sacred secrecy ii
⌞synopsis⌝ - the attributes of a ripen fruit condemns a man to grow a particular hunger at the knowing thought of it’s sweetness. honor is questioned and perhaps neglected despite the weighing retribution for brotherhood.
⌞tags⌝ 18+! , father!maekar x daughter!reader x uncle!baelor, targaryen incest!, smut!, taboo subjects!, age gap relationships!
⌞wordcount⌝ 4.4k
𖤝 s.s i 𖤝 s.s iii 𖤝 s.s iv
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head thrown back in complete amusement as the table erupts in utter laughter upon recalling stories from earlier years. goblets of wine half full, utensils against porcelain plates and a fuming aerion across from you and maekar— rolling his eyes when valarr merely adds onto the ongoing jest against him.
‘’i remember quite vividly even now— was his name not ‘bright boy’ before it was ‘brightflame’?’’
daeron cackles which causes aerion to instantly hit him upside in the head. the entirety of the table lighting up in laughter, even your father maekar beside you— sporting an unusually lighter expression in front of every other amused targaryen. it goes on, the jesting and collective recollection of memories from the past. chewing on a piece of roasted potato, eyes glancing around before furtively placing a hand on maekar’s lap. back straightens up slightly at your touch, he gazes for measurements first then sets the goblet down and takes your hand beneath the eyes of everyone else. you ease at that, content even if it meant the need for covert.
as quickly as suns past, it had been an entire moon and a half since you’ve arrived in the keep with your family, a fortnight when the blissfully disguised affair bloomed in connection to maekar— your father.
nights spent in hushed moans and uttered oaths of sentiment beneath the safety of his covers; the four walls of maekar’s own chamber offering a sheltered space for each to voice the tenderness carried in beating synced hearts. if he adored you before, worship would be the proper description now as his arms pull you into his embrace, falling into slumber just until he murmurs how you’ve completely bewitched him.
giggling as his hand tugs you into a secluded hall after a particularly tensive meeting with the small court; feet attempting to catch the rhythm of his walk towards the edge of the hall where maekar corners you with a smirk— hand cupping your waist before he leans down to your still giddy smile.
‘’does this amuse you, dearest? seeing me at the ends of my wits?’’ lips murmuring against yours curled with humor, hand holding onto his chest now as you slowly nod. to that, maekar returns the amused look you sported, whispering again.
‘’cruel girl you are.. what shall i do with you, hm?’’
‘’..a kiss would be recommended— midnight is far too long, i crave you now, please.’’
maekar humms to the sound of your silent pleading, chest warming in true adoration you have entirely taken him with— kissing you for a second, pulling away for space at the sound of footsteps. inhaling deeply into composure as he turns to the source of interruption, clearing his throat upon catching sight of your uncle baelor— face unreadable.
‘’brother. sire requests our presence in the court chamber at this instance.’’
your eyes lands away with a look akin to a child caught between acts worthy of retribution, ears picking up the sound of the brothers leaving you with a pounding heart.
their father daeron occupies the seat just ahead of the council table, setting his goblet with a nod to his sons for their own proper seats.
‘’lord redwyne has sent a raven with the subject of proposal.’’ daeron speaks, regarding the two who sat across the other.
‘’did he now? what— has the supposed marriage between his daughter and some tully boy diffuse?’’ maekar slumps against the wood of his seat, much irritated upon the interruption of having you.
baelor eyes him with an acute look, fingers circling the band he wore before lifting his brows in an almost pull of mirth.
‘’no, brother. it has not.’’
‘’what now then? he’s a new a babe to send off in wish that one of our boys to take? mine own are not an option— neither are yours, valarr or matarys.’’ maekar scoffs with a look of insouciance, rather bored of the subject already.
‘’it is not his daughter at the end of the offer.’’ their sire quirks with the same calmness that reflected baelor’s— this odd tranquility furrows maekar’s brows.
‘’then whose hand does he wish to take from our blood?’’
silence that topples between the four walls of the chamber and over the three men plummeted maekar’s heart to his stomach in a sickening count. an instant scoff of disbelief rang almost like laughter before he sat straight with a deep clawing glare.
‘’she is of age—‘’ baelor attempts before his brother’s answer cuts him off before end.
‘’out of question.’’
‘’twenty and one, your daughter and she’s yet answered a single proposal. this is a disgraceful picture for her and for our family, maekar.’’ his sire argues but he was already sporting an even more guarded grip.
‘’she is my daughter. i will decide when she’s to marry—‘’
‘’and when do you plan that is?’’ maekar’s eyes land on his brother from across who regarded him in a glint of pressing tone. he squints slightly when a corner of his soul tugs hims with a faint warning, the kind you feel when the wheels of your fortune meets the primrose path. gripping his tunic without breaking gaze, he leans forward into baelor before uttering in a shade of possession:
‘’the affairs of her does not need neither your concern or father’s— but mine own.’’ he underlines with certainty that baelor can not help but to feel the crack of his neck with a restrained ragged sigh, watching his brother march out of the council chamber, leaving only the slam of closing wood and a lingering feeling of utter bitter spite in baelor’s chest.
the rise of moon over the realms brings an even somber bubble to maekar that pops upon hearing the sweet startling noise from yours when he drags the lock on your door. silk nightshift hugging your form he can not but find himself burying his head to the curve of your neck, arms holding you in proximity before your ears picks up his heavy sigh. that alone softens you into maekar’s preferred tone of speaking— his silver hair brushed gently by fingers.
‘’what troubles you, my heart?’’
he inhales, tightening embrace answering your question without word, and you’d allow it— allow him for the kind of comfort he rarely demands. the bed adds onto maekar’s ease, still mute with closed eyes you could have mistaken it for slumber; still brushing his hair feebly while your lips whisper against his temple in soft pecks. it’s only when you feel fingers pulling down a strap of your silk that announces his very conscious state, lips wrapping around the expanse of your breast that it slips your mind out of worry in replacement of a faint moan. maekar sucks on the pillow of your chest, mewling when he tugs you even more with his own small grunts. he does so for however long he desire, realizing quickly he regresses upon sensing your gentleness— in which maekar’s able to be anything but a man baring anchored shoulders.
limbs tangled in a sort of twisted innocence in rest that night. the gods above watch how one brother dreams of you with a curated motivation in subtlety while the other has your arms around in true affection— they flip a coin instead.
the keep is much hotter now that summer settled in complete much to your despite, eyes rolling and quite irritated as your maiden ushers a shawl to drape over barely covered shoulders— shrugging it off with a sigh that she quickly nod her head to in obeisance. the gardens were no alcove from the beaming heat that takes over the realm. hearing voices as you near, catching sight of your cousin valarr picking from a tray of delights served by a maid.
‘’is it cherry pastries you still flock to?’’ a smile on your face as you pick up a small bar of sugared apples, humming in content as he returns your gaiety through words.
‘’when has it changed? i am a man now with preference to childlike flavors.’’
that causes you to laugh, taking more of the apple to bite before both feet lead towards a walk.
‘’betrothal treats you well, i see.’’
‘’kiera is lovely.. she is, without demands.’’
the sea breeze surrounds your lungs in freshness, a kind wind blows in relief gesture from the torturous almost sun save from the clouds. you nod your head to valarr’s words, a small smile curls your lips to response— glancing at him.
‘’that pleases me, cousin.’’
‘’i wish to say the same for you.. soon, i hope.’’
it’s there, the implication of both the reminder of age and stationary responsibility to have your hand taken for some lord of the realm to kiss and to devote and possibly express what you could only grimace in thought— sickening contrast to the man you had in head.
you merely glance away and decide the lemon bars on the tray were much easier to digest in flavor instead of valarr’s innocent words— both of your heads turning at the sound of a familiar voice.
‘’my son.. leave me with her.’’ baelor nods, both the maid and your cousin following while you slowly chewed the pastry— wide eyes watching them inching away.
‘’your grace.’’
‘’uncle. that is twice now.’’ he humms, beside you by the overlooking part of the greenery.
‘’apologies.. it slips my mind at times.’’ swallowing the citrusy on your tongue in reply.
for a few heedless moments, baelor takes in your features beneath the sun, eyeing exactly the beauty you emitted without effort; touched by the light, kissed by the wind and enveloped by the blue of your gown. you do not notice, much occupied with the lemon bar you finished by sucking fingertips clean to savor— unbefitting for a regal member but so thrilling for his deviant flutters.
turning your gaze to him, shying away in realization of your action— laughing softly before smoothing the fabric of the gown. unaware that he was devouring you entirely in his mind.
‘’you are pleasant in the eyes, niece.’’
you blinked with slightly parted lips, stunned by the suddenness of compliment from your uncle— whom had been recognized as a man of honesty.
‘’..that is twice now, uncle.’’ mirroring his previous words with jest, your arrival in the keep flashing in both heads causing a collective genuine chuckle out of the two. baelor swallows the abhorrent thoughts in replacement of a hand lifting to brush a few crumbs away from your lips.
‘’i’d like for you to join me in my readings. i find your voice soothing for aid in regards to books— perhaps you may learn a thing or two.’’
the lilac eyes he holds himself back from kissing follows the movement of his hand after, he sees how they flash with hesitation. so before you could utter a response of possible decline, he takes it upon himself to decide— using his power in his favor, walking away after one finality.
‘’after supper, my study.’’
and supper arrives, the whole of family once again in a meal where light conversation flows in an attempt to grasp at normality above all the surrounding tragedies of shadowed whispers— baelors eyes never strays from you for long, itching the end of the gathering but remains calm regardless. meanwhile, maekar remains mostly silent, saving himself from even a chance of vexation because he can not— will not admit the truth of ire stringed from how his brother had taken in look when they’ve last spoke in the council chamber. then the gods seemed to decide which brother attains favor when everyone begins to stand and baelor nods his head to you— maekar already piqued darkly upon your marches beside his brother out of the banquet.
‘’..whose name they deemed ‘realm’s delight’ far before it veered into much dimmed light upon the following events of her brother’s own usurping.’’ you read aloud in tone that rises goosebumps in climbing to baelor’s spine— he sleeves them in the way his fingers grip the quill in writing.
‘’go on.’’
‘’princess rhaenyra targaryen was king viserys’ first born child— thus earning her inheritance of both the throne and the title ‘queen’ which sparked controversy throughout the realm. it is said that her husband, daemon targaryen, her father’s brother and her own uncle that set the crown upon her head after the passing of her predecessor.’’ eyes scanning line to line beneath the flickering light of the candles swaying, lashes fanning in soft blinks before your turned your head upon baelor’s low murmur:
‘’our ancestors— the two, did you know?’’
slowly, you shook your head yes with returning low response.
‘’yes.. i have read in a book before— aerion’s interest in our ancestry helps for he’s taken with dragons.’’
‘’that he is.’’ baelor continues to write, dipping back to ink before setting it aside to lift his gaze across to you— two colors, but one prey.
‘’tell me what you think of them.’’
‘’of rhaenyra and daemon?’’
‘’of their marriage.’’
it’s charging, the air around the room, baelor’s look does not offer aid in any manner— so you bestow your eyes back to the page with a whisper, almost.
‘’..i suppose i know too little to form my own sayings.‘’
‘’tell me.’’
you glanced back to him after his persuading, inhaling sharply with a small nod.
‘’..i’ve read their marriage of old valyrian tradition. how it is done with their blood conjoined through a kiss before the gods— that it seals their souls for eternity.’’
‘’and what of them?’’
‘’..i am not following, uncle—‘’
‘’their relationship.’’ he sets in clear, head tilted slightly as baelor regards you with the patterned thrilling look that sets you uneasy.
‘’..we’ve certain particularities in contrast to the other houses of the realm. they say we’re closer to gods than to men for our dragons.. only our features left now.’’
‘’that is right. and the other factor that excludes us— name it for me.’’
the furrow of your brow reminds him of maekar, softer than a scowl but still guarded like his brother was— it makes baelor grip the rings on his fingers slightly, lips wet from licking.
‘’..we marry within the family.’’
he humms, allowing you a second to breathe away from the eyes that chained you to the seat across from his— it is momentarily, for he rises from his own and circles around to stop until to grasp the curve of your jaw where it meets the skin of your neck. baelor reminds himself of constraint, lacking slightly but there nonetheless.
‘’i want you here again in the morrow. and the days that follows— your company is necessary for my thinking. you wish to help your uncle, do you not?’’
‘’but my responsibilities to my younger siblings—‘’
‘’the maidens will help.’’
‘’and of my station? i am a princess—‘’
‘’you are, and by being here will shape you so.’’
‘’but my father—‘’
there it is. the very reason he can not stomach hearing from your lips he desire.
baelor’s a half-second flash of restraint, exhaling the bile of envy in his throat for a show of practiced quietude that he performs by caressing the cheek of yours.
‘’my brother will not be deprived of your care, niece. but i demand you here not as your uncle, but as your prince.’’
to that you stared back in a state of shielded shock, unable to control the broken gasps of air, nodding instead for careful stepping.
‘’understood, your grace.’’
‘’good. now rise, i will walk you to your chambers.’’
it’s less and less moments together, more and more increasing irritability maekar handles each day that he senses what he deems can not be. baelor, his own brother, it seemed has grown a sort of not-so-unpremeditated habit to tear away the strings of his sole column left— his last drop of elation where glass is now marked inch by inch by a hand that is not his own. it’s unpleasant, both feeling and sight to have you stripped away by his own brother— and maekar is reaching the sharp edge of his forbearance. specially now that an entire week had been stolen from him in your embrace.
a view into those days could have maekar’s dagger near pressing baelor’s throat in utter dominion: eyes swallowing every movement of your breathing chest, lips that reads the words written in pages and temple kissed every night he sends you off to your chamber. baelor furtively take great pleasure in having your company to himself— much aware that his time was ticking both from above the gods and with his own brother.
it is not as if baelor’s subtle advances had not meet acknowledgement, in fact, it is the latter. a rather revolting indulgence in your part for his stares rend you always in flushed skin, his tracing touches that prolongs with unencessity welcomed through fluttering blinks and his inconspicuous whispering met with your own prudent ones— curiosity is what you’ve named it, a dip below dark murky waters. all innocent, as you’d described: but you are a smart girl, far too wise to distinguish that this curling interest is fleeting while maekar was lasting. how noble.
it does not take long until maekar’s first retaliation to pursue, a short away from utterly forgetting his own self retained poise if he was to be nicked another day from his beloved.
it’s comical in this sort of setting, having both brothers unknowingly step into the garden where you stood admiring the collection of swaying petaled beauties with an apple to snack. you’re far too drawn in both the taste of sweet and the lulling atmosphere a sunny day offered in your preferred locale to note that maekar steps foot before his brother could in your direction— face almost vigilantly veiled until he speaks:
‘’i have seemed to find you much taken by my daughter these days.’’
‘’i require her assistance in between sittings in my study. a way to prepare her for stationary demands.’’
‘’she needs not devising this early, nor a time soon to come. it is unnecessary for she is far from regal duties much like ours.’’
‘’it is not what i said—‘’
‘’but your fucking implication of her time is. her siblings requires her more—‘’
‘’do you speak for your children or for your own?’’
baelor cuts quite sharply with a reciprocated indignation, both their eyes mirroring a sort of ill-tempered provocation for the other to speak what remained a mere scalding veracity of collective impulse to grasp what belongs entirely to no one but merely favors a side more.
your eyes take in the suffocating measure between the two as your steps break their momentary quiet rivalry. maekar’s fast with a hand on your wrist, pulling you for him until baelor takes the other for the same reason.
‘’i— what is the matter?’’ you voiced at the two men who continued such childlike childishness as if you were a toy to possess. they do not reply for a second, only cold stares sent to themselves until baelor breaks first:
‘’let us be on our way for my study.’’
‘’i wish your company in a walk.’’
the gods above were surely laughing at how pathetically ruined it begins at the ends of these men as brothers, it does not help that you’re regarding them in such keenness that it resembled a mother— their mother’s disapproving gaze upon catching them battle as boys. how completely entertaining. but alas, their mother may have preferences in her children, with baelor— but you were not myriah in any concern.
freeing your wrist from your uncle’s hold, maekar pulls you with him with haste in steps. clasped hand around the tiny of your wrist much gentler now that distance takes in place from his brother baelor and diminishing towards his chamber.
baelor stood with an eery shade of calmness, kneeling for a second to pick at the fallen apple of yours before he rises back to his posture— thumb tracing the proof of you before he takes it upon himself to bite exactly where your lips had pressed. filthy, bitter musing while he allows the sweet flavor to seep through with sordid telling of what his rotten craving intel’s— a sickening view for anyone to see but he cares not, only watches you gone with another man. such description to express, but ‘brother’ was no longer pleasant for baelor to whisper.
the wood of the doors creaks in a groan mimicking maekar’s when his lips meets yours in a kiss, hand already stripping you of fabric the second the lock takes in place. and you kissed him back with the same tone of hunger, days of deprivation completely tipping over the glass of rimmed need that spills entirely in moans like yours when he sets your bare form atop of the sheets— head descending into peppering your skin with his lips just until he meets your core with a growl.
and your moans, gods above help maekar from utterly descending into madness like a true targaryen. his tongue was relentless in ways he knew you’d enjoy, perhaps a tint more selfish that it seemed as your pleasure was his own to feel. fingers pulling at his silver strands, back arched into a familiar curve while his hands fondle with your breast and grip onto the softness of your hips. obscenity in show of true perversity— both you and maekar.
two highs, he notes. two before you pushed at his shoulders with a whine akin to sobbing— glossy pleading gorgeous eyes and tinted cheeks and kissable lips entirely melting him into a man too captivated by his beloved to refuse. pretty pretty face of yours cradled by his hands, a smile on his wet lips before his kisses you again in a light of benignity.
‘’my sweet girl— you have beguiled me truly.’’
the positions switch and so does your hunger, because one second you were wanting more in a state of submission, the next he was beneath you in bare giving— holding onto his broad shoulders you so wanted in vile honesty. maekar’s head digs into the pillow when you sheath into him, his moan urges you to move your hips out of sheer lust fueled by time stolen from both of you having this feeling again.
it’s filthy, it’s prurient, it’s indecent, lewd and absolutely raw the sounds that both of you produced. wet slicks from where you connected emitted a kind of pleasure that’s dizzying in an unearthly feel. maekar’s greed possess him by pushing you into the sheets, back into him while he fucks his cock into your needy cunt— moans mixing in an unholy melody. an arm to balance himself while the other wraps around to grip your turned blissed face to his.
‘’did he touch you? baelor, did he—‘’
‘’no! not more than a kiss to my head!’’ you mewled, feeling the entirety of his thrusts deepening at the question— you welcomed it with wetness. his hips against the curves of your ass sets him ablaze, losing himself in the pleasure your body offered willingly.
‘’and you enjoy them? tell me—‘’ his groan rumble from his chest to your pressed back, eyes closing in complete pleasure and perhaps.. truth. because indeed you had not mind them, maybe even liked the attention your uncle showered you with but baelor was not your father; he could never be in any sense that exists— and so you shook your head with a whimper.
this undoes maekar’s last possessive control, marking your shoulder and neck with his bites before you feel his warm hand press against your womb— his next murmur sending a sick permitted shiver in the crevices of your being.
‘’i ought to fill you with a babe, shouldn’t i? reminder enough that it is i you desired first.’’
such perversion compels ruin to both of your sweaty forms, his chamber a witness to the exact certainty on which maekar fills himself into your flesh in white oath that he renews with more fueled lust that leads to more sinful rounds.
syncing hearts and panting echoes the walls when he slithers your form close, lips loving on the flushed pretty skin of your expanse until they meet your parted lips in a single whisper— paralleling a jagged reminder.
‘’you will always return to me.’’
because maekar may not have felt the loving caress his brother reveled in during their youth, he may not have received the equal footing caused by his features as boys— but he loved his brother baelor regardless. enough to pardon the mistreatment, but insufficient in regards to you.
maekar does not need knowing, not when it is bliss he feels at the ease of your arms around his form after the particularity of your acts that bounds you to his soul unneeded of words.
but the other brother recalls exactly how you’d allow his lips to near yours one night before the doors of your chamber. baelor relishes to the memory of the hesitance you showed when he takes almost the feel of ownership maekar must sense in his chest every night at the kisses shared. it’s devine, the look on your face upon pulling away just a feather from baelor’s lips— loyalty to your beloved father far too anchored in the depths of your true heart. yet, he keeps it safely in the corner of his mind. baelor replays such souvenir while his hand wraps around his own cock seeking for relief. but you were merely a lady grown, and such pursuing from a man may not have taken roots, but it surely has sprouted into a kind of thought in shades of hedonism.
the gods must be truly delighted now as the coin lands on their final virtue: a bitten apple is saccharine to hands it falls ripen to— and you were nothing but maekar’s sweet girl and baelor’s fragrant resolve.
fin.
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⌞a/n⌝ - i quite literally have no other words to describe this rather than grotesque— almost, in a way with all the themes i added. here is part ii as promised! i’m so pleased to publish this because everyones reaction on part i makes me soo giddy. thank you for your kind words truly! i will be able to take on your requests now. kisses! 🦢