying at your entrance until only that was inside of you. It was breathless, but still a sound that satisfied him as your eyes screwed shut, he smirked at the notion. “That’s it angel, open that mouth for me.” And you did, not intentionally, it was as if he had commentated your actions. You tasted his spit before you realised he had even done it, yet you swallowed with a groan as he bottomed out inside of you. “Taking me so well my little angel, such a good girl for your Prince aren’t you.”
“Always.” You nodded absentmindedly in agreement, too overtaken by the raw feel of him inside of you to even think anything otherwise. He laughed lightly, before his tongue tangled enticingly with yours, his cock now pummelling into you with brutal force, knocking the breath from you causing an uncontrolled squeak to escape your throat into his mouth. He did not relent, he was ruthless in his need, and you did not correct him as such, not when it felt so good.
℘
A daughter. She resembled her Father entirely too well for a man who knew nothing of her existence for two, nearly three, years since you left. Daena, forever doomed to be the reminder of your last meeting. Having learned of your pregnancy early you had taken all the gold that you possessed and cut your ties with the pleasure-house. You would raise no child in such a place, you would survive with what you had and find other ways to continue in such a world.
Aerion had never known her, nor known of the fact you were with child. You knew what he likely would have done, he would have been uninvolved anyway. You had made a new life for yourself in Lys and he had made no effort to learn of it, why would he, you were a common whore to him. Yet the gold you had earned from the pleasure-house, having only served him he had always been more than generous with what he gave you. You worked as a bar maid in an old sailor’s establishment. The common passersby were nothing more than sailors and merchants, you had regulars who knew your kindness well and offered you a subtle protection against those who did not frequent the place and often sought you may be an easy fuck. Yet still, you had led with no man but Aerion and you intended to keep it that way for your own sake.
You lived in the only room above the establishment, the owner himself lived only down the road. Bronn was nice enough, you always ate for free as did your daughter. He was an older man with no kin of his own, a beard greying and so long it near tickled his chest with eyes that spoke more kindness than any words ever could, so in turn treated you as if you were his own, a notion you gratefully appreciated. You took care of the pub, and its customers, he hung around to mingle and check the quality of the ale served, though you suspected he just had a taste for it which you teased him endlessly for.
Life as you now knew it, was good. The pleasure-house had been nothing but a slightly unpleasant stepping stone to what was now your greatest gift. You felt blessed to live such a life of plenty. It wasn’t regal or rich, but it was full of love, not desire, and that was all that you needed.
“Mummy you’re laying on my toy!” Daena protested, you did not share a double bed, she had her own in another room in the small apartment, yet she found herself bundled up in your sheets near every night. You could never truly deny something so perfect, so you gave her all she wanted that you could provide. “Oh I am sorry my sweet.” You replied, amusement lacing your tone as you rolled over, allowing her to clasp the small wooden figure in her little fist and yank it out of the way as you led back down. Her hair was silver gold, with a distinct curl to it that embraced Aerion’s in nature, his eyes mirrored one of her own, with the other being entirely yours. She was perfect. Even with the current monstrosity of bed head that she had that was entirely you.
“Would you like to go walk on the beach?” You asked, brushing the stray curls from her face as she nodded. “Will Bronn come!” You laughed lightly before shaking your head, “No my sweet, Bronn has to work remember.”
“Oh. I remember Mummy I didn’t forget!” She protested as you pressed a kiss to her nose before wrangling her out of bed upside down as she fell into fits of giggles.
When you were both up and dressed after many more giggles, and some play fighting in the form of a hair comb as a sword, you wandered along the shoreline, basking in the morning sun as Daena ran along the sand in front of you. “Chase me Mummy!” She called, little feet kicking up the sand as she toddled, wobbling every so often. You complied with her ask, a tunic and trousers meant you were much more agile in chasing down your daughter as she cried out with excitement.
It was only once you returned to the pub you felt something in the air shift. Bronn met you at the door, a solemn expression. “Why don’t I take my favourite little Princess upstairs to play a game of knights and dragons?” He feigned cheerfulness that did not quite reach his eyes, it unnerved you. “Mummy can we!” Daena pleaded, mismatched eyes practically boring into your own, how could you ever deny her? “Of course my sweet, that would be nice.” She had already clambered within your arms to his in seconds. “You haven’t opened the pub?” You questioned, despite trying to peak over his shoulder Bronn continued to block your view. “It will remain closed.” He spoke, “Upon the request of a princeling.” Your mouth fell open lightly as the realisation hit you, Daena pulled at Bronn’s rather excessive beard lightly, “Come on Bronn we must go play!”
“Of course my little Princess! Away we go.” With a final warning look he disappeared inside and up the immediate set of stairs to your apartment, as you waited aimlessly in the now open doorway. Gathering yourself as best you could, you checked yourself over lightly before swinging the oaken door shut behind you, stepping into the sunlit chamber of the bar.
Aerion Brightflame was the last face you expected, you had come to Lys of all isle’s because he had often spoke of despising the place, with it having been his place of unchosen exile and abandonment he had little fond memories of it. Yet here he sat in one of the crappy chairs of the rundown bar, his hair was relatively the same, if not a little longer. He had a scar along his cheekbone likely from his participation in shutting down a Greyjoy rebellion, the news of such an uprising reached even Lys due to their coastal standpoint.
“My Prince.”
“You left me.”
You clenched your eyes shut, you had never been able to forget his voice yet now it sounded entirely foreign to your ears. He sounded tiresome, worn down by duties and blood.
“I did not think you would know.”
“That I fathered a Blackfyre bastard? Your old Madame spoke of the news, that you had taken your gold and fled to a place unknown, women like yourself only do that for one reason. To protect something they think will be taken.” Aerion was a difficult man to predict, despite having known him relatively well even now you could not work out the indication of his tone, it made him all the more unnerving. He stood, feet knocking against the cobblestone as he stepped before you, he was not overly tall yet he was well built and strong, something you had favoured in bed but not favoured should he ever use it against you. “What exactly did you think I was going to do to you?”
“You had a distaste for my family, you did not know my true nature. You could have forced me to do anything.”
“Yet I would not.”
“And how was I supposed to know that?”
“You weren’t. We were supposed to talk about it.” The disappointment rang true, and you hated it. You had tried to predict him yet again and predicted incorrectly, leading to the outcome that was this. While you had been living in happiness, he had been in despair, an emotion so unbecoming of him it had riddled him entirely unnerved. “And how would that conversation have gone my Prince? With you making me rid myself of her? Or you taking her from me? There was no instance there in which our situation ended with us together and happy.” You held strong, tone only wavering slightly yet the uncertainty was present enough that he picked up on it enough for his mouth to twitch into a smirk. He shook his head nonetheless, eyeing you gently. “You look good. The sun has made you shine.”
“You are not here to talk about me.”
“I came here to find you, and ask you to return with me.”
“You cannot take me as your wife.” You argued, to which he shook his head. “No, I cannot. But I can keep you close, fed and safe. And that should be enough. It is a mercy you do not deserve but I am willing.”
“It is not necessary. I suggest you get back on your ship and return to Kings Landing my Prince, I have nothing further for you here.” Your shoes had become an interesting sight to you seemingly, gazing down at them to almost forget that the man you once shared a bed with so intimately was now the stranger stood entirely too close to you. “You have my child.”
“You have not raised her, she is mine.”
“She shares as much my blood as she does yours. You never gave me the chance.”
“Because I did not wish for her to be a bastard in your courts! I wanted my little girl to know nothing but love, that is all she knows and has known! You wish for me to return her to that rotting place so that you alone can spend an hour with her a week? No. I forbid it.”
“You forbid nothing. Your word means nothing. You will return with her or she will return without you. The choice remains yours. You have until sunrise to make the correct decision, my angel.” He brushed your shoulder as he passed, knocking you gently before he left out the door, leaving you entirely frozen in place as you realise you truly did have no choice, and you could no longer run from your past.
A/N: i apologise for shitty writing and dialogue and kind of plot idrk what this is i had no motivation and just kind of tried to stick with this but it’s been in the works for a few days. anyway, as always: requests are open, likes, comments, reblogs and any interactions at all are always always appreciated. take care everyone!!
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