#targaryen

[wweskywalker]

maekarlings 🫶 (show and book mix)

[cruisified]

I think I might like to keep chickens.

House of the Dragon - 3.02 |

[robbyarts]

A single mom who works two jobs

[baelwh0re]

Look at him and his badass yurt bruv..... Baelor spoils him.

[chipstosz]

[silly--fangirl]

By thy hand

Baelor Targaryen × fem!niece!reader

summary: Is falling for your husband the worst thing to possibly happen?

content: 18+ mdni, smut, very little plot, established relationship (marriage), large age gap (reader's 23 and Baelor's 42), hand kink, fingering, the rings stay on, praise kink, slight size kink, Baelor Targaryen has a big d, unprotected p in v, creampie, slight overstimulation, aftercare

wc: around 5,9k

author's note: so sorry for the time it took me but i have to study to get into the uni i wanna go to so yeah, that sucks.. anyway, hope you guys can enjoy!!

It was not a match made of love — you and Baelor — but rather one of convenience.

Early in the year you learned your marriage prospects had been under discussion. Your fate was to be decided by a council of men twice or thrice your age. They would sell you to the highest bidder — of that you could be sure — and you'd spend the rest of your life locked up in some castle, made to squeeze out one babe after the other. You hated the idea as much as you despised your situation.

You were not married off young — a Targaryen princess, eldest daughter to Rhaegel forgotten about in the aftermath of the rebellion. Now the court considered you much too old for regular suitors — thought you a spinster at the bright age of three-and-twenty — so there was far too little acceptable options left for you. And so you found yourself beyond hopeless.

That was until you learned of your uncle's predicament — different, yet similar to your own. Baelor Breakspear was in need of a bride and he was free to wed the woman of his choosing. It was not an outrageous possibility — even though he was your kin, the man was kind and gallant. He had no need for multiple heirs as he had fathered two during his late marriage to the Lady Jena Dondarrion. And as you knew — he did not wish for the marriage himself, rather agreed upon the fate set on him by the men of the small council. So you had made your decision.

That night you ventured to his chambers at a late hour. After you knocked on his door the prince invited you in — he seemed slightly surprised by the sight of you. He was still working on some documents — signing them and considering what they entailed.

"Uncle, allow me to speak bluntly." you said then and he gave you a nod. "I know of your situation regarding marriage, as I assume you know of mine. I come to you with a proposal — let us marry. I find you a chivalrous man — a trait not possessed by many these days. I can only assume you'd expand that kindness to your lady wife. As to myself I can assure you I'd carry myself with the same dignity I have for years now. I would not embarass you, nor act foolishly. And I swear I would do my duty — both to you as your wife and to the realm as its future queen." you should've been nervous and yet it was as if you were discussing the weather. Your tone was steady, your back kept straight — a picture of a dignified Lady.

There was a moment of silence.

"My dear girl, I believe you do not know what you are asking for." Baelor carefully said, but it did not seem final. As if you put the image into his mind and he was considering it.

"I have not been married before, that is true. But I am a child no longer. Your own son has been wed for years now — he is my younger by a year. The question of my own marriage is to be decided without my say in it. I find you the most bearable of all my prospects, uncle. I do not wish to end up dead by childbirth in a few short years — my body no longer my own, but a vessel for bringing forth as many heirs as possible. I trust that would not become my fate by your side. I ask you for this union for I believe it could benefit us both. If you do not agree — I shall go back to my chambers and forget about ever coming here." you explained — staying true to your heart. You could not decipher his expression — was it a one of concurrence or a one of indignation? Only one thing was sure now — you held his attention fully.

"Very well then. Allow me this night to consider it, niece. I shall bring forth an answer on the morrow." he said after a moment of thought and with that — you had been dismissed.

The next day when you awoke there was already a small roll of parchment on your table — bearing the Lord Hand's seal. You cracked it open and read its contents. Baelor agreed to your proposal.

You were wed in two moons time.

It had been months since your marriage to the prince. You were content as his wife — he treated you with the utmost respect and kindness. Yet there was a part of your union that had not been planned — the feelings you harboured during all this time.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when you knew yourself to have fallen for your husband. It happened gradually, you supposed.

Through all the feasts he was vigil at your side — assuring your comfort on top of fulfilling his duties as the Hand. He allowed you to stay near as he discussed the matters of the realm — rarely sending you away when various Lords requested his opinion.

Baelor also gave you your space — you could spend your days as you pleased. You obviously treated the duties of a Princess of Dragonstone with the utmost importance — engaging with Ladies of the proper standing, attending court as it was held, politely speaking to nobles and emissaries. But after all that — you could bury yourself in books or spend far too much time on horseback. You were grateful to your husband for that.

The both of you had fallen into a quiet routine. Every third night or so he would call for you to come to his chambers — a servant at your door would inform you of it and lead you to his as if you did not know the way.

You and Baelor then talked — at times for hours on end. He would confide in you — about the matters discussed by the small council, about documents he was supposed to sign, about the fear for his father's health as well as his worries for Valarr. He asked for your opinion on various things — taxes, your own ideas on laws to help the realm, certain Lords and Ladies alike. The both of you discussed volumes you had found in the library and their contents — even argued about that some nights. You liked those nights — and the fact that you would always revisit it to see who was right.

Yet it was all for the sake of keeping up appearances. Your lord husband had not laid a hand on you since your wedding night — even though you shared a bed. You were grateful for that too — at first. And then you became frustrated — so much so that the nights you spent alone would be filled with the moans of his name, your hand between your thighs bringing you to ecstasy. What you had no way of knowing was he spent the same nights in similar fashion — fucking into his own fist, muttering out your name as if it were a prayer.

You were blind to his longing glances and touches lingering a moment too long during dancing — just as he was blind to your clandestine smiles meant only for him and your subtle acts of seduction. The two of you truly were a perfect match.

And so when one night — after perhaps one too many cups of Dornish red — he brought you back to his own chambers you found yourself restless. Baelor helped you out with the lacing of your dress — as well as the one of your corset. He then turned his gaze away — closing his eyes as you let the fabric pool at your feet. You stepped out of it — now clad in only a sheer shift.

He waited until you were abed and under the covers to open his eyes again. Only then did he start undressing himself — pulling out his 'Hand of the King' pin from the fabric of his doublet and then taking it off. The prince did not notice your hungry gaze on his bare back. Once he was only in his breeches he slipped under the covers himself — just to find you already on your side, facing him.

"Thank you, husband. You have been beyond kind in all those months of our marriage. It has exceeded my expectations for which I am grateful. Even though I fear you shall never desire me in the way a man desires a woman, I am truly happy with our union. So again — thank you." you said, your voice serene and then leaned forward to place a whisper of a kiss upon his cheek. Before Baelor could fully register what had just happened — you were already turning onto your other side, your back now to him.

Your husband laid there, frozen in shock. His wife feared he would not desire her — a ridiculous notion. He had spent months yearning for you — too afraid he'd ruin the very thing he promised you upon agreeing to your marriage. Now with this newfound knowledge — there was only one thing he could do.

He came up closer to you back — his chest almost flush with it. And — to your utmost suprise — you felt your husband's fingers lifting your chemise to caress the outer side of your bare thigh. You sobered up instantly.

The touch was warm and gentle, felt almost cautious — as if your lord husband was wary not to startle you, yet you were all but afraid. Heat radiated through you, as if there was a fire raging beneath your skin — wild and uncontained. Your breath stilled but your body moved of its own accord, your legs spreading a little — a quiet invitation.

You heard a sharp intake of breath which was followed by a more firm grip on your thigh. Baelor's calloused — from years upon years of wielding a sword — fingers were traveling across your skin, getting closer to the inside of your thigh. Once they reached it you let out a quiet sigh and so did he. You wanted to say something, to ask something — so did he — and yet the both of you remained quiet if not for the small gasps and shaky breaths. The game was on — who would be the one to speak out first?

You couldn't see his face and yet you could swear there was a grin upon his lips when he reached in between your legs. At first his hand teasingly cupped your already soaked, bare sex — the signets and various rings cold against your heat — at which your hips bucked into his touch. His fingers spread your folds, coating themselves in your wetness — tender was the way your prince touched you — and pulling a moan out of your lips. They circled the small bundle of nerves — the one that had your vision blurring — putting enough pressure on it to have you cry out, your hand clawing at Baelor's strong arm just to ground yourself. He placed a gentle kiss upon your shoulder, the course hair of his beard scratching your skin a little.

The movements of his hand countinued eliciting soft gasps from you and there was a slowly growing pressure in your abdomen — not yet ready to erupt, but undeniably there. And then his fingers left your clit, creeping down towards your dripping enterance — just to tease you by not entering. You whimpered, your nails digging into his arm to rush him — he just kissed your shoulder again. The torture seemed to never end — with Baelor constantly not giving into your cravings, just going around them — and it was maddening.

Finally, he pushed one of his fingers into you and your back arched — your inner walls fluttering at the intrusion and your grip on his arm tightening. Just as could be expected — the finger was bigger than your own ones and it was clad in jewlery. He started pumping it in and out of your pussy, ever so slowly. The palm of his hand was rubbing on your clit with each thrust, the delicious friction making you writhe in his grasp. And then he added a second finger — you moaned, loudly enough to startle yourself.

You remembered him opening you up with his fingers on your wedding night but it was nothing like this — not as exquisite, definitely not causing you to loose yourself in the sensations. It's not to say your wedding night was terrible — of which you had been previously afraid of. It was fairly painless and the prince was kind — so you've been granted more than most women — but your body didn't react to him like this back then.

You also couldn't compare your own taking care of your needs to your current situation. When you were alone it felt good — good to touch yourself right where you wanted it. Your husband's touch however felt different — his palms wider than your own, his fingers longer and a bit rougher — as he teased you, not giving into your desires right away.

Now though you felt the pressure growing in your abdomen with each move of his wrist. Baelor still didn't speak a word — just ground his hips into your backside, revealing he was hard as a rock. You trembled. And then his fingers curled upwards and brushed across a spongy spot inside you — your back arched, ass pressing right onto his cock and a sob fell from your parted mouth. You felt your husband smile upon the skin of your bare shoulder.

He stroked his fingers inside your pussy at the same exact angle as a moment before. You felt yourself closer to your undoing, your legs trembled and lewd noises filled your shared chambers — your moans as well as the wet squelching sounds coming from between your legs. Your thighs clad around his broad wrist like a vice, doing their best to slow the onslaught of pleasure that was urging you toward your peak. But you knew you didn't want it to stop — needed him to keep going.

And it didn't slow him down — with force he pushed his thick digits inside you again and again, bullying them into your pussy. You were constantly grabbing at his muscled arm, your lips parted to let out moans and whimpers alike, your brow furrowed.

Baelor loved it — loved the way you were arching into him, loved the way your cunt clamped down on his middle and ring finger, loved the noises so unbecoming of a proper lady. But in here you did not need to care for propriety — not in front of him, not in your marital bed. He wanted you just as you were — not the carefully crafted version presented to the court.

"Just like that, my sweet girl. You're taking my fingers so well. So good for me. Come around them, will you?" your husband's whispered words came off almost breathless. He did not care for stupid games any longer — needed you to know how well you were doing.

Suddenly, the tight coil in your lower abdomen snapped. Your body went taut, all muscles straining with exertion — thighs quaking, eyes shut, mouth agape and a sinful cry spilling from it. His fingers continued pumping into you, fucking you through the waves of your release. You squirmed in his grasp, your body seemingly unable to take on even a second more of stimulation.

"Baelor!" you gasped, your nails digging into his forearm — hard enough to leave marks — to try and pull his hand away from your abused cunt. He let you — withdrawing his hand from betwen your thighs — but not before cupping your whole sex in his palm at which you shuddered.

Before you could fully catch your breath you felt his strong hold on your hips — flipping your trembling body so you'd face him. And the sight before you? It was magnificent. His pupils were blown wide, making his eyes almost match in colour — and they were set on you. You knew his passing glances in court, secret looks shot your way during feasts — but not this. Now there was something else in the way he looked at you. Yes, it was with care — as he has always done — but there was something deeper, more unrestrained. You did not dare name it for him — and yet the same thing shone in your own eyes.

You wouldn’t wait a moment longer — felt as if you physically couldn't. Your lips reached his with a feverishness you didn't know yourself to possess. The prince wasn't indifferent either — he matched your fire with his own, his kisses scorchingly hot. You were both trying to claim each other — as if a simple moment was not enough. As if you needed to be melted together for eternity.

You let your lips part, an invitation for his tounge. Baelor took it with a frenzy of a man starved. There was nothing soft, nor mellow in the way your mouth chased his. Desperate — a description of the both of you — yet still human. Still needing to part for breath.

"I love you, Baelor. I have for months now. I know our match was not one made of love, but despite my best efforts I can't stay oblivious to the obvious. I wouldn’t have dreamed of disturbing you with this if not for what has just transpired — but now I have a shadow of hope you might share my torment of wanting the forbidden. If you do not bear the same passions tell me so at once, I beg of you, and I shall never speak of them again." the words flew out of your mouth before you could think them through. They were breathless and longing, a palpable proof of your dishevelled state. And yet when you finally found the courage to fully look him in the eye — his gaze was already on you.

"Oh my dear wife, don't you dare suggest I have been alien to what you're speaking of. Do you think my heart to be made of stone? I have tried to practice restraint, tried to give you the union we have agreed upon. Yet it is all to no avail. Every night we are parted I dream of you, every feast I search for your presence as if for salvation. I have loved you for a long time now and by your confession you have saved me from my anguish, ñuha jorrāeliarzy." he whispered fervently, his palm moving to cup your cheek had you leaning into it. There was a soft smile on his face and now you could place the emotion in his eyes — it was love. It felt as though you could take a breath after being underwater for a very long time.

"Ñuha valzyyrys." you breathed, all eloquent thought escaping your mind — leaving only these two words. You were overflown with emotion — so much so that a single tear rolled down your cheek. His thumb caught it — wiping at your skin.

"I have been a fool for not acting on my desires right until tonight. Allow me to make it up to you now, sweet girl." the prince pressed a soft kiss to your lips, a promise. You nodded, not saying anything — too scared your voice would crack.

There was a caring smile on his lips as he rolled you onto your back and climbed over you — propping himself up on his elbows as not to crush you under his weight. He settled between your thighs and they wrapped around his waist on instinct. Your chemise was now pooled around your waist — a result of your previous endevours — leaving your drenched sex completly bare against the fabric of his breeches.

He could feel your arousal dampening the material as he ground his hips into yours — which earned him your shudder and a mewl. The pressure of his hard cock on you – so close and yet not close enough — was exquisite. Baelor lowered his face into the crook of your neck with a heavy sigh.

"Are you sure you want this, ñuha riña?" he then asked, his voice muffled due to kisses he was pressing into your skin. Instead of an answer all he got was your hand in his hair, fingers pulling him forcefully up and toward your own face — just so you could kiss him as he groaned.

"Your wish is my command, wife." he chuckled softly. You had to admit you rather liked the sound — so much so your hips bucked up to meet his, eliciting a low gasp from him and a whimper from your own self. Your hands trailed down to his breeches.

"May I, husband?" your fingers hesitated at the laces — waiting for his consent. It came in a form of a thrust into your waiting palm. You did not say anything as you pulled at the strings and they came undone — nor as you tugged them down, freeing his cock and letting it rest on your abdomen. Only kissed him deeply, claiming him as yours.

It was perfect — the way you fit together. Your mouths molded together, your bodies working in a harmonious tandem. Your legs parted perfectly around his hips, as if he was meant to be between them. His strong muscled arms bracketed your head — letting you forget there was a world outside of your marital bed. And yet it was not enough, you realised there was a constant ache deep in you. A need only he could cure.

"Baelor, I need you, please I-" he cut you off, his lips closing in on yours — you melted into the kiss, your thoughts drifting away. Upon parting you noticed his hand was sneaking between you, reaching his length.

Even though you were quite inexperienced — with no lovers previous to marriage — you knew your husband to be well endowed. He was thick and there were visible veins around his shaft — as well as a certain heaviness to it. His tip was now glistening, a pearly bead of fluid adorning it. You shuddered at the thought of him inside you, even though you knew yourself to be able to take him — had done so once already. A fact you were truly marvelled at now.

"You want me inside you, sweet girl? Is that what you're begging for so prettily? I didn't know my wife to be so desperate for her husband's cock. I have to remedy that, don't I?" the prince teased and you nearly cried out for him — but before you could do that you felt him at your enterance. He wasn’t pushing in yet, just coating himself in your arousal. Your breath caught and your hands flew to his broad shoulders — to hold on to him.

"Gevie." he sighed, his head resting in the crook of your neck.

And then Baelor started — ever so slowly — pushing his tip in. You whimpered, your nails digging into his skin, your thighs wrapping around him tighter. His own body trembled — with restraint and pleasure alike — and he let out a deep groan. It was torturous — the shallow thrusts that were gradually spearing your insides open. The pressure that came with it was not completly foreign but long past being familiar.

"A tight little thing, aren't you? Squeezing me within an inch of my life. We've only just begun, dear wife." his muffled chuckle sounded out against your skin. It was followed by another roll of his hips at which you gasped. And another. And another. You could've sworn you were whimpering — but it all seemed so distant now. It was as if you were no longer inside your own body.

"So good for me. You're doing so good. That sweet cunt was made for my cock, stretching around me so well." you heard him say, the praise falling off his tounge easily. Your inner walls clenched around him at that and you felt him smile. Wetness dripped out of you, coating him and the linens under you — which allowed his thrusts to reach deeper.

You felt full — incredibly so. And yet when you looked down the planes of your body, between the two of you — you saw there was still about an inch to go. The sound that escaped you was one of pleasure and exasperation both. He only grinned into your skin upon hearing it. And then he pushed in right to the hilt.

Your back arched off the bed, your breasts brushing against his chest. The moan you let out was undoubtedly sinful — he answered it with one of his own. Baelor stilled as your nails scraped down his back and your thighs clamped around him like a vice. He waited for a moment and then two — letting you adjust to the fullness.

Your breath was shallow and you had to will yourself into taking a full one. You kissed him — deep and thorough, your tounge exploring his mouth to distract yourself. All through the kiss he did not move an inch — even though the gods knew how much he desired to do so.

Eventually — your breathing calmed, your nails were no longer digging into his skin and the fullness started feeling almost natural. It had you craving more so you bucked your hips — what in turn got you his hiss.

"You want me to fuck you? Is that so? A word would've sufficed, love." his words reached your ears, low and full of lust. You trembled.

And then your husband withdrew himself from your heat — just to slam back into you, causing you to cry out his name. He repeated the motion — set a punishing rhythm to it. You felt as if he was bringing you to the edge of madness — your sanity dangling on a very thin thread.

Your body was already sensitive — still feeling the aftermath of your first peak. Your pussy was clenching down with the onslaught of sensations — which caused him to put more force into his thrusts. He was merciless in bringing you to your pinnacle, your dear husband.

Baelor reached down with one hand. It landed on your thigh, the flesh of it plump and meaty. He hiked it up — bending it and pushing it toward your chest. The next slam of his hips into yours had you crying out, holding onto him for dear life. The change of angle made his cock rub against the tender spot inside you — the one that made your vision blur and your back arch.

"I wish you could see yourself, love. Maybe I should fuck you in front of a mirror next? You are truly exquisite, especially now. A real beauty, taking my cock so well. I'm so proud of you, my sweet girl." your husband's words would make you blush — if not for the fact he had seemingly fucked the ability of recognition right out of your mind.

You were not used to him using such language. He was usually perfectly composed, your prince. The perfect heir, even better Lord Hand. He was a composed man, a distinguished one. Who could have known he'd be whispering such profanities right into his wife's ear?

He rolled his hips forward — again and again. Baelor earned himself your nails, lodged into his skin once more. He'd surely bear marks on the morrow — red, crescent shapes. He was glad — wanted to carry a physical memory of you with him. It would ease the burden of his duties — let him tap back into the moment when he had you in his arms.

And while your husband was already thinking of all possible ways to have you screaming his name tonight — your thoughts were gone. They left only the sensation of him fucking you in their wake. Your brain had been certainly liquified because of that by now. And to add to it all — you couldn't trust yourself to say anything. Your voice would probably break, only sounds leaving you would be moans and cries.

With each trust now — came a whimper from your lips. You could feel the familiar pressure settling low in your abdomen. It had your pussy greedily clamping down on his length — as if it wanted to keep him inside. You knew you wouldn’t last long like this — knew he'd bring you over the egde soon enough. You wanted however to hold out for a moment longer.

Your effort would prove to be in vain.

"My pretty, little wife. You don't even know how much I wanted you through all those months. How much will I have put into not allowing myself to touch you. Every time I saw you in your nightgowns I had to restrain myself. Now I wonder if you were trying to tempt me, test my patience with all those sheer shifts. But worry not, we will make up for all the time lost. The night is long, my girl." Bealor said, his own deep voice faltering as the walls of your cunt fluttered around him. Yet he kept going. Kept bullying his cock in and out of you, leaving you shaking and sobbing in his grasp.

His rhythm was steady — even though it was brutal. And that was probably what had sent you tumbling off the edge, your climax hitting you like a brick to the head. You cried out, your fingers tightened your grip on him — pulling a hiss out of his lips because you dug your nails so deep into his skin. Your peak had your body trembling, your pussy squeezing him hard enough to make his hips falter.

To his credit — the prince kept fucking you through your release. He didn't stop when you were almost unbearably thight around him. Nor when he felt your nails tear the barrier of his skin drawing blood. He just kept muttering praises you were too fucked out to hear — guiding you through the waves of pleasure. Letting the drawn out feeling slowly subside.

And as you realised — he has not reached his own peak yet. So he kept pushing into you — into your sensitive cunt.

"Baelor I- I don't know if I can-" you tried to say, your voice unsteady and hoarse. He delivered a particularly hard thrust at that — making you whine.

"You will. You will be a good girl for me and let me fill you up. You will lay there and take all I give you, my love." he said. The command in his voice had you nodding — agreeing to please him. To make him proud of you.

And so he continued pounding into your wet heat. He loved the feel of you, all trembling and mewling under his touch. Loved the way your back arched and the way your brow creased in ecstasy. It all had him close — teetering just right on the edge of what he was desperate to reach. So his hand sneaked between your bodies — allowing his thumb to cirlce the small, tender bead near the top of your sex.

The action had you sobbing and your pussy clenching down. You were already overstimulated and the added touch was almost painful. You were sure you could be heard by every servant and courtier in the Keep alike — you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Baelor's rhythm staggered. As it turned out all he needed was to feel your muscles spasm on his throbbing cock. He buried himself right to the hilt with a guttural moan — earning him yet another cry from your lips. And he allowed his release to overtake him, spilling his seed deep into you — stuffing you full of it. His strong shoulders shaked and one of his hands grabbed at the pillows — grounding himself through his pleasure.

And then your battle hardened husband collapsed — as if struck down. His weight was comforting — even if only for a moment. For before you could fully embrace him, he was already rolling you both to the side. It allowed you to stay in his arms as his cock stayed lodged in you. You sighed — a quiet, content sound.

The prince leaned back to look at your face — at your shut eyes and features slowly softening.

"You did well, sweet girl. Took me so good. I'm glad to have such a wife." he said before pressing a kiss to your forehead. You melted at his words.

When the both of you settled into a comfortable position you started gradually drifting off to sleep. That's when you felt him move. He carefully withdrew himself out of you — ever so delicate. Yet you still whimpered, still needed to hold onto him. He could only offer you an apologetic kiss.

You winced at the empty feeling — felt his seed start dripping out. It was strange — how easily you got used to him streching you out and how wrong it felt when he wasn’t doing so. Especially considering how a very short time ago you were falling apart trying to take all of his cock.

The chamber was quiet if not for your steady breaths — until you heard the unmistakable rustling of sheets and felt the sudden lack of a husband at your side. Your eyes flew open, searching for his figure in the dark room. You found him going towards a basin filled with water, a cloth in hand. Upon reaching the bowl he dipped the fabric into it. Your gaze followed his movements, trailing the expanse of his bare form. A strong, muscled back. Broad shoulders, relaxed now — as if an invisible weight had been taken off them. And a whole litter of already paled scars.

You wanted to kiss each and every one of them.

He came back to bed with the damp material and sat beside you — then leaned down to place a soft kiss upon your lips, one you returned. You felt his palm on your thigh, spreading your legs and reaching for your sex. Felt him gently run the cloth along your folds — collecting all the fluids. Even though he did it with the utmost care — an involuntary shudder ran through your body.

He kissed you again. It was all delicate, loving — tender. You wanted him close — as much as it was possible. So you pulled him down onto the matress at which he let out a hearty laugh — but allowed it nonetheless. As soon as he was at your level Baelor tugged you to his chest — wrapping his arms around you, his fingers slowly playing with your hair.

"Rest for now, sweet girl. I'm not done with you yet." he murmured and you said a quick prayer in your mind — asking the Gods to grant you strength.

You did as the prince told you to though — sleep creeping up on you easily in his embrace. The last thing you registered was him pulling up the linens to cover you both up and his hand stroking your hair.

You barely slept that night. Baelor's hunger for you disallowed you from rest — he claimed you in so many different ways it would've made even a whore blush.

On the morrow he simply dressed and with a kiss to your forehead, departed for his everyday duties — ever the proper heir. You stayed abed the whole day — feining indisposal.

You had never again slept in your own chambers after that.

[lewadny]

Dragons are alive AU: the continuation