You do not blame the faults of their foremothers, for they were subjected to prejudice and soul-crushing torment by their forefathers. And for their forefathers you do not weep. You seek to change the damage done to this family—curse from the gods or not. No coin will be flipped. You have it now.
If you knew the consequences of that, then perhaps you would have changed course. Stopped before you started. Never have stepped foot within the palace. But, alas, the gods have a cruel way of punishing you for your well-intended hubris.
Alicent and Rhaenyra, bless their injured souls, cling to you like molasses on the bark of a tree. They drink in your presence like Arbor red. And get just as intoxicated from it. You keep them together, soothe their woes, and tame the growing division inside the family.
It's exhausting. You don't get paid nearly enough. But bringing comfort to the scared children hidden inside every one of them brings you a nearly indescribable joy. They care for you in their odd way. A bit obsessive, perhaps. That is to be expected.
They are so cute with their queerness.
Aegon and Aemond vie for your attention like quarreling dragons. They shove each other and bicker. They undermine the other's authority. All for your love.
Aegon lays in your lap and sobs about his troubles. You tamp his hair down, tamping down his promiscuous habits. He visits whores less often. He's more attentive to his responsibilities. And he, honest to the gods, smiles. A genuine smile. It nearly made you burst into tears the first time you saw it.
Aemond is less demanding, more broody. He is used to being under Aegon's shadow. The child who listens, acts right, and never asks for anything more than he gets. He prefers reading with and/or to you. He stalks you, as if you can't tell. (You always assume you are being followed or watched at one time or another. It's the nature of the job.) By far his favorite pastime is you tending to him in such a tender manner, almost motherly.
Brush his hair. Help him choose his clothes. Compliment his face and coo at how pretty he is.
"A missing eye is nothing of shame. You lived through it. You survived. And you have Vhagar. That proves how strong you are. But even without her, you are worthy. You have worth, more than any gold or gem."
To him you are worth more than his own life. His sword is coated in so much blood he can hardly see the metallic shine. Avenging you from people's grievances. It's the one time where Aegon and he agree. Protect you. Love you. Fight each other about you.
All Helaena asks is to have a modicum of your attention. Your praise. Your approval. You don't see her as some strange, otherworldly cook. You see her as her. You allow her to talk about her special interest, bugs. You don't shame her for stimming or getting overstimulated. You make sure the cooks get her food right every time.
You are truly a godsend. And she does her best to keep you with her at all times. Manipulation, coercion, blackmailing. Those are such vile words. Love is the true word. The only word that describes why and what she does for you.
You, undoubtedly, are the steadfast parental figure Baela and Rhaena have been searching for. Cast out into the seas of life with a ship but no crew, they had not the faintest clue of where to sail. You are their crew, their second mate, their maester. They hang onto your every word as if it is a divine prophecy destined to be true.
You learn how to take care of their hair, similar to Aemond. You show them what little you know about the world. You are their anchor to normalcy. They can brave their storms while you are around. Be themselves. Not nobles or Targaryens, and all the baggage that comes with that.
You do it with Jacaerys and Lucerys. Bastards or not, they are worthy of love and respect. They'll always be Targaryens to you. It runs through their veins. You can tell. As they have the same overprotective and slightly frightening tendencies that the rest of their family has. You watch them spar. You learn the language of their ancestors along with them. You take care of their scrapes and mend their clothes.
Hi omg, I love your dragon!hybrid Targaryen stories. I was just wondering if you could do one for Aegon? Or like include him in one of the hcs and like explore the idea of them being like jealous?
How Dragon!Hybrid Targaryens deal with their jealousy.
Hey anon! I'm glad you like those stories; they're very dear to me, too! Thank you so much for your ask! I’m not super into Aegon as a whole character, but I find that there’s a way to integrate him into the story.
And your jealousy idea would be exciting, especially with Dragon!Hybrids.
I used those who (I think) would be most prompt in being jealous in the first place and explained why the others don’t feel jealous, per se. (Everyone except Laenor and Laena.)
Warnings: 16+ for Aegon (obviously), description of gaslighting (Daemon), jealousy (somewhat mild but still).
Original Masterlist
Dragon!Hybrid Masterlist
Aegon: His jealousy comes from a deep insecurity and the feeling of not being enough. And I don’t think he deals with his jealousy very well. Either he enters fits of anger or cries about it, then fucks you mercilessly, because that’s basically all he knows to do.
Brutal movements, hips hitting hips, deep warmth inside your body, his hand holding yours over your head, his lips leaving marks on your skin. Desperation in his movements, pleas for your love.
“Please, please don’t leave me.” Between groans and moans and sighs, Aegon cannot keep his voice down.
Anger and despair and loss. All the things he feels when he watches you interact with everyone else that’s not him. He lets his free hand run free from your neck to your hips, leaving bluish marks for remembrance of him in the morning.
“You’re mine.” Snarled into your neck, as he tugs your hair, make your back arch so as to meet his frantic pace. Drunk mumbling about enemies taking you away and teary comments for his mother never to know about you.
You’re his secret, his peace.
Aemond: Aemond would kill a bitch. Not cut, kill. His jealousy comes from his lack of actual appreciation and possessions. He’s scared that somebody better could take you away from him.
“Aemond, there is no need to draw your sword…” You tried to softly reason with him, hands grasping at his, trying to hold said sword in place. Aemond’s face is cold and closed off, his eye strained on the injuring party, who stands a good amount of space away from the both of you.
“Pray tell, Qelos, why I shouldn’t?” He humours you, his tone freezing, back straight as an arrow. He never lowered his gaze from his now mortal enemy. The other party shivers, and you can’t help but look their way for a second. A mistake, and you feel Aemond take a step forward.
“Enough, husband,” you hiss, looking to his face, eyes going from his own purple iris to his eyepatch. “You cannot fight all those who spent time with me. Lord Maxwayl only wished to offer his congratulations.” You tell him in a low tone, hands still grasping around his on the hilt of his sword.
There’s no fear in your gaze, only anxiety. A diplomatic miscommunication of this size wouldn’t be a good thing for the Greens. And Aemond knows this. He lowered his gaze to meet yours, and finally, his shoulders relaxed, and he smirked.
“Very well. Thank you, good lord, for your words; we are very happy.” He acknowledged the fearing lord with a predatory smile. Promises of violence are still present in his face, a warning for the next time he touches what is his.
Baela: Baela is well-educated and balanced. She’s not prompted to be jealous. Why would she? Her name and position are very advantageous. She’s had a very good education in many fields of study. Her Rider would be crazy to even consider another option.
And she would come and get you anytime. 👀
Daemon: He’s not jealous; you’re jealous. Will not fight with you about it. What do you mean you think he did something to the squire that helped you two days ago? Oh, you mean the one who saw your ankles by accident? Nope. He definitely didn’t do anything to him.
“I promise, Byka Azantys. I have done nothing to your help.” His smirk makes your blood boil. You know, know that somehow he’s done something, organised the disappearance of your favourite little squire. A promising little boy with stars in his eyes.
“I don’t believe you.” You argue, crossing your arms over your chest, taking a step to put distance between the two of you. His smirk grows bigger, and your teeth clench with a white-hot anger.
“I can’t make you change your mind, but my words are true. Now come, enough of this childish dispute; I’ve missed you terribly.” He takes a step closer to you, his hands taking their place on your hips, thumbs running against the material of your clothes, as if to soothe you. And you let him.
A small purring noise escaped his throat as he tugged you closer to his chest. He dipped his neck to kiss yours. You knew it was to change your mind and you didn’t fight him. You didn’t really want to know what he did to that squire after all.
Helaena: Helaena is not jealous. She’s just happy to have someone that listens to her, that makes her feel safe. In her mind, your relationship is not one to be jealous of; you’re her rock, her peace, and her shelter.
Jacaerys: He’s jealous of the time you spend with others. He’s very protective of your time together and will blatantly refuse to accommodate others when they want to invade his peace.
“Leave.” He grumbled from his position, face nuzzled in your chest, not even considering for a second that your naked bodies intermingled might be embarrassing for some parties in this discussion.
“Your presence is requested at a council meeting.” Rhaenyra’s voice float’s through your chambers, and if you want to liquify and disappear in the bedding, Jace could not care any less. His wings flutter into existence, covering your body and his as he raises his head to glare at his mother.
“We’ve just left a council meeting three hours ago.” He counters, curly hair unkempt and messy from your previous activities. You blink, and the smoke you thought was escaping his mouth is gone, but the smell of sulfur still lingers around you. His mother tries to reason with him, calling out his name, not unlike a plea.
“Jace…”
But he shakes his head, resting it against your chest once more, eyes closing. “It’s late, and I made a promise to stay here tonight, Mother.” His tone is without appeal, and Rhaenyra glances at you before nodding.
“Very well, but you must come to the council tomorrow.” She warns before closing the door behind her. Jace only grunts his response, kissing the skin that’s closest to his lips.
Rhaena: She’s not jealous; she’s disappointed. Her lack of capacity to shift makes her feel a little less than her sister and stepbrothers/uncles/cousins. But she is more one to talk about her feelings than make a scene, take her anger out on you, or gaslight you about it.
The silence in her chambers is broken only by the crackling of the fire, which was alighted for your comfort. The both of you are currently occupied with books, a usual occupation for the nights you spent together. But Rhaena cannot find the concentration she needs to read even a single page of her book.
“Do you love me?” She asks unprompted, breaking the silence like one would break a wall of ice, her heart suddenly thumping with worry that she just did something awful. You put your book down, gazing up, surprised, as you look in her direction.
“Of course I do. Why do you ask?” Now it’s your turn to ask, leaning to catch her hand with yours. It’s colder than hers, and she worries about the temperature of the room for a moment before answering you.
“It’s just… didn’t your family send other proposals for your hands?”
That was your private letter. And Rhaena is not one to read private letters, but it was open, there, for her to see all of the little words written on the page. You sigh.
“Of course, but that’s usual. I’ve already sent my answer. I will not give you up, my love.” You smile at her, running a thumb over her hand gently. She nods.
“But you could’ve chosen anybody else.” It’s your turn to nod.
“Yes, and I chose you.”
Rhaenyra: Rhaenyra is not jealous. She’s possessive and territorial, but that comes with the dragon spirits. (I spoke about it here, and here).
Can you please write something smutty for Rhaena Targaryen of Pentos x Fem!Reader
So I was going to post the Cersei angst first but it is taking me a while so I’ve decided to post this one first.
masterlist
Apologies, I am new to writing smut and this will be short :(
Names will be in green and in bold
Things like pronouns will be in green but not in bold
Trembling little princess
RHAENA TARGARYEN X FEM!READER
You had knew Rhaena since she was just a girl, now she was a woman grown and you could not keep your eyes off her.
You and Rhaena lay in her bed, underneath the furs. Well, you were the one underneath them. Her legs wrapped around your neck tightly, her moans strained as she had been edged all evening.
Your fingers plunged into her warmth as your mouth stayed on her clit, sucking it while scissoring her pussy. Gods she tasted like heaven. She just hoped the seven turned their backs during such a sexual endeavour.
Rhaena whimpers, digging her fingers into your head, gripping your hair. She pushes your face closer to her heat, moaning like a whore on the silk streets, arching her back as her head pushed into the pillow.
With one last moan, Rhaena’s legs tighten around your head and her walls clamp down on your slender fingers.
Her body shakes as she comes down from her high, her breathing heavy. Rhaena’s eyes fluttered shut as she gives a breathless laugh, biting her lip.
‘Gods forgive me, I have given into temptation but I do not regret it.’
★ 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: I've watched hotd only once, in only one night, since I don't have sky, I can't rewatch it anytime soon 🥲 so it's gonna be ooc, please don't mind that, since I'm too stupid to understand anything lol
☆ 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: not proofread, ooc, fluff, jealousy, short
☆ 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱: yes
anon - " Good luck moving! Once you get back from your hiatus can you do jealous clingy Rhaena hc and she opens up about her insecurities "
-ㅤㅤ You were the only one she could talk to, beside her sister.
You were one of the only people she could trust with her secrets and insecurities.
One day, you were just casually talking to a guy you didn't know, Rhaena saw the both of you and her happy face turned to a pout immediately.
-ㅤㅤ After that small incident, the girl didn't leave your side for the rest of the day.
You found it pretty amusing, but didn't want her to be mad at you, so you just kept your mouth shut.
After a few hours, you couldn't take it anymore, though. You took her to the side and asked her what all this is about.
After she told you why she was acting like that, you just pulled her in for a hug and laughed. You reassured her, that there was nothing to worry about.
-ㅤㅤ when you saw her watery eyes, you apologized for laughing.
You didn't mean to make fun of her, to which she just shrugged her shoulders.
After she calmed down a bit, she told you how she felt like her sister would be favored by her father. She felt like she wasn't good enough.
It made you sad that she had to go through something like that, so you took her to your favorite place and read her tales from a book you were hiding in your room.
Dragon hybrids with their first child/how they feel when they see their mate with children
Ooooooouh! I like that! I spoke a bit about it in one of Rhaenyra's headcanon, but having to explain it more is fun!! You are now dubbed the 🧑🍼anon! Spicy-ish in some places. Consider yourselves warned.
With their children and mates: A reaction.
With Mates:
Aegon ii:
Listen, he’s glad that you like his kids, but he’d much rather keep you to himself. Thank you very much. The less people know about you, the better, and honestly, having you take care of his and Helaena’s children always sour’s his mood.
He still leans against the door, watching you interact with both his children as they were practicing music with a nanny. He still yearns for that novelty of a newborn, that warmth he feels when he holds them as itty-bitty things. Yet his duties do not lie with you, and he feels like it would be like dishonoring you to have you compete with Helaena’s children. He doesn’t want his mother to meddle with his feelings like she did with his marriage. He’ll commit to his wife, even if it means having you both hurt from this situation, rather than comfort his mother. Losing you is not a price he’s ready to pay for his own happiness.
He is selfish and a brat, mean and a coward, but he’ll sleaze his way into keeping you without any remorse.
Aemond:
He’d never thought of children before seeing you with his sister’s hatchlings. There was something strange that happened to Aemond when he first saw you hold one of the little twins, a month or two after their birth.
The one-eyed prince was used to Vhagar cooing at smaller things; many things were smaller than her. But that wasn’t it. Vhagar’s history was well known. She’d had many hatchlings of her own before, and the hole that carved itself in his chest when he saw you standing there with your arms full of a baby, smiling down at the little bundle of red cheeks and white hair was nearly enough to make his wings pop out and wrap them around you.
He felt like protecting you from the watchful eyes of Helaena, who was probably just concerned about the well-being of her hatchling. But how could she even think about you doing evil to the little being in your arms?
Warm and safe, a wall of scales and leathery wings. Ours to protect, ours to raise. Little giggles echoing against the walls of the castle, the smell of baby skin. Aemond had never had those memories, but they still felt like his. And he’d never wanted something more in his whole life than to give you hatchling to take care of, to see the smile you arbored looking at Jaehaerys toward children that would have traits like yours, but with the Targaryens hair and eyes.
He stood inert, face blank, all the while you held the child in your arms, never making it seem like his emotions were warring against his own reason. Two steps back, half turned toward the doors, even though guards were posted there already. Aemond would protect his sister’s peace and joy, but also the vulnerability of this moment. Of sharing them with the most precious thing he ever held dear.
Baela:
Watching carefully as you played with Aegon and Viserys from her seat, Baela could only smile. She knew of her duty to continue the lineage of her Targaryen/Velaryon blood, and she knew she could not imagine herself having her hatchling with anyone else than you. Her perfect lover, her mate. She thought herself young still, too young to be married; her father thought so too.
“Baela, look!” Aegon’s cry came to her ears, and she raised her head from the book she was pretending to read. Her little half brother was riding on your shoulder, his little pudgy hands firmly held on some strands of your hair, a bright smile on his face.
“You’ve tamed them?” She asked her brother, eyeing your form playfully, and you sent her a fake glare, mouthing ‘tamed’ with a roll of your eyes. She chuckled and watched as Aegon nodded proudly.
She’ll like having children, hatchlings, with you when you’re older. When your names are synonyms of each other. But right now, she enjoys the sight of her lover with her family.
Helaena:
Much like Aegon, she’d rather not have children with you. She already has three, in all. Her duty is to her kingdom, to Aegon, and to her mother. Much as she regrets not being able to share herself completely with you, she would never put herself and you, much less any children coming out of this union, in danger.
It’s not selfishness if she does it for your own safety. Helaena reason’s with herself again. Dreamfyre purring at the sight of their hatchling cuddled with you in a too-small bed. You’re retelling a story of wolves and roses. One she hasn’t paid much mind to, but she knows her children enjoy it.
It’s peaceful to have someone else take care of the little ones. It is peaceful to share their pleasure. Aegon doesn’t keep them close, Jaehaera, more so than her brother, but Jaehaerys is the crown prince. She smiles, cocking her head to the side as she observes her children cuddle closer to you, their eyes fluttering close at every other word you speak.
Jacaerys:
Having to share you was one of the worst punishments for Jace. But the more he watched you interact with his siblings, especially the younger ones, he couldn’t help the burning passion that flared inside of him. He couldn’t hide how his tail would slither from left to right, up then down, or how his wings would flutter. He could hardly hide the bulge in his pants when he looked at you holding the toddlers for too long.
Leathery wings hiding you from the light of day, Jace had managed to lure you into his chambers (again), holding you against the wall as he quite literally rutted into you, still fully clothed. His warmth was nearly suffocating, and his kisses left behind them a burning hot trail. He puffed his exertion into your neck, talking to the best of his abilities.
“Can’t wait. Mated. Let me give you the best thing in our lives.” He pleaded, eyes glazed over by lust, leaving behind marks upon your skin, busying his hands to undo whatever clothes you were wearing. A prince should never beg, but right now, Jace is fighting for his legacy™.
One of your hands tugs at his hair, and he lets out a wine that wrenches out your heart. You feel him, hard against one of your legs, warm against your chest, his lips bruising at your neck and shoulders. Kiss him back, and he’ll whine for you, pressing harder into you as if he could pass through your clothes. Let your nails, blunt or not, rake against the scales covering his neck, and he’ll shiver, his eyes darkening with desire.
Laenor:
Heart-eyes.
Laenor looks at you, holding little Jace, his firstborn, his wife’s firstborn, with heart-shaped eyes. At first, he thought his marriage would destroy his bond with you, but you kept surprising him every time.
Rhaenyra was in the room, laying back to rest, watchful eyes gazing at the both of you, but Laenor couldn’t care less right now. He huddled closer to you, looking at the brown-haired child in your arms from over your shoulder, then looking up at your face with a marveled look. He looks back at Rhaenyra, unable to find the words, her work more important than what he’d ever imagine it to be, the fruit of her labor making his heart sing for all of you.
She smiles back at him, and he pulls you closer to her bed, letting her see her baby, your baby. He’s lucky, Laenor thinks. Lucky to have such a loving mate and such an understanding wife. Such a wonderful family it is.
Rhaena:
While Rhaena likes children, especially her sibling, I don’t think she’d be that into having some. (As she will be forced to mother her stepbrothers.).
She’s glad that you are good with her family; it is important to her. She would be glad if you stepped up to help her when Rhaenyra asked her to be the mother she couldn’t be to her children. But I think she’d be even more glad that you didn’t force her to have children of her own. She is content with just having you.
With Lovers:
Daemon:
Daemon would try to give you your own. If you like children (especially his) so much, why not have some for yourself?
“Of course Rhaenyra doesn’t mind; should we ask her?” He’d tease into your ears, hips rutting against your own. “Would you like her to join in, too?” His laughter intended to be mean, mocking, but his breath caught, transforming it to a moan, his scaly hands coming to grip at your hips, talons caressing dangerously the fragile skin under them.
“I could father children for the both of you, have twins from different parents.”
He’s lost in his own fantasy, babbling away, words hardly making any sense as he plunges into you with more will than ever before. It’s your fault, really; had you not reached to grab Rhaena, keeping her steady on her feet as she playfully walked on the stone railing of the outside stairs, you would not be in this position. Truly, if you hadn't, Caraxes would not have taken over and kidnapped you for a very passionate, loving time. It had been something about the panic in your eyes, the way you’d reacted—even quicker than him—to his own child’s dangerous exercise.
He hadn’t even locked the door. And thinking about Rhaenyra entering on them both fucking (to put it crudely) clothes barely taken off and positioned like animals made his movement sharper, taking a gasp out of your mouth; his forehead fell to your shoulder.
Rhaenyra:
It’s a given that Rhaenyra would not accept you as a lover if you didn’t love her children. Having you actively in their life is something she takes to heart, and she would not imagine herself with you if you didn’t respect and love her hatchling. (See this headcanon for more reference.)
This is the winner of my draft pole on the 20 feb. 2025. Good on y'all!
Masterlist
Dragon!Hybrid masterlist
As a reminder : I am a French speaker writing in English, any mistakes can be corrected, so long as it's not said with insultes. I also do NOT agree with my work being distributed, paid for or published on any other plateform than Tumblr. Thank you.
Men
Aegon:
This bitch does not know how to be a dragonkin. His father never told him, his aunt doesn't like him and his siblings either. He actually thinks he has to fucking bite you, fight me on this.
To be perfectly honest, you are not Aegon’s mate… officialy. He was forcibly mated to his sister, But dragons are resilient creatures, and the very first Aegon had two mates. Aegon will, however, bite you as soon as you’ve agreed to stay by his side. That’s what the book said to do with your mate. That’s what Aegon did with Helaena, so that’s what he did to you too.
To say it was painfull is an understatement. You are not a dragonkin, therefore, you do not have the same protection against their bite as they do. So, when he bit you in a night of passion, not only did you cry like a baby, but you also caught a fever that dragged until the bite finally started healing (which took two good days), and various medical solutions since you refused the milk of the poppy.
And since you are his best kept secret (somehow), your marking is not someplace everybody can see, much to his chagrin. It would be on one of your inner thighs. A place where only you, Aegon and a maester sworn to secrecy would be aware of it. You have his permission to leave hickies on him anytime you want, everywhere you want, too.
"I'm so sorry, my love." Aegon whispered into your hair, one hand holding yours with a strength ht you didn't recognize him. He was watching over you like you could disappear at any moment, which, felt like was possible. You'd never felt this unwell in your life before.
A warmth had taken over you the second he'd decide to bite into your thighs the night prior, without consulting you on the matter, the passion you'd felt up until then was taken over by a burning, painful fire inside your veins.
You'd pushed him away with a cry, nearly falling from the bed, blood making it's way down your leg like lava flowing the earth.
"What have you done?" You had asked Aegon, who could only look at you with huge, panicked eyes, mumbling excuses before he left the room, leaving you in the dark to fight the start of what the master had called a fire fever.
Aemond:
I think Aemond is very traditional. Your marking would have been put on you during your wedding, with mesures taken so that your time healing would not be too harsh. It’s on the juncture of your neck and collarbone.
Aemond did this when he was still fighting against himself, persuaded that people would try to hurt you to hurt him, and did not want to appear weak, etc. He wishes he would’ve waited before he’d mark you, so that the placement would have been more personal to the both of you. But what is done is done, and he can’t change it.
Instead, he makes you wear the most beautiful piece of clothing in his colour he can find and have created especially for you. You also have a circlet design uniquely for you that he offered you once he got the broom out of his butt and started to truly court you.
"Are you sure your father won't object to this?"
Your voice came from behind the room-divider as you were changing into Aemond's most recent impulse buy in your attention.
"Issa Qelos, my father is in no state to disagree, and my grandfather had given me his accord." Said the prince with his calm, soothing voice, a chuckle echoing through the room as he spoke.
You laughed. "I still think it's unnecessary, I already had an outfit for tonight's banquet."
Aemond hummed in response. You stepped away from the room diviser, changed into the magnificent golden and green outfit he had ordered to be made for you. Embroideries of your family's sigil decorating your sleeves in golden threads, and the one-eyed prince smirked, nodding approvingly as he walked closer to you.
"You'd already worn that outfit, and this one fits you better." He said, adjusting the neckline.
Daemon:
Markings are so old-fashioned, and it’s not safe for you, and truly, it’s not something he wishes to put you through. Daemon abbors seeing you sick. Instead, he will have a blacksmith that specialize in fine metals (ie. valeryan steel) to have the form of his hand made as a necklace, embedded with a multitude of very small rubies and diamonds to decorate.
It’s one of those necklaces you have to adjust once to close behind your neck, or to remove, but otherwise are immovable. Yes, Daemon thinks it’s hilarious that he’s given you his own hand as marking, but he would be very insulted if you chose not to wear it, ever.
He offered it to you once he made his mind about you, wanting something that would prove his loyalty and love to you, but without altering your health. Now, has he told you what it really signified… probably not immediately.
Daemon was lounging on a resting chair in his chambers when you entered the place. A loose linen shirt and some riding pants covering (if a term was to be used) your body. He let his eyes glide over your forms appreciatively. From your legs, well defined by the cut of your pants, to your forearms, as you'd rolled-up your sleeves, and your naked neck.
Daemon smile faded as his brain registered the colour of your skin, free of all jewelry. He frowned.
"Spent a good morning?" HIs questioning was dry, which you found weird, as he'd been happy to see you off in the morning, and had had no other plans other than sleep for this day. You turned to face him, eyebrows raised, eyes searching his face for a clue.
"Yes, very good. The farms have a good sheep stock for this winter." You told him still, choosing to change directly in front of him rather than moving all the way across the room.
"And you always ride without the necklace I've gifted you, for everyone to take?" He glowered, raising from his seat.
"I never wear jewelry when I ride, my lord. You know this."
Daemon huffed, his hand taking the necklace he'd gifted you not two months ago from the table in the middle of the room before walking closer to you. "This one, you will."
You rolled your eyes at his one, but opted not to contradict him for now. He busied himself with placing the reproduction of his hand around your neck.
Jacaerys:
It was probably an accident. He didn’t mean to hurt you!! It’s not like he can fully control himself when you feel so good and when you make him feel this good also, how was he supposed to know his fingers had grown talons? He never wanted to hear the cry of sheer pain that pierced the sanctimonium of your rooms that night. He’s lucky they didn’t pierce through you completely, he could’ve killed you.
The Maester and his mother were rushed to your chambers, one to heal you, the other to keep Jace from literally jumping from the window to bring you justice. He felt so bad, he cried uncontrollably with you in his mother’s arms. It took hours to calm him down, and they could not make him leave the room or his hysteria worsened.
Now, you are marked with five strikes going from your shoulders to your sides, at about the middle of your ribs, and Jace always makes sure to kiss the marks apologetically when he sees them. You even joke about it now, but he never laughs at those.
Jace will have a jewel made for you, so as to not mark you further, but also to claim you to those who wouldn’t know that you are his. A ring, or a circlet, or both, and it would take years to make, because it has to be perfect for you.
"I didn't mean to, mother." He mumbled, wetting his mother's shoulder with his tears. Jace had resolved to hugging his mother close, even still in his simplest apparel, unable to do anything but sob in concert with you.
"I know, my love." Rhaenyra whispered into his ear, eyes locked with your form as the maester treated your wounds. You'd been lucky, he'd said. Rhaenyra didn't know if this would alleviate the tourment her son would be living with from now on.
You whimpered again, and Jace leaped from his mother's arms, face drowned by tears to kneel at your side, his hands caressing your face to keep the hair from falling before your eyes.
"I'm sorry Jewel, so sorry." He repeated like a mantra, and Rhaenyra could do nothing but to massage her son's shoulder while waiting for the maester to finish cleaning and dressing the wounds on your back.
Laenor:
You wear his colours. You have the form of his teeth tattooed on your skin. You wear the jewels he had made for you. Litteraly all of your being screams : Laenor’s mate. People would be blind to not see it.
Laenor is mostly drama-free. I would even see Rhaenyra offering you a little something so as not to make you feel left out.
Yes, he had a tattoo artist come from Pentos to mark his teeth on you, only the best, of course. And he has the shape of your hand tattooed on one of his forearms, symbolically to say that he is yours too.
"This is so strange."
Your eyes were glued to the new decoration adorning your very skin, the small burn of a healing wound pulsating through it every time clothes would brush against the design, but you didn't truly care.
"In a good way, I hope." Laenor teased, resting his chin on top of your head as you glanced up at his face in the mirror.
You smiled. "Of course."
Women:
Baela:
The only mark you need is her colours. Everyone knows of her mate, everyone is too scared to do anything about it, too.
In all seriousness, you have handprints burnt on your hips. Fire magic is rare, especially whilst in human form, and it comes in uncrontrolable waves, generally with strong emotions. You don’t remember why you were fighting, nor when, exactly. All you remember is the feeling of nothingness in your belly as you lost your footing, her hands grabbing your hips to hold you back to her, and the burning.
Her hands, you learned once you woke up, had passed through your clothes and the first epiderm of your skin, burning you to at least the second degree in a matter of seconds. Your family had requested you’d be sent back to them afterward, to heal, they’d said.
It took months and months for you to convince your parents to send you back to Baela. And she was not faring well. Since then, no one is allowed to talk about it, your help is not allowed to look at the burns and she will do everything in her power to have you renown has her mate for any other reasons than you first started.
You'd been travelling, with Baela. For the first time since your wedding you were back to your family's estate.
Your chambers were buzzing with servants eager to help you change and dressed for dinner, already helping you out of the first layers of your clothes before Baela intervened sharply.
"That's enough, we'll manage just right, thank you. You can leave." Her tone left no place for interjections, and you lowered your gaze to the ground as the servants quietly exited the room. Not wanting to find the jugement in their eyes.
Baela sighed, before walking up to you and continuing our undressing.
"have I told you how ravishing you looked today?" She asked in a more calm, quiet voice. She'd lowered her posture to look into your eyes, a small smile curving her lips.
"Only twice." You teased, you own hands coming to undo her dress too. Baela hummed.
"Not enough, then. You look marvellous." The rest of your clothing fell to the ground. Your burned hips now visible to whomever could be spying.
"Aren't you charming." Your laughter was sure to be heard outside of the room, but you didn't care. Baela's hand took their place on your hips, covering the burns of her fingers perfectly.
"That's what I aim to be, my lovely rider." She said, rising your lips tenderly.
Helaena:
You have a little bug charm that you keep on you at all times. Being part of the Princess (then Queen) retinue as either a guard or a lady, it’s not strange, nor questionnable for you to have memorabilia of her on you.
She was marked by Aegon at a young age, and her mark burned a scar on her neck that spreadto the back of her scalp, which is why she keeps her hair down most of the time. She doesn't want you to have something similar etched on your skin.
She also wears the ribbons you’ve given her as a present on her at all times, either in her hair, on her clothing or as an accessory.
"I have a present for you."
Helaena's airy voice caught your attention from the small baby you'd been rocking to help soothe. You turned your face in her direction, eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Me, my lady? I'm honoured."
She smiled at you, cocking her head to the side, before looking back at one of her servants who held something within her hands. The servant walked closer to you and revealed a small box.
"You've shone loyalty to me for quite some time now, I thought fitting to offer you my gratitude." Explained Helaena softly as the servant opened the box, revealing a golden beetle with amethysts for wings to you. Your eyes widened.
"My lady, I- everything I've done was with your happiness in mind. I don't deserve such expensive gift..." Helaena could've been insulted at your refusal of her gift, but she smiled wider instead.
"Nonsense. It's only right for me to show my appreciation of your friendship." The servant bowed slightly, and placed the opened box next to you, before walking back.
You nodded, a small smile on your lips as you spoke. "Very well, thank you, my lady."
Rhaena:
Did not mark you, will not mark you, and considers her wedding band and colours of her house to be enough of a marking. She sometimes leaves the odd hickies on your skins when she feels particularly angsty, but never in places people can see.
This is not a matter for other people, after all, it’s something only the two of you share.
Rhaenyra:
Much like Daemon, she’s offering you many accessories to mark you as hers. But for many different reasons :
Either
You were with Laenor and he’s now dead: She gives you a necklace that reminds one of the waves of the sea on the shore, aquamarines and sapphires ornating the golden piece beautifully, it’s a statement that promises you protection, love and comprehension. You might have been her late husband’s mate, but you can still be her lover.
She takes you as a lover but doesn’t share you with Laenor or Daemon: You have a brooch of the three-headed dragon that is her house sigil, in a black metal that you did not recongnised, or care to ask more about. You are hers, only hers. and her gifts show that to everyone else's who look at you.
She takes you as a lover and shares you with Daemon: To go with Daemon’s necklace, she’ll offert you a circlet that mimics her own, upping you to a status ofnear royalty as she does so, because she’s the true queen, and whilst she has her king, you are as much at the same level as they both are. Anyone who tries to undermine that will pay the price.
Note : I've changed computer and now I don't know how this thing works. I'm so sorry if anything happens, I'll try to correct any mistake as soon as possible! Keep in mind that English is not my first language, so be kind if you want to correct me (or else😶🌫️).
Masterlist
Dragon!Hybrid masterlist
Warning : Minor DNI. Spicy content ahead, consider yourselves warned. Aemond : Mention of penetration (reader receiving) Laenor : Mention of penetration (Character receiving). Fingering (Baela Recieving). Dry-humping (Jacaerys doing it). Sub-ish Laenor cuz I can. No official gender references for the reader.
Aemond:
Nesting™ for Aemond is not something that will change his way of acting toward you, not to the outsiders eyes, anyway. He’s pretty minimalistic in his approach. He’ll spend more time with you, touching your shoulders or the small of your back more often. Fleeting touches of his fingers brushing yours as you walk before wrapping your arms to his. If he even thinks that he saw you shiver from the cold, he will give you his jacket/cape/scarf/etc menacingly. He’s clingier, in the way that before, he could manage to have you roam all of the King’s Landing castle with only people at his booth giving him notes on your whereabouts. When he’s nesting, he has to have you next to him, or if he really cannot be with you, with Helaena. He doesn’t trust anyone else with you but his sister, his sister’s guards (because she’s the princess, and then the queen) and himself.
He will rearrange the chambers and keep it cleaner than it already is during that period of time. The cushions would be comfortable, soft, the linens clean and fresh at all times. The room (especially the bedchamber) would smell of your favourite scent, the bed itself would have draps covering it from unwanted eyes, but shear enough so that the room outside would be visible if any kind of lights are lit. Aemond would also make sure that you are fed enough, going as far as to have snacks readily prepared for you next to the bed.
I also see Aemond being softer with you when he’s nesting.
Kisses shared as he moved inside of you, hands caressing your face, you chest, hips then legs, as if Aemond doesn’t know where to place his hands the most. The candlelights make his eyes shine with more adoration that you’ve seen from him than he’s had for weeks now. His hair, stuck in a braid you’ve treaded falling over his shoulder swinging with each wave made by the movements of your bodies intermingled together. His patch still ornating his face, he shivers and sighs when your lips leave his and trail all over his face. His hips still when you reach the dark patch over his maimed eye.
“Qelos…” He breathes his pleas softly, one of his hands reaching for your face, putting a bit of distance between the two of you to examine your face.
“I want to see you.” Your voice nearly makes him whine (weak, Vhagar growls at the voice in his mind). Aemond’s breath hitches when you make the two of you roll over to sit on his lap. He can feel himself piercing deeper into the warmth of your body, and the prince let his face fall in the crook of your neck, a soft moan of your name escaping him.
Using his moment of inattention, you slip the patch covering his eye off of his head, leaving it on the pillow behind him. You kiss his scar, the corner of his eye, words of praise mingling with sighes of pleasure. Aemond could never imagine a more perfect being as you.
Baela:
To Baela, nesting is the way to confirm and end a courtship. She knows that it will come back multiple times in her life and that it’s also used to achieve the catch of future hatchling within her. She could become pregnant outside of nesting season, but it’s easier when she is then when she’s not. And it’s a big deal to her. Everything needs to be perfect, she has to show you how good she would be to your hatchlings. Hence, she’ll pull all the stops.
Baela would learn to crochet if you shivered, she’d hunt for a fur to add to your collection. Banquets would only serve food you like, your room would be cleaned and redecorated to fit the latest interest you’ve shone toward anything really. You would only find the softest material on the bed, and she would have upped the security of it with guards posting at the door and down the hall. She probably will also have hidden dagguers in many places, just in case. She's not clingy in public, but she cannot take her hands off of you in private, and she gets scary angry when someone interrupts your private session.
You could never had been prepared to the dichotomy of Baela’s character as you were busying your fingers inside of her, pumping softly, kissing her shoulders as she writhed under you, moaning praises to you wantonly, and the snarl that echoed throught your bed chambers, freezing you in your position when her father (whom you hadn’t heard knock, if he had done so) entered your space.
He didn’t seem bothered by the lack of cloathing he found you in, nor did he seem impressed by his eldest daughte’s fury. He spoke in valeryan, which you couldn’t understand, and promptly covered baela and yourself with the furs scattered on the bed. Baela spat something back to her father, dragon wings popping into existence, shielding you from further sight. Daemon rolled his eyes, added something that made your lover huff before he left, giving you a proud(?) look.
“What was that about?” You asked once the door of the room was closed once more. Baela only sighed, plopping down on the soft pillows, her leathery wings sprawled on each side of her.
“Father had been searching for us, the servants didn’t want to bother entering our room, they had an invitation to a banquet to announce. He thought he would be best if he told the news instead.” You nodded at her explanation.
“And was it? Best, I mean.”
Baela’s gaze fell on you, her eyes roaming over your naked body for a second before she shook her head.
“Don’t worry your pretty head over it, my brave Rider. Dragons have respect for other dragons, and their mates.”
She rose from her lying position, trapping your face with her hands and kissing you, not letting you wonder about the meaning of her words much longer before starting your previous activities once more.
Jace:
To Jace, nesting is all about your comfort. He becomes much more overbearing and worried about your wellbeing, even in moments that aren’t warranting it. If you didn’t spend much time apart to begin with, say goodbye to your alone time altogether at this point.
He doesn’t let anyone else touch you, even your help, he’ll wash you. Hell, he’d spoon-feed if you’d let him (you’re not). And if he could justify it, you wouldn’t leave the bedchambers at all. There is no reason why Luke and/or Rhaena would need your attention more than he does!
Jace’s nest would be one of the more chaotic ones, however. Sure, it’s made out of the nicest materials he could find, and all of your favourite things surrounding it, but it’s not in your bed, rather in the room that contains all of your clothes, behind the bed, where it’s more protected. It’s on the ground (but he’s made a soft surface so that it’s comfortable, he’s not an animal!!) and he freaks out everytime a servant tries to go inside the small space during his nesting period.
“I still don’t understand why the bed is not acceptable.” You were muttering, neck thrown back as he placed a multitude of kisses on the skin of your neck, careful not to leave any (visible) marks there. A grumble left his chest, his dragon’s tail swapping the air around you
“Safe.” He (or maybe it was Vermax) muttered against the skin of your neck, not even bothering to look up at you. You hummed, letting your hands tangle with his hair, eliciting a purr from him.
“I know it’s safe, but from what? There’s about a thousand knights sworn to your mother present on the castle’s ground alone.” You teased.
Unpleased by your words, Jace nipped at your shoulder, purring at the small sound of pleasure that made past your lips. He pressed his clothed body against yours, letting you feel his hardness as he rubbed himself on one of your legs. “Jewels need to be protected.” He breathed softly, teeth playing with the lobe of your ear. You hummed, contracting your leg to tease him.
“Of course, darling.” It was no use to try and have him make sense right now.
Laenor:
With Laenor it changed after the fiasco of his first nesting with you. But he always was very present and protective with you, making sure you were comfortable and had everything you would need at any point in reach. When he’s younger, he would muddle the courting rituals and the nesting instincts.
Laenor was quite proud of this year’s nesting. He’d rearrange your shared bedroom so that the pile of comfortable and plushie material that usually served as a nest was in the corner, with good sight on the door and an easy acces to the hidden door. He’d even had you scent (unknowingly) his favourite dress shirt. And now, he had you pounding into him, dripping sweat and puffing warm air into his neck and he purred incessantly.
You’d willingly meet him inside of the nest, without asking questions and without having him coaxing you inside of it either. It was the first time it happened. You were becoming quite knowledgeable in dragonkin tendancies as time passed. A far cry from the child you were, unsure and hesitant about every action you did.
“Ah… How come it’s with me you spent that time?” You asked, breath coming out short, his back arching as he felt your appendage hit his prostate repeatedly, a string of moans cutting his answering short.
“You want to know now?” Laenor’s not sure if he should be insulted or preening at your curiosity.
Your hands placed on his hips, you made him meet your mouvement sharply, and another pathetic endaring sound made it out of his lips. “Maybe not.” You chuckled, capturing his lips again with your own.
Rhaena:
As her nesting instinct developed later in lifeshe might have been surprised by it. She is also pretty minimalistic with it, not understanding why she would do it anywhere else but in the bed (Jace does NOT give good advice.) She’s very conscious of your confort, and loves having your scents intermingle with eachother inside the nest. So be prepared to find clothes under the covers of your bed during this time period.
I don’t think she’ll be very assertive or protective of you, per se, more so of the nest itself. It’s also not a reflex she has to protect it from the three little ones she’s taking care of for her aunt. Aegon III, Viserys and Joffrey have free passes when it comes to your nest, as she sees them as her own.
“Rhaena.”
Your grumbled echoed in the darkened bedroom of the essos manor you were currently invited to occupy,trying to wake the limp form cuddled at your back with an arm thrown haphazardly in her direction. The back of your hand hit something once, twice… three times before a groan answered your call. “What?”
She nuzzled into your neck, both of you naked from your previous night, and with eyes groggily looking at the sad juvenile face pouting at you from outside the warm barrier of the bed, you tugged the covers closer to you.
“There’s a child here.”
Rhaena’s quick to raise her head from her pillow, looking over you to the white-haired little boy with fat tears threatening to fall from his eyes. She curse underher breath, exiting your bed and searching the ground for something -anything- to cover herself with. Rummaging throught the mess of linens you offert her a long shirt, unsure if it’s hers or yours, and uncaring at this point. You let her deal with Aegon, searching yourself for something that would make you more presentable before lying back down in your bed.
It’s a good while after that Rhaena comes back in the bed, followed by the child, who settles between the two of you, content. She smile apologetically and you shrug. They might not be yours by blood, but they act like your children, so what if they spent time cuddling with you to find comfort?
Taglist: @lady-dragon-rider or @lady-dragon-rider-2 (I don't know which one now..)
