─ summary: The stress of pregnancy, stepchildren, travel, and stifling summer heat leave you beyond desperate for a break.
─ pairing: Maekar Targaryen x reader (second wife)
─ word count: 4k
─ content: 18+ MDNI | fluff | age gap | pregnancy | skinny dipping
─ a/n: A quick little follow-up in my Baby Project universe. This can be read on its own, of course, but if you want to read the others, they are here and here. I have one more blurb and a fic for these two, and I think their story will be complete. Thank you as always for reading, commenting, liking, reblogging, and sending requests. 🖤
The road had unspooled endlessly beneath the carriage wheels, a monotonous ribbon of dust and heat that had begun long before the sun fully cleared the horizon. You had maintained your composure through the long hours, sitting with your back straight and your hands folded in your lap, the very picture of the patience you prided yourself on. But the summer sun was not a kind master; it beat down upon the roof of the carriage, turning the enclosed space into an oven. The air inside was stale, recycled a thousand times by the lungs of five people, and thick with the scent of leather and dust.
Worse than the heat, worse than the stifling confinement, was the restless life shifting within you. The babe had been active since dawn, a relentless flurry of elbows and knees that pressed against your ribs, bladder, and spine with no regard for your comfort. You shifted your weight for the hundredth time, trying to find a position where your organs didn't feel like they were being rearranged by a tiny, determined fist. A sharp kick dug into your side, forcing a sharp exhale through your nose. You rubbed a hand over the swell of your belly, a silent command to settle that went entirely unheeded.
Sharing the carriage with the young children had been manageable at the start. They had slept for the first few hours, their heads lolling against the squabs in a way that was adorable. But as the morning wore on and the heat intensified, sleep had given way to fractious boredom.
The peace shattered with Rhae's high, piercing shriek.
You opened your eyes, blinking against the dim light, to see Rhae's face crumpled, red and wet with tears. She was clutching the side of her head, her small fingers tangled in her pale hair.
"Daella pulled my hair!" Rhae wailed, the sound bouncing off the wooden walls of the carriage. "She pulled it!"
Daella sat opposite, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her jaw set in a stubborn line that reminded you instantly of her father. "She took my doll," Daella shot back, her voice sharp. "I asked for it back and she wouldn't give it. She's a thief."
You looked from one tear-streaked face to the other, the heat pulsing at your temples. You turned your gaze to Daella, meeting her defiant stare with a steady one of your own.
"Pulling your sister's hair is not an answer to anything," you said, your voice firm but level. "No matter what she did. We do not hurt each other."
Daella's eyes dropped to her lap, her fingers picking at a loose thread on the velvet. She didn't apologize, but the rigid set of her shoulders relaxed a fraction.
You shifted your attention to Rhae, who was still sniffling loudly, dramatic sobs hitching in her chest. "And taking things without asking isn't right either," you told her gently. "If you want something, you should ask for it nicely. You know better."
Rhae sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She nodded, a small, miserable motion.
Silence settled again, a fragile, temporary truce. You leaned your head back against the carriage wall, closing your eyes for just a moment, hoping the babe would take the hint and stop kicking your spleen.
"Mother, Egg kicked me," Daella's voice cut through the quiet, accusatory, and whining.
"I did not," Egg retorted immediately, his voice rising in indignation. "She is taking up all the room. My leg was just there. It's not my fault she moved into it."
"He did it on purpose," Rhae chimed in, her tears forgotten as quickly as they had appeared. She always rallied to a cause. "He always kicks."
"I absolutely did not," Egg shouted, his face flushing. "You're both liars."
"Enough," you murmured, but the word was lost in the rising tide of their voices.
"You kicked!" Daella screamed.
"I did not!"
"You're squishing me!"
The cacophony filled the small space, a swirling vortex of childish grievances that seemed to magnify the pressure in your skull. The babe chose that moment to deliver a swift, hard punch to your diaphragm, knocking the wind out of you. You pressed a hand to your chest, gasping slightly, and felt the last frayed thread of your patience snap.
You leaned forward and rapped your knuckles sharply against the carriage window, three sharp cracks that silenced the interior instantly.
The glass pane slid open, revealing the flushed face of one of the household knights. He looked concerned, his eyes darting past you to the wide-eyed children huddled on the seats.
"Inform my husband," you said, your voice steady but carrying an edge of steel that made the knight straighten his spine, "that I cannot go on anymore. We stop. Now."
The knight nodded, touching his gloved hand to his chest, and rode ahead.
You sat back, the decision made, and felt a small measure of relief settle in your chest. Outside, you heard the call go up, the shout of the outriders passing the message back. The pace of the horses slowed as the convoy began to search for a suitable place to halt.
Maekar would not argue. He had been watching you closely for weeks, his violet eyes tracking your every movement with a mix of concern and a fierce, protective instinct. He knew the discomfort the child caused you, the sleepless nights, and the swollen ankles. He would halt the sun itself if he thought it would give you a moment's peace.
The retinue guided the carriages off the road and into a patch of sparse woodland that offered the promise of shade. Servants spilled out into the clearing, unloading supplies and hammering stakes into the hard earth.
The carriage door swung open, letting in a rush of air that was only slightly cooler than the interior. You gathered your skirts, preparing to step down, but a hand appeared before yours.
"Let me help you, mother," Daeron said.
He stood on the step, his hand extended, his expression open and warm. He was your eldest stepson, a man grown now, yet he looked at you with a genuine affection that never failed to soften your heart.
Before you could take his hand, another voice spoke from the ground just next to him.
"She isn't your mother, Daeron. She's barely older than you."
Aerion stood there, his arms hanging loose at his sides, a smirk playing on his lips. He had offered some variation of this observation regularly over the year you had been married to his father. It was never quite a direct insult, never loud enough to cause a scene, but it was a persistent, low-grade poison he dripped into every interaction. He enjoyed the discomfort it caused.
Daeron didn't look at him. He simply smacked Aerion across the back of the head. It was solid, the smack of a brother who had reached the absolute limit of his tolerance.
Aerion's head snapped forward. He stared at Daeron, his smirk vanishing, replaced by a look of incredulous outrage.
Daeron looked back, his face blank, and then turned back to you, his hand still extended as if nothing had happened.
You took his hand, gripping his forearm firmly, and allowed him to help you down the steps. Your feet touched the grass, and you took a breath that felt deeper than any you had taken all day.
You looked at them — Daeron, rubbing his hands together as if to clean them of Aerion, Aerion, still glaring at his brother — and the three younger children now spilling out of the carriage behind you, already picking up the threads of their argument.
"Go," you said. Your voice was pleasant, but it carried exhaustion. "All of you. Please go and play somewhere else. I need quiet."
They scattered. Daeron herded the younger ones toward the trees, shooting a warning look over his shoulder at Aerion, who wandered off in the opposite direction, kicking at the dirt.
You stood alone in the center of the chaotic activity. The camp was taking shape around you with the efficiency of a military machine. Pavilions rose, the heavy canvas thudding as men hammered in the stakes. Horses were being unsaddled, blowing air through their lips in loud snorts. The smell of woodsmoke began to drift through the air, mixing with the scent of pine needles and dry earth.
You found a camp chair that had been set out near the fire pit, a sturdy, canvas-backed seat, and lowered yourself into it with a sigh. You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back. The babe shifted, rolling over in a way that relieved the pressure on your ribs but settled heavily on your bladder. The air here was moving, at least. A faint breeze stirred the loose hairs around your face, cooling the sweat on your neck.
For ten minutes, it was perfect. The sounds of the camp became a rhythmic white noise, a lullaby of labor and life. You breathed in, breathed out, and felt the knot in your shoulders begin to loosen. It was going to be all right. You would rest, eat something cool, and sleep through the worst of the heat.
Then, the noise drifted back.
It started as a murmur, a hum of voices carried on the wind from the edge of the clearing. Then it sharpened into distinct tones. Egg's voice, high and insistent, Rhae's wail rising like a siren, Daella's sharp, demanding bark.
They were arguing again. It was a different dispute than the one in the carriage, but the cadence was identical, the eternal argument of children, a loop of grievance and defense that had been playing since the dawn of time. You could hear Aerion's voice now, too, laughing, egging them on, adding fuel to the fire.
Your eyes snapped open. You stared into the middle distance, your jaw tightening. The peace had been an illusion. They would come looking for you to decide who was right and who was wrong, to be the mother and the judge and the keeper of the peace.
Absolutely not.
You turned away from the noise, away from the camp, and walked toward the dense line of woods on the opposite side of the clearing. You moved quickly, before a servant could approach, before children noticed, before Maekar could come to check on you. You needed to be away from them. You needed to be alone.
The ground beneath your feet changed from trampled grass to a soft carpet of pine needles and fallen leaves. The air dropped in temperature immediately, the shade of the canopy cutting the harsh glare of the sun. It was cooler here, shadowed and green.
You walked without a destination, guided only by the need to put distance between yourself and the noise. You broke through the tree line and saw it.
A clearing opened up before you, dominated by a lake that sat like a jewel in the forest floor. The water was still, glass-like, catching the late afternoon light so it glowed with a fractured gold at the edges. Tall trees surrounded it, their roots gnarled and exposed at the water's edge, creating natural seats.
The air here was different, clean and smelling of wet stone. You stood at the edge of the bank, looking out over the water, and felt the sweat on your skin begin to chill.
Without hesitation, you reached up and began to unlace your gown. Your fingers, usually nimble, felt thick and clumsy. You fumbled with the fastenings, but eventually, the fabric gave way. You shrugged out of the outer layers, letting them pool on the mossy ground before ridding yourself of the underlayer. Finally, you were left in your small clothes, the cool air raising gooseflesh on your arms and legs. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with the cold, clean air.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
The voice was deep, rough, and laced with a familiar incredulity.
There was no need to turn around. His following you wasn't a surprise; Maekar's eyes were always on you.
"It is obvious," you said, your voice calm, "that I intend to go for a swim."
You heard the crunch of heavy boots on the forest floor as he stepped closer. "This is not appropriate," he said. His voice was tight. "We are in the middle of the forest. The camp is yards away."
You turned to face him.
He stood a few paces away, still in his riding gear, dust coating his black leather. His silver-gold hair was damp with sweat, his pale purple eyes were wide, darting from you to the lake and back again. He looked like he was trying to solve a puzzle that made no sense.
You looked at him with the expression that meant you had already made your decision and were simply being patient while he finished talking.
"The water is cool," you said, nodding toward the lake. "I am uncomfortable. Your child has not stopped moving since before midday, and my body feels abused." You placed a hand on your belly, emphasizing the curve. "I am going in. You are welcome to come with me, or you can stand there and melt."
Maekar looked at you. You could see the arguments marshalling in his eyes. The idea of his wife, heavy with child, swimming naked in a wild lake was likely giving him an apoplexy.
"Fine," you said pleasantly, cutting him off before he could speak. "Stand there."
You turned your back on him. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your small clothes and pushed them down, standing completely naked.
The cold water was a shock, sharp and biting, gripping your ankles and sending a jolt up your spine. You gasped, but you didn't stop. You walked deeper, the water rising past your knees, your thighs, your hips. The buoyancy of the water lifted the heavy weight of your belly, instantly relieving the pressure on your back. You groaned in pure relief, a low sound that echoed across the water.
You submerged yourself completely, ducking your head under the surface. The world went silent and muffled, the heat of the day banished in an instant. You stayed under for as long as your breath would allow, then broke the surface, pushing your wet hair back from your face.
You turned in the water, finding Maekar was still standing there, still watching you. His hands rested on his sword belt, his stance rigid. But the annoyance was gone from his face, replaced by something else. His eyes were dark, fixed on the way the water slicked against your skin, on the curve of your shoulders rising from the depths. He looked struck, as if he were seeing you for the first time, struck by the reality of you — young, wild, and undeniably, vibrantly alive, carrying his child in a body that he worshipped.
You smiled at him, treading water, feeling the cool current cradle you.
"The water is perfect, Maekar," you called out, your voice carrying clearly across the stillness of the lake. "Are you coming?"
He stood with his boots sinking slightly into the soft mud at the water's edge, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression stern. The silver-gold of his beard caught the light, and his lilac eyes were narrowed, scanning the treeline as if expecting a battalion of witnesses to emerge from the bushes.
"I hope," he said, his voice a low rumble that carried easily over the water, "that our child does not inherit your complete absence of propriety."
You laughed, the sound bright and echoing off the water. You swept a wet lock of hair back from your face, shaking your head. "It is not an absence of propriety, Maekar," you countered, and the water felt wonderful sliding over your shoulders. "It is being full of life. You, my husband, should try it sometime."
His eyes narrowed further, the corners crinkling in a way that betrayed his sternness. He looked like a prince trying to scold a wayward sprite, and it only made you bolder. You tipped your head back, letting the water support you, before sinking beneath the surface. The world went silent and muffled, a cool blue void where the only sound was the rush of water in your ears. You stayed under for a moment, relishing the peace, before breaking the surface again with a gasp, shaking the water from your eyes like a dog.
He turned his head slowly, checking the perimeter one last time, his eyes sharp and assessing. The woods were quiet, save for the chirping of crickets and the distant rustle of small animals. There was no one but the two of you.
With a sudden, decisive movement, he reached for the clasps of his doublet. His movements were efficient. He shed the leather and the linen beneath, letting them fall carelessly onto the grass. He kicked off his boots, pulled down his breeches, and stood there for a moment, pale and sculptural in the dappled light.
He stepped into the water. You saw the hiss of breath leave him, a sharp intake through gritted teeth. The cold was a shock to his system, a stark contrast to the heat of the day and the warmth of his blood.
"Seven hells," he muttered, a string of curses following that would have made a pirate blush. He waded deeper, the water rising up his legs, his torso, his muscles contracting tight against the chill.
"Maekar," you exclaimed, giggling as he scowled at the water, his face a mask of suffering.
"It is freezing," his voice tight. He pushed forward, shivering visibly.
You paddled toward him, a grin splitting your face. "I can see that," you teased, letting your eyes drift deliberately over the water lapping at his hips, the way the cold had affected him immediately.
"Oh, can you?" He glared at you, a deep scowl on his face that had absolutely no bite behind it. "You are enjoying this immensely," he grumbled.
You nodded, still smiling, treading water closer to him. You reached the point where you could comfortably place your feet on the bottom of the lake, the silt soft between your toes. The water here came up to your chest, covering you modestly, though there was no one to see. "Immensely," you confirmed.
He reached you, the water now feeling more comfortable as his body heat began to radiate through the coolness of the lake. He reached out, his hands large and warm, gripping your waist to steady you in the water.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave, the concern for you overriding his annoyance at the temperature.
"Much cooler," you sighed, leaning into his touch. The relief was absolute. The ache in your back from the carriage ride had dissolved, the restless pressure of the babe soothed by the buoyancy. "Much more comfortable."
He looked down at the swell of your stomach beneath the water, distorted slightly by the ripples but undeniable. "And the little one?"
"Your littlest dragon," you said, resting your hands over his where they gripped your waist, "never slumbers. He is quiet now, though. The water soothes him."
He laughed, a rich, warm sound that vibrated through his chest and into yours. It came easily, as it always did near you. The tension that etched permanent lines into his face around others seemed to simply evaporate when you were alone like this. He loved you so much; you could feel it in the way he held you, not just as a possession, but as something precious.
He pressed his lips to your forehead, a tender gesture that contrasted sharply with the rough curses of a moment ago. "I am sorry," he whispered against your skin.
"For what?" you asked, tilting your head back to look up at him.
"For the heat," he said, kissing your temple. "And the road. And the endless hours in that damned carriage." He paused, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "And for the children," he added, which made you laugh again, a bright, bubbling sound that he seemed to drink in.
"They are our children, Maekar," you reminded him.
"They are terrors," he corrected, pulling you tighter against him. "But yes, they are ours."
You held onto him lightly, your arms looped around his neck, and he supported you with one hand at your back, the other resting protectively on the curve of your hip. You floated together in the shifting golden light, the world narrowing down to the circle of your embrace. You talked about small things: what you wanted to eat when you returned to the pavilion, the dress you thought you might wear tomorrow, amusing things the children said before the stop. He filled you in on the dull conversations he had been forced to endure with the convoy commanders and told you stories about how he would swim in the Kingswood with his brothers as a child.
You spent this time in perfect peace, just the two of you, content in each other's company, completely in love. The water cradled you, the sun warmed your shoulders.
Eventually, though, the sun began to dip lower, casting long shadows across the water, and the air took on a sharper edge. Maekar noticed it first. He rubbed a hand up and down your arm, generating friction.
"It is time to get out," he said, though he made no move to release you. "Or you will catch a cold, and I will be forced to listen to the Maester lecture me on the humors of the body for an hour."
You sighed, resting your forehead against his chest. "I suppose you are right."
The water felt colder the moment you left his embrace. You waded back to the bank, the water dripping from your skin, and he followed close behind. You dressed on the bank, the air feeling cool against your damp skin. There was an intimacy in the silence as you helped each other with buttons and laces, fingers brushing against still-wet skin. You took a moment to just stand there, savoring the quiet, the smell of the pine trees and the lake, the feeling of being clean and refreshed.
Maekar turned to you, fully dressed again, his hair wet and slicked back, making him look younger and less severe. He stepped close, cupping your face in his hands, and kissed you deeply. He broke the kiss only to lower himself to one knee, pressing his lips to the swell of your stomach through the fabric of your dress.
"Behave yourself," he said to the babe. "Listen to your mother."
He stood up and offered you his arm. "Come, my love. Back to the chaos."
You took his arm, leaning into him as you walked back toward camp. The trees thinned, and the orange glow of campfires flickered ahead. Evening was settling in softly around the edges of the day, the harsh light replaced by the gentle, forgiving glow of twilight.
As you drew closer, the sounds of the camp reached you: the clatter of pots, the low murmur of men settling down for the night. And then, cutting through it all, the children. They were somewhere in the middle distance, still running, their voices carrying through the cooling air. You could hear Egg shouting orders, Daella's high-pitched whine, and Rhae's defiant yell. It was a cacophony of noise, a stark contrast to the serene silence of the lake.
You looked up at Maekar as you walked, his profile stoic and handsome against the firelight. "This babe is lucky I'm their mother," you said, a playful confidence in your tone. "We'll have so much fun!"
He laughed sharply, a bark of amusement that drew a smile from you. "The babe is lucky I am there to keep them out of the trouble you cause," he retorted, squeezing your hand. "Otherwise, we will have a rogue on our hands. A true menace to the realm."
You laughed, the sound mingling with the night air. You looked at him, at the way the firelight caught the silver in his hair and the softness in his eyes that was only for you.
You thought that of everyone in the world, you were the luckiest because you were his.
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms: Prince Maekar Targaryen x Lannister!reader
Rating: General (just a bunch of family fluff)
WC: 4.2k
A little follow up to Then I set fire to our bed
A/n: I was in the mood for something fluffy, and I just love Dad!Maekar. Comments and reblogs are appreciated. My inbox is always open for fun ideas, requests and general fangirling.
Summary: A collection of vignettes of Maekar and Lady Lannister's life raising their family at Summerhall.
Tyon nursed happily at your breast, his rounded cheeks flushed pink with happiness. The twins were now four moons old, growing well. Servants whirled around the chambers as they packed cases for the departure on the morrow to Summerhall. Maekar kept a sharp eye to ensure no one's gaze lingered on his wife's breast for too long.
"You have nursemaids for this very reason," he scolded you.
"I know, but I enjoy it. Besides, it hurts too much to dry up," you sighed. "His little face brings me so much happiness." You saw a small smile cross Maekar's face as he, too, found joy in the twins. Tyra slept in her wooden cradle, soft, red velvet beneath her, with the remnants of your milk on her small lips. She would only sleep after Maekar fussed over her for a proper amount of time, otherwise she would scream and cry until her whims were indulged. You patted Tyon's small back after he finished, bringing forth a small, satisfied burp from him.
"Let me see my boy," Maekar said, drawing his son into his arms. Tyon squealed with delight, happy to have his father's attention. Lady Jayne Arryn came over to clean up your leaking nipple and help you fix your gown. Maekar sat, bouncing the boy on his knee. Delighted noises filled the room. "I'd forgotten how enjoyable they are when they are this small. Before they grow up and cause headaches."
"I promise to remedy whatever headaches they may cause for you, husband," you laughed.
Maekar snorted. "You cause me many as well."
Servants filed out as Aegon, Daella, and Rhae came rushing in. Maekar was left in a momentary spell of bewilderment when Daella whisked Tyon from his arms and began to fuss over her baby brother.
"Can I wake her, please?" Aegon begged you.
"Go on, but be gentle about it," you smiled.
You watched as he carefully lifted Tyra from her cradle. Rhae gently tickled her little sister's feet, making the infant coo. It warmed your heart to see the family blend together so easily; even Daeron and Aerion seemed to find joy in their newest siblings. Good King Daeron threw a feast to send you and Maekar off to Summerhall with well wishes. The babes were in attendance, of course, as the court had been very delighted by their birth.
"Perhaps we should have another, husband," Jena teased as Baelor held Tyra in his arms.
"Well, I would be willing to try," Baelor said with a twinkle in his eyes.
Queen Myriah held Tyon in her lap. "I believe this one has markings of a little lion already," she cooed. "I see those golden curls springing forth."
"Mmm, but he has his father's eyes," you smiled, noting that Tyon's eyes held a violet hue. Your hand rested gently on Maekar's knee.
"Indeed, he does," Myriah agreed.
Rhae grew tired of the celebration noises and crawled into your lap. Egg and Daella seemed content to keep each other entertained with their dancing, though Egg was mostly demonstrating kicks. Valarr swooped in to dance properly with his young cousin, which delighted her.
The evening wound down, and you carried Rhae back to the nearly empty chambers, all belongings packed away into the carts for the trip tomorrow.
"I am almost sad to leave this place," you whispered as you maneuvered a sleeping Rhae into her nightclothes. Maekar tucked her beneath the blanket.
"And to think, you once hated it here," he teased.
You leaned in to kiss him. "I am happy to have been wrong."
You slept peacefully in Maekar's arms that evening, even with anticipation bubbling in your stomach.
"You will not be upset if I ride with Daeron and Aerion?" Maekar asked you as the family gathered in the courtyard.
"Not a bit, I only wish I could join," you assured him, kissing his cheek.
"Father, can I ride too?" Egg begged, tugging on Maekar's cloak. He was sweet, yet restless at times, but you supposed most young boys were.
"If you promise to stay in my sight and not wander off," Maekar told him sternly. "Now, make sure your horse is prepared."
"Thank you, Father!" Egg yelled as he ran off, gravel crunching beneath his boots.
The nursemaids and your ladies were settled in one of the wheelhouses with the twins and the girls. Once everyone was settled and mounted, the journey began. It was not terribly long, and luckily went fairly smoothly, with Egg only wandering off once. He was banished to the wheelhouse with you for the rest of the trip, which you heard plenty of complaining about, but you did your best to distract him with stories and card games. Maekar was there to help you from the carriage, and you turned to take a look at your new home, a smile crossing your face.
"It's perfect," you whispered.
~~
The twins kept you on your toes as they grew. They were fast and mischievous, always escaping the grasp of their handmaids and even managing to wriggle from yours. Their giggles echoed in the halls as they ran hand in hand with each other, with you dashing after them, skirts in hand. The scuffling of paws followed as two pugs scurried behind. you. The twins had requested a dog for their fourth nameday, and Maekar had been delighted, planning a meeting with the Kennelsmaster to procure a sleek hunting hound for them. When you informed him that they were delighted by your sister's pug when she visited Summerhall, the look that crossed his face was quite amusing. Yet he had gifted them the requested pup and gave you one as well.
"Come, it is time for your lessons," you scolded, but neither paid you any mind. Normally, you were up to the task of chasing them about, but this morning you felt rather nauseous.
"Who are these cubs running wild in my house?" Maekar asked, bending to scoop them into his arms. The pugs circled around his feet, yipping at him. "Noisy beasts."
You paused, taking a moment to catch your breath. "Why are the only cubs when they are misbehaving?" you complained, yet you were happy he managed to wrangle them.
Tyra snuggled her face into the crook of Maekar's neck, her golden curls pressed against his cheek.
"You know the answer to that," Maekar smirked, carrying the twins toward the nursery. "Now, your lessons are most important; you cannot escape them.
"Yes, Papa," Tyon said, eager to follow his father's instructions.
"Very good, no more running off," he told them, setting them down and giving each a gentle swat to the backside, and you watched the twins exchange a sly look with one another. They would follow that rule for all of an hour, if that. Their dog, Ser Eryk, trotted behind, while yours, Posy, curled up by the hearth.
Septa Lunelle was very patient with them, which you were thankful for, and sat with the twins to teach them their numbers and letters. Maekar lingered in the room to make sure they sat and behaved for her. Their round violet eyes would trail over to their father every so often, smiling toothily when they would get a nod of approval. You hated to admit that it made you a bit jealous.
"Mama, will you help me with the backstitch?" Rhae requested while sitting next to you, with her sewing in her lap.
At least some of the children found you useful. "Of course, my darling," you replied, threading a needle in preparation. She had taken to calling you Mama about six months after the return to Summerhall, and it warmed your heart. You assisted Rhae with her sewing while the twins finished their lessons. Maekar departed shortly after, but not before kissing his wife and children. His hands squeezed your shoulders pleasantly.
"Princess Rhae, it is time to work on your maths," Septa Lunelle said.
Rhae went to sit with the septa while you watched the twins play on the floor with their wooden toys. Aerion entered the nurserys and the twins made a beeline for him, attaching themselves to his legs.
"Father said we had two restless lions on our hands," Aerion smiled. "Shall I run them ragged for you, stepmother?"
"You are a godssend, yes please. Behave for your brother," you told them as Aerion took off with them.
You were thankful for a moment of peace, feeling rather drained this morning. You did not realize you had fallen asleep in the chair until Rhae shook you awake.
"Mama, should I fetch the Maester?" she asked kindly.
"No, I'm simply tired, perhaps it's time for tea," you smiled. Though you would pay him a visit later to be certain.
You took her hand, going to find Daella, who would be finishing up her dancing lessons. She was growing into a lovely young lady. You enjoyed a tea with them along with some fresh strawberries, cream, and apple tarts. Posy lapped cream from your fingertips as she curled in your lap. The sugar had you feeling in better spirits. Aerion, Egg, and the twins played outside, and you heard the familiar cracking of wooden swords. Egg sparred with Tyon while Tyra rested on Aerion's shoulders, cheering and clapping for her brothers. While all the children were distracted, you took your moment to sneak away and visit with Maester Vyman.
"Are you feeling unwell? You have not seemed yourself today," Maekar commented as he readied for bed. You were already tucked beneath the blankets.
"Maester Vyman says I am with child again," you told him softly.
He whirled around to face you, a smile spreading on his face. "Well, that is wonderful news."
"Is it? Is it not too much? Too many running around? Too many mouths to feed?"
"None of my children would ever starve, especially when we have Lannister coin." You threw a pillow at him. "Careful now, riling me up is how we got that babe in your belly."
"Oh, I remember well," you smirked. He joined you in bed, giving Posy a look of disdain from where she was curled up by your side.
"Must that beast share our bed?"
"She is not a beast!" you complained. Posy snorted her response before curling up at the end of the bed, allowing Maekar to pull you into his arms.
"We will be fine, my love," he assured you.
"Mmm, you do not worry about your age?" You squeaked when he swatted your bottom.
"I am a man barely forty, do not insult me." His hand pressed against your flat stomach. "I promise you this little cub will be as loved and well cherished as their brothers and sisters." He shifted, his head resting on your stomach as you combed your fingers through his hair.
Where there is celebration and joy, tragedy is wont to follow. You received a letter from your eldest brother that your father had died from a burst belly. Your tears stained the parchment as you staggered to your feet with one hand pressed to your rounded belly. Your knees gave way beneath you as you crashed to the floor, quickly surrounded by your husband and the children. Maekar lifted you with ease and carried you away, allowing you some privacy with your grief. You sobbed into his chest until your tears ran dry and your eyes were swollen. The babe growing inside you was the saving grace that kept you from toppling into the abyss of your grief. While you had hated your father for arranging this marriage at first, you came to view him as the man who ultimately orchestrated your happiness.
As summer dawned and admist you sadness, a new princess was welcomed into the world. Cerelle.
She was so quiet upon her birth that you feared she had not lived after delivery, but she was healthy. Simply wide eyed and silent as she was placed in your arms. You often wondered if she absorbed your sadness in the womb. She would become your silver shadow, clinging to your skirts or hands, but she was sweet as a summer rose. She could be found in Daeron's embrace, tenderly wiping damp brow or seated in Maekar's lap, holding his large hand as he scowled, his demeanor eventually softening under her touch. When Baelor visited, it was clear he favoured her, as she was often in his arms when not attached to you.
~~
Maekar Targaryen would be a father to ten children in total, as you gave birth to a fourth in the sweet bloom of spring two years after Cerelle. Five sons and five daughters. She was named Daera, in honor of the Good King Daeron, who passed away a mere three months before her birth. It was your turn to hold Maekar in your embrace as he wept. The good King was old, but losing one's father is never easy to bear. His cheek pressed against your swollen stomach as his tears soaked through your shift.
"He loved you so, my darling," you whispered, stroking his white hair, noticing the faint streaks of gray.
Baelor would inherit the crown, and you laboured on your own as Maekar attended the coronation.
"You must be there for your brother as he takes the throne. I will be fine, and in very good hands," you assured him, though you know it pained him to be away from you in such a state. Daeron stayed behind to manage the household and keep a close eye on you, but it was Aerion and Daella who were by your side as you laboured. You had encouraged Maekar to take his eldest under his wing more. Perhaps Daeron was not destined to be a knight, but possessed other skills instead.
When Maekar returned, he was barely seen without Daera in his arms, making up for the time he missed with her while in King's Landing. Your youngest daughters were the opposite of the twins in appearance, with silvery hair and pale green eyes. He did not scold you as you held Daera against your breast, nursing her from your engorged nipple. She would end up the most spoiled of the children. You knew Maekar would procure a pack of pugs for her if she desired it.
"She has a large appetite," you complained, but she was fickle and would not take to the nursemaid.
"She's the youngest, destined to consume all the attention around her," Maekar smiled. "My mother has inquired if she might come for a visit and stay for a while. I think being surrounded by her grandchildren may be beneficial to her."
"We shall make arrangements then," you smiled.
The dowager queen's grief seemed to lift as she spent time at Summerhall with the children. Cerelle would pull herself away from you to spend time in her grandmother's presence while Myriah taught her a Rhoynish song. She loved holding Daera in her arms and gazing into the twins' violet eyes. The eyes of her husband. Her dark eyes trailed over the family at the long table as everyone supped together.
"My dear boy, you have raised a wonderful family," she whispered.
You had never seen such a look of pride on Maekar's face before. The boy, once longing for his mother's love and approval, had received it.
~~
The next five years were a whirlwind as the children grew, with Daeron, Aerion, and Daella all in adulthood. Daella was lovely with her waist-length dark hair, and she caught many a Lord's eye.
"Will you help Father find a good match for me?" she asked, smiling as she walked arm in arm with you through the gardens, Cerelle holding your other hand.
"Of course, now is there a certain someone you have set your eyes on?" you asked. You noted the blush on her cheeks.
"Robell Arryn. He danced with me at the Red Keep, and we have been writing letters ever since. He is a good man and will inherit the Eyrie when his father passes," she explained.
"Then I will speak most highly of him, my dear," you assured her.
Prince Aerion wed Lady Alyssa Baratheon, a fierce archer and cousin of Lord Lyonel, from the Stag House, who was neither meek nor mild. She was a good match for him and seemed to have captured his attention greatly at the celebration of Princess Daera's birth. Prince Daeron wed Lady Evelyn Dondarrion, a match made for him by Queen Jena. Maekar arranged for two manors to be built on his land for his sons to reside in. Summerhall would still pass to Daeron upon Maekar's death. The following spring, Daella was married to Lord Robell and began her new life in the Vale. Children soon followed from each union.
Their presences were greatly missed, especially by the twins, who adored all their older siblings. Aemon was hailed and respected at the Citadel, serving alongside his uncle on Baelor's small council. Egg grew into a fine young knight, serving as a Gold Cloak, with streaming silver hair that he wore braided, and many said he resembled Maekar in his youth. You knew Maekar's pride for his youngest boys ran deep.
Rhae did not seem eager to be married off, contrasting with her youth when she was quite obsessed with boys, even her brothers, and often begged Maekar to marry her to one of them. Egg was usually the one she had her hopes set on. Your husband's eye would twitch, and he would shoo her away. There was a shift in her attitude when Daella got married.
"I want to say with you and Father and the little ones. I don't want to go away, Mama," she confided to you tearfully. "I would die if I were to be Daella trapped in the Vale."
"Now, now, your sister is very happy," you said softly, rubbing her back. Cerelle pressed herself against her elder sister's side, trying to comfort her as well. She was deeply empathetic, attuned to every family member's emotions.
"I know, but I don't want that," she wailed. She had been the youngest until the arrival of her half-siblings and was incredibly coddled. Not that you blamed Maekar in any way. He did his best, and Rhae was an easy one to baby. You found yourself doing the same with her. Even Aerion in his testy moods would carry Rhae about when she demanded it.
"No one is going to force you, my darling, but you might find your heart opening toward it one day. I assumed my life would be one for spinisterhood."
"But you were forced to marry Father," she whispered, not unkindly, simply speaking the truth.
"I was, yet look at what we became. Our love is deep and strong, reflected in all of our children," you smiled, petting her pale hair.
"I won't do it," she said stubbornly, and you dropped the matter for now.
"I will marry you, sister, and you will never have to leave Summerhall," Tyon said far too seriously for a boy his age.
Rhae lifted her head from your chest and sniffled. "Thank you, little brother."
Her mind would indeed change when she met Quentyn Blackwood, the brother of Betha, who became Egg's betrothed. She continued to bend those around her to her will, convincing Maekar to build a manor for her as well and getting Quentyn to agree to reside there.
~~
You watched as Maekar assisted Tyon with his armor on the twins' fifteenth name day. It was hard to believe such time had passed. Tyon's armor was black with red pauldrons sporting spikes that resembled dragon's teeth. His golden hair fell shoulder length, but it had been braided by Tyra to fit in his helm better. His helm resembled a roaring lion, with fangs curving down.
"What if I lose, Father?" Tyon asked nervously.
"To lose is part of life, so long as you fight honorably and to the best of your ability, then that's all that matters," Maekar told him.
"I will be cheering you on, brother," Tyra smiled.
"Not Ormund?" Tyon replied, his lips quirking.
"No, because it is not his name day," Tyra reasoned. "We share the day, brother, so you have double the luck on your side."
"Come, ready your horse," Maekar said, sending his youngest son off. Tyra took her father's arm as you all made your way to the boxes set up just outside the perimeter of Summerhall. You escorted Cerelle and Daera as they filed into the royal box reserved for the family.
Rhae was rosy-cheeked and glowing, round with another child. It seemed her love for Quentyn ran deep. Egg was trying to calm his rowdy sons, and you shielded your amused smile. It seemed destined for Egg to follow in Maekar's footsteps. Aerion had been blessed with a gaggle of daughters, constantly vying for his attention, and they seemed to have softened his edges. Daeron fathered two sons, and Daella had twins, both siblings stopping with two children. Which you could not blame them for.
You and Tyra sat on either side of Maekar, who was clothed in a rich crimson velvet with a three-headed black dragon pinned to his doublet. Daera took a seat on his lap while Cerelle curled against your side. Her favoritism toward you was undeniable, while Daera made no secret of her preference for Maekar, much like her older sister, Tyra. She clung to him and would sometimes go purple in the face from all the screaming when she was denied. Your husband's resolve softened as he aged, scooping her up into his arms and indulging her.
The melee began, and you gripped Maekar's hand as Tyon took his place for the joust, his twin's favour sitting on his lance. He competed against a Bracken boy. One lance was broken in the process before Tyon managed to unhorse his opponent. Tyon's siblings cheered for him, their choruses billowing over the area. Tyon held his own throughout the competition, but young Lord Bynden Stark proved victor, and you were proud as your son graciously congratulated him.
The celebrations began as wine and food flowed. Tyon was surrounded by his brothers, who slapped his back and bathed him in their praise. He had changed into a red outfit trimmed in gold, his golden hair streaming over his shoulders. You glanced around, taking note of where the rest of the children and grandchildren were. Tyra was missing. Snuck off with Ormund Baratheon, no doubt. Your suspicions were confirmed when she returned to the table with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Maekar raised a pale brow in her direction. Rhae giggled, pulling her younger sister close so they could gossip. You enjoyed the moment of having most of the family together again.
~~
"Father, I wish to be a septa," Cerelle spoke softly, her delicate hand resting on Maekar's arm.
You were already aware of her wishes and were hardly surprised by them. Given her gentle nature and gift for soothing others, it seemed a good fit. She was now of an age to begin her training if Maekar agreed. He lifted her hand, pressing his mouth tenderly against her knuckles.
"Is that truly your wish, sweetling?" he asked, and she nodded, her green eyes wide and solemn. "Then I will make arrangements."
"You have gone soft in your old age, husband," you teased, glancing up from the letter Daella had sent.
His purple eyes narrowed at you. "Call me old again, wife," he grumbled as Cerelle scurried off. She had long been your little silver shadow, and you would miss her dearly. Yet you wanted nothing more for all your children to be happy and find their way in this world.
You stood from the desk, walking over and sliding into his lap. "My sweet, old husband," you smirked.
"I'll show you," he growled before kissing you passionately. He took you roughly that night, demonstrating that there was not an old bone to be found in his body. The scruff of his beard made your thighs raw and tingly.
~~
Aemon wrote weekly, updating you and Maekar on Cerelle's progress as the Sept, as he had offered to keep an eye on her as she studied in Oldtown. Daera was the last child left in the house, often found in Aerion's household playing with her nieces. Tyon had married a Redwyne and Tyra, her Ormund Baratheon.
"The house seems rather empty, does it not?" you asked Maekar, resting your head on his shoulder. You glanced down, concealing a small smile when you saw Apricot snoozing in his lap. He had grown partial to the little beasty pugs over the years.
"I once longed for the quiet, for the peace, but now I find myself missing the chaos," Maekar murmured. One ringed hand stroked down the sleeping dog's tan back.
"And what chaos it could be," you laughed softly.
"I am glad to have you by my side for it."
"And to think, we once wished to strangle each other."
"I never once wished that, but it is good to know where your head was," he teased. "My lovely little loiness." He lifted your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it softly.
"My fierce, protective dragon."
His lips melded against yours, the passion still there after all these years. The halls may have been empty, but the memories would forever be imprinted on every inch of Summerhall.
Spending his entire life living in his brother’s shadow, Maekar wonders what compelled you to choose him.
Maekar Targaryen x wife reader
“Why did you choose me?” The question arise as he looked at you while you sat on the bed you shared. The silk nightgown you wore was flowing down the side of the bed and it surrounded you like halo. You looked surreal, so pure in this moment, this moment that only he was privy to.
You were like an angel that was sent by the gods to balance out his rigidity. He was not a gentle man nor he was much to look at. The scowl that always graced his face made him look older than he was. And yet here you were, a vision of tenderness. His wife .
You possessed compassion for each and every being you came across. You loved freely, you accepted his sons as your own.Daeron would seek you out when he was troubled by the dreams that haunted his every waking second. Little Aegon preferred your company over the Septon, wanting you to tutor him. Even Aerion respected you, something that was rare for anyone to achieve.
How did the gods found him deserving of you was beyond him.
“Are you happy with me, truly?” Maekar was never the one to be this vulnerable in front of anyone. The Anvil could not afford the luxury of speaking his mind. He learned it way too soon as a little boy that the world did not reward sincerity. It feared strength, authority, force that was necessary to keep people in check. So he forged himself in the fire to turn every softer curve to a steel edge that cut when someone came too close. He build walls around him, his brashness was his defence.
Then you arrived and all the walls he build for years came crumbling down at your one touch. You were a blessing in a human form.
He could hear the whispers around the court .You were the favoured princess, the people adored you and questioned his integrity, if he was truly deserving of love so soft. They talked how you would have been a better match to his older brother Baelor. He shared your compassion, he was kind, spirit of chivalry. While Maekar was harsh, forged from steel that cut sharp, brute, some might even call him intolerable.
He was thick-skinned, rarely anything got under him but recently he could not calm his racing mind.
“Maekar…” your voice sweet as honey. This was the first time he asked you something like this,but it was not new to you. His insecurity brought you pain. It was very evident when he looked at his brother, how he craved to be better than him, tired of always walking in his shadow.
“Answer me honestly” he prepared himself to shatter, for the love you shared to be an illusion.You could see his shoulders squaring up, like he was getting ready to go to battle, the only thing he believed he was good at.
You moved towards him, your steps were careful, deliberately slow as if you were approaching a wounded animal not wanting to startle it. Soon you were inches away from each other. You brought your hands to his shoulders and as if they had a mind of their own they relaxed under your touch. He bowed his head closing his eyes.
“Look at me” with a finger under his chin you guided him to you. Still with his eyes closed he let you.
“Look at me, please” and that was enough for him to bare himself in front of you. His blue eyes found yours, you could see the swirls of anxiety that troubled him.
“I chose you because I see through you, I see through all that you have build in order to protect yourself. I see how fiercely you love your sons, how much love you posses for your brother. How you stand between your family and anyone who would bring them harm like a shield. People see the battle hardened Maekar Targaryen, but I see you”
you leaned in to press a tender kiss on his lips. Your hand gripped his doublet to pull him to you, while the other moved to the back of his neck. The moment you place your lips on his ,the breathe got knocked out of his lungs. His hands found themself coiling around your waist as he lift you up to ease you off your toes.
You moved and he followed you, it did not take long for a warm kiss to turn into teeth and tongue. You pushed and pulled him as you tried to erase every question, every doubt he had, willing it away so it disappeared and only you remained, letting your love consumed every thought in his mind.
You pulled away when you were certain you have bewitched his mind, body and soul, leaving no shred of doubt that troubled him minutes ago.
Maekar now looked nothing like a warrior prince that he was to the realm. To you he was just your husband who loved you with every bone in his body.
“I’ve never been more happy as much as I’m with you” and with your confession fresh into the air he claimed your lips once again.
"no way how'd you know i wanted this?!" "i saw you looking at it when we were shopping.." for maekar? <3
hi, thank you so much for requesting! i changed the prompt a little but still tried to mantain the overall feeling, so i hope you like it!
— a little place called the moon;
"no way how'd you know i wanted this?!" "i saw you looking at it when we were shopping"; maekar targaryen x fem wife!reader.
themes and genres: fluff. established relationship, wife!reader.
content warnings: none.
word count: 1.0k
masterlist.
It was late, unreasonably so, if you asked him, by the time you finally reached Summerhall.
You had been far from home for over two weeks: King Daeron had again requested Maekar’s attendance at a melee, this time hosted by Lord Baratheon in celebration of his grandson’s nameday. Storm’s End was not too far away; the journey to and from was in fact shorter than that to Dragonstone or King’s Landing, and Maekar traveled to both places with enough frequency to know of distance and the longing that came with it. But melees and tourneys, even if particularly uneventful as of late, brought back a different feeling altogether, and with each passing of the moon, the weight of it became harder and harder for Maekar to carry.
Nonetheless, Maekar knew of duty. And you always loved him enough to learn how to shoulder the burden.
“Warm, honeyed milk for my wife,” Maekar grumbles, voice quiet and tense, as you step inside the dressing alcove in your shared chambers. “And the sweet biscuits she likes.”
The maids scatter as soon as he speaks. It’s the same every time, both the moodiness and the food request. He never asks for anything for himself: it is always your favorite drink and something sweet to go with it, and it is always done in automatic.
It had amused you at the beginning, and you had thought it to be something that would eventually change over time. He was very attentive when you were courting, and despite the moodiness, he was still a prince of the realm. But in the end, Maekar always ever put you first without giving himself a second thought, and that had not dwindled through the years.
“You should rest,” he adds, moving further inside the chamber as he unclips his cloak from around his neck. “We rode for too long. Sit, wife. Or lay down. You have been on your feet long enough.”
“And I am perfectly content with being on my feet for a moment still,” you reply with a small smile, not taking your eyes off him as he drapes his cloak over the edge of his scriptorium. “Although I would not mind your help in unlacing my dress.”
Maekar exhales, nodding softly, and treads your way as your words leave your mouth. He does not look back when the cloak slips to the floor.
The hearth burns quietly, a comforting presence that bathes the room in a soft, warm amber light, and the space smells faintly of cedar. Moonlight seeps in from the outside through a set of wall-height stained glass windows and wooden latticed screens, and reflects upon the stone in a broken kaleidoscope of colors.
The blonde reaches you, delicately resting his hands along the small of your back. He leans closer as soon as he touches you, his body finding a home next to yours almost as if on instinct. He breathes you in, taking in the softness of your gown and the warmth of your body, marveling at how the moonlight seems like stardust when reflecting over your hair and reveling in the way you draw breath.
He does not close his eyes, does not dare to miss a second of the bliss he finds in merely existing in silence by your side. He feels it again, carved down deeply into his bones, the sensation he has had ever since the day you wed: that heart-numbing fullness, that soul-crushing beatitude. The blissfulness that comes from knowing you are but two halves of one whole.
And he exhales. And he exists in the silence again.
His hands move quietly, nimble fingers working the ties in the lace as the hearth continues to burn.
“I forgot to mention,” Maekar clears his throat, the sound brisk and sudden in the stillness. “I had no change to give this to you any sooner.”
You feel him shift behind you, resting his weight on one leg as he retrieves something from the small leather pouch he keeps tied to the hem of his breeches. He hands it to you over your shoulder, delicately, waiting only until your fingers have properly wrapped around the parcel to remove his hand. It moves back to its place among your back in a swift, careful motion, and he resumes his task.
You recognize the gift in a heartbeat.
“Candied apricots?” You smile, tilting your head. “I do not recall mentioning I wanted some. Did you send an envoy out to retreat them?”
Maekar hums, and leans closer. It is no extraordinary offering, nothing he could not request be brought to you as soon as the craving surfaced; and yet, the weight of the parcel in your hand sends a flutter down your chest.
“You are fond of them,” he says, simply, voice rough and raw and with its ever-present edge, but does it without missing a beat. “I will get you more.”
Your husband always speaks with a certainty that informs the world around you that there is nothing more important than what makes you happy. It is what he has always done: making the universe bend to your will, and always by his hand. It is the thought of a simple thing, a small parcel of dried summer fruit, purchased only because he knows you like it; and it becomes so much more.
His hands are still on your back when the last knot has been untied, and he lets them rest there as you rip the parcel open. You turn, and lean forward to press a soft, gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth as you whisper a quiet thank you. He does not smile, but his eyes still soften as he looks at you, burning with fervent devotion.
The moon continues its course above Summerhall, and the vastness of the chamber is perfumed with the scent of candied fruits. The warm feeling in Maekar’s chest threatens to swallow him whole when your lips brush against his, and he, as he always does, surrenders to the blissfulness of it.
Summary: A marriage alliance brings you to the Red Keep to bind your house to the crown. It should have been a simple promise between families.
But court politics, clashing expectations, and two princes with very different views of duty quickly make it clear that some alliances are far more difficult to live with than they are to arrange.
Pairing: Prince! Baelor x Unprepared! Reader x Moody! Mean! Maekar
WC: 9.5k
Warning: 18+, arranged marriage, council drama, yearning, arguments, fucked up couple dynamics, too much tension, smut, betrayal, non-canon, heartbreak, no targcest, no description of readers noble house.
part 1/3| part two
(this is my first akotsk or anything westeros related fic. i’d love to get your feedback on it!)
Your relationship with the brothers was frowned upon by plenty for a multitude of reasons, but the biggest being why your father in law allowed it. Why should his sons be in a throuple marriage? Why should the sept agree?
"It's an abomination!"
"It's wrong in the eyes of the seven! It is shameful to her house!" Peasants shouted after news broke.
Even noble houses gossiped over the idea. In their eyes, the king had truly lost the last bit of his sanity. The seven kingdoms were truly in no position to have a three- headed dragon marriage like the conquerors.
When your own father told you about it months ago, your mind was racked with thoughts.
It was preposterous, how could he suggest a thing?
Besides, you weren't ready to be married to one man let alone two. You didn’t want to leave your home either. You just weren’t ready.
Where would you live anyway, Summerhall or Dragonstone?
The idea alone made you want to vomit.
In the coming weeks, the matter was handled. Westeros had to prepare for a one of a kind marriage.
You spent most of your time trying to take in the beauty of your home and make as many memories as possible. Maybe things wouldn't be as bad as you had been imagining, at least that's what you told yourself at night. You've known since you were a young girl that at some point you'd be married off, but never in a million years did you think that you would be part of the royal family.
The targaryen family— known for interfamilial wars, killing their dragons, dying young, and having a far fall from grace. Deep down, you weren't sure that was the kind of house for you— but what choice did you have?
In the time leading up to your departure for kings landing, you heavily practiced learning and speaking old valyrian. Your father said that you had to in order to make a good impression and if nothing else, you'd at least know what they're saying.
As the night went on, you sat at the desk in your chambers with your two ladies in waiting— Dyanna and Alys. They have been your ladies in waiting for as long as you could remember, the two people that you trust the most.
The fire crackled, lighting the room and casting the shadows of you three along the walls. They sat in the chairs across from you, sewing fabric as you worked on some of your high valyrian. You had practiced so much, for hours on end that you were nearly fluent.
The silence in the room lingered as they continued their task at hand and listened to you absentmindedly.
You fiddled with the paper in front of you, hesitant to speak.
"Can I trust both of you?" You blurted out.
They both stopped in their tracks and shared a glance.
"Of course." Alys responded, her hands in her lap.
Dyanna raised forward in her chair with her brow raised, "is this a serious question?"
You stared at both of them, a bit of embarrassment simmering underneath.
A sigh escaped your lips.
"I'm sure that you two know a great deal more about things than I do. You hear and see everything, even things that you're not meant to."
"What do either of you know about Baelor and Maekar?"
You could tell by their expressions that your questions caught them by surprise.
Dyanna gulped loudly and stared at Alys.
"I.. I don't know much." Alys remarked.
You scoffed.
"I know that you two must know something. I'm going into this marriage completely blind about both of them."
Dyanna scooted her chair forward and placed her fabric on your desk. She gave a quick glance at the door to make sure that it was completely shut. Alys nudged her as if she was warning her to keep her mouth shut, but that didn’t stop her.
"I don't know entirely everything, but I do know some things."
You sat back in your chair, ready to hear whatever information she could give.
"Do tell."
"I've heard that they're very quiet men overall, nothing like the boisterous targaryen men before them. They take their responsibilities very seriously, both extremely smart. No bastards, at least no one has ever heard such a rumor. Also, they're very good knights."
Your brows raised from intrigue as you took in the information, it wasn't alot— but it would do. It took some worry from your heart knowing that they weren't completely awful or rakes.
You pointed at Alys, "why have you gone quiet?"
She looked like she had seen a ghost— pale and scared like a child.
"It's just m'lady, I wouldn't wish to spoil this match for you. King Daeron looked long and hard for a match."
You bit your lip.
"I'm sure that he did look long and hard, I just don't know why he chose me out of all the women from noble houses."
She shrugged, while Dyanna began working on her sewing again.
"That I have no answer for, but it is an honour."
You slightly rolled your eyes and sat the paper down.
"We'll see about that." You muttered.
With the night winding down— you drank some peppermint tea for good rest and talked to Alys and Dyanna a bit more before sending them out.
The night was quiet, the sky clouded and everyone inside. You laid there wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
At night you always have trouble clearing your mind and just simply going to sleep. Something your new husbands would have to accept and hopefully not complain over it.
The next morning the sun was out, brighter than it had been in the last few moons. It was so bright, it almost made you forget that it had been a grueling winter.
The feast was that day, more people bustling about than ever and arrivals of other noble families. Everyone wants to celebrate and see you off before your big wedding in King's Landing. A feast meant faking your smile and excitement all day, until the end of the night.
After your bath, you sat in front of your mirror and slowly brushed your hair. You were completely disassociated, almost forgot what you were doing.
Dyanna grabbed your hand, snapping you out of it.
"No smiles today?" She asked as she started brushing your hair.
You sighed, "smile for what? I'm being sold off like a brood mare to two people I've never met before."
She parted your hair and began to braid it.
"You might eventually fall in love with them, my lady."
"And if I don’t, then I'm miserable for the rest of my life. Isn't that just a lovely bargain?" You asked sarcastically.
She chuckled, finding amusement in your negativity this morning.
"Give it a try, if you go into it like this— then it'll never work. I'm sure they're not thrilled either, but you have to meet in the middle."
You continued to sulk as she braided your hair.
The sound of laughter, horses, and people filled the air in your room. The noise was so loud that it was as if the commotion was in your room.
You finished getting dressed and had Dyanna leave your room.
You sat on the seat near your window and stared out—watching more people arrive, food being brought in, extra benches for people. You sat there for hours before you realized that it had started to get dark.
There was a knock at your door, your mother peaked her head in.
"There you are! You must've been hiding in here all day."
You stood up and adjusted your dress as your mother walked over.
"You look beautiful." She smiled.
You gave a half grin," thank you."
She very quickly sensed that something was off with you.
"What is the matter? You've been in here all day and you're quiet, far too quiet."
You stared down at the floor, trying to understand your own feelings.
"It's just so many new things happening at once, my life is changing faster than I've truly been able to process."
A small part of her heart broke when you said that. She understood that feeling all too well.
"I understand, this isn't an easy change—but it was bound to happen at some point. These feelings will fade with time, just allow yourself that."
Your eyes watered as she pulled you into a hug.
"I love you, mother."
She rubbed your back as a tear streamed down her cheek.
"I love you too. You will get through this."
You collected yourself after the moment with your mother and both of you made your way to dining hall.
—
The hall was loud— the smell of meats and vegetables consumed the room. People danced, laughed, and congratulated your father on the promising match.
Your mother joined your father at the table in the front, while you stood in the back and drank a goblet of wine.
Lady Janna from house Tyrell approached you with a bright smile on her face.
"This is a lovely feast!" She shouted over the music.
You nodded with a smile. "It is! Way better than I expected."
You took a sip of your wine and bobbed your head to the music.
Janna walked closer to you, standing shoulder to shoulder. She leaned in and talked in your ear, "how does it feel to be promised to men of house targaryen?"
You gave a quick laugh. "I guess the same way it does for any woman promised to a man, just twice the nerves."
She laughed particularly hard at what you said.
"You have a fair point! Have you met them yet?"
You looked around the room, trying to figure out why she's asking so many questions— especially considering the two of you aren't close.
You finished the rest of the wine in your cup and shook your head.
"I won't meet them until I get to king's landing."
"Scary, isn't it?" She joked.
You gave an unamused smile, "definitely."
She eyed the room as if she was scared to say what she wanted to say next.
"You know, they say that they are known to have multiple women clinging to them."
Your eyes quickly darted to hers, your mouth slightly parted.
"Oh. Is that so?"
She waved at a woman passing by. "That's what I've been told."
It'd be a lie to say that the new information didn’t worry you, it was the complete opposite of what Dyanna said and she wouldn't lie. So, maybe her information was wrong.
You quickly pretended like you needed to make your way to your parents.
"Oh, it looks like they need me. It's been nice seeing you!" You said, abruptly ending the conversation.
You walked to the front and greeted your father, a pit in your stomach.
"Father." You muttered.
He gave you a tight hug with a wide smile, wine coating his breath.
"You look magnificent in this dress!"
"Thank you, father."
He let go of you and immediately got the attention of everyone in the hall, preparing to do a toast.
The music stopped and everyone's attention was at the front.
"I want to thank everyone for coming, near and far. It's not often that we're gathered here for this kind of event, but when we do—we treat it for the special moment it is."
"My daughter has been promised to the fine sons of King Daeron."
Cheers and clapping erupted, interrupting your father.
"Yes, it deserves all the praise." Your father laughed.
"Tonight is our last hoorah and a send off for my lovely daughter. Your mother and I have watched you grow into a formidable young lady and I know that you will make them a fine wife. I hope they bring you the happiness that you deserve."
He picked up his glass full of wine.
"Here's to the three- headed dragon!" He shouted.
The room shouted in unison and the music immediately followed after.
Your father's speech moved you in an unexpected way, because it was clear to you that this was more than an alliance for him. He truly wants you to be happy and in a secure marriage.
You sat down alongside your mother, ate a bit of food, indulged in too much wine, and waited impatiently for the night to be over.
You didn't remember getting to your room nor getting in the bed, but somehow you managed.
The next morning, the sky was clouded and the wind raged like it was angry. The air was thick like invisible molasses.
This was the last day in your home, you were leaving in a few hours to King's Landing. Your stomach was in knots, everything felt too real in a way that you weren't ready for.
Dyanna and Alys rushed in to help you get ready, as you couldn't be a minute late. There was no time for delays.
They got you ready for your bath and brought your breakfast to your chambers.
"Please, remember we must be quick this morning." Alys mentioned as she set your tray down.
You untied the knot in front of your robe, letting it fall and pool around your feet.
You slowly stepped into the boiling, milky water in the tub. You groaned as you sank all the way in, the water completely covering you.
You had a headache sent from the seven hells, your head pounded harder than it ever had before.
You sat there in complete silence with your eyes closed and your back leaned against the tub.
This headache was so powerful that even the faint candle flicker from across the room was too much.
The steam rose from the tub— hints of honey and lavender in the air.
The sky roared with flickers of light from the looming thunderstorm.
Sharp pains coursed throughout your head and all you could do was wince. You pinched the bridge of your nose and begged the Gods for mercy under your breath.
After feeling no relief, you allowed your entire body to sink under the water.
You felt completely weightless, you stared up through the milky water. It was as if the world around you had went still.
It was enjoyable until Alys saw you staring under water with no expression and screamed.
You raised up from the water and wiped your face.
"Seven hells, Alys. You're going to make people think I died with that kind of scream."
She clutched her chest and tried to catch her breath.
"You gave me fright like had died in here."
You rolled your eyes and stood up in the tub, Alys handed you a towel as the water fell off of you.
Once you were out of the tub, you ate some of the food they had brought and got dressed. After all, time was slipping by.
"Would you like me to brush and braid your hair, m'lady?" Dyanna asked as she tidied up the room.
You winced at the idea of anything being done to your head right now.
"No, thank you. I'm going to leave it down or else it will never properly dry."
You pushed some of your hair out of your face as you put your boots on.
"You know, if you get any more white streaks in your hair like you have now— they'll think you're a full blooded targaryen." She joked.
You mustered up a faint giggle.
Your hair always had white streaks in it, since you were a child. Only now as you've gotten older the streaks have gotten bigger.
Within a few minutes, Alys and Dyanna let you know that they've done everything needed. They tell you that they will meet you near the carriages and that you must make haste.
—
You take your time in your room, trying to take in every inch. Quick glimpses of memories flashing through your mind.
Your mother knocks on the door and you can tell from her expression that she's been crying.
She wiped her hands on her dress, fighting back more tears.
"It looks like you're ready to go."
You grab her hands. "Mother, don't cry."
She laughs and waves you off.
"Don't mind me. It will just be different without you here, I've never not had you by my side."
You were also trying to fight back the tears, your chest feeling heavy.
"I know, but like you said— it was bound to be this way."
She nodded. "Yes, that's true—“
"I just ask that you write often. I want to be updated."
You nodded as tears fell from your eyes.
"I will miss you." You admitted.
She pulled you into a warm hug, almost scared to let you go.
"I will visit soon, I will make sure of it."
You cherished this hug more than any other one, because who knew when you would get one again.
She finally let go of you.
"Anyways, you must go now. You don't want to keep your father waiting."
"I love you, please be safe." She added.
"I love you too, mother."
You walked away from her and out of the door. She stood there and watched with her heart heavy.
The wind blew your hair in every direction as you made your way outside to the carriages. You looked around at your home for one last time before you got in.
You got into your carriage with Dyanna and Alys. Ten minutes later, you were leaving your home and everything you had ever known.
The trip to King's Landing was long, testing, boring, and the most uncomfortable thing that you'd ever experienced. You longed to be back at home in the comfort of your own chambers. When they mentioned that you only had a day's ride left, you thanked the God's.
Your nightmare was coming to an end.
It wasn't hard to tell when you were close to King's Landing, it reeked of shit. The kind of smell that you don’t think you'd truly ever get used to.
The carriages finally came to a stop, once you arrived.
Everyone stepped out and was greeted by the king's men and small council.
They were delighted to see you and put a face to the name.
A septa showed you around the area and to your chambers. Your father was whisked away to speak with the king.
Your chambers were bigger than what you had at home and had a wonderful view outside.
"I have a bath waiting for you, if you'd like to freshen up and change clothes. Your things have already been brought up as well."
You nodded, taking in everything.
"Please, let me know if you need anything." She added.
She shut the door behind her, a loud thud echoing off of the walls. Without hesitation, you stripped out of your clothes and got into the tub.
The bath felt heavenly after such a long trip. Without even realizing it, you had dozed off for a short period in the tub. When you woke up, the water was cool— which meant you should've been out.
Alys and Dyanna were nowhere to be found, but you figured that they must've somewhere with the septa.
You got out of the tub and changed into your dress. This dress happened to have your house colors in it, which wouldn't have been your favorite choice— but it was the first thing that you grabbed.
You opened your door and to your surprise, you had no one stationed outside of it..
That would be the best opportunity to have alone time and to explore on your own, so you took it.
Everything in King's Landing is so bright and full of color, also filled with a lot more people than your home.
You made your way to the garden and stood there in awe, the flowers were absolutely stunning and you made it your mission to smell most of them before leaving.
To your surprise, you hadn't heard anyone talking about Baelor or Maekar. You hadn't even seen them yet either. You always figured that they would've been there to greet you, but you clearly thought wrong.
On your walk, you somehow made it farther than your tour had been earlier. You came across two men sparring and upon a second look, you realized that it must be them.
Both of them are tall, but so drastically different. One with slightly sun-kissed skin and a bit more of a lean build. The other was the very picture of a Targaryen man—platinum hair, platinum beard, very pale skin.
—
You stood afar and watched silently as they sparred, your eyes unable to look at anything else.
Your dress and hair blew in the wind, the sun beaming down on you. You didn't know much about anything when it came to sparring or knighthood, but they were both very good at what they do.
You caught the attention of Baelor first, as it was hard to miss you standing there. He glanced at you a few times before he brought it to Maekar's attention.
They stopped sparring and made their way to you. Your stomach was in knots, but you pushed the feeling deep down.
"Do you stop and stare at everyone?" Maekar asked.
You were completely taken back by his question and his very stern expression.
Baelor interrupted him.
"My apologies. I’m guessing by the house colors that you must be our betrothed."
He held out his hand for you to shake, you shook it with a grin.
"I'm Baelor and this is my brother, Maekar. We welcome you to King’s Landing.” He added.
"Nice to meet both of you." You nervously grinned.
You stared at Baelor and couldn't take your eyes off of him, especially his eyes. They were something you could get lost in.
Maekar scoffed.
"You shouldn’t be roaming around without guards.”
Baelor gave him a stern look and your brow raised.
“You are such a ray of sunshine.” You said with sarcasm.
Maekar just stood there with a scowl on his face as if you'd gravely insulted him. You instantly knew that he was going to be harder to get close to.
You fidgeted with your fingers.
"Well, it was a pleasure meeting both of you. I should get going, people are probably looking for me."
Baelor nodded and Maekar walked away.
"It was lovely meeting you, m'lady."
Your first time meeting them and it couldn't have been more awful, despite it only being a short interaction— you felt defeated.
You made your way to your chambers, Alys and Dyanna were waiting for you at the door.
"There you are!" Dyanna sighed.
"We thought we were going to have to notify your father after we couldn't find you." Alys added.
You faked a smile. "I'm fine, I just want to be alone and rest."
They both had a puzzled look on their faces, but they decided to let you be and not press the matter. It had been a long day and even longer travel to get there.
You walked into your chambers and shut the door behind you. In the silence that followed, you stripped out of your dress and climbed into bed. You had no desire for any more conversations or dinner.
Sleep took you faster than expected, when you awoke the sun had set and the halls were quiet.
You decided to slip back into your dress and go out into the garden again to clear your mind.
It was quiet outside with the faint hum of a few people and kingsguard walking about. You sat in the garden with only your thoughts as your eyes scanned the night sky. The stars aligned in a way that you'd never seen before.
The moment with Baelor and Maekar had been playing in your head over and over. What could you have done better? What did you do wrong?
Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted.
"May I join you, m’lady?" Baelor asked.
You shook your head. “Of course, my prince.”
"How did you even find me out here?" You questioned.
He huffed, just shy of a laugh.
"Everyone loves the garden."
"I also heard that you didn't eat dinner, so I brought you some that was leftover. "
He slid the tray towards you.
You couldn’t hide your confused expression, but you thanked I’m anyways.
You ate a bite of the potatoes, even though you had little appetite. They were better than you expected.
"I'm sorry about Maekar, he shouldn't have been like that. He can be rough.” He apologized.
You wiped your mouth with the rag.
"Is he always an asshole?"
He smiled with an audible laugh, he was not expecting that from you.
"I see, you're very direct. But, no—he's not always like that. It just takes time."
A silence lingered between the two of you, but you caught him staring at you.
"I hope your travels weren't too harsh." He spoke.
"I hope I never have to do it again." You blurted without hesitation.
He laughed. For some reason you seemed to amuse him.
"You laugh, but I'm serious."
He shakes his head with a slight grin.
"I just think you have a lovely personality, m'lady. I didn't mean to offend with my laughter, forgive me."
"How does it feel to be a prince?" You asked, changing the subject.
He adjusted the way he was sitting.
"It can be boresome, far from an easy task. Everyone always has their eyes on you and expects things of you."
"Like sharing a woman with your brother?" You taunted.
He stared at you blankly as if you had offended him, a snicker escaped his mouth.
"God's, you are very blunt—“
“It’s refreshing to see every now and then.”
"I wasn't intending to be rude, my prince."
He waved you off.
"My love, you weren't—“
Both of you looked at each other like deers frozen in a field.
"I'm so sorry, that was an accident."
The wind blew, creating a small distraction in the conversation.
"You have nothing to apologize for." You assured him.
"Was this marriage alliance your idea?" You pried, eating a grape from the tray.
"No, the small councils."
You figured it was, but you had to ask. You wanted to know everything you could as it was only fair.
"How do you feel about it?" You followed up.
His fingers rubbed his beard, eyes full of thought.
"I don’t feel any specific way. I just prayed to the God's that whoever they chose was a good woman. Luckily for me, I think they answered."
Your stomach fluttered at his response, he made you feel tingly inside. He was very charming.
You stood up, "it's getting late and I should get back to my chambers."
He grabbed your tray.
"You should, I wouldn't want anyone worried."
He walked with you to your chambers, almost in sync with your every step. You reached your door and hesitated before entering.
"Thank you, my prince. I enjoyed the food and conversation."
"The pleasure is all mine, m'lady. Have a goodnight."
You walked into your chambers and shut the door. Your heart almost felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. He was softer and more inviting than his brother. He enjoyed your wit and even in that short time, you were able to truly be yourself.
You found yourself smiling as you laid in bed, something completely unexpected. After a bit of tossing and turning, you finally managed to fall asleep.
When you finally awoke the next morning, you realized that you had slept in later than you intended to. Not that you were bothered by the extra rest, you just certainly didn't want to spend all day in bed. Dyanna and Alys had agreed to let you get your rest, as they figured that you needed it.
With the help of your ladies in waiting, you got dressed and made your way to the stables.
Before you left home, you managed to convince your father to let you bring your horse. Your horse, Moony is near and dear to your heart. You would've been devastated to leave him behind.
At the stable there were a few horses, but as soon as you walked up to Moony—he nudged you with excitement.
You rubbed his head and nose.
"I missed you and our adventures, sweet boy. I hope we can have them here." You whispered.
You saddled him up and took him outside the gates, the place with the most space to ride to your hearts desire.
You were having fun with him as he galloped through the field, it was freeing. You practiced some maneuvers with him closer to the gate.
As you practiced with him, a few men rode through the gates. You could see that Baelor was part of the group. One lingered behind and made his way over to you.
"What are you doing?" Maekar called out.
You stared at him and adjusted your reigns.
"Riding my horse."
"You're a lady, I'm sure there are better things for you to do than this. Ladies don't ride horses for sport."
Your brow raised, a half smirk on your face.
"They don't? Or they're not allowed to, my prince?"
He scoffed, his brows furrowed.
"Should you get hurt, no one would know that you're out here."
You rubbed Moony's head.
“Then it’s a good thing that I know what I'm doing."
His expressions confused you, he wasn't as easy to read like his brother. You truly couldn't tell whether he liked you, was repulsed by you, amused, or confused.
"Are you always like this?" You questioned.
"What?"
"Your coldness, your attitude, and the shell that you never let anyone near."
He rolled his eyes, "must you ask numerous questions?"
You chuckled, which you could tell rubbed him the wrong way.
"My prince, it is a shame that you have this attitude and inability to be nice. You're a very attractive man."
You pulled your reigns and began riding away with Moony. It was obvious that you left him speechless, the way his lips parted with his scowl— he truly had nothing to say. Deep down inside, you loved leaving him speechless. It was a necessary tease.
You put Moony into his stable and promised him that you'd be back soon.
Over the next few weeks you tried hard to prepare for your new life and focus on this new world that you had been thrusted into. You made a few appearances and got to know some of the smallfolk. The smallfolk loved you and King Daeron loved to mention it at meetings. In his mind you were the best pick for his sons in every way.
Over the time that had passed, you still had few encounters with them. Both very busy, but only one seemed determined to not let you slip through his fingers. Baelor continued to surprise you, while Maekar was cold with you. Sometimes you felt like you made progress with him, other times you couldn’t tell. He was a man of few words and even less touch.
You were falling for both brothers in your own way, something that you didn’t quite understand.
The sun beamed down as you walked through the crowds. Your father would have a fit if he saw you wandering around without guards. You're just glad that you haven't run into him, which was a surprise within itself.
On your walk, you found Baelor sparring by himself in the same spot from the first day. Instead of standing afar, you moved closer to watch his techniques.
He smiled ear to ear when he noticed you.
"I didn't expect to see you watching me again."
You tried to hide your smile that was peeking through.
"It's interesting is all, I don't mean to intrude."
"No, no, no. You're not intruding at all, I could use the company."
You stood there watching, your fingers interlocked in the front of your dress.
"Is this how you spend your free time?"
He laughed, "I wouldn't technically call this free time. This is part of my duty.”
The way he handled the sword was so effortlessly, it came naturally as if it was intertwined in his DNA.
"Would you want me to show you how to hold this?" He asked, interrupting your thoughts.
You should've said no, but you agreed.
He gave you the sword and stood behind you, his chest pressed against your back as he showed you what to do.
The wind blew, revealing more of your neck to him— a sight that took away his focus. The smell of your perfume filled his nose, a smell that consumed him.
"Like this?" You asked, adjusting the sword. He reeled in his thoughts of you and began to focus.
He guided your arm and steadied you with his hand on your waist.
He couldn't say it out loud, but the more he got closer with you and the more he saw you—the less he could resist you.
You did one of the movements he showed you and he couldn't help but smile at your excitement.
"You keep that up and you'll be better than me." He joked.
You grinned ear to ear.
"Your words of encouragement are sweet, Baelor."
He didn’t mind you calling him by his first name, after all you were soon to be his wife and he loved the way it rolled off of your tongue.
You left Baelor to continue his practicing without you distracting him and made your way to your chambers.
With Dinner fastly approaching, you took a bath—hoping to soothe your muscles.
Dyanna came into the room and sat in the chair across from the fireplace.
"I've barely seen you, since we've been here." She pointed out.
"I'm sorry for that, I've just been trying to adjust to everything here."
You opened your eyes and glanced at her. You could tell that she seemed down.
"Is something wrong?" You questioned.
She sighed.
"It just seems like you've shut out both me and Alys. We have been your ladies in waiting for years and this has never been the case."
You turned in the tub, angled so that you could see her better.
"I'm just trying to find my footing here. I have no identity here, outside of being betrothed. I'm navigating not one, but two brothers that are very different. I just need some space.." you confessed. You reminded her.
What you said wasn't intended to be rude or harsh, it was just a bitter pill for both of you two swallow.
Once you finished your bath, Dyanna took leave. You put on your robe and brushed your damp hair, you had no intention of leaving your chambers.
You began to realize that you had grown bored. No books to read or even paper and ink to write. You tightened your robe and decided to sneak out of your room. It was late, the hall was quiet and dimly lit.
When you reached the door, you hesitated and took a deep breath.
Two soft knocks against the door and your stomach full of dread.
The door opened, Maekar stood there with an unamused look on his face. His tunic slightly undone, exposing some of his chest.
He held his door open and stood to the side, so that you could walk in.
The door shut behind you with a faint click.
"Why are you here?"
You stood there, staring around his room.
He took in how your robe revealed more cleavage than he should’ve seen, how your damp hair framed your face, how your robe did little to hide your curves. You were by far the most beautiful thing that he had laid eyes on, but he could never admit it.
"I couldn't sleep and I wanted to borrow one of your books. I know that you like to read and have plenty.”
He scowled with complete disbelief as he walked to his desk.
"You come into my room at these hours, for a fucking book?—"
"Do you have any idea how this would look, if anyone caught you here? Is this a fucking joke?" He scolded.
Your eyes followed his every move across the room, your heart shattering from embarrassment.
“I have more pressing matters to attend to than having you sneaking into my chambers at night.”
“More pressing than you getting to know me?”
His eyes flicked up at your face.
You felt so small and embarrassed. Part of you was genuinely excited to get to know him, but you realized that you had been a fool.
"I'm sorry, my prince— I shouldn't have come to your room at this time, I should've chosen a more appropriate hour." You spoke, holding back tears.
His heart sank, he immediately regretted his tone with you. Part of what he said was right, but too harsh and unfair to you.
A tear fell down your cheek as you walked to the door.
As you went to grab the handle, he grabbed your hand and pulled you from it.
"I'm sorry— that response was entirely unnecessary from me. You didn't deserve it."
He pulled you into him, almost as if he could read your mind and knew that you needed it. You just didn't like his tone, it truly hurt your feelings. Your face pressed against his exposed chest, his scent of sandalwood warming your nose.
He wrapped his arms around you, his head resting on yours.
"You can borrow any book that you like."
You wiped your eyes and pulled away, You bowed to Maekar.
"I shall bid you goodnight, my prince."
His stomach twisted into a knot, he knew he fucked up.
You opened the door and made your way down the hall to your room. Tears filled your eyes from sheer disappointment.
When you got into your room, you laid on your bed and wished to wake up at home.
For the next two weeks, you avoided both of them. You made sure to exit the halls as soon as you saw them step on them, avoid being out when you knew they would be, and you just kept your distance.
Baelor left flowers at your door, picked straight from the garden. Maekar left two of his books with a note.
You didn’t know how to feel anymore. One brother warmed your heart and made you smile, while the other tested your patience and ability to be cold.
Maybe, you were not the suitable candidate for this kind of marriage— this just wasn't what you needed. It was too much.
In the midst of you avoiding them, you sought out your father and explained that this wasn't suitable for you. He listened, asked questions, and said that he'd bring it up to the council in a few days. Hearing him say that made you hopeful. There was a chance that this whole thing could be behind you and you could return home.
Baelor questioned his sanity, because he didn’t understand what had happened. You were completely avoiding him, not even accepting his flowers. Maekar had not told him about the incident, he felt guilty enough and he didn’t need him to add on to it.
It wasn't until their father summoned both of them a few days later with the news, that your father might bring up his grievances to the small council.
Maekar had no idea that you felt that way after the conversation and Baelor didn't know he spoke to you in that manner.
King Daeron was angry with both of them, but more so Maekar. After being chewed up and spit out by his father, Baelor left the room without a word.
He walked down the empty halls, straight to your door.
While you brushed your door, there was a small and what seemed urgent knock. Your fingers ran through your hair as you absentmindedly opened the door.
Baelor stood there, silent and clearly with things on his mind.
He walked in right past you, towards the middle of the room while you shut the door.
"Is everything okay, my prince?"
His beautiful double-colored eyes scanned your face.
"I was not aware of your tiff with Maekar." He spoke plainly.
You shoulders dropped when you realized you had no reason to worry.
"Oh."
He saw how even the mere mention of it made your expression falter.
"It is no matter, just a small and meaningless conversation with him."
He walked towards your window, staring out into the settled night sky.
"So meaningless that you want to end the engagement?"
Your breath hitched, you didn't know that he knew yet. You only assumed that Maekar mentioned the previous conversation.
"My prince.."
His eyes glanced back towards you, his expression plain as if was stuck in thought.
"You want to leave?"
You hesitated on answering, you weren't sure what was the proper response.
"He does not like me, my prince. I think that I'm ill suited for the position of wife."
"So, you would like to leave?—“
"You wish to go home?"
The fire crackled in the fire place amidst your silence.
"Yes, my prince.
He leaned against the windowsill, "it wouldn't be far enough."
Your brows raised with confusion as you didn't understand him.
"Pardon?"
He turned towards you, completely allured by your beauty.
"Your home isn't far enough from here."
"I must admit, I do not understand—"
"Should I go farther away?"
A slight grin tugged at his lips.
"There could be oceans between us and it wouldn't be enough."
Your heart skipped beats as you had no idea what he was trying to say.
"My prince, I'm sure there are hundreds of noble women that are better matches for you and Maekar." You contested.
He walked closer to you, closing some of the gap between the two of you.
"Fuck them." He sternly replied.
You gasped, "Baelor."
"No one could bewitch me the way that you do."
"Before we knew you, my father proposed multiple other women as contenders—some I've met and some I've not. They were dull, too eager to please, and even more eager to be part of the royal family."
In three strides, he completely closed the gap between you and his hands were on yours.
"You are the exact opposite. You are different, you have the most marvelous laugh, you are honest, you are precious to me. You have the fire of a dragon in you and I’ve started to imagine a life with you.”
His thumb caressed your fingers.
"So, no—your home is not far enough from me."
Your chest rose and fell fast, tears welled in your eyes, and your mind was swarmed with confused thoughts. You didn’t expect to hear such words from him.
His hand cupped your face.
"The God's have blessed you with an unseen amount of beauty." He mumbled.
A tear fell down your cheek.
"Ma..Maekar hates me."
He traced your face softly. "Trust me, you've never seen his hate before."
You were closer to him than you'd ever been, than you should ever be. He isn't your husband yet and even worse, after you conversation with your father— he might never be.
His lips brushed yours in an act of defiance, but before you could pull away— he kissed you.
His hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you into him. The kiss was slow and tender, like a flame being tended to, the kind of kiss you had been dreaming of for weeks now.
"Baelor.. we shouldn't." You mumbled.
He picked you up off of your feet, and without hesitation you wrapped your legs around his waist.
"I won't defile you and ruin your honor."
Your kiss with him deepened as he walked you over to your bed. He laid you down gently, his lips never leaving yours.
"I do not want you to leave. I do not want another woman." He protested.
He kissed your face and his thumb trailed your bottom lip.
"I must leave, it would be the best situation for all involved." You reiterated.
He nodded.
"Then I will follow."
You sighed, your stomach filled with heat and your mind stuck in a strange whirlwind.
"I will not lose you, I cannot."
He kissed you once more and kicked his boots off simultaneously. You weren't prepared to meet Baelor at this time and you were far too underdressed for it.
You undersilk revealed a great portion of your shoulders and chest, which Baelor took note of.
He hands were on both sides of you as he placed gentle kisses to your neck and collarbone.
A soft moan escaped your lips.
Everything about this moment was wrong, you weren't supposed to want him the way that you did. Especially, if you were going to call off the engagement.
One of his hands roamed your waist, slowly dipping lower than it should.
"Tell me to stop, if you wish it."
You stared at him and no matter what your mind said, you couldn't muster up the words.
"I do not wish it." You mumbled.
Wetness pooled in between your legs as his fingers closely made their way to your cunt.
You crashed your lips into his, your tongue claiming it's place in his mouth.
His hand rested on your on your mound, merely laying there as a tease within itself.
His fingers dipped down lower and teased your entrance, making you whine. He slowly circled your clit and your back arches from pleasure.
"My love, you are so wet for me."
Your eyes were lidded with the immense pleasure, your mouth slightly parted. You'd never been touched this way before by any man or even yourself.
Your body caved to him, heart beating in sync with his. Your breath ragged against his cheek.
The warm sensation building in your stomach and traveling all throughout your body.
"Baelor." You moaned.
"That's it, sweet dove. You're doing so well."
Amidst all of the pleasure, he slipped his finger inside you. Your mouth opened wide from shock and the slight sting.
"You are perfect." He groaned.
He fingered you slowly and with such precision, you'd never be able to get him out of your mind now.
Your hand brushed his trousers and you could feel his cock, how extremely hard it was.
A groan left his mouth.
"Mhm."
You started untying the strings to his trousers, all while trying to keep your moans at a low volume.
He shifted, "don't worry about me. I want to focus on you."
He kissed you deeply as you tensed up and your moans got louder, he knew that you were close.
"Shh, my love. We can't have anyone hearing us."
You legs shook from the stimulation as you reached your peak. Baelor covered your mouth with his hand and a sly grin.
"That's it, that's it." He coached.
He watched as you caught your breath and took in the experience. He loved the sight of you falling apart from an orgasm.
He slowly pulled his finger out and crashed on the bed beside you. As you closed your eyes for just a second to process everything, you could hear him suck his finger.
There was a long winded silence in the room. Both of you had just crossed a line.
Baelor placed a kiss onto your forehead and quickly climbed out of bed.
You sit up with a confused look, "where are you going?"
He grabbed his boots and looked up at you.
"I told you that I wouldn't defile and ruin you honour, which I meant."
"But, Baelor..” you whined.
He gave you a painful, but understanding smile. "There is no guarantee that you are to be mine and I will not be the reason for rumors and ruining your name. I cannot do that to a woman I love, no matter how badly I want to.”
Your eyes welled with tears again and walked over to him.
"I do not want to lose you, you’ve made me feel a love that I didn’t know was possible.”
He was relieved to hear it, but even more crushed at the idea of things not working out.
"Stay with me, just lay in the bed with me." You begged.
A lovely proposition, but he was also worried of being caught.
He dropped his boots and pulled you into a hug. "Of course I will, my love."
You and Baelor laid together in your bed for the rest of the night. Your head on his chest as you listened to his heartbeat. You fought your sleep for a bit, scared the moment would end— but it eventually caught up to you.
When you awoke, he was gone. He left before anyone could notice that he stayed in your chambers overnight.
You rushed to make yourself decent and find your father. It was imperative that you convince him that you were wrong. Despite things with Maekar, you wanted this.
When you found your father, he was eating his breakfast and surprised to see you so early. You confessed that you had been rash in asking him to stop the wedding, you blamed it on fear and being homesick. To your surprise, he laughed—because he figured that was the case. He just wants you to be happy and in a marriage with a future.
You were so relieved to hear that things would continue on as intended. You gave your father a kiss on the cheek and walked back to your room. On your way to your room, you saw Baelor who was heading to an early council meeting.
He approached you with a smile and cautiously went into your room with you.
"Goodmorning, my love."
You kissed him, a surprise to him—but a welcomed one.
"I sorted things out with my father, things will go on as planned.”
He smiled, his heart full at the news.
"That is splendid news, my sweet dove. I lost sleep thinking that I could lose you.”
He hugged you and gave you a kiss on the forehead.
"I wish I could stay longer, but more people are moving around the halls and I have to get going."
You nodded and watched as he left your room.
Once you completed your morning routine, you decided to head to the stables and take Moony out again.
Clouds hung low in the sky and everything felt heavy, which meant more rain. Which also meant that you needed to make haste with your time out.
You walked to the stables and through the crowds of people that you were met with. At the stables there was no sign of the stable boy to your surprise.
Behind you, heavy boots stomped closely.
"Figured you would be here." A deep, stern voice mentioned.
You turned to see Maekar and you gave a quick bow.
"My prince."
He hated the way you said it, as if there was never a chance to be more. As if he was confined to that and nothing else.
He walked around you to the gate and let his horse out. You watched, but not too closely.
The tension was so thick that it was palpable. The two of you felt like heartbroken strangers instead of two betrothed.
He saddled his horse and climbed onto him, on his way out-- he stopped near you. He held his hand out.
"Join me."
He didn't leave much room for it to sound like a question or command, just the way he always does.
You grabbed his hand and he pulled you up. You sat in the front as the two of you rode through the gates. You didn't bother to ask, it wasn’t like he'd answer anyway. The ride was about fifteen minutes before you came upon the most beautiful sight.
Your mouth hung open in shock.
He brought you to a wild flower field, which had the kind of flowers that you didn’t see often and so many different ones.
You jumped down with excitement, a smile on your face as you ran through them and took your time smelling them.
Maekar sat on his horse and watched. Such a small gesture brought you so much joy and that warmed his hardened heart.
You walked around to your hearts desire, like a freebird with no obligations.
While you wandered around, Maekar got off his horse to take a leak. You noticed he was gone and decided to see where he went, you found him peeing near a tree.
You stood behind him silently and waited for him to finish. When he turned around to see you staring, he clenched his jaw in annoyance.
"God's, what is wrong with you?" He asked under his breath.
He walked ahead of you and you stayed behind.
"Why did you bring me here?"
He stopped in his tracks and hesitated, "I don't know."
You were frustrated, because you just can’t tell with him. He's always hard to read and it seems like he never wants to be bothered.
On your walk back, you realized that you were fed up— that it couldn’t work like this.
"You do understand that you never had to fucking agree to this?" You yelled.
When he turned to face you, the scowl on his face was nothing like you'd seen from him before.
"I beg your pardon?"
You pinched the bridge of your nose.
"All I do is try to get close to you and understand the person I’m supposed marry. You fight me every step of the way—"
His shoulders were pulled back in offense and he was ready to interrupt you before you continued.
“Make no mistake, I understand that this is duty for you— i just hoped it could grow to be more before we were wedded."
You took a deep breath after your rant and walked away.
"Stop!" He yelled as he approached you.
"You insolent girl, why can't you just leave well enough alone?"
His face was red and he was angry.
"This is duty and sacrifice!—" He barked.
You scoffed.
"You know nothing of sacrifice."
His brow raised and he gritted his teeth.
"How lovely it must be to be so naive. It is a sacrifice to not allow myself to love, to be a man of few words around a woman that I could talk to all day—"
"You know nothing about being married to a prince in this place. This world is cruel, dark, and ugly. It has a habit of ruining great things. I would rather be rude and let the pure woman go than to let her suffer here."
You wiped your face as your angry words hung in your throat.
"I fell in love with a woman from afar.. She's so carefree in a world where everything has to be the same. She doesn't bite her tongue, she enjoys horseback riding, she gives people chances in a world where there are none."
"She is beautiful and rare like the flowers here. She is the bane of my existence. All those things and yet, I'm willing to let her go. That is sacrifice!"
So many things hit you all at once with his confession. The love stricken Maekar was all that you wanted and he had made it so difficult.
"I don't want you to let me go, I want you to do the courageous thing and love me out loud."
Rain started to sprinkle down, wetting your face and dress.
"You have no idea what it is that you're asking of me." He stammered.
You put your hand on his chest.
"I'm asking for your heart. I don’t want to be punished for wanting to know you and love you.”
“Punished?” He laughed.
“I’m in love with someone I don’t understand, someone I can’t let get close to me, someone who out wits me, someone I feel so weak around, someone who drives me mad. That is punishment!”
Your expression softened, your eyes pierced through him.
“It is unfortunate that you feel that way, my prince.”
The rain began to pour, drenching the both of you and masking your tears.
He grabbed your face and kissed you. It was heavy, needy, and said more than your words ever could. Your tongue grazed against his teeth and marked it's territory in his mouth.
You pushed him away and slapped him hard.
“I will not be a toy that you use when your emotions get the best of you.”
He grabbed your arm, his grip tight enough to shock you and make you slightly wince.
“You will not be. I fucking want you.” He growled.
It was as if the world around you had stopped. Nothing else mattered outside of him. He finally had given you some insight into his cold and distant behavior.
"I love you." He finally admitted.
You stood there with a complete loss of words.
He picked you up with little patience for resistance and carried you back to the horse.
The rain slowed on the way back, but the ride was quiet. He held your waist on the ride, something that felt like a willing step into the right direction, something small but noticeable.
Once you got back, both of you went your separate ways. You made your way into your chambers and sat in the chair.
The feast and wedding were both coming so soon and things were still shaky. Sure, they both admitted their feelings— but you still didn’t fully understand yours. No one prepared you for how this would go and how you’d be pulled into two different directions. You were preparing to marry two people that you didn’t quite understand.
maekar i targaryen x reader
wc: 1.2k
summary: the letter came at a poor time. or: your companion thinks marriage is a good decision.
tags: arguments, ragebait vs maekar targaryen, period-typical misogyny and expectations, age difference, pre-relationship, crack-adjacent
part 1 / part 3
read on ao3
The letter came at a poor time.
The courier, to his credit, didn’t so much as stutter at the sight of Maekar, frowning in your solar over a cup of tea — it was the way he very pointedly did not glance in his direction, except to bow, that showed his astonishment. When was the last time Maekar was spotted in an unwed-lady’s solar? Gorging himself on lemon-cakes and tea, no less, you wondered. Probably before he wed his wife.
The thought soured in your stomach. Shame followed, especially when you remembered your lack of popularity with the court ladies. You hoped the courier was accustomed to shutting his mouth, though you knew your afternoon would be fodder for the ever-turning wheel of courtly gossip by the morning after.
The courier, having rid himself of his burden, bowed low once more and excused himself; only once he was gone did Maekar speak.
“Who is it?”
“My father, most likely,” you replied. The seal was that of your family; an 8-pointed sun over a glittering sea, the wax a sparkling gold. Your sisters only wrote when your father had irritated them; your mother only wrote when your father irritated her; and your father, head melted with the weight of having six daughters, only wrote when he remembered you were unmarried. Which was often. “My letter opener — could you hand it to me?”
He did as you requested, though not without a dragging roll of his eyes and a sharp sigh. It sat closer to him than you, lying mostly unused except for when missives came for you across the Narrow Sea. Depending on the winds, the letter could be from a sennight ago, or a full moon; knowing your father, another was already on its way.
As you’d expected, it was the tall, looping script of your father’s hand. He began as he always did: a gentle greeting, where he lamented the loss of your loveliness in the home, for your sisters had made it their life’s goal to drive him to madness, and your mother to draining his coffers. He told you of their parties and feasts, the summer sun that beat down upon all of Braavos, the trees he had planted in the gardens for shade. Halfway through, of course, he asked whether or not you’d found a suitable husband, and if the westerners thought your dowry attractive enough. You didn’t know whether to be pleased at his willingness to increase it, or offended at the thought that you’d need it.
“The same as always,” you sighed, mostly to yourself, swapping the papers for a lemon-cake. “He wishes for me to marry, and quickly.”
Maekar made a grunt of acknowledgement, still staring out the window. Your solar had the pleasure of facing an orchard of orange trees. Purely ornamental, of course; the ladies liked to promenade there during the summer. Then — as if shocked into movement by some unimaginable force — he jolted forward, and seized a cake for himself.
“Horrid business,” you continued.
“Have you no desire for it?” His mouth was half-full. The words came muffled, barely legible, and for a short moment you wondered whether it was a question he truly wanted to ask — an answer he truly wanted to hear. Wishful thinking, on your part.
“Desire? Hm. Well, I suppose I do. But if my life could continue as it is now, I would have no qualms.” Yes. Drinking tea and eating cakes and having the weight of him in your hands. You could live a long life, indeed.
“There is no shortage of good men in the Red Keep,” Maekar said, as if it were painfully, pathetically obvious. A scowl was forming on his face, and your own anger grew in its shadow. How dare he judge me, you fumed, as if he could understand my position! And even worse: how could he treat the question of your marriage so casually, as if it meant nothing at all? You weren’t foolish enough to think you’d earned the love of the prince, but you’d hoped you had at least endeared yourself…
“Good to a man is not the same as good to a woman, you know,” you snapped. “Battlefield prowess means nothing to a marriage.”
It was, perhaps, a tad pointed. A little more than cruel. Maekar’s scowl deepened, but he only fixed you with that stare of his — that unimpressed, disappointed sneer that set your nerves on edge. Commonly aimed at his eldest son, his second eldest son, his eldest daughter, and — well, you. “You anger incredibly easily.”
“Oh, and you’re ever so unruffled, my lord.”
A groan left him, and he threw his head to the side. “I detest this talk.”
“Well — since you insist I marry any one of the good men in the Red Keep, I suppose you’d better begin your search for a new companion—”
His eyes widened, his weathered features contorting in indignation. “Well, hang on—”
“— though I must warn you, my lord,” you continued — an irrational fire building in you, a sudden, baseless thing that has absolutely no place in this conversation, in this relationship, but is bolstered by his nonchalance, the pressure upon your shoulders to sell yourself away to the first man willing— “you’ll find it difficult, I think, to find one willing to coddle you as I do!”
His mouth, once agape, shut. Yours follow suit. The solar was, all of a sudden, far too quiet. You could feel the thud of your heart in your ears. Perhaps you’d done it, finally — pushed Maekar too far. Perhaps he really would find himself a new companion — because you’d lied, really: far too many ladies of the court would be willing to indulge the fourth prince. He may be prickly, and often unreasonable, but who among them wouldn’t jump at the chance—?
“Coddle me?” Maekar echoed. He was bent forward towards you, hands gripping his thighs as if to stop himself from lunging — lemon-cake abandoned upon his plate. “Coddling? Oh, I could laugh.”
Swallowing, you reached for your teacup, pointedly avoiding his eyes.
He did laugh, then — disbelieving and sharp, collapsing back onto his seat with a huff. He sat, frowning to himself, and you sipped your tea in silence. Slowly, as the cup emptied and left nothing but the dregs gathered, your nervousness began to abate. He had resigned himself to his silent glowering — pouting, you would say, if it were anyone else. You’d tried your luck with coddle, though. You don’t think referring to him as pouting would improve his mood any.
“I suppose having me brush through your hair is torture, then,” you try, sniffing. He promptly ignores you.
“Coddling,” he grumbles under his breath, reaching for his teacup again. “Honestly. Had my hair not already been white, you’d have cursed me with a headful.”
“Let us cease this talk,” you said. You set down your teacup again, pointedly placing it upon the discarded letter. “I haven’t the energy anymore.” Then, as if an afterthought: “...In return, you may keep your companion.”
He made no move to agree — prideful as he was — but neither did he disagree. He only ordered more tea, instructed you to finish the lemon-cakes, and spent most of his time staring out at the orange grove, listening to you speak. The rest of his time he spent peering at you, shaking his head, and making pointed, obvious huffs of incredulity, as if he couldn’t believe the gall of you.
(“Gods help me,” you heard him murmur, “the day Rhae and Daella come of age.”)
Can you write for platonic Maekar x daughter!reader who is the only normal + sensible child he has
Maekar x daughter!reader (platonic)
maekar is a total girl dad! also do note that i didn’t include daella and rhae in here, solely because i thought that reader being the only daughter was a little more interesting. as a girl who grew up with four brothers, i can confirm it is rough out here. its about to be a pretty busy week so im contemplating on whether or not i should stay up and work on reqs
Maekar had not wanted four sons. Okay. Maybe he did. Who wouldn’t? He had wanted one, perhaps two, heirs, the usual. But four? Four boys who drank and raged and read and ran away and did unbecoming things for princes? He had prayed for a daughter after each one, and after the fourth, he had stopped praying altogether.
But then you were born. A girl. Small, quiet, and miracle of miracles, completely normal.
He told himself he was not the type to favor one child over another. He told himself this as he gave you a larger portion of honeyed bread than your brothers, and let you ride right beside him on journeys. He told himself this as he started asking your opinion on small matters, which horse to stable where, whether to accept Lord So-and-So's invitation to hunt. He told himself this as he realized, slowly, that he trusted you. Not in the way a father trusts a daughter to be good and obedient. He trusted you like he trusted a councilor. Like he trusted a partner.
You were fifteen when he first asked your advice on a political matter, about a disputed piece of land between two minor houses. You listened, asked three questions, and gave him an answer that made him pause.
"That's... sensible," he said.
"Thank you, Father."
He grunted. It was the closest he came to praise.
Your brothers, meanwhile, were a disaster. Daeron had stopped speaking at dinner. He sat, he drank, he stared at the wall then disappeared. Eventually coming back smelling like perfume. You started sitting beside him. After three nights, he ate a piece of bread. After a week, he grunted at you. After a month, he muttered your name. An improvement compared to his usual behavior.
Aerion was always worse, if not the worst. Aerion threatened servants, set things on fire, and once challenged a mirror to a duel. How could anybody be so foolish? You found him in the corridor with a kitchen boy cornered, a knife in his hand. You did not yell. You did not run for Maekar. You just walked up to him, took the knife from his hand, and said, "The cook needs that back." He stared at you. You stared back. He let the boy go. The next day, he apologized to the cook, in his own way. Maekar watched from the doorway, his arms crossed.
"How did you do that?" he asked later.
"I asked him to stop."
"He doesn't stop for anyone."
"He stops for me."
Maekar stared at you. "Are you using dark magic?"
"No, Father."
"I'm not convinced."
Aemon was never there. He lived in the library, read by candlelight, forgot to eat. You started fetching him for dinner. He complained. You stood in the doorway until he put his book down. "Fine," he said. "Fine." He followed you to the great hall. He ate. He went back to the library. But he came to dinner every night after that.
Egg was the adventurer. He disappeared for weeks, came back with wild stories and no warnings. You told him, gently, that he needed to send a raven. "Just one word," you said. "'Alive.' That's all I need." He grinned and said he would. He forgot. You reminded him again. He forgot again. You stopped reminding him and simply stood in his doorway whenever he returned, silent, arms crossed. He started sending ravens.
Maekar watched all of this. He did not understand it. He had tried yelling, threatening, grounding, none of it worked. You did not yell. You did not threaten. You just existed, and your brothers fell in line.
"You're a witch," he said one morning.
"I'm a sister."
"There's no difference."
He meant it as a compliment, of course.
Maekar and affection did not go hand in hand, but you started hugging him when you were young. You were small, barely tall enough to reach his waist, and you wrapped your arms around his legs without warning. He froze. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"Hugging you."
"Stop."
You didn't stop. He stood there, stiff and uncomfortable, until you let go. The next day, you did it again. The day after that, again. He complained every time. "You're too old for this." "This is undignified." "What will the servants think?" You ignored him. Eventually, he stopped pushing you away. He did not hug back but he stood still and let you hold on.
By the time you were grown, it was routine. You hugged him hello. You hugged him goodbye. You hugged him when you were sad, when you were happy, when you had not seen him in a while. He grumbled. He did not pull away. Once, when you left for a month long visit to your aunt, he stood at the gate longer than necessary. You waved. He nodded. Did he cry? Yes. But you weren’t aware of that.
When you returned, you hugged him. He did not grumble. He just stood there, one hand coming up to pat your back once, awkwardly, before stepping away. The servants pretended not to see. They were paid well.
Maekar asked your opinion on everything now. Trade agreements. Marriage alliances. Whether to execute a thief or send him to the Wall. You answered honestly. He listened. Sometimes he took your advice. Sometimes he didn't. But he always asked.
"You have a good head," he said once.
"Thank you, Father."
"Don't let it go to your head."
He meant: I trust you. He meant: You are valuable. He meant: You are my favorite, even though I will never say it.
Your brothers noticed but instead of being jealous, they were relieved. You were the buffer between them and Maekar's temper. You were the one who translated his grunts into actual communication. You were the one who remembered everyone's name, everyone's birthday, everyone's grievance.
Daeron started coming to you before he went to Maekar. "Can you... tell him?" he would ask. You told him. Maekar listened.
Aerion started asking you to accompany him to court. "He's less angry when you're there," he admitted. You went. Maekar was, in fact, less angry.
Aemon started sending you letters from the Citadel. Short ones. "Still alive. Reading." You wrote back. "Eat something."
Egg started bringing you souvenirs from his adventures. A carved wooden horse. A shell from the sea. A pressed flower. You kept them all in a box under your bed.
One evening, after a particularly disastrous council meeting (Aerion had insulted a lord, Daeron had fallen asleep, and Egg had not shown up at all) Maekar sat in his solar, staring at the fire.
You brought him tea. With honey. The way he liked.
"Your brothers are trying to kill me," he said.
"They're trying to live their lives. There's a difference."
"One of them set a curtain on fire today."
"Aerion’s trademark."
"Obviously."
You sat beside him. "He's restless. He needs something to do."
"He needs a keeper."
"He has me."
Maekar looked at you. His face was tired, but his eyes were soft.
"I don't deserve you," he said.
"You deserve all of us. Even the ones who set things on fire."
He huffed. It was almost a laugh.
"I did want sons," he said quietly. "I wanted one. Maybe two. But I wanted a daughter. I always wanted a daughter."
"You have me."
"Yes." He reached over and patted your hand very awkwardly. "I do."
You sat in silence, watching the fire. Then you leaned over and hugged him. He did not push you away. He never pushed you away anymore. He just sat there and let you hold on.
"Thank you," he said.
"For what?"
"For being normal."
You laughed. He did not. He was dead serious. But the corner of his mouth twitched.
That night, he lit a candle in the sept. He thanked the gods for you. He asked them to keep you safe. He did not ask them to explain how you controlled your brothers, since he had given up on that years ago. He simply accepted it as a mystery, like rain or the changing of the seasons.
His daughter. The only one he trusted. The only one who hugged him without flinching. The only one who made him think, just for a moment, that he might have done something right.
He blew out the candle and went to bed.
In the morning, he would yell at Aerion again. He would worry about Daeron again. He would wait for a raven from Aemon. He would wonder where Egg had gone.
But first, he would drink his tea. With honey. The way you made it.
maekar groans, a deep, guttural sound torn from his throat, as your tight, virgin heat engulfs the swollen head of his veiny cock, the feeling of you, hot and slick and gripping him like a velvet vice, makes his spinel blue eyes roll back, calloused fingers digging into the soft flesh of your round hips hard enough to bruise, he has taken many women, many omega's, but none have ever felt this good, none have ever made him feel so desperate, so out of control, not after the only woman that made his heart flutter had left this world.
“easy, little omega” he rasps, voice strained with the effort of holding back, of not thrusting deep and hard, not wanting to hurt you — “we have all night, let me make this good for you” starting to rock into you, shallow thrusts that slide just the tip of his cock in and out of your soppy entrance, letting you adjust to his engorged size, each movement dragging his length through slick, fluttering folds, each drag making you both groan, making your toes curl and sharp fingernails nails dig into his broad shoulders.
maekar's hands slide up your curves, pushing the sleeves of a silken dress off your delicate shoulders, baring the smooth skin beneath, he leans down, bushy alabaster beard chaffing, his lips finding the pulse point of your throat, sharp teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, tongue soothing the sting, he breathes in your scent, the sweet musk of arousal, and feels a surge of possessive pride, the gods have gifted him this omega, this rare treasure, and he will not waste it, not again.
lips trailing down to your breasts, searing mouth finding your nipple through the thin, luxurious fabric of a dress, he suckles hard, tongue swirling around the pebbled peak, feeling it harden further against his lips, his other hand coming up to knead the soft mound, rolling the neglected nipple between his fingers, pinching and tugging until you cry out, solid hips bucking against his, crumpling the sheets below.
“maekar!” you gasp, keen over, head thrown back, her body trembling with pleasure, rhe sound of his name on your slack lips, the feeling of you coming undone beneath him, it all combines to make maekar throb inside, to make him want to hilt himself deep and flood your pulsing cunt with his potent seed, but he holds back, determined to make this good for you, determined to bring you to the peak of ecstasy before he lets himself go, as he redoubles his efforts, his heavy hips rolling in deep, grinding circles.
the feeling of you, clutching at him and pulsing like that, is almost too much, too intense, it takes every ounce of his self control not to rut into you, to force himself balls deep in one brutal thrust, resisting the urge, not wanting to hurt you, not wanting to tear this delicate omega who fits him like a glove — “easy, little one” maekar rasps, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, broad hands gripping your hips, stilling the almost frantic movements, as he fights to keep himself in check — “we have all night, no need to rush”
bending over and brushing a surprisingly gentle kiss against your lips, mind hazy with lust, his blood is roaring in his ears, the sweet scent of your arousal clouding his senses, and then he kisses back with a fervor that borders on desperation, tongue delving into your parting mouth, tasting the wine and the hint of honey on your lips, and you are clumsy, eager, kisses sloppy and sweet, and it makes him want to devour you whole, roughened thumb coming to circle at your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate strokes, coaxing your trembling body to relax, to open up for him.
“look at me” maekar murmurs, tilting your chin up with a calloused finger — “i want to see your face when i take you, want to watch you come apart on my cock” the crystal blue of his eyes are darkening, almost pitch black in the chamber's gloom, pupils blown wide with lust, but there's a tenderness there too, a gentleness that belies his rough exterior, as he continues to circle your puffy clit, rubbing tight circles, feeling you writhe and buck against his touch, and he is a patient man, but not with you, not when you make him feel like a dragon burning with need to scorch.
maekar starts to move, slow and steady, hips rolling in a deep, grinding rhythm, he sinks into your tight hole inch by inch, letting you adjust to his size, to the stretch of his thick cock parting you open, it's a tight fit, a delicious friction that makes his blood sing, but he takes his time, determined to make this good for you, to make you scream his name until your throat hoarse, as your eyes linger on him, wide and dazed, taking in the sight, silver hair mussed up, a wrinkle creasing at his sweat beading forehead, skin flushed ruby.
”gods, you feel good" he grits out, his teeth clenched, his control slipping — “so tight, so perfect around me, like you were made for my cock, little omega” he hilts inside you, heavy balls nestling against your rippling ass, pelvis flush with yours — “i'm going to fill you up, pump you full of my seed until it takes, until your belly swells with my child” the thought sends a bolt of possessive lust through him, making him thrust harder, deeper, chasing his pleasure in your clutching, gooey heat, fingertips sinking into supple hips, holding you steady, feeling the way your hole had stretched around him, tender flesh taut but accommodating.
maekar snarls, a sound of pure, primal triumph, as your cunt clamps down around him like a vice, sopping wet, the feeling of you coming apart on his cock, hiccuping his name, is almost too much to bear, it drives him over the edge, as rapid as your own, hips snapping forward one last time as he buries himself to the hilt inside your spasming, dripping heat, gummy insides fluttering.
“that's it, take it all” he roars, gravelly voice echoing through the night, announcing his claim for all to hear, bed's wooden frame sbapping against castle's wall, his cock pulsing, jerking as it erupts, painting your insides with thick, scalding ropes of his seed, it seems to go on forever, spurt after spurt, filling you until you're swollen with his release, until it's trickles out in milky rivulets, and then maekar's teeth sink into the soft flesh of your throat, marking, branding as his, the coppery taste of blood mingling with the salt of your skin, fueling his lust, his need to claim utterly, sucking hard, leaving a vivid bruise in the shape of his teeth, a badge of possession for all to see.
he rolls his hips, grinding, working his seed deeper, plugging you up so not a single drop escapes, he wants you marked, wants you smelling of him, wants every man who sees to know you belongs to him, the prince of summerhall — “mine” he growls against your sensitive throat, his voice rough and ragged — “you're mine now, my woman, my mate, i'll fill this sweet cunt with my seed, breed you over and over until your belly swells with my child”
maekar's weathered hands roam, squeezing the soft globes of your plump ass, the supple flesh of thighs, he can't get enough, can't bear the thought of being apart from you, nuzzling into the slope of your neck againg, breathing in your scent, letting it fill his lungs, his head, because you smell of sex and sweat and those unique pheromones, something that calls to him on a primal level, as he takes in your face, pretty eyes glazed and unfocused, swollen lips parted around soft, breathy moans and slurred murmurs of his name.
he holds you close as your body slumps against him, going limp and pliant in the aftermath, and he can feel the warm, sticky evidence leaking from your well used cunt, and it makes his chest puff up with primal male pride, he has marked you, claimed, filled with his seed, you are his now, and he will make sure all know it, pressing a kiss to your forehead, lips lingering on soft, feverish skin, as your head lolls to rest against his brawny chest, wild hair tickling his chin, and before your mind dozes off, sated and exhausted, maekar murmurs, voice a low rumble — “rest now, little omega, i'll keep you safe, keep you warm” while tucking you in the cotton covers.
