Hello! I love your writing sm and I especially adore the way you write Maekar. If you do not mind, could you pleaseee write a Maekar Targaryen fanfic, him getting cuteness aggression from reader? <3
REQUEST - MAEKAR x READER
SUMMARY : You've been married for almost a year, yet Maekar still treats you like a stranger. Tired of being kept at arm's length, you decide to do something about it and step into the courtyard.
AUTHOR'S NOTE :
I loved writing this! Maekar is definitely one of the characters I enjoy writing the most. I have to confess, I'm the one feeling the cuteness aggression toward him whenever I write him, which sometimes makes it difficult to come up with a scenario that still feels true to his personality.
I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I also hope I understood your request correctly—that Maekar was the one receiving the cuteness aggression, not the reader. If I got that wrong, feel free to send me another ask! XD
In many ways, Maekar reminded you of your childhood pet: Salem.
A white Persian cat who hissed and clawed at anyone foolish enough to go near him. Except you, whom he simply chose to ignore, walking away as soon as you entered his space. That didn't stop you from cooing at him and buying his affection with food and catnip. It eventually worked, for you were the only person in your household who could hold and kiss the little devil and live to tell the tale.
Your husband was, in many ways, like your cat.
He cursed as much as Salem hissed. No one was spared from his sharp tongue. Maekar cussed at his brothers (especially Aerys), at any lord foolish enough to speak to him, and at the ladies who glared at him after he cussed at their lord husbands. His mother, Queen Myriah, once told you his first word had been a swear word. Even though you suspected the Queen was teasing, it wouldn't have surprised you in the slightest. You could perfectly imagine an infant Maekar, his white hair cut into a bowl, cussing at his governess.
Instead of claws, Maekar had swords. Your prince especially enjoyed blowing off steam in the training yard, sometimes battering his opponent if he was in a sour mood. Though his weapon of choice remained the mace, which he loved to use against his eldest brother.
Finally, like Salem, Maekar left his white hair absolutely everywhere...
However, unlike the little pest, you weren't Maekar's favorite person. That spot belonged to Prince Baelor, with whom your husband spent most of his time.
At first, you found the love the brothers bore each other endearing. It was rare for siblings to get along within the nobility, and especially within the House of the Dragon. The Blackfyre Rebellion was the perfect example.
However, you thought Maekar would come back to you whenever Prince Baelor had to attend to his duties. On the contrary, your lord husband preferred to spend his time either in the training yard or in his solar. You only saw him during meals and before bed.
His behavior was vexing, to say the least. You had been married for almost a year now, too long to qualify as newlyweds, yet he still treated you like a stranger. No one would know you were his wife if it weren't for the softening of his cursing whenever you were around.
Something had to be done.
Since Maekar wouldn't come to you, you would go to him.
Therefore, on an unassuming afternoon, you stepped into the courtyard wearing training attire. The stitch was much heavier than you would have expected beneath your clothes, but the simple tunic and trousers allowed you to move freely. It pleased you to be able to move your legs however you liked, without the fear of ripping expensive fabric constantly plaguing your mind. As pretty as your gowns were, they were too elaborate for a simple stroll through the gardens.
Or training with a sword in the courtyard.
Once you spotted Maekar's clump of white hair from across the yard, you walked straight toward him. One of the soldiers training there stopped mid-movement to gawk at you in shock, and his opponent took advantage of the distraction to knock him into the dirt. To be fair, ladies in trousers were a rare sight.
If only you could have such an effect on your own husband. The latter seemed determined to win his bout against his opponent, his sword strikes falling like rain upon the poor fellow. Maekar truly was glorious in battle, and the fact that he remained shirtless while training only added to his appeal.
His opponent saw you before he did and barely managed to block Maekar's deadly sword.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" the Anvil growled. "A squire could have seen this from a mile away!"
"Your lady wife is here, my lord."
Maekar frowned at him suspiciously but turned around nonetheless, his sword steady in his hands.
There you were, smiling right in front of him. If your clothes disturbed him, he didn't show it in the slightest.
"Husband," you greeted him happily.
"Wife," he replied grumpily. "What are you doing here?"
"I've come to see you, of course! Your prowess as a knight is sung all across the realm, yet I realized I'd never seen it for myself."
A lie. You had been observing the prince from the window long before you were even married.
"Prince Maekar truly is remarkable, my lady," the knight your husband had been training with chirped teasingly.
"Shut it," the Anvil growled before taking your wrist and guiding you well away from the clashing of swords and shields.
A scowl adorned his face, yet his grip was gentle. He released you once you were out of earshot.
"This isn't a place for a woman," he grunted, staring at you as though you were a willful child. "You could get hurt."
"So you do care about me," you teased.
His eyes widened as if surprised by your statement. He opened and closed his mouth, gaping like a fish, unable to decide what to say. His confusion, as well as the blush creeping onto his cheeks, only made him even more endearing to you. It was certainly a welcome change.
Maekar must have noticed your amusement, for his shyness instantly disappeared, replaced by his usual grumpiness.
"Don't flatter yourself," he grumbled. "Baelor wouldn't let me hear the end of it if you got yourself unnecessarily hurt. I don't have the time for this kind of nonsense."
"I wouldn't get hurt if you were the one training me," you suggested, even though that had been your goal from the very beginning.
Maekar looked at you as though a horn had suddenly sprouted from your forehead.
"Absolutely not. That idea is even madder than the last. I've seen the way you turn your head away during tourneys. You don't even care about training."
"Mayhaps, but I care about spending time with my husband."
His blush deepened at the word husband.
Interesting...
"Still, there's no way in the Seven Hells I'm training you," he argued, stubborn as ever.
"Would you rather I find another man to train me? There are plenty of skilled warriors around. I'm sure I can find a suitable teacher on my own."
For the first time, Maekar truly noticed the way you were dressed, and how well your clothes suited you. He frowned, clearly displeased by the thought.
Finally, the Anvil let out a sigh of resignation.
"You're going to be the death of me, woman."
"I certainly hope so, husband."
The word definitely flustered him. He coughed to regain his composure, but it was too late. Maekar lent you his own sword and positioned himself behind you, using his hands to correct your stance.
You didn't mind having his hands on your hips, and you certainly didn't mind making him stammer by pressing a kiss beneath his jaw.
"Gods be good," he grumbled.
You smiled, victorious.
After all, you had always found a way to tame grumpy cats.
