Fem!Aerion as the only princess of the bloodline. Male Daella and Rhae (let’s call them Daelor and Rhaegar, for example). Absolute hyper-fixation and spoiling from the family towards Aerea (Aerion) as the only girl.
She wants to train in swordsmanship with her brothers? We’ll find the best masters-at-arms and the most comfortable custom armor. She believes she’s a dragon? She’s a Targaryen; of course, she’s a dragon. She broke a visiting lord’s arm? He deserved it. Maybe he was bothering her.
And the whole family turns into literal dragons the moment they even glance at poor soul who look at her.
Some female puppeteer mocks the family history and a giant vagabond protects her? Scourge them both!
Can you imagine the potential? Mama Bear Maekar would be the absolute cherry on top.
Valarr sandwiched between Daeron and Aerion. Aerion fucking his ass and Daeron fucking his cunt and Valarr moaning for them and begging for more and crying out when Aerion roughs him up
Daeron telling his brother to be gentle with their pretty cousin. Aerion smirking, telling him that Valarr likes it when Aerion is rough with him
Daeron kissing Valarr's face and patting his hair and holding his hips gently as he thrusts into him, praising Valarr, telling him how good he's being, how well he's taking them both
Aerion biting Valarr's neck and shoulders, his nails digging into Valarr's waist, leaving bloody marks behind both with his teeth and his nails, marking Valarr, wanting to brand him. Fucking him harshly and fast and hard, liking the way Valarr whines with every thrust
Daeron pulling out before he cums because he doesn't want to make a mess and make Valarr uncomfortable, kissing Valarr's forehead and thanking him for making him cum "Such a pretty little hole you are for us. Thank you, baby."
Aerion coming inside him because he likes the thought of a part of him being left inside Valarr for hours after they're done, whispering in Valarr's ear that he better not clean himself up "I want you walking around with my cum dripping down your legs. Want you to remember who you belong to."
Daeron and Aerion make out over Valarr's shoulder afterwards. Letting Valarr enjoy the show as he catches his breath
Description: A young doctor, Angelie, was living a dream life in Paris—until a sudden accident tore her from it and cast her into the world of A Song of Ice and Fire. Born with extraordinary medical knowledge, will she become the thread that rewrites fate itself—or princes’s obsession will slowly destroy her?
Genre: romcom, reincarnation, slow-burn, smut, violent, angst to comfort, many love interest ( MC is a real mess )
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
i.
“Dunk? Where’ve you been? I thought I was lost!”
“Sorry, Angelie. I went to see—ah, never mind. They’re letting me ride in the tourney.”
Dunk could not hide his excitement.
“That’s sick.”
“Oh… I’m not sick, Angelie.”
“I mean—it’s impressive. Sick in a good way.”
You patted Dunk’s shoulder.
“Now you’ll need proper armor. Not that farmer’s strap you call a sword-belt.”
At that, his mood visibly dimmed. You didn’t need to ask to know it was a matter of coin.
A wild idea struck you, and you turned to Dunk with a bright smile.
“Don’t worry, Dunk. I’ll make sure you have the finest armor in all of Ashford.”
“Huh? You don’t have to do that—”
Before the young giant could finish, you were already darting off into the woods, calling back over your shoulder—
“I’ll be back late tonight!”
ii.
“Heave! Heave!”
Cheers erupted around them as Dunk, the towering man, used his immense strength to drag the opposing team across the line.
Egg was even hanging off the rope, his whole body lifted off the ground.
“He could’ve been a professional rugby player in another life,” you remarked, taking a bite of a sweet apple.
The green apple boy hadn’t been exaggerating; the apples really were that fresh and delicious.
“We won! We won, Angelie!!”
Egg threw his arms around Dunk in celebration, then yanked you into a tight group hug, making both you and the big man slightly flushed.
iii.
You drifted through the merchants’ jewelry stalls, where necklaces were crafted with exquisite detail from gemstone and gold, shimmered beneath the sunlight.
“Red one will look good on you. It suits your eyes color”
The young girl hesitated between the rows of earrings on display. She turned to you in suprise
“You think so? My father would have me in blue, it looks more proper, more fitting for a lady.”
“My dad always wanted me to keep my hair long—said it looked better for the family image. I just cut it short like a boy anyway.”
You let out a small chuckle. “Apologizing after is always easier than asking for permission first.”
The girl seemed rather taken with your words. She reached for one of the earrings and smiled brightly
“ I’ll buy the blue one.”
An armored man stepped up behind the two of you, lowering his head as he addressed the little girl in a quiet voice.
“My lady, it is time you returned.”
The young girl hesitated, her eyes lingering on you with quiet reluctance, before she finally nodded to the guard. “I hope we’ll meet again. I truly enjoyed talking to you“
“Certainly! Angelie, nice to meet you”
“My name is Gwin. You’ve probably heard of me.”
How could you not?
The whole tourney has been in honor of her nameday. People in Tiktok even joked that you were the one who set off the chain of tragedies in the story—just in jest, of course. You think she is more pitiful.
iv.
A lone figure figure made his way through the foul-smelling streets of Ashford, wrinkling his nose as he pulled his cloak up to shield himself from the prying eyes of lurking rats.
He stopped in a narrow alley.
“Next time you’re late, I’ll be charging you for the wait.”
“Where is this?”
“100 coins. Don’t try to bargain… I already turned away two guys before you.”
“Clever little mouse, aren’t you. “The man clicked his tongue in impatience and shoved a heavy pouch of coins into your hand.
“Don’t use too much, or they won’t last long enough to matter. One vial per person—give it time between doses” You reminded him, handing over a tray packed with small, gleaming vials.
“The soldiers need it to forget wars that should’ve been buried. Funny thing—they call it ‘peaceful sleep.’ First one they’ve had in a long while”
You exhaled softly. How deeply those blood-soaked wars had haunted even the toughest men.
“If the drug causes problems, bring them to me. Same place.”
The man gave a short nod and disappeared down the street. You stayed in the alley for a moment longer…
You’d noticed that the forests around here were crawling with wild henbane — heavy with scopolamine, a sedative strong enough to dull the mind and blur the edges of reality. In small doses, it wasn’t enough to addict.
Your smartass couldn’t let such an easy chance to make money slip away
You are selling drug
Yeah you are selling the fucking drug
This kind of work that would get you jailed immediately—your name erased from every hospital record overnight. Still… in a free world like this, who’s there to stop you from becoming a young millionaire?
v.
The joust took place late at night, with crowds gathering so densely that the venue was completely packed. Everyone wanted to witness the young princes and knights from across the Seven Kingdoms fighting in the lists.
The air felt heavy, as the crowd held its breath in uneasy silence, all eyes fixed ahead, waiting for the horn.
“Lord Ashford fucked a sheep”
A brave man shouted, breaking the silence and drawing loud laughter from the common while Lord Ashford sit awkwardly among the gathered nobility.
You and Egg managed to wriggle toward the railing to get a better view, while Dunk struggled behind you as his large frame squeeze through the crowded space.
FWOOOSH!!!
The horn finally sounded. All the knights spurred their horses forward, lances leveled as they charged straight at their opponents.
The crowd went wild when the first riders fell from their horse. The roar of excitement sweeping through the stands like a wave.
“Get up,man!!”
“End it!!”
You could feel your heart pounding as fast as the hooves of warhorses thundering across the field.
You had never been fond of violence
Egg was so excited he even climbed up onto the railing, while Dunk was amazed in his place.
“Squire! Lance”
The squires quickly replaced the knights’ broken lances, and they wheeled around for a second pass of the joust.
At the fourth round, only the strongest knights remained, while the defeated lay sprawled across the ground, their bodies battered and broken.
The crowd showed no sign of cooling; they roared on, demanding more bloodshed
You were growing sleepy, so you tugged at Dunk’s sleeve, seeking his attention.
“I’m tired. Can we go back?”
“Of course, come-“
“Ser Osmond has stopped breathing! Get a Maester—quick!”
The guard’s shout cut through the roar of the arena, drawing the crowd’s attention.
Ser Osmond, an older knight, lay motionless on the cold stone floor. His armor had been removed, revealing a deep stabbing wound between his ribs. The squire rushed to his side in panic, so overwhelmed he was in tears.
“Please! Save him”
You observed silently. The fatal wound to the side may have penetrated deeply, damaging the lung and causing a pneumothorax or hemothorax within the chest cavity.
Blood could be accumulating inside the body more than it is spilling out, making his condition increasingly critical with each passing minute.
The Maester came to check Ser Osmond’s breathing carefully, his gaze falling on the gaping, torn wound, then he slowly shook his head.
“He won’t survive.”
A surge of panic swept through the crowd, the earlier excitement dissolving into grieving as people leaned forward, straining to see the unfortunate knight.
The maester ‘s aged hands gripping tightly around the shaft of the lance, ready to pull it out himself
No-No-No!!
Fuck! He’s gonna die immediately
“Don’t!!”
You shouted
“Do not pull it out!! It is the only thing keeping him alive”
You forced your way through the railing and ran toward the injured man.
In this close distance, Ser Osmond looked even worse. He had fallen from his horse and landed face-down, and now his face was turning a dark shade of purple as his chest rose and fell weakly
“Turn him over!” you reached out to the man. “Help me get him face-up. He needs to breathe.”
The old Maester grabbed your arm, his face twisted in frustration.
“What do you think you’re doing, woman? Ser Osmond’s life is not something to be toyed with.”
“No life here is to be toyed with!” you shot back. “Ser Osmond is dying. If you pull the lance out and not clamp the artery properly, he’ll bleed out in seconds, and he won’t last a minute”
His brows creased deeply, his voice sharp with exasperation. It was almost as if the knight’s life mattered less to him than his own pride, wounded by a common girl.
“Stop talking nonsense! I’m pulling it out myself!”
“YOU-“
“Please! She’s a healer!”
Dunk called out urgently, having followed behind you as you charged toward the knight like a mad man
“A common healer holds no place here,”
“And your intent is to murder him” you shoved the Maester aside in anger.
“You little—”
"Silence!"
The commanding voice of Prince Baelor Targaryen hushed the entire crowd at one. He remained above, observing all that had transpired.
Dunk looked up at him with steady resolve, and perhaps it was that unwavering conviction in the kind-hearted man’s eyes that made the Hand of the King make his own decision.
“Let’s the girl do it.”
“Baelor, She’s just a mere common-” Maekar muttered quietly
“If Ser Osmond dies, she will be charged with treason.”
Baelor’s declaration sent a surge of apprehension through the smallfolk.
Dunk froze, slowly turning to look at you.
“Angelie-“
“I agree! A life for a life”
You received a slight nod from Baelor. No longer hesitation, you rolled the knight onto his back with the help of Dunk.
You opened the Maester’s leather satchel, ignoring his protests.
Inside was chaos disguised as order—linen bandages stiff with dried wine, iron forceps darkened with age, a curved blade wrapped in cloth, and small vials of crushed herbs that clinked faintly as you moved them aside. The scent of alcohol and bitter plants rose sharply into the air.
“Dunk—hold his shoulders. Don’t let him move.”
Dunk hesitated for only a heartbeat before obeying, planting his large hands firmly to keep Ser Osmond’s body from shifting.
The knight was face-up now, his skin ashen, lips faintly tinged with blue.
“Breathing is failing,” you muttered. “We don’t have time.”
Your eyes locked onto the lance.
It jutted from his chest at an ugly angle
Suddenly, everything around you felt distant. The joust. The knights with their horses. The shouting. Even Dunk’s presence faded into background noise.
Only the patient remained.
You pressed a folded linen cloth hard around the entry wound, sealing what you could.
“Keep pressure here,” you ordered Dunk.
Then you looked up.
“We pull it wrong, he dies instantly”
“On my mark.”
Dunk tightened his grip.
The Maester opened his mouth again, but Baelor’s voice cut through the tension behind you.
“Save your life, little woman.”
Silence snapped into place.
You placed both hands around the shaft of the lance. Cold iron and blood-slick wood.
You exhaled once.
“Now.”
You pulled as the lance came free in a single brutal motion.
For a fraction of a second, nothing happened. Then blood surged fast and uncontrolledly
Red splattered across your pale face and the dress you were wearing, staining the fabric in violent streaks. The lance itself was still slick, clinging with torn flesh and the remnants of destroyed organs.
The sight was horrific enough to make most women turn away. Even the hardiest of men grimaced, a wave of nausea twisting in their stomachs,
“Pressure!” you shouted.
Dunk slammed both hands down, compressing the wound with all his strength. Linen soaked instantly, turning heavy and warm.
“Wine,” you snapped at the Maester
The Maester froze for half a heartbeat, then thrust a vial forward. You poured it directly onto the wound, the sharp scent cutting through the air.
Ser Osmond’s chest stuttered.
A weak gasp.
Then another.
“Still breathing”
“Not enough”
You said, already wrapping fresh linen around his torso, binding tightly, forcing the chest to hold what life remained inside.
“Hold him down,” you ordered. “He’s slipping.”
Dunk leaned in, voice low and steady now. “Stay with us, Ser.”
The knight’s breath came again, slowly ragged and broken
Behind you, the crowd was completely silent.
“He survived”
The knight’s young squire broke down at the sight, his composure shattering completely—and with him, the crowd erupted into chaos.
"How could.. the woman do that?"
"He was nearly dead"
Everything inside your mind felt eerily quiet. You looked down at your blood-covered hands, then at your hair stuck with blood, and your white clothes soaked through in red.
Wake up, sweetheart…
The familiar sound pierced through your mind.
Your heart hammered against your ribs, so fast it hurt to breathe. You opened your mouth, dragging in air in shallow.
Then, it all came rushing back.
The previous life’s accident. The impact. The sickening moment your body met force it was never meant to endure. Pain exploded through your memory as if it were happening again, your vision collapsing into fragments of light and darkness.
A sharp, electric jolt seized your chest. Your heart stuttered as though it had been struck all over again.
“Mom...” You called out desperately
Please, come back to mama
For a terrifying moment, you were trapped between two worlds.
Your soul felt as though it was being torn in two—one half lying on a cold hospital bed, the other standing amidst Ashford’s smoke-choked haze.
You weren’t sure which one you were living in
“Looks like the little witch did use her magic”
You were dragged back as if from drowning, pulled up from beneath cold water and into air that hurt your lungs. Your eyes snapped open wide.
“You are good, Angelie?”
Dunk touched your back slightly, he was worried for you
And then you saw them standing in front of you
Ser Donnel of Duskendale and his companions. They wore the same bright white armor that marked them as Kingsguards.
There is another man, A prince with mismatched eyes colors, Valarr Targaryen
People you once might have found madly charming—now only twisted your stomach with a burning sense of unnamed feelings.
Are they even real?
Am I even real now?
You couldn’t answer. Or rather—you couldn’t bear to stay in this moment any longer.
Angelie turned to leave. But the path was blocked.
“Tell me, witch—or shall I call you Angelie? How did you drag a man from the brink of death? Was it poison you laid upon him, masked as a miracle?”
The crude joke earned him a round of laughter from the knights standing beside him.
“Got your tongue tied, Angelie—?”
You grabbed Ser Donnel by the collar, dragged him down violently
“Suck.my.dick.Bitch! You are pathetically boring”
The air fell silent, deadly silent
You could not give more shit as you turned away and walked off. You stopped, raised your eyes briefly, meeting the young prince’s gaze.
Prince Valarr looked down at you, his eyes narrowing faintly with a keen curiosity, studying you as if trying to understand something freaky. Then, realizing he was blocking your path, he stepped aside with a quiet “My apologies.”
vi.
“This monstrous wretch!”
“You can have her tongue for that, ser.”
“Ser? Ser Donnel—”
Knight of Duskendale remained frozen, still struck dumb by your insult. “That’s —”
“Mind your tongue when you speak of Angelie, ser.”
Dunk rose to his full height, broad as a wall; his shadow swallowing the space between them.
The Kingsguard exchanged irritated glances before drifting away.
Author: Guys, I intend to write a reincarnation fic for Elia Martell. God, I need them to pay for what they did to our little girl. Probably, it will come up the next days. Follow me and leave some comments to be in taglist, sweetheart!!
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