GOT - Podrick Payne x Reader (1st draft still in progress)
AKOTSK - Aerion Targeryan x Reader (1st draft completed)
GOT - Lancel Lannister x Reader (1st draft completed)
Published: (AKOTSK, HOD, GOT, Derry Girls, etc.)
Master List
Ao3 (where everything is published/updated):
ViridianDreams | Archive of Our Own
Outro:
At this rate the Lancel fanfic might be out first even though it's the last one I started...got supper stuck on the Podrick one. Just need to edit the Aerion and Lancel ones, might both be out in a week.
Putting a schedule down...so that I actually force myself to write. I love writing but the distractions are strong.
Hii, I hope you're having a good day. I just wanted to say that I loved your new Jacaerys Velaryon fic❤️. And I wanted to know if you would do a part 2 continuing the story, I'll love to read it. Thank you so much.
Hello,
I'm glad you liked my Jace fic💕 hadn't planned on writing a second part to it. But I'll consider it and add it to my list of fanfics to try out, if I can come up with something decent to continue the story I'll write it. Thank you so much for reading my fic!
You might be a figment of James' imagination...or so his friends tell him. As none of them believe that he is actually dating you as he claims. The thing is...you aren't sure if you are dating him either. Will either of you ever figure it out? And will the rest of the Derry girls help you or just make everything worse along the way?
ShyxShy character.
Switches back and forth between "You" POV to 3rd person POV (your nickname is "V" because I dislike "Y/N" naming convention, I make up a reason for your nickname in the story though.
Warnings: Mostly Fluff, but Michelle's mouth is its own explicit language warning.
WC: 5.2k (55k for completed work). Full Completed work on Ao3.
“Hey James.” You say, as you approach James in the school hallway.
He looks up surprised and shyly replies, “Hi.”
“I didn’t see you anymore at the party last Friday, guess we left at different times,” you say.
“I guess so…” He says.
“Did you stay until the end?” You ask.
“Not quite.” He says looking down.
You are unsure what else to say, you notice that he seems a little down and not up for talking.
“Well I liked talking to you. Maybe we can hang out some time? ” You say shyly. “You know just so you can show me around Derry and all.” You add, trying to not sound too serious or desperate.
He looks up surprised, and smiles a little. “Sure, I’d like that. I think.” He says. “You know just so I can introduce you to Derry.” He adds.
“Hey V, let’s get moving!” Jenny says energetically, as she comes up behind you. “The early bird gets the worm, and we should get started on your newspaper training.”
“V?” James asks.
“My nickname.” You answer, “Jenny thought it’d be fun to give each other nicknames, and we decided on V for mine.”
“Mine is ‘the theme queen.’” Jenny says happily, doing some jazz hands to emphasize the nickname.
You cringe a bit. You want to mention that Jenny suggested her own nickname, while yours was a longstanding one given to you by your brother since you were 3, but somehow that seems petty, so you say nothing.
“Right.” You say, trying to smile along with Jenny.
“I like it,” James says, “It suits you.”
“Thank you!” Both you and Jenny say at the same time and turn to each other. This time you actually do smile at her.
“Look this isn’t over.” Michelle says pacing inside Erin’s room. “I don’t know who she thinks she is, but I’m not letting her steal John. You can’t find such a massive ride in Derry that easily, and I’m not giving up on him.”
“I’m not sure you can call it ‘stealing’, when he decided to go with her of his own freewill, Michelle.” Clare says.
“Oh, shut it Clare.” Michelle says, “I’m not joking. I really like this guy.”
“You do?” Clare asks seriously.
“Aye, he’s got the nicest ass I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Michelle answers. “It is nearly impossible to find a guy with a good looking face and a good looking ass at the same time. And it’s not like she owns him. I’m going to win him over.” She finishes. She pushes her boobs up, and flips her hair back side to side while admiring herself in Erin’s mirror.
“Eugh.” Clare exclaims, with a disgusted face.
“Michelle’s right!” James says suddenly.
“She is?” Clare asks, doubtfully.
“Yes, it’s like the movies say, everything is fair in love and war. John doesn’t own V. I still have a chance.” He says, then adds with a soft smile “And she told me she likes talking to me.”
“God but this girl must be mental.” Michelle says, “How can she like talking to you James? I can barely stand it.”
Erin and Clare nod. Orla looks around confused.
“Are you sure you aren’t imagining things James?” Erin asks. “None of us have ever even seen you and this girl in the same room together, and yet you claim you have a date with her now.”
“She’s real!” James yells, “Our conversations are real! I’m showing her around Derry this weekend.”
“What are you up to girls?” Orla’s mom asks, entering the room without knocking.
“James is telling us all about his wee imaginary girlfriend mammy.” Orla answers matter of fact. “He’s going on an imaginary date this weekend, but I don’t understand. What do you do on imaginary dates? Do you eat real food or just pretend?”
Michelle, Erin, and Clare laugh.
“Ach, love.” Orla’s mom says turning to James. “I don’t mean to judge you, but don’t you think it’s a bit pathetic to walk around with an imaginary friend? You are a bit old for that now aren’t you son? Why even Orla had to say goodbye to Robbie last year, and she played with him since she was 5. It just wasn’t a healthy relationship anymore.”
“He started stealing from me, mammy.” Orla says. “I created him, but I could not control him any longer. He had to go.”
Clare looks around scared. Erin just rolls her eyes. Michelle re-applies her lipstick, not paying attention to the conversation anymore. James says nothing, giving up on proving that his date is not imaginary.
James pulls at his jacket, adjusting and re-adjusting the sleeves, before taking a breath and knocking on the door.
You open the door and can’t help smiling the moment you see him. You are just on time, you want to say, but you don’t want him to know you were checking the clock nonstop, waiting for him.
“Ready?” He asks, smiling back.
You nod, and he waits for you to start walking before he starts walking beside you.
“I really respect him as a songwriter,” James says, “I can make you some mixed CD’s with his songs so you can listen to them…you know…if you like.”
“Sure,” You say, trying not to seem too excited. “That sounds nice.”
“Oh here is the chippy.” He says, pointing towards a small lot, which seems to be packed with people. “This is where all of my friends like to eat, though I don’t really like it much myself. But if you’d like we can order something and eat it outside, I know a good spot where we can have a picnic. I also brought some sandwiches for us to eat.”
“You did?” You ask surprised, you had wondered why he brought his backpack with him. “I think just the sandwiches are good.” You say smiling.
You and James are standing outside your house. He walked you home, and rather than leaving when you arrived, you both have been standing there talking nonstop. You have been answering a million small questions about yourself, but you don’t mind, since you have also been asking a million small questions about him. You find yourself asking questions like “What’s your favorite color?” because for some reason, you actually really do want to know what James’ favorite color is. You want to know his favorite everything.
“Between a) licorice and b) gummy bears, which one would you pick?” He asks.
“Gummy bears.” You answer.
“Uh, Orla will be so disappointed.” He says smiling. “She has been stocking up on licorice.”
“Why?” You ask amused.
“Planning some sort of bait and trap.” He says.
“What?” You ask confused, a cold burst of wind making you shiver.
“Never mind.” He says, and starts taking off his jacket.
“You don’t have to.” You say, your heart beating faster. “I’m already home anyways.”
“I want to.” He says, putting his jacket over your shoulders, then pulling the collar at either end of your collarbones a little closer together to cover you more. He looks up from the collar to your face, and you realize how close his face is to yours. He must realize that too, since his face turns slightly pink. As you stare into his eyes, close enough to him that you can smell the shampoo he uses on his hair, you wonder if he’s about to kiss you.
“I…” he starts.
“Hey V!” John shouts.
Startled, you jump a bit and step away from James. Your brother is walking towards you with an evil smirk on his face.
“What are you doing here?” You ask with a fake smile, trying not to sound annoyed. He had told you he would be out until late, and he’s home early.
“Just walking by, happened to see you.” John says in a mockingly innocent tone.
You want to tell him to fuck off, but are embarrassed to do so in front of James. Instead you take a breath and try to introduce them.
“This is James.” You start, “He..”
“I know.” John says, “We’ve met before, haven’t we James?”
“Right.” James says, looking uncomfortable.
“We’re just talking.” You say, trying to hint at your brother to leave.
“I wouldn’t mind a good talk.” Your brother says, to your annoyance.
“That’s alright.” James says, “I understand. I’ll see you around school?”
You nod and try to smile. You look at James as he walks away. He turns around a couple times to look back at you before he disappears around a corner. Once he’s out of sight, you turn to your brother.
“I might just strangle you in your sleep tonight.” You tell him.
He only smiles even bigger and more mischievously. “It’s my job to protect and annoy you.” He says, “Happy days, that both those things came together today.”
“It wasn’t a double date, Michelle.” James says sounding tired.
“What do you call it then? You, your imaginary girlfriend, and John out and about?” Michelle says angrily, as she paces in Erin’s room. “And you just left the two of them alone?! If your spine was any weaker you’d crumble under your own weight!”
James says nothing but walks out of the room.
“You went too far Michelle.” Clare says.
“Aye, Michelle,” Erin says, “even I thought that was too harsh.”
Michelle hesitates for a moment, exasperated she yells “Fuck!” then walks out of Erin’s room after James.
“Wank-features, wait!” She yells, marching towards James. He’s halfway down the stairs and doesn’t stop.
“James, I’m sorry!” She yells. He halts.
“Look, come back.” Michelle says, “You know me, I open my mouth before thinking sometimes. I’m just annoyed because I thought you going on your date with your imaginary girl today would mean John and her would be over soon. Then you come back and tell us that he showed up at your date and you just left him with her. What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know, Michelle, okay?” James says, turning around to face Michelle who has finally reached him. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just hated seeing him there, and I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but I didn’t want to be an asshole. And I thought of turning around and going back several times, but I just…I don’t know okay. I don’t know.”
“Well alright then.” Michelle says awkwardly. “No point moping about it, you’ll get another chance with her when you see her at school, and I’ll bring my A-game to seduce John. We’ll be grand.” She says slapping his forearm a bit too hard, as if she’s his coach hyping him up before a game.
“Is everything alright now?” Clare asks timidly.
James and Michelle look up at the top of the stairs where her and Erin seem to have been standing listening to them.
“Yeah, we’re good.” James says.
The four of them head to the kitchen to have a late dinner that Erin’s mom has been preparing.
The four of them sit around the table, while Erin’s mom puts out more plates and grandpa Joe feeds baby Anna some baby food.
“Thank you Mary.” Says Clare, as her food is served. “It looks delicious.”
“Thank you Mrs. Quinn.” Says James as well.
“But mammy, I might need them for my investigation!” Orla argues with her mother, as they both walk into the kitchen. Gerry walks in behind them.
“Where have you three been?” Asks Erin, taking a bite of her toast.
“Orla, love, you can’t eat all that licorice. You heard the dentist, twelve cavities love. I don’t understand how it got this far.” Sarah says dismayed.
“Well I don’t think it helped that you let her take a pack of the stuff for her to snack on, on the way to the dentist appointment.” Gerry says.
“Who are you to question my Sarah’s decisions aye? You weren’t there, that dentist has had it out for Orla since she was five.” Says grandpa Joe, shaking a spoon full of baby food at Gerry.
“I was there Joe. I was there because I had to drive them there, seeing as you got your license taken away, again. And seeing as Orla tried to bite doctor O’Neill when he tried to stop her from eating more licorice in the middle of her dentist examination, I can’t say that I particularly blame him for ‘having it out for her’ as you say.” Gerry exclaims, as he goes to wash his hands at the sink.
“I’ll be ‘having you out.’” Grandpa Joe says with a scowl. “You take that tone with my Sarah again.”
“Enough, dad. Orla needs to stop eating so much sugar.” Mary says, then turns to her sister, “I don’t understand why you let her buy the entire licorice inventory of Dennis’s Wee Shop, Sarah.”
“She needed it for her investigation, Mary.” Sarah exclaims. “I was simply supporting her passion for the law. Is that a crime now?”
“V doesn’t even like licorice.” James chimes in. “She prefers gummy bears, Orla.”
“Now you tell me.” Orla says, with a disappointed face.
Sarah nods, empathically at her daughter.
“Why were you eating them anyways?” James asks, “Weren’t they supposed to be for bait?”
“The mark of a good sales man is to eat your own merchandise, James.” Orla says.
“I don’t think that’s true.” James replies in a dubious tone.
You toss and turn in your bed. Finally kicking off the covers, and giving up. You get up and turn on the lamp on your nightstand. You walk towards the chair holding James’ jacket and pick it up. Bringing it to your face you inhale the smell of his shampoo in it, fresh and clean. You throw the jacket around yourself and drop back into your bed. Comforted by the clean smell of him enveloping you, you fall asleep.
James kicks off his covers annoyed. He can’t stop replaying the scene of John arriving at V’s house, and re-imagining it so that it ends with him and V together. He imagines himself emerging victorious from a fight with John, V happy that he won. He imagines, asking V to choose and V choosing him, a defeated John angrily walking away. His mind keeps betraying him though, because sometimes the last scenario turns into V choosing John instead. He sits up in bed then, not wanting to think anymore, his hands covering his face.
He doesn’t know when he falls into a tortured sleep, full of nonsensical nightmares. Then his cousin is waking him up.
“Get up you lazy shit!” Michelle says. “I’d leave you here, but my ma would have my head if I did that again this month.”
James opens his eyes, dark circles framing his green eyes. “I don’t want to go. I’ll just say I’m ill.”
“Ma is a nurse dipshit,” Michelle says, “she’ll know that you’re faking it.”
“Ugh.” James grumbles, but starts to get up. Michelle heads down to the kitchen to finish her breakfast.
After a moment James comes down the stairs, an air of misery around him.
“What’s with the long face?” Michelle says, “You look terrible, and that’s saying something because you don’t usually look good to begin with.”
James says nothing, just looks down at the plate in front of him and eats a bite of the burnt toast on it before putting it down. Michelle tends to put any toast she burns and doesn’t want to throw away into his plate, ‘to be nice.’
“Nothing says I care about you, like a good bowl of warm soup.” Jenny says up on the podium, as she mimes eating soup with a spoon. “It’s how our parents take care of us when we are ill, and it’s how we will take care of the less fortunate in our community. We will show them we care by nourishing their souls and their stomachs.” She says, rubbing her stomach with one hand and giving a thumbs up with the other.
“I love a wee soup!” You hear Orla say off in the distance, the sound of her excited voice reverberating over the quiet hall. Every other student is yawning, or spacing out that Monday, as Jenny delivers her speech. You are just grateful that it’s a solo speech, rather than a team one, otherwise she might have asked you to go up there with her.
“Right…” Sister Michael says, walking up to the microphone and slightly pushing Jenny to the side as she takes the podium. “Well that’s quite the sentiment there Jenny. Though I’m not sure soup would be what I’d want if I were needy, I’d much rather take a check to be sure.” She says looking off into the distance as if considering the prospect, then continues. “Our Lady Immaculate College, will not actually be giving away soup. Rather we will be selling soup to our community, along with bread, some raffles, and holding games to raise money which we will then be donating to our local food bank. Please make sure to invite your friends and family. I will see all of you here this Friday night. Do not be late, I’d like to leave early.”
“Ach. Do I look like I want to be a cafeteria lady?” Michelle asks annoyed, crumbling the piece of paper which has designated her as part of the Soup Crew for next Friday.
“Don’t slag off the cafeteria ladies Michelle.” Clare says seriously. “They are hard workers, and they have it hard enough. Everyone is always saying mean things about the food, it’s so sad to work all day to feed someone and then they don’t even like your meals. And they don’t get paid much either.” Clare who found out much earlier about her designation to the Soup Crew, has already been talking to the cafeteria employees about their struggles.
“Aye.” Agrees Orla, “They always let me get second helpings Michelle.”
“Alright, mother Theresa.” Michelle says, “Enough with the sucking up.”
“I’m not sucking up.” Clare says offended.
“I am.” Says Orla, who was originally assigned to the Decoration Committee, but had begged Erin incessantly to trade her for the Soup Crew. “I don’t want them to hear me insulting their craft Michelle, I might not get my second helpings.”
“What is Erin so happy about?” Asks James, looking towards Erin who is approaching them.
“Guess what?” Erin asks, then continues to answer without waiting for an answer. “I just got our school to invite David Donelly’s band to the charity dinner.”
“Don’t these folk already have it bad enough with the crappy soup we are going to give them, Erin?” Michelle says.
Erin’s smile does not drop, however. “I told Sister Michael that he’s a great musician, and showed her one of the CD’s he burned for his band. She totally loved him.”
“So he’d said he do it for free and the school accepted because they’re a bunch of tightwads?” Michelle asks, knowing the answer.
“Well he did say he was playing free gigs to promote his band.” Erin answers truthfully, “I just happened to mention that to Sister Michael and she said she’d have him. I can’t wait to tell him!” She says, clapping her hands together in excitement.
“I really think, I can do it this time.” Clare says as she walks with James to their next class. “I know my fast last time didn’t work, but it’s because I wasn’t mentally prepared. I’ve been reading up on how to do it properly. If I can go twenty-four hours, would you sponsor me James?”
“James?” She asks in a squeaky voice, turning around in circles, her eyes darting back and forth trying to find James who was with her only a moment ago.
“Are you hiding from someone James?” Asks Clare, finally spotting James crouching down behind her.
Clare looks around and sees V walking by with Jenny Joyce. “Are you hiding from your imaginary girlfriend?” She asks, “Why?”
“I’m just waiting for the right time to talk to her, is all.” James says still crouching behind her.
Once V and Jenny are out of sight James finally stands up. The two of them continue walking towards their class.
“I think you should talk to her James. The two of you already went on a date, you need to tell her she can’t go around dating other lads anymore, it’s not right.”
“Well…the thing is…” Says James turning his head sheepishly toward his left shoulder, “I’m not quite sure it was a date. I never really asked her in those exact words to ‘go on a date with me’, I just told her I’d show her around Derry.”
“Well did she seem to like you?” Clare asks.
“I…” James trails off for a moment as if remembering something. “I thought she did…for a moment…for a moment I thought she wanted me to….but maybe it was all just in my head.”
“Heellooo Motherfuckers!” They hear Michelle yelling across the hall towards them.
“Oh geez.” Clare says, looking around and hoping no nuns were nearby to hear her.
“Hello Michelle.” James says in a monotone voice.
“What are you two mopey feckers going on about?” Michelle asks.
“Jame’s imaginary girlfriend.” Clare says, at the same time James says “Nothing, Michelle.”
“Oh, not that again.” Michelle says, “Are you still hiding like a little bitch every time she comes around, James?”
“No.” James says at the same time Clare nods and says, “Aye, he is.”
“Look, dick face” Michelle says, “If your lot can go around stealing half of the world’s cultural artifacts and keeping them like the assholes they absolutely are, I expect you should be able to steal away one wee girl from an Irish fella. It’s what you English lot are good at aye?” She says, lightly slapping his face. “So stop crying in my fecking face and hiding behind Clare’s skirts. Man up and steal that girl!”
Clare nods vigorously. James wants to protest, but he is torn between feeling insulted and yet oddly motivated.
“I’m thinking we should arrive early to help set up the tables, and decorate a bit. I think brightening up the place and bringing cheer is just as important as bringing delicious food.” Jenny says, as she checks off a list of items needed for that evenings’ community event.
You nod, trying to pay attention to the rest of what she is saying, but you are having a hard time concentrating. You had started that week excited to talk to James, hoping to use the excuse of returning his jacket, to talk to him as well as to apologize for your brother. However, you kept just missing him all of Monday and Tuesday. By Wednesday you had started to worry that he was purposefully avoiding you, specially after the time you were walking with Jenny and Aisling, and he popped up from around from a hallway corner only to see you, do a spin, and turn right back around muttering loudly about ‘having forgotten something.’
“He’s avoiding you.” Aisling says, as she enters the newspaper editorial room.
You jump, shocked for a moment that she is able to read your thoughts so easily.
“He is?” You ask.
“Who?” Jenny asks.
“Who else?” Aisling says, “There is only one ‘he’ at this school, the wee English fella of course.”
“Why?” Jenny asks with a furrowed brow.
“How do you know?” You ask at the same time, completely focused on Aisling.
“I saw him drop down and go into hiding behind Clare, right when you and Jenny were passing by.” Aisling says, “Him and Clare started talking then, didn’t even notice me passing by. Did you do something to the fella, Jenny?”
“Me?” Jenny points to herself doubtfully. “I’ve barely talked to the fella, but sure, I even complimented his hairstyle once. Though, I did confuse him with a girl, but I did not think he would hold that against me. Honest mistake and all.”
You try to not look nervous, but your eyes shift around automatically before you notice Aisling paying close attention to you.
“Is it you he’s avoiding then?” Aisling asks you.
You hesitate, unsure if you want them to know about your developing crush on James. You really don’t know what went wrong though, and why James is avoiding you now. You really miss sharing secrets with friends and talking to them about it as well. You sigh and decide to tell them about your Saturday with James. Though, you leave out any mention of your feelings for him, or the fact that you slept with his jacket on.
“So he showed you around Derry…walked you home…met your brother…and now he’s avoiding you?” Aisling asks with a thoughtful expression.
“Boys are quite strange.” Jenny says, “Not that I have much experience, my dad always goes selectively mute when I ask him any questions about boys, and my ma just tells me that men are best as a mystery. I’m not entirely sure what she means, to be honest.”
“Well my brother was a bit rude to him…” You say, “but…I didn’t think it was such a big deal, just a bit embarrassing is all.”
“Well when boys don’t have the best intentions with you,” Jenny starts, with the seriousness of a mom telling her kids about the birds and the bees. “They will not want to meet your parents, or siblings. Maybe he’s a Casanova who just wanted to plant one on you without being properly introduced to your family first.”
“…I’m not sure.” You say, and you truly are not sure at all. Jenny’s advice sounds so grandmotherly and outdated, but at the same time you can’t help but wonder if there is some truth to it. You hadn’t mentioned James to your father or brother, not wanting them to bombard you with a million questions and wanting to meet him. Specially since you weren’t even sure if James was actually taking you out on a date, or just being friendly and introducing you to Derry like he said.
“Maybe he just didn’t enjoy hanging out with me.” You say, wanting to voice your biggest fear.
“Don’t say that!” Aisling says.
“Did you enjoy hanging out with him?” Jenny asks, her face clearly showing that she can hardly believe you did. “He’s got a great head of hair to be sure, but he’s hardly the brightest bulb in the bunch, is he?”
“I actually don’t think he lacks wits,” Aisling says, “I think he’s just English and confused.”
You laugh at this, and Jenny and Aisling join in.
“I’m guessing all this chitchat means the Decoration Committee has confirmed we have everything we need?” Sister Michael says, as she walks into the cafeteria’s entryway.
“Yes, Sister” Jenny says immediately snapping to attention, “I have personally confirmed that we have everything we need for Friday’s event and even some extra items to add some ‘pizazz’.” She emphasizes the word pizazz with her hands, fanning her hands out like she’s in theater.
Sister Michael looks like she just swallowed something particularly greasy. “Right.” She says with a grimace. “Well if that’s all, better get going to your next class then ladies.”
The next two school days, Thursday and Friday were hectic. You painted signs, drew and cut decorations, blew up balloons, set up tables in the cafeteria, and more. Jenny who oversaw it all presided over you and Aisling as well as the rest of the girls in the Decorating Committee, most of which were friendly with Jenny. You suspected, in fact, that the reason you were all in the Decorating Committee, was because Jenny was the one who assigned teams for the event.
“Are we all here ladies?” Jenny says.
The group looks around counting members.
“Everyone except Erin.” Aisling says. “I think she’s still decorating the booth the DJ is going to be at.”
“Hasn’t she been decorating the same spot for the last two days?” One of the other fifth year girls ask.
Jenny looks annoyed. You and Aisling give each other a small conspiratorial smile. Aisling had confided in you that Jenny had chosen Orla specifically for her art skills, tallness, and strength to the Decorating Committee so that she could carry chairs, paint posters, and put up decorations. Instead, she had gotten stuck with Erin who spent most of her time arranging and re-arranging the DJ booth’s decorations. Apparently despite Jenny’s complaints to Sister Michael, the nun had refused to swap Erin and Orla back into their original assignments as she “simply did not care.”
“The DJ booth is looking amazing!!” Erin sing-songs as she enters the room, then noticing the dead silence in the room she adds “What did someone die? Again?”
“She’s not dead Erin!” Jenny says exasperated.
You assume she’s talking about the former girl who was part of the newspaper team, though you don’t really know much details about the situation or the girl’s absence.
“Well then, let’s get cracking!” Erin says, excited and oblivious to Jenny’s death-ray stare. “This place is looking good!”
“We’ll at least we don’t have to do any work until tonight.” Michelle says, as she, Orla, and Clare sit outside the cafeteria. “Pouring soup won’t be as bad as having to make it.”
Clare looks at her soup covered clothes and sighs. “I really think the cafeteria ladies were being too harsh on us. They didn’t have to kick us out, we can be of help.”
“We almost poisoned everyone, Clare.” Michelle says. “I think they might have had a bit of point in tossing us out.”
“I did nothing!” Clare says outraged. “I read every label, very carefully Michelle. I measured! I counted!”
“Yeah, well you’re guilty by association aren’t you?” Michelle says smirking.
“I should have never tried to help you hide the evidence.” Clare says sad and regretful. “I should have come clean immediately when I saw you tossing in the Windolene into the soup.”
“Aye, but who knew making non-poisonous food was such as hassle?” Orla says, “I have a new found respect for the cafeteria ladies. I do, and I’m not just saying that to have my second helpings rights restored.” She looks around the open door of the cafeteria, to see if any employees are looking at her, but they are far too busy re-making the last batch of soup from scratch. She sighs and lowers her head sadly.
“I didn’t even poison the soup…” Orla starts again looking towards the cafeteria employees, “Why should I lose my second helpings? It’s not right.”
“Shut it Orla,” Michelle says, “You’re the one who got us caught in the first place!”
“I did not!” Says Orla offended, who when Michelle and Clare had finished dumping the bad soup into the sink, had seen a cafeteria lady enter and immediately jumped on her, covered her eyes and loudly yelled “There is nothing to see here! There is no poison in the soup!”
James stands around his booth in a hallway, blowing up small balloons and sticking them to a thick cardboard, which will be used tonight for dart throwing games.
“Hey dick-face” Michelle says.
James turns around and smiles, happy to see his cousin, Clare, and Orla coming his way.
“I didn’t know you were in the Game Booth Committee, James.” Clare says looking around the booth.
“Well…technically I’m not in any committee.” James says, sheepishly.
“What do you mean fucko?” Michelle asks.
“I didn’t get assigned to any committee,” James replies, “according to Sister Michael, Jenny Joyce must have forgotten about me.”
Michelle laughs. “Boy you sure leave an impression huh James? Only boy at this school and you still get forgotten.”
“Thanks Michelle.” James says sarcastically. “Sister Michael just said to make myself useful. So I’ve been helping different teams here and there.”
“Ugh. Lucky bastard, you don’t even have to help and no one will notice. Not like us, who make one wee tiny mistake and everyone wants to chew our heads off about it.”
James looks at Clare for an explanation. Clare shakes her head as if saying ‘don’t ask.’
“Well if you don’t have that much work to do, have you gotten to talk to your imaginary girl already, James?” Clare asks.
“The imaginary girl is here? Where?” Orla asks, turning around to look, as if hoping to spy her.
“Not yet,” says James, “everyone’s been so busy this week, and she’s always traveling in a pack with Jenny Joyce and the rest of the Decorating Committee. I’ll do it once I can get her alone. I’m hoping that’ll be tonight.”
“Your imaginary girl is traveling in Jenny Joyce’s pack now?” Orla asks, “Not to worry James, I’ll make sure she can’t get away next time, I have a secret weapon that I’ll be unleashing soon. I’m back on the case now, I just had to take a wee break to dispose of old inventory first.”
“Alright Orla.” James says, not actually paying Orla much attention.
“Secret weapon? Old inventory?” Clare asks with a confused expression, looking between Orla and Michelle.
Michelle shrugs. “Don’t even look at me, I have no clue.”
“Old licorice inventory.” Orla explains, “I had to dispose of it by eating it. But now I’ve got a better weapon against Jenny Joyce. She won’t be able to hide the imaginary girl, if I have anything to say about it.”
“Ach. Whatever.” Michelle says ignoring Orla, “Let’s go grab Erin and head out. I want to get out of these clothes before I have to come back here again tonight. As if being at school in the daytime wasn’t bad enough.”
“You can always let me know if you need any help.” Erin tells David, who is busy setting up his sound system. “I’ll be around, you know, if I’m not too busy.”
“I think I’m good.” David says, as he’s plugging in wires. “I’m more excited to showcase my band to be honest, than the DJ-ing.”
“I am too!” Says Erin, “I can’t wait to see your band, when you go up there and sing for me.”
David looks at Erin and laughs a little.
“Sure.” He says.
“Are you finished setting up here?” A voice from behind them says, “We got the band’s instruments all set up in the cafeteria. What time do we start playing?”
Erin turns to look around and does a double take.
“The band goes up first when everyone gets served food,” David says not looking up, “Then after, you guys can hang around while I do my DJ thing.”
“You?” Erin asks with a grimace.
“Hello to you too Erin.” Dee says.
“You two know each other?” David asks.
“Hardly.” Erin says.
“She’s the Catholic girl that tried to swap me and my friend, at the Friends Across the Barricade field trip I went on.” Dee says.
David laughs.
“I didn’t try to swap you! That was Michelle!” Erin says trying to defend herself, “I just went along with it.” She finishes in a softer tone.
“Well how noble of you.” Dee says with a sarcastic tone.
“Why are you here anyways?” Erin asks, “This a Catholic school event you know?”
“I’m with the band,” Dee says, “and it’s an event for the community Erin, I’m part of the community.”
“You have a Protestant in your band?” Erin asks David, then adds. “Not that I have anything against Protestants.”
“Except thinking we are interchangeable.” Dee says.
“Aye, he’s a dam good drummer.” David says, looking between the both of them, amused with the conversation.
“I already have to serve soup and wear this ugly apron and hat.” Michelle says as she pours soup into a bowl, “Why do I also have to do it with a fake smile on my face?”
“We are supposed to be welcoming people, Michelle.” Clare says, smiling and handing a bowl to the next customer in line. “To build community.”
“There aren’t even any lads.” Michelle says, then looking at the middle-aged man in front of her waiting for his bowl of soup, adds “at least not good-looking ones.”
“Aye, this is not what I expected when I signed up for the Soup Crew.” Orla says sadly handing over a bowl, “I thought I would be more involved in tasting the soup.”
The three of them stand at the same large table, a few feet apart from each other, each pouring a different type of soup into bowls, as three lines form out in front of each of them.
“Is that John?” Asks Clare.
“Where?” Michelle asks, already fixing her hair, before she has even seen him.
“He’s in Orla’s line.” Clare says.
“Switch with me Orla!” Michelle says, “Switch now!”
“Huh?” Orla says, not paying attention.
Michelle runs toward Orla, grabs her and spins her around pushing her away from her own soup and towards’ Michelle’s original position. Orla laughs as she spins, then finding herself in front of another pot of soup, continues to pour, unfazed. Michelle now taking over Orla’s original line, starts pouring fast, trying to get through as many people as fast as possible.
“Well I do enjoy a good soup now and then.” Erin’s Uncle Colm says looking at Michelle, “But sure, not all soup is good for you. Well I had a neighbor, William was his name…or maybe Willas. Well it started with a “Wee” sound anyways.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake” Michelle says annoyed, trying to hand the bowl of soup to Colm.
Colm unaware, just stands in front of her not reaching for it. “William or Willas, he sure loved his soup. We’ll one day he heard about a soup made of stones you see, and he was so intrigued he started preparing it. He added…he added onion, garlic, cumin seeds, bay leaves,…and this strange exotic plant…cilantro was its name, I believe…”
“Please just take the bowl!” Michelle begs, as Colm lists more ingredients.
Michelle stands there, hands in her face trying not to strangle Colm in front of the line of customers, many of whom have started switching sides to Clare’s and Orla’s soup lines.
“…well in any case. As it turns out, you aren’t supposed to eat the stones in the stone soup. The stones are just supposed to be used to heat up the soup better and keep it warm. I’m sure William…or was it Willas? We’ll I’m sure he would have loved to know that before he had to pass them…”
“Kill me now.” Michelle says hunched over the table.
“Colm, hurry up.” Grandpa Joe says, approaching the line. “I want to get one of the good tables, as far away from the infernal sound of the band as possible. I took a look at those lads in the band and I wouldn’t trust them to know the difference between good music and banging pans together.” He grabs Colm with one hand, and grabs the bowl of, now cold, soup, with his other hand, before walking towards the cafeteria.
“Why did you bring a backpack?” Aisling asks you, as you walk through the game booths.
“No reason.” You say loudly, trying to make yourself heard over the sound of the band on stage. “Just in case I needed something.”
“I also brought a knapsack.” Jenny says, “I like to be prepared for anything.”
You look around hoping to spot James, but don’t see him anywhere. All you can hear is the music, loud chatting people all around you, and the sound of two angry men coming from the hallway opposite the cafeteria, fighting over a game of darts.
“I will say, competition tends to bring out the worst in some folks.” Jenny says looking disapprovingly around for the source of the fight.
“Let’s head over to the cafeteria everyone is already eating, I reserved us seats in front of the band, and the members are not bad looking.” Aisling says cheekily.
You chuckle. Jenny tries to hide a small smile.
“Well let’s get going then girls.” Jenny says.
“I’ll let my brother know where we’ll be.” You say, “I’ll meet you guys there.”
“What are you playing at son?!” Grandpa Joe angrily mutters at James. “Do you think you can take me for all I’m worth? These balloons are clearly not blown up to regulation.”
“Dad, please.” Mary says, “Let’s not yell at the wains. It’s not their fault you haven’t made a shot. Let’s go back and join Uncle Colm in the cafeteria, we left him alone, and I’m afraid he might have some poor wain in his clutches.”
“I’m telling you Mary, it’s rigged!” Grandpa Joe says.
“I was able to throw the darts perfectly fine.” Gerry says, “See I even won a small bear.”
This only enrages grandpa Joe more who starts arguing with Gerry.
“Why don’t you stand in front Gerry, and I’ll show you how good of a shot I am.” Grandpa Joe yells.
“Fancy seeing you here.” Michelle says, “It’s almost as if we’re destined to meet.”
John chuckles. “Either that or we happen to live in the same town, and in the same school district. But I like your theory.”
“Can I get four wee soups?” John says pointing to the tray he’s carrying. “I got stuck being the packing mule for my group.”
“Must be the drawback of having such nice muscles.” Michelle says with a flirty smile.
John laughs. Clare drops a large ladle of soup on accident spying on the two of them. Orla is unaware in the middle of Michelle and Clare, just serving soup.
Michelle serves John soup, which takes longer than usual, as she is pouring it in a very slow manner into each of the bowls.
“Hey, crazy idea…” Michelle starts, as she slowly arranges the bowls into a tray “but my shift is almost up in another half hour…maybe you and I could get together and do something?”
“Oh…that sounds nice…but…” John starts, then he sees V walking toward him, she smiles and calls him over with her hand. “Actually I already promised V I’d…”
“Let’s go John!” V says, arriving and grabbing John’s arm, while pushing him slightly away from the soup table. “The band started playing ages ago, we’ll miss the whole show.”
“Excuse me!” Michelle says annoyed, “We were talking.”
John looks a bit taken back, then says, “Sorry Michelle, maybe some other time.”
“Oh.” V says, a bit confused on why James’ cousin sounds upset, but getting the gist that Michelle was probably flirting with her brother as so many girls tend to do. “Don’t worry, I just need to steal him for a bit. You can have him after.” She says cheekily, used to girls wanting to hog her brother’s attention.
She walks away with John, hurrying him to the cafeteria, not noticing Michelle standing open mouthed staring daggers at her from behind.
“Michelle…?“ Clare asks in a squeaky voice, having witnessed the whole thing.
“I cannot believe that just happened!” Michelle says dropping the soup ladle into the table, droplets of soup splash the very annoyed father and son duo who were just stepping up to Michelle’s soup line.
“I cannot believe James’ imaginary fecking girlfriend just took John away, in front of my fucking face.” Michelle says her face in angry disbelief. “And she mocked me! ‘You can have him after’?! I won’t let her get away with this!”
“James’ imaginary girlfriend is here?!” Orla says, excited. “I need to grab my secret weapon!”
“I think we all just need to CALM down!!” Clare yells, not calm at all.
“I’m going to find James’ imaginary girl and tear her to pieces.” Michelle yells, marching off angrily.
“Not if I get to her first! This was my case to begin with Michelle!” Orla screams back and runs off in the opposite direction.
Clare stands horrified, turning from left to right and back again. Unable to decide who to follow, or what to do, she turns to face the front and sees three long lines of impatient people waiting for their soup. Clare’s panicked scream fills the school hall.
Summary: The realm thinks Prince Jace is dead, fallen with his dragon at Storm's End. Your husband however has just carried in a suspicious unconscious young man into the dungeons. Poor Prince Jace. Not just because he has fallen into your husband's clutches…but rather because he has fallen into yours.
Warnings: 18+. Reverse non-con. Reader has no morals and no pity. One non-detailed death scene (not a major character).
WC: 6.0k, on ao3.
You watch as they carry him in. His legs dragging through the mud as they carry him through the courtyard and into the doorway that leads to the dungeons. You wonder who he is, as you cannot tell what he looks like from your window. You can only guess that it’s a man from the fact that he seems to be wearing breeches, other than that, it’s too dark to see. Your husband and his men come out of the dungeons after a while, quiet and cautious they look around them as if checking the perimeter. You don’t worry though. You know they cannot see you in your pitch-dark chamber. You sigh and turn back to continue your sleepless night.
“Look merry!” Your lord husband chides you, as he arrives in good humor at the breakfast table. “Anyone would think I make you miserable with that long face.” He grabs your chin and makes you look up at him, waiting for you to oblige him. You smile, as bright a smile as you can manage. He laughs, and forces a heavy kiss on you, his dark tangle of beard and mustache rubbing against your delicate skin.
“Soon you’ll be the envy of all the other women in the Stormlands.” He says as he tears into his bacon. “Our children will be lords, and rich to boot.” He says, then looks down at you with leery eyes. “As soon as you manage to provide me with one that is.”
You look at him, unsure of what to say. Rich? Your husband is a lord in name only, he was given the title and a small towerhouse near Storm’s End by King Aegon II for his bravery in battle against Queen Rhaenyra’s army. Rich though…he had no riches to speak of.
“Rich how?” You ask.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head with how.” He tells you, as if you are child asking questions you cannot hope to comprehend. “All you need to worry about is making yourself pretty for me tonight. I see great things for myself in the future, give me a child and you’ll get to be a part of that greatness.”
What greatness you useless imbecile? You think, but you smile and say, “Yes my lord.”
“We should make sure first.” Lord Lion, your husband’s friend, says. You note that his tone is a nervous one, as you press your ear to the wall that separates the hidden passageway from the dungeons.
“We’ll be rewarded well. Queen Alicent, or Aemond, or King Aegon, or Queen Helaena, any of them should be ready to hand us sacks of gold for giving them the traitor’s brat.” Your lord husband insists.
“We can’t even be sure which, if any of them, will be able or willing to give us a reward for him. And if they do make us rich lords for it, what happens if Rhaenyra should win the war after that? She certainly seems to be winning so far. We’ll be hanged….at best. We should wait to see how the tides turn first.” Lord Lion insists.
“Ughmm…” Your lord husband mumbles unhappily. “Fine, but I’m still betting on King Aegon’s lot. If they win, we will ask them for a reward. If they lose…we’ll kill the princeling, and no one need ever know.”
Curious. You are curious to see if your lord husband could truly have Queen Rhaenyra’s son in the dungeons. You cannot go into them to confirm this however, at least not without being seen. The maester seems to be day and night in the dungeons nowadays. This, along with the fact that a raven arrives with news of Prince Jace’s death at Storm’s End a few days later, makes you more curious than ever to take a look at the man that was brought into the dungeons in the middle of the night.
Your curiosity diminishes as the fortnights pass however, and as your moonblood comes yet again. You have more important things to worry about. Namely, yourself.
You slump against the bed frame of your chamber, your head and belly hurting. Your lord husband is off at the local brothel. He seemed disappointed this morning when he looked at the bed sheets and saw the blood. Disappointed, and annoyed.
You sigh, and curse your luck. Your parents had been so happy to send you off to your lord husband, when he came around asking for your hand. He’s a lord, they said. He has a good home, they said. Your lucky he has chosen you otherwise you would remain poor all the days of your life, they said. They were right. And yet…and yet you couldn’t help but think that you had been tricked.
You had expected an easy life, even if a loveless one, with a dull old man. You were even ready to play the role of devoted wife. After being married for over a year however, and with no luck at all of being with child you had finally gone to seek help. You had sneaked out of the towerhouse through way of hidden passageways, to seek out the local midwife, though your husband had warned you against it saying she was a lying witch.
There you had found no help, but valuable information instead. You had discovered that your husband was useless. He could not produce a son. He had never been able to. He had a wife before you. She did not give him a child, and he had tossed her aside, sending her back to her family, with the reputation of being infertile. The midwife had known this, and now so did you.
“He will never admit he is the one that is wrong.” The midwife had said. “He will blame you. Just like he blamed his first wive. The stupid man thinks that just because whores claim that some of their brats are his, that he must not the broken one.”
She had been right. You had blackmailed one of the maids into telling you about the previous wife. She had confirmed everything the midwife had said. But you are not weak. You are not weak like that other wife had been. You will not run, you will not go back to a life of poverty. You will outsmart him.
You get up out of your bed and look down at the courtyard below, analyzing each man, trying to decide. Trying to choose which one you should take into your bed.
For many days you search for the perfect man to give your husband a son. As you look out your window yet again though, none of them seem like they will do.
All you need is a look-alike, all you need is a man that is not loyal to your husband, and not likely to brag. You might as well be asking for the moon.
Your husband had been handsome in his youth you were told, and you could imagine that. He has an angular jaw line, a straight nose, pouty full lips, and a head full of thick dark curls, even as his eyes are dull and muddy brown. It was hard to find someone who looked like him, even though his coloring was quite common. Not only that, but most of the men around you are unreasonably loyal to him, weak men always are when they admire a good warrior. And a good warrior your husband is. Men also like to brag…“I slept with that woman, I slept with that whore, I slept with that man’s wife, I slept with that man’s sister, that man’s mother.” Brag, brag, brag. It’s all you ever see them do at your husband’s table.
“I wonder what color the maester’s hair originally was? He seems unlikely to brag.” You ask yourself, laughing at your own joke as you watch the bald eighty something year old man walk slowly across the courtyard, supporting his weight on a cane.
“Oh!” You say out loud. Realizing suddenly that you haven’t seen the old maester going in or out of the dungeons in quite a while. In fact, you have only seen the servant boy who usually carries food into the dungeons twice a day. Other than that, no one seemed to know or remember that there was a princeling in the cells.
A princeling…you think to yourself. A princeling who will die at the end of this war. A princeling who will either get traded to King Aegon, if he wins, and then get executed, or buried by my husband in an unmarked grave if his mother Queen Rhaenyra wins. A princeling famed for his beauty. A princeling…who is often mocked for having dark curls instead of silver tresses…
You rise suddenly, feeling giddy shivers run up your spine. Could your salvation be so ridiculously easy within your grasp?
The hour is late. The courtyard is dark and empty as you glance out the window. You wait a moment, but soon you see the servant boy heading out of the dungeons with empty food pots. As soon as you see him entering the ravens’ tower on his way to feed them, you turn around and walk quickly to the tapestry that covers the hidden passageway door.
As you walk silently through the narrow passageway, your heart hammers in your throat. You need to do the thing quickly before your lord husband comes back from drinking with his men. As you find yourself in front of the opening to the dungeons, your heart feels like it’ll beat out of your chest, you take a breath and push at the hidden doorway.
The corridor to the cells is lighted with torches, but otherwise it is empty. For once you are grateful your husband is not rich, not enough coin to hire soldiers to stand around all day guarding the cells. You take one of the lit torches and walk quickly towards the cells, all seem empty except the very last one which is closed. You pull a broken stone from the wall next to the closed door, the location where the keys are usually hidden. You find them there as usual and breathe a sigh of relief as you place the key into the cell’s keyhole. You take a moment, steadying yourself for what you must do. No hesitation, you order yourself, do what is needed. You turn the key.
It’s like a gift. Just for you. He lays in his cot sleeping, his wrists tied to loose chains that are in turn tied to the wall behind him. Giving him some movement, but not a lot. His ankles are chained to loose chains that are weighted down by large boulders in the ground. You use the torch you are carrying to light the unlit torches in the cell walls, then walk closer to him and smile.
His dark curls fall into his closed dark-lashed eyes, his lips seem pouty in his sleep. He’s beautiful and young and all yours.
You reach out and slip your hand under his loose tunic, reaching for his naked chest underneath. His skin is smooth under your fingers. You trace his form, from his chest down to his stomach, then to the edge of his breeches where you attempt to get an idea of what is underneath by pressing you hand over the cloth. You smile. Surprised to find that the princeling’s cock seems to be a rather long one even while not erect. You grab at it, massaging his length a bit before heading down to grab his stones. You squeeze and massage enjoying the feeling of his balls in your hand.
“What are you doing?” Jace asks you, his voice croaky.
You jump. You didn’t realize when he had woken. You look towards him to see him looking up at you with large brown eyes and scrunched up eyebrows, a very confused look in his face.
You take a breath and ignore his questioning face. You step forward to touch him again. You run your hand over the cloth covering his cock and then slip your hand underneath his tunic feeling his smooth chest once more.
“What are you doing?” He asks again, attempting to back away from you this time, but unable to, due to his restraints.
You do not respond. Why should I have to explain myself to some little princeling?, you think to yourself. You start to unlace his breeches and he moves to stop you, or at least you think he’s trying to stop you as his hand reaches out towards you, but he is unable to reach you due to his chains. You don’t care what he wants though. You continue unlacing his breeches, all the while happily noting that his cock seems to be hardening against his will. The outline of it pressing against the cloth of his breeches.
“Who are you?” He asks.
You reach into his now unlaced breeches and pull out his hardening cock. It feels nice and warm in your hand.
“Why even your cock is pretty.” You comment.
You notice as he pulls at his restraints, his head and torso trying but not succeeding in sitting up.
You pull at his cock, running your hand up and down it in an attempt to get it ready for you. Not that it needs much help, it quickly grows hard with your touch. You run your thumb along his swollen tip, smearing the seed that is starting to come out of him in lazy circles with your thumb. He moans loudly, involuntarily bucking his hips into your hand, his eyes closed in a grimace. The sound of his moan is enchanting.
You decide to reward him for giving you such a pretty sound. You lean down and kiss his swollen tip before taking it into your mouth and sucking on it like a sweet. He moans louder, tossing and turning, his fists clenched. His hips thrusting up to meet your mouth, even as his torso tries to pull away from you.
“No…” He says, his voice pleading, even as his hips roll back and forth.
You suck him harder, enjoying the sound of his whimpers.
You remove his cock from your mouth, and move to straddle him. There is no need for you to remove your small clothes. You had made sure to leave them behind. He stares up at you, you cannot tell what he is thinking. Only that he looks completely shocked, his eyebrows scrunched. You position yourself over his cock and start rubbing yourself against him. He throws his head back at the feeling, closing his eyes, his breath coming in fast. You can sympathize, as your head also drops back at the feeling of him below you. The feeling as you rub your cunt over and over again over his soft skinned yet incredibly hard warm cock leaves you shivering with pleasurable tingles all over. The wetness of you drenching his cock, and making it easier for your cunt to glide along it. You grab for his cock then not able to wait any longer. You position it at your slippery slick entrance. You hold it there for a moment, rubbing his tip against your entrance. He moans, a moan that almost sounds like a cry. You push yourself into his tip then and feel as it enters you, spreading you wide, and taut, and full against him. He grunts, a strangled moan at the back of his throat. It’s also your turn to moan, the pleasure of his cock inside you is incredible. You push for more, wanting to feel more of his length inside. Once you force his entire length inside you, you sit for a moment on his cock, enjoying the fullness. Then you start to grind against him, slowly at first then faster, and faster. He moans and starts thrusting, his legs shaking as he pushes his pelvis off of his cot to meet your cunt. He sounds frustrated as if he can’t quite thrust as powerfully as he would like to, hindered by his restraints. Even so, his thrusts push you over the threshold and into a wave of pleasure that you feel like a warmth enveloping your body. You sit on his cock then, your back arched, your head falling back, for a moment forgetting anything other than the pleasure rocking through your body, and the feeling of his cock inside you. He continues to thrust into you even then, his movements frantic. He slams hard into you one last time, his legs shaking, his moans loud before he collapses breathless into his cot. You don’t get off his cock though. You wait a moment, enjoying the sight of him below you, shaking and trying to catch his breath. Finally, his breath grows calm, and he looks up at you with those puppy dog sad brown eyes of his, you smile and get off of him.
You smooth out your skirts and go to lace his breeches back up again. Only to realize then, the problem. He is covered in his own cum…and probably your own. You attempt to clean him, with the inside of your skirt, but the stain on his breeches will probably not come out. Oh well…you think, I guess they’ll think he either pissed himself or pleasured himself somehow.
“Our little secret.” You whisper to him as you finish lacing his breeches and look down into his warm brown eyes.
He nods. His eyes glassy.
“Good boy.” You smile and go to place a kiss in his forehead.
“I thought I dreamed you.” Jace tells you as you visit him the next night.
“Perhaps you are dreaming.” You say, smiling down at him mischievously as you let your fingers trail inside of his tunic without permission. There you run your fingers through his nipple, which grows hard at your touch, you can feel the goosebumps forming on his skin. You love his smooth chiseled chest, nothing at all like the hairy mess from your husband.
“Why are you doing this to me?” He asks you.
You go to unlace his breeches, his cock pulls at the cloth of his breeches in expectation. You can feel your own cunt pulsing with the expectation of feeling him inside you once more.
“I’m engaged.” He tells you. You laugh.
You fuck him harder that night. His moans ringing over the walls of his cell. You fuck him every night, you look forward to it every day. Your little prisoner.
It’s so much easier to find pleasure in a tied-up man than in a free one, you think as your husband slams one last time into you, grunting. Men are inherently selfish. He lays on top of you, sweaty and out of breath. Finished. You roll your eyes. All this sweat for such a mediocre fuck. You try to pull yourself out from under him, but he holds you tight.
“That was wonderful aye?” He tells you, smiling.
“Yes my lord, I bet this will be the one that brings us a blessing.” You tell him in your fake sweet tone. Only Jace’s cock makes you truly moan in pleasure these days. Men are best when you can control them completely, you think to yourself smiling, only then are their cocks used well.
Your husband smiles back at you, as if your smile is meant for him.
“Where were you?” Jace asks, as he raises his head off his cot, watching you enter his cell.
“I had my moonblood.” You answer sighing as you light the torches in his cell. You had not visited him for several days.
“You sound disappointed.” He says, as he follows you with his eyes.
He’s perceptive. You think to yourself. I could tell him…who would he tell? No, no. I must not be stupid. You ignore him and start pulling at your dress, bearing your breasts for him. He cannot touch them, his hands are too tightly chained, but you enjoy the sight of his eyes on them. You enjoy it now. His dark brown eyes immediately drawn to the sight of your exposed breasts, unable to tear his gaze away. He is hard before you ever reach him.
You lay on his chest a moment catching your breath, his spent cock still inside you as you rest.
“If you free me. I could pardon you.” He tells you. “I would reward you well.”
Not this again. You think to yourself annoyed. You don’t answer him. You never do. You have considered it though. If you help him…you would be losing your husband and more importantly than that, all your stability. He’s a poor lord, but he is a lord and as his wife that makes you a lady, and if Aegon wins…he’ll be a rich lord. You only need to provide him with one heir and you will be set. If your husband dies though, you’ll lose your title of lady. You’ll have a reputation of not being able to bear children, and a reputation for betraying your husband. Who would marry you after that? The possible riches that Jace’s family might provide for you would help, but he can’t even guarantee they will win the war and keep their riches. And also, you aren’t sure you trust him not to execute you for what you do to him every night. It’s a high risk to save him, it’s an easy bet to just use him.
You push yourself off his chest and rise. As you stand above him you go to push his dark curls out of his face and smile down at the beautiful princeling. You hope that when he dies, he goes fast.
You toss in bed, there is so much noise…Why can’t they be quiet?! You push harshly against your husband’s frame next to you, willing him to get up and tell them to be quiet. He grunts but does not wake. You pull the covers over your head wanting to sleep some more. Then the door slams open and the sound of mail and steel comes crashing into your bedchamber. You poke your head out of the covers wondering what in the seven hells is going on. Armored men enter the room, and you can hear it now. The screams, the fighting. You look around you waiting for your husband to get up. The drunk idiot sleeps through it all though. You go to shake him, willing him to get up, needing him to defend you. Someone grabs you from behind though, before you can ever reach him.
You are pulled from the bed, bed sheets tangled around you. Someone holds you into their armored chest, holding tightly onto you with one strong arm around your chest and another one holding your head back as they cover your mouth. You watch, horrified, as one of the armored men raises their sword above your husband’s chest. You close your eyes not wanting to see, but you hear the sounds. A disturbing sound of flesh and steel, and a surprised gasp that turns into chocking gargling noises. So much for being a great warrior, you think, the idiot couldn’t even wake up to the sound of a battle.
Only when the sounds of your husband struggling are over do you dare to open your eyes. The man standing next to your husband, with his blood dripping from his sword, turns to look at you then. He removes his helm.
No. You think. No….I bet wrong.
Jace watches you closely, then approaches you with his sword. You start to tremble then. You wonder if you should beg for mercy, but if people who kidnap a princeling get murdered in their bed. What do people like you get? You shut your eyes tightly, waiting for his sword.
You watch from across the courtyard as the servant boy takes his sack of gold, smiling and bright. You sigh, more annoyed at yourself, than surprised at his treason. You wonder how long Jace had the serving boy in his pocket before you started forcing yourself onto him. Perhaps Jace had already been your doom before you had even begun to consider that he could be your salvation. Jace clasps the boy’s shoulder and nods at him before turning and looking your way. You look away.
You aren’t sure what he plans on doing with you. You had heard that when his stepfather Daemon was head of the city guard, he would cut the cocks off of rapists. But you have no cock. What do they do to the women? You almost wish he had run his sword through you instead, your nerves cannot stand not knowing what horrible fate awaits you instead.
“You raped me.” Jace accuses, his eyes dark, his mouth pouty. He looks upset as he stands next to you at the breakfast table, looking down at you as you eat.
You put your bacon down. You want to roll your eyes. What does he expect you to say? Then it comes to you, the perfect lie, one that is close to the truth but more.
“I had to.” You offer, as sadly as you can lowering your head to look at your lap. “I’m sorry my Prince. I…I…never meant to hurt you. I just didn’t want him to hurt me anymore….he would get so angry when I could not produce an heir. I was afraid he would kill me one day. I was so afraid.” You rub at your eyes harshly hoping for tears, but none come. You hope your eyes are at least red as you turn to him with your eyebrows scrunched up, your eyes as wide as you can make them. You hope you are making a pretty picture of a sad abused lady.
He stares at you, his eyes full of hurt. You hope to look half as pretty as he does with those sad dark eyes.
“You lie.” He tells you swallowing.
You shake your head desperately.
“I never saw one bruise on you. I asked the servant boy, he said your lord husband was good to you….only he wanted an heir.”
Dam. You think to yourself, I forgot for a moment this one is not as stupid as my husband.
“The servant boy, he cannot possibly know all the bruises I hid…just because I did not have any bruises on me when I lay with you does not mean I was not injured at one point. I truly had no choice…”
“You enjoyed it.” He tells you, his fists clenching. “I could tell. You enjoyed using me against my will.”
You bite at the inside of your lips to suppress a smile.
“My Prince…I…” You start, with eyes looking pleadingly up at him. “I…I cannot deny that my body might have reacted without my consent….but I did not mean to hurt you. I did it because I had to…”
“Is there anything to you other than lies?!” He yells, his warm eyes starting to get cold. “I was engaged! I-I am….engaged…to a good woman. A kind woman. You made me break my vows to her.” You stare at him, wondering what lie would make him pardon you. Should I get on my knees and pretend to cry? You wonder. He might take pity on me.
“You will die tomorrow.” He informs you. “I only kept you alive to see what lies you had to tell. I was hoping for a better excuse.”
You stare at him. So that’s it. That’s the only reason he has kept you alive, that’s the only reason you are stuck in this room with his guards outside.
“Enjoy your breakfast. It’s the last you’ll have.” He says as he walks away.
“I’ll think of your cock as they swing the axe.” You tell him, a taunting smile on your face. He halts.
You wait for him to turn around, but he does not.
You stand up now. Full of rage. Your life is at an end.
“Fuck you!” You shriek. “Fuck you, you spoiled little cunt! Fuck you! What would you understand of need?! What would you understand of hunger?! What would you understand of survival?! I did what I had to do!” Your breath is coming in short, and you are actually crying now…you always cry when you are angry. You hate that about yourself.
He turns then to look at you. His eyes sad.
You smile mockingly. “I enjoyed it. I enjoyed raping you every night. I enjoyed putting my hands all over you. I enjoyed watching you squirm as you struggled not to spill your seed.” You laugh, a humorless mocking laugh. “You once thought I was a dream…well I hope all of your nightmares are of me from now on.” You say, your voice full of spite, as if hoping that uttering the words alone will cast a curse on him.
He says nothing, but tears spill out of his eyes.
You pick up the platter of food and throw it at him, it hits him in the shoulder, the food splattering all over him. You reach for the cup too but he’s onto you fast. He holds your hand and pulls the cup away from you. You fight, but he is no longer a tied-up man. You are no match for him, he holds tightly onto your waist as you try to push him away, as you try to kick him. Then his hands are in your face, and his lips are pressing against yours. You fight still, not understanding what he is trying to do. He keeps kissing you, his hands holding tight onto the back of your head, his lips soft on yours.
You don’t realize when you stop fighting. You lay still in his arms, as he kisses you softly. He pecks at your lips as if you are lovers having your first kiss. It is our first kiss. You realize. You had never bothered to kiss him before. Only to fuck him. He kisses at your lips, at your jawline, at your neck. You don’t understand. You don’t understand him at all.
Finally he stops as he goes to look into your eyes, his lips brushing yours.
“You are the worst woman I’ve ever met.” He tells you, each word a brush of his lips against yours.
“I’ve heard worse.” You reply. He laughs, a small short laugh into your mouth, before he drinks in the taste of your lips again.
His hands pull at your skirt attempting to raise it. You pull at his breeches attempting to unlace them. His mouth hot and insistent on yours the entire time. He squats a moment grabbing on to your legs so that he can pull you onto the table, there he lays you, as he fumbles with your skirt. He spreads your legs wide open and looks up at you, glancing into your eyes for a moment, before disappearing below your skirts. He presses his lips into your cunt, chills go up your spine, as he kisses you down there as if he is making out with a pair of lover’s lips. He kisses you over and over, running his lips and his tongue from your sweet spot to your opening and back again. He presses his face into your opening for a moment, kissing there as if attempting to enter you with his tongue. You are becoming drenched. You start to rub against his face but it’s not enough, so you grab on to his dark curls and force his face roughly into you. Enjoying the pressure of his face against you, you rub your cunt all over his mouth, all over his nose, all over his face as he sucks, and licks, and attempts to press his head further inside you in a frenzy. His hands gripping madly at your hips, holding you in place as he attempts to drown himself in your cunt. You press your thighs around his head as you ride his face mercilessly, moaning with pleasure from the waves and chills that run through your entire body. Finally the tension releases and breaks loose, making you arch your back as waves of release run through you. You sigh, and collapse into the kitchen table. His face pulls out of you drenched in your wetness, the slightly white translucent sticky mess covers his nose and mouth and most of his face. He gasps for breath for a few moments and licks his lips, before he lunges into your cunt again as he licks it clean.
You want to tell him to wait a moment, your cunt is still so sensitive, and you have barely caught your own breath. But as he starts crawling on top of you and positioning himself at your entrance, the sight of his bulging cock and his sticky face makes you open your legs for him instead. He smiles, and kisses you. The taste of yourself sweet in his mouth. He plunges himself into you, and the pleasure is immediate again. His long cock stretches your walls in the most satisfying yet maddening manner. You can never get enough of his cock, even as he slams harshly into you the sound of his balls slamming against you, it is not enough.
“More Jace.” You plead. “More!” You Demand.
He slams harder into you, pushing you hard against the table over and over again, his breath coming in gasps. He moans, a moan that almost sounds like a whimper as your walls clench in around him, contracting around his cock, as your hands grip at his hips. He grunts, a deep guttural grunt, as his cock releases his seed inside of you. He struggles to breathe a moment, and then collapses on top of you, trying to catch his breath.
“You have broken me.” He tells you after a while as he lays on top of you, his face resting on your breasts.
“Good.” You reply.
You brush Jace’s curls off his face as he lays on your lap, his eyes closed. The carriage’s until now bumpy ride, starts to smooth out. You stretch out your hand to pull at the curtains and look out the window to see an enormous city off in the distance. You smile appreciatively.
“Are you imaging your life with me? Or with my claim?” Jace asks you. His eyes open, looking up at you.
“I don’t care about your claim.” You say honestly. “Only you, and your money. I would be happier if you weren’t a royal. I’d rather you be a merchant, you would have all the money but significantly less chance of dying in war.”
He smiles up at you.
“Well my dragon is dead…and I have cheated on the good woman I was engaged to…and I’m bringing you home with me.” He says looking up at you, “I might get removed from the succession line entirely. So that’s good, that you wouldn’t mind me being a merchant. I might have to become one.”
You laugh. You doubt his mother will be angry, you rather think she will forgive him just about anything just for being alive. Even bringing you. You had heard how devastated she had been when she thought him dead.
“I love you.” He says solemnly, looking up at you with those serious dark eyes of his.
You freeze. Is he stupid? You wonder, or is he lying? You certainly had come to like this beautiful man, and his beautiful cock, and his generous nature…but love…Could love come from such a dark place, as where the two of you had met?
“I know I should not be telling you that.” He says looking up at you, his gaze intent. “Your mind will start spinning with all the ways you can use my love for you to your benefit.”
He knows me well. You think, and you cannot suppress the smile on your lips.
“I love you anyways.” He says as if happily resigned. “I don’t know why. You are twisted, and rotten, and broken.”
“Why you’ll make me blush with so many endearing compliments.” You say sarcastically, pulling hard on a lock of his hair.
He grabs at your hand with his own, to get you off of his locks, and pulls your hand towards his breeches where he guides you to press against his hardening cock. He looks up at you with those maddeningly beautiful dark eyes, his breath becoming shorter.
“I need your hands on me at all times.” Jace tells you as he rubs himself desperately with your hand.
“Did you enjoy me forcing myself on you?” You ask mockingly.
He nods. “Every time.”
“Then beg me.” You command.
“Please.” Jace says looking up at you, his dark eyes desperate and pleading. “I want you to rape me. I want you to force me. I want you to use me. Please.”
“Only since you are being such a good boy.” You say, as you smile down at the desperate sticky mess he is leaving on his breeches.
You might be a figment of James' imagination...or so his friends tell him. As none of them believe that he is actually dating you as he claims. The thing is...you aren't sure if you are dating him either. Will either of you ever figure it out? And will the rest of the Derry girls help you or just make everything worse along the way?
ShyxShy character.
Switches back and forth between "You" POV to 3rd person POV (your nickname is "V" because I dislike "Y/N" naming convention, I make up a reason for your nickname in the story though.
Warnings: Mostly Fluff, but Michelle's mouth is its own explicit language warning.
WC: 5.2k (55k for completed work). Full Completed work on Ao3.
Chapter 2 is out on Tumblr
“You are such an arse!” you mutter under your breath as you run up to your new school, almost half an hour late. You stop a moment to take a shaky breath and wipe the sweat from your face before pushing the front doors open. The hallways are empty. Your stomach tightens with anxiety. If it wasn’t for that selfish idiot, you think, I would have made it here on time!
Your older brother, John, was supposed to drive you to your new school for your first day, but when you had woken up this morning, you had found him and his car already gone. So in a panic you had tried walking in the direction you thought the school was, asked for directions from a grumpy old woman and after just missing the first bus, had to wait for the second one, and then still managed to get lost somehow. You had been happy to have made it to the school at all…until now.
“Maybe I’ll just go home and try again tomorrow.” You whisper to yourself. The dread of having to find a nun’s office, pick up your schedule, and then having to find your classes and introduce yourself after you have sweated half a pint on the way there is more than you can bear. You turn quickly around and speed-walk out the front doors. In your haste you don’t notice the person coming into the school until you have already collided with their chest.
“Ach. That hurt!” He says rubbing his chest.
“Sorry!” You say, your hand covering your nose and mouth which feel bruised from the impact. “I did not see you there.”
This is humiliating!, you think, before looking up at him. Him?
Jesus! Did I just walk all the way to the wrong school? You think.
“Hi” He says smiling shyly.
“Wrong School!” You blurt out, before running away from him. Your face burning all the way.
“Look James, stop blaming me for being a lazy shit, and being late to school! I’m not your babysitter, dickweed!” Michelle says brusquely as they all walk to their next class.
“You didn’t notice that I wasn’t at the breakfast table? Or on the bus? You should have woken me up Michelle! My alarm wasn’t working this morning.” James says.
“Look I needed to have cracker hair today, I’m meeting my boyfriend after school, and he’s a massive ride! My room only has one outlet, and I wasn’t going to unplug my alarm. Next time check your alarm is working before going to sleep, instead of biting my head off about it!”
“You unplugged my…” James starts.
“Boyfriend?! What boyfriend Michelle?” Clare demands, “As of last Friday you weren’t even dating anyone. How could you have a boyfriend by Monday? Did you guys hang out without me?!”
“Calm your tits down Clare,” Michelle begins.
“Don’t you worry about my tits, Michelle!” Clare snaps back. “Expand and explain, expand and explain!”
“I met this fella at a party I was invited to on Saturday….alright I gatecrashed my neighbor’s party.” Michelle confesses, without anyone prompting her. “Anyways, I met the biggest ride, girls! He just moved here from Ballybofey, he’s in upper 6th, super handsome, super mature, and we totally made out. Best party ever!”
“Really? An upper 6th guy made out with you?” Erin asks doubtfully.
“Did they have gift bags Michelle?” asks Orla, “The best parties always have gift bags Michelle. Can I see the gift bag? I would like to confirm the quality of the products if you don’t mind.”
“Anyways, I told him we should totally see each other again, and he said “yeah, sure I guess” in this really hot voice. So we are totally dating now!” Michelle exclaims happily, ignoring both Erin and Orla’s questions.
“And I thought, I was delusional,” Erin whispers loudly.
“Look Erin, save your jealousy for someone else,” Michelle says, “It’s not my fault I attract the fellas.”
“Yes Erin, it’s not her fault she attracts the fellas. The fellas always like shiny rocks, just like the penguins, and Michelle always wears shiny rocks.” Orla says as she plays with Michelle’s large hoop earrings which are covered in small plastic crystals. “I can’t blame them, they are hypnotizing.” Orla says in a dreamy voice as she stares at the hoop earrings.
“Shiny rocks attract female penguins Orla! Not male,” Erin corrects. “If you are going to quote National Geographic at least get it right. And anyways… I am not a jealous creature. I’m very secure of myself,” she says with a toss of her hair.
“Just this morning you went on a one hour rant because James said he saw the prettiest girl outside the school doors, Erin.” Clare says.
“That is not jealousy! I simply refuse to believe there is anyone more beautiful at this school than the Charlene Kavanagh. Come off it,” Erin says.
“She looked like an angel,” James says, with a dreamy smile.
“Boke!” Erin and Michelle say at the same time. James’ smile drops.
“Yeah James, don’t say such disgusting things.” Clare adds, much to James’ dismay.
“Look dick face, I don’t have time to hear about your imaginary girlfriend. I have a real boyfriend over at Christian Brother Boys and I’m planning on going and surprising him after school today.”
“I want to see this for myself,” says Erin.
“She was real! I have a bruise on my chest to prove it.” James says at the same time, but realizes nobody is listening to him anymore, they have all moved on to another topic. He sighs and follows them.
You chew your scone slowly. It is delicious, but you can’t fully enjoy it, remembering the embarrassing mess you made that day. After the wrong school fiasco, you had walked around for another half hour trying to see if you could at least locate the school you were supposed to have been at, but found nothing. After giving up you had returned home, only to be met with a call from your annoyed father who had gotten a call at work from the school about you not showing up. You had of course rightfully blamed your brother, but your exasperated father had hardly taken your side.
“Go wait for your brother after school, I called his school and left a message for him to take you to your school so you can pick up your class schedule and he can show you around your classes. Write down the directions.”
“Just give me the directions to my own school dad, I can go by myself.”
“Based on this morning, that does not seem to be the case.”
You blush at the unfairness of it all. “I only got lost because neither of you gave me directions in the first place! It was my first day, I only knew the general direction. He promised me to take me today!”
“Alright, alright!” Says your exasperated father, then he takes a breath and lets it out, and in a calmer tone continues “Just go with your brother love, he’s older, the administrators will take him more seriously than you. I’d go myself but I don’t want to ask for time off when I barely got this job. Please, do this for me. I don’t want you out by yourself too late.”
“Well? Was it so hard to get here?” Your brother asks annoyed.
You blush, and press your lips together. You are not about to tell him that you had in fact already been at this very school this morning, only to have gotten confused and turned around when you saw a boy in uniform.
“I thought dad said it was an all girls school?” You try to say casually.
“It is,” he says, “or do you see any boys around?”
You want to correct him and say that you did in fact see a boy, but you don’t want to mention that it was this morning. Now looking around you see only girls. Most students seem to have left by now, only the students doing extracurricular clubs are hanging around.
After you and your brother find one Sister Michael’s office. She gives you a slow look up and down then says “Umm, best watch your back.”
Confused you are about to ask “what from?” but she quickly hands you your schedule then ushers you out the door. The sound of a television turning onto a soccer match follows you as you leave the corridor of her office.
You look at your brother hoping he has some sort of answer but he just shrugs and starts walking towards the exit.
“Wait,” you say, “you promised you would show me around my classes.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?” he replies, “I don’t go here, I don’t know where any of these classes are either. Just look for them yourself. I’ll be out having a smoke, I’ll wait for you at the entrance.”
“Oh, come on.” You insist, “At least come with me.”
“You are such a baby, " he says annoyed. “Act your age for once.” He turns around and walks away.
You are angry at him, even though you know that he’s right. You are a fifth year, you should be fine to do this on your own. It’s just so much easier to have your brother John, by your side to do it. Every girl you’ve ever known has always thought he was cool, and even though you’d never admit it to him, lest his ego get even bigger, you always feel more sure of yourself with him around too. As if his coolness protects you too.
I’m such a loser, you think, then are immediately annoyed with yourself for thinking that. You take a breath and turn around to try and find your classes for tomorrow.
“It’s him! I can’t believe this, my new boyfriend is here to see me.” Michelle says excited.
All three girls and James immediately clamber next to her to take a look at the guy she is pointing at.
“No way.” Erin says, “He’s too good-looking.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Michelle snaps back. “Fuck off Erin.” She then pushes her boobs up before walking towards him. The rest of the girls and James follow her.
“Hey there, fancy seeing you here.” Michelle says in a cool tone.
The boy, a lad of seventeen or so, stops mid drag of his cigarette and looks up at Michelle. His face confused for a moment.
“Oh, Miriam,” he says after a pause. “From Saturday’s party?”
“Michelle,” corrects Michelle, her smile bright. “I know we said we’d see each other soon, but I wasn’t expecting you to be so eager that’d you come all the way here to see me. I’m flattered, really.”
“Right…” the lad says slowly.
“Uhm, Uhm,” says Erin clearing her throat, and bumps into Michelle’s arm with her own.
“Oh right. This is Erin, Clare, Orla, and Wank-Features.” She says pointing at each individual as she says their names.
The lad does a double take at the last name, but says nothing. “Cool, name is John.”
“Hi John, I’m James.” James says, glaring at Michelle. “I like your shiny jacket.”
“Thanks,” John says smiling. He always appreciates a compliment.
“I didn’t know boys went to this school.” John continues, looking at James’ uniform.
“James doesn’t qualify as a member of the male species.” Michelle says with a smile.
“I would love to show you around the school, I am a prefect after all.” Says Jenny, “I am also the school newspaper editor, member of the drama club, choir, and a variety of other stimulating yet fun extracurricular activities.”
“Oh, thank you.” You say, torn between finding the eager girl who immediately identified you as a new student and approached you, half dorky half sweet. Beggars can’t be choosers, you think to yourself as you follow her, and I have zero friends as of today. Though your friends back home promised to stay in touch, you doubt you’ll see or hear from them as time passes.
“Are you alright?” Jenny asks, having noticed your sad expression.
“Yes, alright.” You offer, “Just you know, new school. New people.” I’m lonely, you want to say, but of course you would never say that.
“Don’t worry,” she says with a smile, taking your arm. “It’s my job to make you feel welcome. I’ll take care of you.”
You feel grateful and guilty. Guilty because you would usually make fun of girls like Jenny, the overly puritan, teacher’s pets who just try way too hard at everything, and yet grateful because her kindness feels so reassuring to you at this moment.
“You don’t even go to this school, how are you already getting invited to parties?” You ask with an annoyed face.
“Some girl I met at a party last Saturday invited me, guess she goes to your school.” John replies. “What’s with the face?”
“What face?” You say with a grimaced face, as you open the door to your house. After you had said goodbye to Jenny at the school, you had found your brother alone outside with a yellow party flier on hand, seemingly admiring his leather jacket.
“They know the DJ apparently.” John says, “One of the girls insisted he was a “true artist.”” He laughs, and continues, “Might stop by if nothing better comes along.”
“Jesus James! Watch where the fuck you’re going.” Michelle screeches after she bumps into James’ back. “Give me bloody concussion why don’t you?”
James is standing still with his mouth slightly open. Transfixed.
“What’s wrong James?” Clare asks, looking around to see what he is staring at.
“It’s her, the girl from this morning.” James replies.
“Your imaginary girlfriend?” Michelle asks.
“She can hardly be imaginary if she’s standing right there can she?” James replies annoyed.
All four girls huddle around James, looking in the direction he’s staring at and very dramatically stick out their necks with eyebrows furrowed, to look for the girl he’s talking about.
“Wow, she is very pretty.” Clare says, staring at the girl not blinking.
“Well give it up James.” Michelle says, “She’d never want you, not that I can blame her. Who would?”
“You don’t know that.” James says half offended, half nervous.
“Well she’s no Charlene Kavanagh…” says Erin at the same time, “but I suppose she does have some appeal.”
“Aye, I like her shiny hair,” says Orla. “The penguins would just love her!”
“Well go on James, get it over with.” Michelle says, “Go talk to her.”
“You think I should?” James asks.
“Yes,” Michelle replies, “best to get rejected fast than to continue standing here staring at her like a creepy stalker.”
James, Clare, and Erin straighten up quickly and turn their backs to Jenny and the girl, suddenly aware that they are in the middle of the school hallway staring at someone. Only Orla does not turn, but rather curls her hands forming O’s with them, then presses each hand to each eye as if seeing through binoculars. Staring intently at the girl through her literal handmade binoculars.
“Don’t worry James,” Orla says. “I will not lose sight of our target, I am a master of stealth.”
“Orla!” James yells, embarrassed.
Jenny and the girl, hearing James’ yell, turn to look at them. James embarrassed, awkwardly smiles and waves for a couple seconds, before grabbing Orla by the back of her blazer and dragging her away.
“I’ve got my eye on you! You can’t hide!” Orla screams at the girl as she’s being dragged away. James and the rest of the girls speed walk away, covering their faces, too embarrassed to look back.
“I am an expert tracker James, you need me. The wild is dangerous out there. I can make sure we never lose sight of our wee target, she might be sneaky, but she can’t hide from these eyes.” Orla says, pointing at her eyes, but she overextends and ends up poking herself in one eye.
“Stalker, Orla, we said stalker, not tracker.” Erin says, annoyed.
“Oh,” says Orla, in a disappointed tone, as she rubs her now watery eye. “I don’t know if I fancy being a stalker, James. You might be on your own on this one.”
“Thanks Orla.” James says annoyed but defeated. “Now she’ll never want to talk to me.”
“Not sure why you’d assume she would have wanted to talk to you on the first place but okay.” Michelle says. Clare and Erin nod along.
“I’m not joking,” You say, “This week has been mental. One girl told me that she’s got her eye on me, and this after you heard sister Michael telling me to watch my back.”
John looks incredulous still.
“Jenny says the girl and her friends like to bully first years. She also mentioned they might have killed a nun, strange circumstances and all around that event.” You say through a bite of toast.
John laughs. “If your friend really thought those girls killed a nun, I’m sure she wouldn’t be inviting them to her party.”
“I guess.” You say, “Jenny is odd though.”
“You would decide to make friends with a prefect.” He rolls his eyes.
“I didn’t decide!….It was my only option….for my first week.” You reply, “She’s strange, but she’s friendly. I kind of like her. Plus how bad can she be when she throws the best parties? Even you are going.”
“I don’t think she throws the best parties…” John says getting off the dinner table. “I think she’s just loaded.”
“Is she?” You say trying to seem like you wouldn’t know, but Jenny had in fact already mentioned her trust fund twice this week, as well as the very expensive Sicilian marble floor in her house.
“Isn’t he amazing?” Erin says, a proud grin on her face.
“He sure knows how to spin a disc.” Michelle says unimpressed.
“I don’t expect you to understand the artistry of being a DJ Michelle, but as a fellow creative I can appreciate David’s talent.” Erin replies.
“I’d appreciate his talent too, if he’d let me touch his wee spinning circles.” Says Orla, a bit angrily.
“I told you Orla, only the DJ can touch the wee spinning circles.” Erin says, trying to be self-composed. “The next time you try to steal one, I swear I will call our mas to come pick you up.”
“I can spin them too Erin, I can spin them just as good as him.” Orla says, but quietly and in defeat.
“Ugh. I am so sick of all of you.” Michelle says, “I’m going to go find my man.” She takes off, looking around.
“Well nice to know where we stand in your priorities, Michelle.” Clare says to Michelle’s back, with a scowl. Then turns to Erin. “I for one think we need to place more importance on friendship, why should romantic relationships always take priority above platonic ones?”
“Don’t worry Clare, I heard there was another lesbian at this party.” Erin says, not looking at Clare but at David still.
“That…that’s not the point Erin. I stand by my statement.” Clare says, but her eyes start darting around the room, as if hoping to identify the other lesbian there.
“There you are!” Says James entering the garden, “I went to use the restroom and when I came out you were all gone.”
“Cry me a river James.” Michelle says, hardly looking at James but instead on her tiptoes looking around as if trying to find someone. “Do you know if my man John has arrived?”
After James shakes his head Michelle leaves in a haste, not bothering with James. James is about to follow when he spies the girl out of his peripheral vision and halts.
“I should go talk to her.” James says to himself, his fists tightening and untightening as he stands unmoving staring at her.
You stand awkwardly looking around the garden to see if you can find Jenny or Aisling around. They had to run off to asses the damage, after they heard someone broke a vase. You offered to come along, but they insisted you should just stay and enjoy yourself since you were a guest. Right now you were regretting not insisting going with them. You didn’t want to follow them around like a lost puppy, but you also didn’t really know anyone else at the party.
The week had been a blur, and by Friday you were relieved to have been invited to Jenny’s party that evening and even more relieved to realize that it was the same party your brother had been invited to. He of course had taken off immediately to go drink and meet up with guys he knew.
As you turn looking for Jenny and Aisling, you see him instead. He’s standing in the middle of the garden muttering to himself. Strange, you think, but you smile a little. He looks up at that moment and sees you. Your immediate instinct is to flee. This fella has now witnessed pretty much every embarrassing moment you have had this week. Thinking you were at the wrong school on Monday after crashing into him, getting screamed at by that mental girl Orla on Tuesday, and worst of all helping Jenny on Friday morning with one of her “educational & fun” plays as she calls them. Of course you were only an extra, and didn’t have to do anything particularly embarrassing, other than stand there and act in “awe” of her when she said her lines. However, even then you had noticed that while all the other girls either yawned, looked bored, or in Orla’s case seemed to be conducting some sort of march or aerobics in place, James just stared at you intently the whole time.
You knew his name of course, because you had tried to subtly ask Jenny about him. Just general questions about why there was a boy at an all girls school and such. You turned to flee, when you heard his voice.
“Wait! Please.” He says.
Your stomach tightens. You’ve been nervous around him ever since that first day, probably because of how much you had embarrassed yourself around him. You stop and look at him, waiting. He walks towards you.
“I…I’m James.” He says.
“I know.” You say before you can think. You blush a little but hope he won’t notice now that it’s getting dark out.
He smiles and stares.
“Yes?” You ask.
“Oh.” He says, “I…I just wanted to apologize for Orla, she’s a bit…well Orla, but she means no harm really.”
You try to figure out what to say next, but you keep getting distracted by his green eyes, and his dark curls. You shake your head slightly to clear it.
“That’s alright.” You say, “She just took me by surprise is all.”
He hesitates, then says. “Would you like to…?”
“Sure.” You say, before he’s even finished his question. You imbecile, you chide yourself.
“Great!” He says smiling, either not noticing or not addressing the fact that he didn’t actually ask any particular question.
Your stomach growls at that precise moment. Before you can even think to be embarrassed he says, “I’ll grab you some food.”
“I’ll go with you.” You say, not wanting to stand like an idiot alone in the garden anymore. He smiles big and waits for you to start walking so he can walk alongside you.
“You’re still looking for him?” Erin asks, “Are you sure he’s here?”
“Yes, I saw him, I met up with him. We totally made out in one of the rooms upstairs, but then Jenny Joyce had to stick her nose in. She kicked us out of the room, and then I lost him.” Michelle says exasperated. “Fuck Jenny Joyce, what right does she have to tell us what to do?”
“Well this is her house Michelle.” Clare says.
“Whose side are you on Clare?” Michelle replies annoyed. “Help me look for him. I want to lose the rest of my virginity tonight girls.”
Clare makes a disgusted face. Erin just rolls her eyes.
“Are you requesting my expert assistance as a tracker Michelle?” Orla asks solemnly.
“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Michelle responds.
“You will not regret this.” Orla responds, putting her hands up to her eyes to make hand binoculars, she starts walking around the room going up close to random people’s faces for closer examination.
“Maybe I can show you around sometime.” James says as he takes a bite of his scone, “You know so you can get to know Derry is all. I know all the best places for getting food that isn’t too greasy.”
You laugh, taking a bite out of the miniature sandwiches that lay around the kitchen. “I don’t mind greasy food once in a while,” you say, “better than these dry sandwiches.”
“I mean we can also go to the greasy places if you like.” He says, “Our ban from the local chippy is almost up.”
“You got banned from the local chippy?” You ask.
“Well it’s a long story.” He says, “My cousin is still mad at me for it. Though I’m not sure why she blames me, she’s the one who burned Finnoula’s room down. She also keeps bragging she’s lost half a stone since the ban.”
“Your cousin did what?!” You manage to ask before you hear Jenny’s voice.
“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.” Jenny says. “Sorry it took so long to get the vase issue sorted. Fortunately it wasn’t an original! Still it was a few hundred pounds, but anyhoo…it’s time for me to cut into my cake. I’m sure you would not want to miss it. My parents ordered a handmade cake all the way from Belfast.”
“Aren’t all cakes technically handmade?” James asks.
Jenny ignores him and grabs you by the arm, pulling you with her into the next room. You turn to look at James who is looking after you.
“I’ll…I’ll see you around.” You say, a bit sad to leave him. You see him nod, before you cross the kitchen doors and see him no more.
“I don’t see her anywhere.” James says. “I hope she hasn’t left already.”
“Your imaginary girlfriend?” Michelle asks.
“She’s not imaginary! You’ve seen her too!” James says annoyed, “And she’s not my girlfriend.” He says in a softer tone. “But I think she likes me so far, or I hope she does.”
“I can add her to my list of tracking targets James.” Orla says. “I’m going to need some information though. First question, if I were to set a trap which bait would she be more likely to take a) licorice or b) gummy bears? I know it’s tough question, I’m personally biased towards licorice, it has the perfect…”
“I don’t know those things Orla. How would I know that? I’ve barely got to talk to her before Jenny Joyce interrupted us.” James says.
“Don’t even remind me of Jenny Fecking Joyce” Michelle says. “I’m still pissed at her ruining my night.”
“So you are saying this Jenny Joyce is the common link that ties these two individuals’ disappearances at this party? Intriguing…very intriguing, I’ll have to look into her further. She might be the kidnapper.” Orla says with a thoughtful look on her face.
“What is she on about?” Clare asks worried.
“Fuck if I know.” Michelle replies. “Talking of missing people, where’s Erin?”
“Oh no! Erin has gone missing too! My own kin, and under my very nose too…Now it’s personal….” Says Orla as she walks away, a determined look on her face.
James, Clare, and Michelle stare after her for a bit, with a confused look that only Orla can provoke in her friends.
“Can’t I have my first kiss in peace, without having to share it with you?!” Asks Erin, annoyed.
“Nope.” Answers Orla, in a matter of fact tone. “I had to ascertain your safety Erin, Jenny Joyce might have been lurking somewhere waiting to attack and I could not take that chance.”
“What in the name of sweet suffering Jesus are you talking about?!” Erin asks, exasperated with her cousin.
“There you are!” Michelle says, walking towards the duo. Clare and James following behind her. “Well this party is a bust. I lost my man, James lost his imaginary date, Clare never found her lezzie, and the sandwiches are drier than my…”
“Ok, Michelle. No need to go there.” James quickly interrupts.
“Let’s get out of here. I couldn’t even sneak in a wee bottle of vodka, had to throw it away at the entrance because Jenny was doing checks. So not only did I not get any action, I’m also sober. Literally could not get any worse.” Michelle says as she grabs Erin and Orla in each hand and pushes them towards the front doors.
“You had a bad night? David was about to kiss me when Orla tackled him to the ground!” Erin says, her voice unusually high, half sad half frustrated.
“You’re joking, he was?” Michelle asks.
Clare gasps in excitement. “Did you guys kiss?!”
“Well, we were talking about his music and my writing.” Erin says in a dreamy tone. “Then he said we had a lot in common…well no actually I said that, but anyways, then he started to lean in and he brushed a strand of hair out of my face…”
“Oh, that’s so romantic!” Clare says, “and then?”
“And then Orla pinned him to the ground!” Erin says with an angry grimace at Orla.
“You cannot be too careful, Erin.” Orla says, undisturbed. “He might have been Jenny Joyce’s accomplice. I still have two missing people in my list, and now if you excuse me I spy my prime suspect up to something.” Orla finishes, and heads over to where Jenny Joyce is saying goodbye to some of her friends.
“I tried to explain,” Erin continues, “but how do you explain Orla to someone? I just said sorry, and then he said it was okay but that he had to go. It’s not fair!”
“You’re right it’s not fair!” Michelle says angrily, but she’s not paying attention to Erin. “Who’s that bitch flirting with my man?”
They all turn to look in the direction Michelle is looking.
“Oh.” James says in a small voice.
“Isn’t that your imaginary girlfriend James?” Clare asks.
“Yeah…” James says in a sad tone, looking at the girl.
The girl is laughing, pinching John’s cheek playfully, as if mocking him. He acts annoyed for a moment then laughs, and turns her around to face the front. He wraps his arms around her and pushes her forward. She playfully screams, not loud, but enough for the sound to reach the gang of friends watching them.
The entire gang, minus Orla who is busy interrogating a very confused Jenny Joyce, follow the pair. Michelle at the front, with an angry determined look on her face. They see John half push half carry the girl, before he pushes her into his car’s front seat and closes her door, then he crosses to the driver’s side and gets inside. They drive off, just as Michelle yells “Hey!” at them.
Summary: You tread carefully when you start working in Aerion's home. You have heard the rumors about him after all. You attempt to go unnoticed, and you hope you will succeed as your fellow maid tells you that Aerion looks at no one who isn't of Targeryan blood. You an orphan from flea bottom are certainly not that. So why does he keep looking at you with those angry violet eyes? And why do you feel those angry violent eyes on you everywhere you go?
“It’s honest work!” The old woman had told you. “What more can ye ask for? Young one’s these days are so ungrateful! I would go myself if it weren’t for these old bones of mine.”
You had blushed and conceded. You didn’t want to be ungrateful. The old woman had taken you in from the orphanage where you had lived most of your life and given you work in exchange for a roof over your head and a full belly. What more did you have a right to ask for?
Only…the rumors…of him. Aerion the skinchanger. Aerion the wicked. Aerion the beast. Everywhere you went you had heard terrible things about all the things he liked doing. Tales of broken bones, dead animals, body parts cut…You shiver. Just thinking about it makes you afraid. Makes you want to retreat. But there is nowhere else for you to go, as you stand outside King’s Landing castle. So you take a deep breath and knock to be admitted through the servant’s entrance door.
The old woman doesn’t need you anymore, she had kept you when her home was full of sons to tend to. Now her home is empty after the Blackfyre rebellion. Most of her sons did not return. So you were let go. She was kind enough to send you off to a home that needed you however. A great opportunity she had said, you should be so grateful she said…and yet you can’t help but wonder why in such a great home as the Targeryan’s they should be so short of servants that they had started hiring orphans like you. You are pulled out of your thoughts as the door opens and a hefty woman answers the door. You smile trying to seem friendly.
“You’re late.” She says with a grimace. “Let’s get you started with carrying some wood.”
To your surprise you discovered that you weren’t in fact going to be working for the entire castle but in fact only for a small section of it. You had never known that the castle was divided into different wings entirely, some taken up by entirely different Targeryan family members. Yours was Maekar Targeryan’s wing. The head kitchen servant that had greeted you on your first day had looked annoyed at having to explain such things to you. As if you were stupid.
How could you have known though? Maekar’s wing of the castle alone was so big that you followed Tessa, the servant charged with teaching you everything, everywhere for fear of getting lost.
You are grateful for Tessa, a cheerful maid who loves gossip and is only too happy to get a new maid to talk to. On your very first day, as you enter Aerion’s bedchamber with Tessa before dawn to start up his fireplace, she gleefully whispers to you about the previous man servant who had disappeared in the middle of the night after running out of Aerion’s bedchamber, his face covered in blood.
“I think he might have bit him.” Tessa whispers to you. “Though someone else says Aerion wasn’t even in the room…”
The door slams open. You jump and stand up quickly to greet the man entering through the doorway. Your heart hammering in your chest.
“Aerion?” The man asks in an annoyed tone.
“I do not know my lord.” Tessa replies. “He was not here when we arrived.”
The man, who you guess to be Maekar Targeryan by his silver blond hair and beard as well as by his dissatisfied expression, gives you both a dissatisfied look then grunts in response and quickly walks back out.
“He’s probably at the whorehouses.” Tessa tells you, after Maekar has left. “I’ve heard from my friend who works there, that he visits the Targeryan bastards who sell themselves there…or at least women who look like they could be Targeryan.”
You don’t particularly care about who Aerion visits at the whorehouses though. You are more worried about what he did to his previous servant.
“Why did he bite the servant that left?” You ask, your hands trembling. Hoping to make sure you know what not to do in front of the man.
“No idea.” Tessa says unhelpfully. “But he should have known better, the first rule of being an upstairs servant is this; Avoid being noticed by Aerion at all costs.”
You blink….wondering if she is joking. How can you do your job and at the same time not get noticed by the person in whose home and sometimes room you are working on?
“How do I do that?” You ask after realizing she is not joking.
“Do not speak to him unless spoken to. Do not look at him. Obey his commands. Other than that make sure to not get noticed by him when he is drunk or worse when his father is not home. Follow those rules and you’ll be fine.” She says not seeming worried at all. “It’s simple stuff really….but the idiot who got bit was always trying to act above of his station. He probably told Aerion a joke he didn’t find funny. As long as you know your place though Aerion mostly just ignores you.”
“Are you sure?” You ask again, not liking the sound of this at all.
“Definitely.” Tessa says. “I’ve been working here for 5 years, he hasn’t bit me yet.” She laughs. When she sees your worried face though, she adds. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t even notice any woman who is not silvered haired. You and I, we might as well be a speck of mud on the wall.”
Never be near him when he is drunk. Never be near him when his father is not home. Never speak to him. Never look his way…. You recite the rules to yourself like a prayer, as if knowing them will keep you safe. To your left Tessa is telling you some gossip about a maid whose new child looks more like the local singer, than like his father, you smile and nod but you keep reciting the rules to yourself unable to pay attention. You come back to earth however, as you trip on a stair and almost drop the bucket of steaming water you are carrying.
“Careful!” Tessa warns. “Otherwise you’ll have to walk all the way downstairs for more. The cook will be bloody angry if she has to heat up more water for Aerion’s bath…and so will he…” She adds in a more worried tone.
You look at her dismayed, then look around hoping no one saw you falter.
“It’s alright.” She says trying her cheerful tone again, but as you both near the door to Aerion’s room her lips tighten and her steps become careful. She turns to you and whispers. “You are new, just pour the water and stand back in case he needs anything. Mostly it’ll be me and the other maids who will hand him things. You do nothing, say nothing, don’t look at him and you’ll be alright. You are just here to learn at first. This is your first test. Make sure to pass it.”
You have failed. You know you have failed the moment Aerion Targeryan fixes his eyes on you, and you hadn’t even poured the water in yet…
You had entered the room to find several servants pouring their buckets of steaming water into the giant tub in the middle of the room, and had gone as Tessa said to stand in line and do the same thing, avoiding looking at the silvery frame of a man you saw out of your peripheral vision. Finally it had been your turn, you had stepped forward to pour the steaming water into the tub just as Aerion himself decided to step into it. You had not expected this. You halted immediately. The water was so hot. Surely he would burn himself! You had thought, as you looked up at him in surprise, the water still in your bucket. He was naked. And beautiful. Oh so beautiful. His sharp angled face and choppy silver hair hazy in the steaming tub. His body tightly muscled, pale, smooth, and glistening with the droplets from the steam.
It was your weakness for his beauty that doomed you. He had not noticed you falter the first time when you hesitated to pour the water, but he definitely noticed when you could not stop staring at his beautiful face, his beautiful torso, his beautiful cock. You came to your senses only when you went back to his face and noticed his gaze fixed on you. Your stomach dropped.
Now with trembling hands you try to compose yourself. You fix your eyes on the tub and pour the water you should have poured in the first place. Then you step back and stand by the wall avoiding his gaze. Say nothing. Do not look at him. Your body trembles uncontrollably. You look at the floor the entire time after that, but you can’t help but feel as if his eyes are still on you. You hope you are wrong.
Tessa sighs. No more cheeriness from her. This above all else lets you know that things went just as badly as you feared.
“We will keep you out of his way for a while.” She says. “He doesn’t even remember who I am half the time, and I have been working for him for years. Hopefully he’ll forget all about you and your indiscretion after a while.”
You nod, blushing. Embarrassed beyond belief to have failed, and to have failed like this…by not being able to keep your eyes off of him. How pathetic…you think.
“Did he seem incredibly angry?” You ask. “I tried not to look at him after the first time I caught his eye.”
“He seemed…furious.” Tessa confirms, worried. “He kept glancing at you the entire time…even ended his bath early…he usually loves staying in the steaming hot water until it cools. I’m sorry, I should have warned you about the heat of the water being normal for him.”
You shake your head. “You warned me plenty to not look at him…that’s on me.”
And so you try to stay away from him. You make beds, light and maintain fireplaces, pour hot water, carry trays, and more for many fortnights. For Maekar, and for his children; for Daeron, Aegon, Daella, and Rhae. Never again for Aerion though.
You had hoped he would forget you like Tessa said. Yet you can’t help but feel his eyes on you at all times. As you carry trays to his father’s room. As you pass by him your head down carrying wood for a different fireplace. As you laugh at Aegon’s jokes who often seeks out servants to talk to. As you bring Daeron more wine. While you are down in the kitchens eating your meals. As you throw corn to the ravens in their cages. While you go to lie down in your cot in the servants sleeping quarters. Everywhere in the castle you feel his eyes, like a crawling sensation through your body that you can’t shake. The feeling remains. So much so, and at all times, that you start to wonder if it’s all in your head.
“I feel afraid all the time.” You confess to Tessa one night as you both sit in the kitchens having dinner. “As if I am being hunted by him.”
She laughs. “I have yet to see him chase you.” She says, sarcastically.
“You mock me.” You say reproachfully.
“I just think you worry too much.” She says playfully. “You act like he’s chasing you down, when he hasn’t even addressed you once. I was worried that first day because he looked so angry, but he has not done anything to you. And trust me…every single servant that has truly displeased him has known it almost immediately.”
You consider this as you try to entice the tattered kitchen cat with a piece of cheese. The old feline only blinks at you haughtily and ignores your offer. Perhaps she’s right you think. You have never had the gift of bravery, perhaps it’s just your own fear feeding on itself that makes you feel as if his eyes are constantly on you.
“Perhaps you are right. I think far too much of myself, mayhaps he doesn’t even remember me anymore.”
She takes your hand and smiles. “I shall take you out to my favorite tavern on our next day off, we shall dance, and meet handsome knights, and you’ll forget all about it.”
You can’t help but smile, once again you are so grateful to have someone like her by your side.
“Who is your new friend?” The young man asks Tessa, as he approaches you both.
“We work together now.” Tessa says smiling and taking your arm, after she has introduced you.
“Ufff…” The young man says letting out air though his mouth, as if to say he’s sorry to hear that.
“I’ve been working there a few fortnights by now, it’s not so bad.” You say smiling shyly. He is quite handsome. Dark haired curls fall into his dark eyes.
“I’m glad you think so.” He says, as he moves to stand closer to you. “At least that means I will see you around these parts more often.” He smiles crookedly. He is definitely the practiced flirt, and you immediately know he must show such flattery to every wench he encounters, but he’s handsome and seems fun so you smile back.
You both spin in the middle of the dance floor as the drums and the flutes sound out a rapid rhythm, your hair falling into your face, your breath coming in fast, your laughter uncontrollable as he spins you and then catches you back. Your face hurts from laughing so much, the room spins around you, and so do his eyes. Violet eyes.
You halt roughly, with a gasp, losing your balance and almost stumbling to the floor. He catches you, and holds you upright.
“Are you alright?” He says as he holds you in his arms. His brown eyes a bit worried.
You look around the room, dizzy now, searching for violet eyes. You see none. Am I going mad? You think to yourself, your hands shaking.
“I’m alright.” You finally answer. “I think I just drank a bit too much, I should sit down for a moment.”
“I’ll go grab you some watered down ale.” He says, and walks away, leaving you sitting at a table.
You wait, and you wait, and you wait, but he never returns. You sit by yourself, a bit embarrassed to have been abandoned so easily. When Tessa finally comes back, flushed and happy from dancing, you play off your disappointment at having been abandoned.
“He must have found another wench he would like to see around these parts more often.” You say, trying to sound playful.
“He’s an imbecile.” Tessa says, as she pulls you up to dance with her.
You stumble through King’s Landing hand in hand with Tessa. You both laugh at nothing as you walk back to the castle, the night feels alive and everyone seems to be out tonight. You can’t help but turn around every so often though, looking behind you as if expecting to see him. You never do see him though, every time you turn around there are only the usual King’s Landing sorts; drunks, whores, servants, alley cats, and gutter rats. By the time you are stumbling into your cot you feel silly for having been so on edge all night.
You are being dragged somewhere. Where am I going? You groggily think, unsure of where you are being carried. Then you feel the cold floor on your feet.
Your eyes pop open, suddenly you are very alert. Someone stands over you, as they hold you by your armpits off the ground having dragged you out of your cot in the floor. You try to see who it is but it is dark and you see nothing. You are frozen with horror for a moment. Then you feel his tongue on your neck, licking from the base of your neck to your ear. Shivers run through your entire body. You want to scream, but you can’t. Your panic so terrible that you are unable to make a single sound. Then he drops you on the floor. And whether from the impact or from finally getting your bearings you call out.
“Help.” You say, even though your voice cracks.
You feel him crawling on top of you, and you fear that no one has heard you. When you hear the mutterings and shuffling of other sleeping cots.
“What is happening?” You hear someone say, as a torch flickers on. Then another torch, then another. The maids around you waking with confusion from their sleeping cots beside you. Suddenly the room is bright, and you can see the other maids around you staring down at you in confusion. You can also see him now, as he straddles you. His violet eyes hazy, his choppy silver hair messy as he looks down at you. You stare up at him, you can smell the alcohol on him. Never be near him when he is drunk. You remember.
You look in horror to the people around you, hoping for guidance, hoping for help. They all just stare at you dumbfounded. You look back towards Aerion and meet his purple gaze. Never look his way. You remember. He looks at you as if you owe him something, his gaze intent and angry. He goes to remove his tunic pulling it off his torso to reveal the smooth chest underneath.
“No.” You manage to say. Never speak to him. You remember.
His jaw tightens. “You didn’t say no to the low born scum at the tavern.” He says angrily. “But you dare say no to me?”
Your eyes widen. He was there. You finally realize.
He looks furious. Then he stands up, but not to leave. Instead he starts working at the laces on his breeches.
“You seemed to enjoy seeing my cock before. I’ll give you the pleasure of seeing it again.” He says angrily, looking down at you.
You try to get up then, as he is busy untying the laces to his breeches. Your legs betray you however, they feel weak and shaky. You only manage to get halfway up, before you stumble. You look up and notice Tessa for the first time. She has been standing behind some other servants, she looks in shock. You reach out your hand to her then. Your salvation.
She looks surprised for a second, then she starts to step forward toward you when another maid stops her. Aerion turns to look then, towards where you are reaching out.
“Close the door on your way out.” He orders them, with the bored haughty voice he always carries.
Your fellow maids don’t hesitate. They start walking out immediately. Some avoiding your gaze, some looking sorry as they leave. But they all leave. Even Tessa who is pulled away by others, not that she is trying hard to get to you.
“I’m sorry.” You say, turning to Aerion with tears in your eyes. “I don’t know what I have done to deserve this. I’m sorry, my lord. I'm sorry I looked at you.”
“You have done nothing to deserve this.” He says, his eyes cold. “I’m just drunk. Otherwise I would never…I’m a Targeryan…I only lay with…You are nothing.”
You look up at him. Not understanding. As tears fall down your face, he throws himself on top of you. His lips smack into yours, bruising you. His kisses so rough they are painful. As if he wants to eat you. You can feel his hardening cock rubbing into your thighs through your thin nightgown. You try then to push him off, even though you know it’s pointless. Even though you know you don’t have even a quarter of his strength, even though you know you would never be able to run away. He pulls at your nightgown, exposing your breasts as you try to cover them. Then he grabs at your legs, groping at your thighs harshly and pulling your nightgown, bunching it up above your hips. He then forces your legs open apart with his arms. He smiles then, as he goes to press his hand into your cunt.
This is the first time you have ever seen him smile, you realize. It’s a cruel mocking smile. He sticks out his tongue as he stares into your eyes running it in a strange watery movement, almost like a snake. He licks your lips and face, before shoving his tongue into your mouth forcefully at the same time he inserts two fingers into you. You gasp, the sensation a painful one. He pays no mind to your discomfort however, as he simultaneously fucks you with his tongue and his fingers. You try to ignore the feeling, you try to escape mentally if not physically. But your body betrays you. You can feel a growing ache in you, you can feel your wetness start to drench his fingers. Making it easier for them to slide in and out of you each time. He only goes faster and faster, and the ache in you only gets bigger and bigger.
“You love my fingers inside of you don’t you?” Aerion tells you, as he finally pulls away from your mouth. “I knew how dirty you were the moment you looked at me. I knew you wanted me to fuck you right there and then in front of everyone.”
You shake your head denying it. Even as he pulls his soaking wet fingers out of you.
“Yes you did. It’s your fault. I’m of the blood of old Valyria. I would have never chosen you. I would have never wanted you. I’m a dragon, you are a dirty commoner.” He says, as he aims the tip of his glistening cock at your entrance. He closes his eyes for a moment in pleasure, his mouth slightly open before looking at you again.
“I’m only doing this because I’m drunk.” He says his breath shaky. “You are not worth it.” Then he clutches at your hips and slams his cock inside you, groaning with pleasure. A deep guttural sound. He bends over grabbing on to your waist then, as he shoves himself over and over again into you. You shake your head trying to drive away the feeling of his thick long cock thrusting in and out of your cunt. After a while, he stops and grabs tightly into you, holding you so close that it feels as if he is trying to crawl inside you. His pelvis trying to push his cock further inside you than is humanly possible. His eyes closed and fluttering, he groans like a wounded animal into your ear.
Finally he rests on top of you, laying all of his weight on you. You lay there numb, staring up at the stone ceiling, unable to move. The tears now dry on your cheeks. After a while he gets up, and goes to open your legs again. He smiles appreciatively at your cunt dripping with his seed as if he’s proud of his work. You stare at him unblinking, unmoving. He shoves his fingers into your cunt again, but slower this time. As if he’s trying to scoop his spilled seed back inside of you.
“Targeryan seed.” He says smiling, as he digs his fingers deeper into your cunt. “Not even a drop should be wasted.”
“It’ll be a dark haired bastard.” You say. Speaking to him for the first time. The fear numbed out of you.
He tenses. He looks angry again.
“Targeryan blood, even bastard born, is more valuable than any low scum seed you could have ever hoped for.” He says spitefully as he puts his angry grimaced face close to your own. “You should be thanking me. You would have opened your legs like a whore for any low scum that payed you a compliment at a tavern. I honored you by making you mine. Not that you deserved the honor, you dirty whore.”
You look up at him, with no expression on your face. You are too tired to care about the insults. They almost seem to not matter at all.
He clenches his jaw, and shoves himself off you.
“It won’t happen again.” He says, as he looks down at you. “I only did it because I am drunk. Otherwise I would have never chosen you.”
You laugh. A humorless breathless laugh. Even as more tears you didn’t you know you still had spill out of your eyes.
You nod. Not really caring about her apologies. You know she could not have done anything to save you, you know your resentment is not justified, you know if you had been in her place you might have done the same. After all what is the life of one nameless maid, to the whims and wishes of a bored royal, specially one with the blood of the dragon. Even so, you unfairly resent her.
“Did you bring it?” You ask numbly, as you toss corn to the ravens in their cages.
She nods and hands you the moontea. You grab for it greedily and drink it down quickly, as if someone will come to take it away from you. You should be grateful for it. You know how expensive it is. The maester that attends to Maekar and his children had prepared it just for you, after hearing about what happened. Who told the maester you never find out, but you do come to know that the maester informs Maekar. What Maekar is told however, you can only guess. And your guess is that he was only told Aerion bedded a willing maid, for Maekar said nothing and did nothing about it. No servant, no maester wanted to be the one to tell Maekar who his son Aerion truly was.
“Are you going to leave?” Tessa asks timidly. “I can…”
“I have nowhere to go.” You say sullenly, interrupting her, as you stroke a crow that has landed in your shoulder. “He won’t do it again. He was just drunk.”
Aerion lays in his bathtub, his arms spread over the edge of the tub, his eyes on you, as you stand by the wall of his bedchamber with the other servants. He smiles. That’s how you should have known to run, but you see nothing as you stare at the floor your eyes unfocused.
Aerion snaps his fingers twice. The sound brings you to attention.
“Come and clean me up.” He orders you. You walk towards him automatically. Obey him. You remember. You pick up a wash cloth on your way. He shakes his head at you.
“With your tongue.” He says, as he shoves his pelvis forward and out of the water. His erect cock emerging from the soapy bath water.
You halt. Your face burns hot. The other servants start walking away immediately as if on cue. You follow them with your gaze as they exit, wondering whether you should dare to run after them. You glance at the guard at the door, who ignores your gaze and starts closing the door behind him. You press your lips together, as your vision starts to get a bit blurry, trying to not cry this time.
He snaps his fingers again impatient, trying to get your attention back on him.
Your legs feel weak like jelly as you approach him.
“Kneel.” He orders as he rises out of the tub. His body dripping wet. You obey.
He leans down and grabs your face, licking your lips with his tongue.
“Lick me clean.” He says, as he stands again his chest rising and falling faster with each breath as he looks down at you with dilated violet eyes. You clench your fists but obey. You run your tongue from the bottom of his balls to the top of them, and from the top of his balls to his cock, pressing your tongue against it from bottom to tip. You taste the bit of seed that spills out of him. He starts thrusting into your face then as he looks down at you, and you think he is about to force himself inside your mouth when he walks away from you instead. He seems frustrated. Angry even.
“Leave.” He orders, his jaw clenched harder than you’ve ever seen it.
You hesitate a second wondering if you heard correctly.
“Leave!” He yells at you so angrily that spit droplets sputter out.
You stand on shaky legs as fast as you can and run.
You jump, you hadn’t noticed her at the door. You turn back to packing the few items you have to your name with shaky hands.
“I don’t know.” You confess. “But I can’t stay, I don’t know what he’ll do next time. I don’t even know why I’ve made him so angry.”
You are about to close the small knapsack you are tossing your items into when she tosses a small coin purse into it.
“What is this?” You ask her.
“It’s not much.” She says, “But I’m sure you’ll need it while you find somewhere to stay.”
You try to swallow the knot in your throat.
“Thank you.” You say finally turning to look at her. Her tears spill endlessly from her face.
“I’m sorry.” She says trying to hold on to sobs. “I’m a coward. I left you there with him.”
You go to hold her then, patting her back. All your bitterness towards her has melted away. You understand that she could have been in your place, or you in hers very easily. Neither of you with an ounce of power to change your life in any meaningful way.
“The ship leaves at dawn.” The captain tells you, “Be there on time or the ship leaves without you.”
You nod.
“No refunds.”
You nod again.
The ticket had cost you most of your savings so you look around you for the cheapest room and supper you can find for the night. Finally, you manage to find a small inn far from the castle, on the outskirts of the city. The supper is meager and your room is small, but you are grateful to be as far away from Aerion as possible. Even so, you cannot sleep, so after tossing and turning for a while you decide to head back downstairs to the common area.
The hall is filled with busy innkeepers, carrying trays of food and ale to late arrivals. The late arrivals seem rowdy but happy, so they do not trouble you. Even so the room feels stifling with so many people so you step outside for some fresh air thinking that will calm your mind.
You stare up at the sky, the night sky is beautiful. Endless stars, all around you. Suddenly you see a white majestic owl flying above you. You smile up at it, it’s so beautiful. You watch as it flies away wondering if it’s a good omen of things to come.
“I don’t understand.” You say as you argue with the sailor. “Isn’t there more than one captain that can sail the boat?” It’s early in the day and the sky around you has a dark purple tint.
“I told you. Both the captain and his second in command got bitten.” He says annoyed, as he unpacks boxes from the ship.
“How?” You ask.
“Snakes.” He answers with a huff, putting down a heavy box. “If you ask me it’s a dark omen, we won’t sail for at least another fortnight.”
“But I bought a ticket.” You plead.
“And the ticket will be valid in a fortnight.” He argues back.
You sit outside the inn, the night becoming colder around you, calculating how many days your coin will last you. You think you can make it a fortnight, barely. You have no choice however, all the other tickets in bigger boats cost far more than you can afford. The innkeeper's rat-catcher cat snuggles up to you, his orange frame fluffy and clean despite the fact that it lives mostly outdoors. You stroke its soft coat comforted by its presence. It hisses as a crow lands close.
You stroke the cat again trying to get it to calm down, as it starts howling meanly at the crow. At least you think it’s a crow, it’s so dark out now that you can hardly make out the bird. You walk closer to it, searching your pockets for any leftover corn you might have carried off with you. The crow stands still as if waiting for you, you reach out to stroke it and it lets you. You smile pleasantly surprised, and toss the small pieces of corn you found in your pocket his way. The crow however does not reach for any of the corn. Instead it stands still watching you, almost with a haughty look. You shiver. A dark crawling sensation creeping over you.
“Aerion?” You ask, in a whisper.
The crow caws loudly, before taking flight right into your face. You cower covering your face and hear the cat mewing angrily as well as the crow also flies into it before flying off.
“It’s all in my head.” You tell yourself as you shiver and toss and turn in your small bed that night, unable to sleep again.
You awaken with his arms around you. You wonder if you are dreaming as you look into Aerion’s violet eyes, his silver hair iridescent in the morning sun. He picks you up out of the bed, that’s when you know you are not dreaming.
“Aerion?” You ask up at him.
He smiles down at you, then carries you out of the room.
You look around you, there is light around you so you guess it must be early morning. As you pass the hall downstairs the innkeepers avoid your eyes as they stand aside. You notice the coin purses in their hands though.
Aerion places you in the ground as one of his guards brings him his horse. He mounts the ink dark beast easily in one smooth move, then reaches his hand out for you, waiting for you to take it. You don’t move from your spot. Your mind feels heavy and sluggish as you try to comprehend what is happening. You feel almost as if you are outside your own body, looking at yourself standing below him.
You feel one of his guard’s hands on you suddenly as he picks you up easily and places you into Aerion’s saddle. Your body feels frozen, and so does your mind as Aerion grabs on to your stomach with one hand and ushers the horse forward with the other.
“What are you?” You finally ask, as you both ride through the outskirts of the city in the early morning. The road is empty except for the two guards riding in front of you.
He presses closer to you from behind. His breath hot on your ear.
“I am the blood of the dragon.” He answers, as he drags his nose from the bottom of your neck to your right earlobe, which he then licks.
You shudder. “Are you a man or a beast?” You ask.
“I am a man that should have been a dragon.” He says, as he pulls at your robe. “But the dragons are gone, so I fly on smaller wings.”
“On crows?” You ask. “On owls?”
“Yes, and more.” He answers.
“On snakes?” You ask.
He pulls at your nightgown attempting to bring it up.
“Why me?” You ask. “You could have anyone.”
“But I want you.” He answers as he finally pulls your nightgown high enough that he has access to your cunt. He drags his fingers there, pressing into your warm folds. You can feel the warmth of his cock through his breaches and through your thin nightgown on your back.
“I’m not a Targeryan.” You note.
“I know!” He says angrily, as he presses you even closer to his bulging cock with his free hand. “Do you think I have chosen you on purpose?!”
“My older brother Daerion tells me there is a madness in me.” Aerion says as he grinds his cock onto your back. “He thinks I will lose my mind one day, unable to distinguish between the beast and the man.”
He thrusts two fingers inside you, making you gasp.
“The man in me says you are no good. Dirty blood. Low birth.” He says, as he kisses at your neck, and presses inside of you with his fingers. “The beast though, the beast recognizes your scent everywhere I go. It drives me mad with want. The beast in me has already chosen you. The moment you entered my room that very first day, before I ever saw you, before you ever saw me. I came into my room and I could smell you all around me, like a longing that I could not touch. I wondered what it was. I had never experienced it before. Then I saw you come in, your eyes to the ground, I knew then that my bloodline would be ruined by you. I tried so hard to tame my want of you. But my brother is right, I am often more beast than man, and beasts do not understand what is good for men.”
You slump then against his chest. All the energy has been drained out of you, and you are irrevocably tired.
“So I never stood a chance.” You say, more to yourself than to him.
“Never.” He confirms, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“I did try to let you go.” He says after a while, his fingers trailing the wetness of your hole, up to your sweet spot, where he focuses and presses around and round in circles. “But in my dreams, I would take flight and without knowing I would look for you.”
“Accept your fate.” He says, as he presses harder and faster into your sweet spot, and you do. The ache in you gives into his graceful fingers as you fall into bliss at his hands. Your throbbing cunt rubbing into his fingers until you fall over the threshold of bliss and collapse into his chest.
Your cunt is throbbing from being fucked for so long. Aerion has been fucking you all day. So much so that you now feel as if your cunt is empty without his cock inside you. You stumble out of his bedchamber though, you need some air.
You stand outside in the courtyard looking up at the night sky and taking deep breaths of the fresh night air, until you notice the kitchen cat staring at you intently from the shadows. You shiver.
You will never be able to escape him, this warg that is more beast than man. His eyes will follow everywhere you go in different forms, in different shapes.
“I just needed some air.” You tell him. He looks at you with glowing feline eyes, before approaching you and rubbing up against your legs. He heads back in the direction of the bedchamber, before looking back at you, waiting for you to follow him.
As you enter his bedchamber, you look at him in the light of the candles. His face peaceful as he sleeps, his lips pull slightly at the corners almost as if he’s smiling. He opens his purple eyes then and truly smiles.
The cat you had been following suddenly looks around and meows as if lost, before slinking away from you and out of the room.
“Come.” Aerion beckons, his hand outstretched towards you from the bed. “I want to see my seed spilling out of your pretty cunt once more.”
Pairing: Aegon Targeryan x Tyrell Original Character
Summary: Esme Tyrell, tries to follow her Redwyne mother's lessons on how to be a good wife, but she often seems to take more after her rash and spirited Tyrell father. When her life seems to crash around her after being promised to the old King Viserys in matrimony, will she uphold her station with the grace and poise her Redwyne ancestry demands, or will she go crashing down into her stepson Aegon's perverseness which is so much like her own? And what will be her punishment if she does?
Warnings: 18+. Incest (though not blood related), Stepmom/Stepson, Aegon gets off in front of her.
WC: 19k, full version Karma & Chaos on Ao3
The royal wedding had come and gone. A loud extravagant proceeding, of which Esme hardly remembered anything. Tried to forget in fact. Her father had left soon after the wedding, she did not return his embrace, as he held her before he left.
“You will thank me one day.” He said, “I do it all for you.”
Lies. Esme had thought but said nothing. She was finally learning to bite her tongue.
He had written to her many times after that, recounting stories of her mother, telling her about insignificant details of his day, asking about her womb. He wrote for over a year, right up until his death. A fever had taken him, her stepmother informed her through a letter. Informed her that he had been hopeful until the end that he would see a grandchild of his being born. Esme did not write back, she never had. She had read all of her father’s letters but had not answered once. So, she did not answer her stepmother’s letter either. She simply locked herself in her bed chamber and wept. Angry, bitter, resentful tears falling nonstop. She had loved him, he had ruined her life. She would never forgive him, she would always miss him.
Her husband paid her a visit that evening, after being informed of her father’s demise. He read her stepmother’s letter, as Esme did not trust her voice to speak without breaking.
“The gods have him in their mercy now.” The King said.
She only paced back and forth, trying to swallow the bile achy feeling in her throat.
“My late wife, Alicent, used to say that.” He continued, “It seemed to bring her comfort to know that the Seven, would be waiting for her in the afterlife. My first wife Aemma thought there was nothing after death, she found peace in that instead.”
When still she said nothing, he continued.
“If the gods are good, they will surely bless us with a child soon.” He said. “That should bring you comfort, it will fulfill your father’s last wish.”
She wailed then, unable to stop the sobs. The King took her into his arms and patted her back. “There, there.” He said, “We will get our little Targeryan beauty soon. You will see. You are already such a good stepmother to Aegon and a good friend to Rhaenyra. I know you will be a great mother to our child once he comes, no matter how long it takes for him to arrive.”
How Esme hated the feeling of his arms around her.
“Aegon!” Esme says, “Pay attention. Learning High Valyrian is important for bonding with your dragon.”
Aegon only pouts and looks up from the table at her.
She wonders if anything from the lesson has stuck in his head. It had been Viserys’ idea to have her tutor Aegon. First in calligraphy, then in Westerosi history, then in mathematics, until she was even teaching him High Valyrian. A language which she herself was only just learning and had only an intermediate grasp of. Viserys’ reasoning had been, that the only times Aegon actually seemed to stay still and not cause chaos within the castle, were when she was giving him her attention. The King had thought it a sign of her motherly bond with him.
Esme knew, that The Prince had never once thought of her as a mother. He simply enjoyed pleasuring himself in her presence far too much to leave her side when he could get a moment alone with her. He had started this habit, right after he had found out that she was the reason his guards were dismissed and that he instead had to bear the shame of having a septa following him everywhere he went. He had been the laughingstock of King’s Landing the first time he tried to run away from the septa, only to find out that the septa could run just as fast as him, as she chased him all around the King’s Landing streets. He rarely ever tried to leave the Red Keep after that, for fear of Septa Gena following him around and making him the object of ridicule.
Septa Gena was a no-nonsense woman who did not abide by Aegon’s pranks and ridicule. She did not hesitate to ring the alarm when he would try to sneak out, to lecture his ear off about his perverse nature whether in front of the court or in the middle of a King’s Landing street, and she certainly did not hesitate to go running to the King if she thought the Prince was being impertinent. Aegon’s days of groping servant girls, and of dreaming of escaping off to the brothels, died the moment Septa Gena entered his life.
He of course, blamed Esme for it. Esme had not intended for Septa Gena to become Aegon’s jailer, she had only intended to ruin some of his fun as payback for his hair pulling and mocking faces. She had even tried to gently confront her husband, the King, about it.
“He is three and ten, he will be a man soon” she had said, “and he will not be respected by other men if he has a Septa following him around everywhere.”
“No, no, do not fret about that.” The King had said, “The boy needs discipline, and you were right. He was being badly influenced by his guards. I think Septa Gena is better for him. You are much better for him. He hardly leaves the Red Keep anymore. I’m sorry it slipped out that you had informed me about his guards, but it’s no harm. The boy loves you already, he will not resent you.”
Resent her, he had. For a year, Aegon had been a pain in Esme’s arse. Forced to stay in the Red Keep and only allowed relief from Septa Gena’s constant vigilance when he was in his own chambers, or in private meetings with his father or stepmother. In his attempt to be free of Septa Gena, the Prince had decided to constantly seek Esme out, asking her to stroll with him through the gardens. Asking for her counsel on private matters, and eventually letting his father know that the reason why his calligraphy had improved was due to Esme’s influence. That comment had started Viserys’ idea of her tutoring him.
In truth his calligraphy had improved, because he had chosen to improve it. She had had nothing to do with it. However, she could not call him a liar to Viserys’ face. They were not friends, but the Prince had never told Viserys about her lies. He knew many of them, by the time the issue of her tutoring came. She had in hindsight, revealed herself to him in the garden, that very first night they met. Showed him her true petty, angry self. He had said nothing though, about any of it, to the King. She knew it must be due to her threat of her telling his father about his attack on her the first night. Even so, he seemed to know Esme better than most people, other than her trusted ladies in waiting. He kept her secrets, so she kept his.
She hears muffled grunts coming from Aegon as he lays his face down in the table. He must have spent his seed into his hand again, she thinks, sighing. He often pleasured himself under the table in her lessons, she as usual pretends not to see. She needed to play the role of doting stepmother for Viserys, he needed to play the role of dutiful reformed son for his father. He keeps her secrets, so she pretends to not see his hardening cock when he sees her, pretends not to notice his accidental touches as he moves around her. She looks away as he struggles to keep his breath steady in her bed chambers where she tutors him, the top of his hand moving only slightly above the table that covers the lower half of him, as he pleasures himself while looking at her.
She was grateful at least, that he pretended to be secretive about it, rather than outright exposing himself to her.
“I think that’s enough for today’s lessons.” She says, “You seem tired my sweet Prince. You should rest. We will continue in the morning.”
As he stands to leave, she looks away again to allow him to adjust his breeches. Then she goes to him and gets on her tiptoes. He bends his head down slightly, as she kisses his forehead.
“Goodnight stepson.”
“Goodnight stepmother.” He replies, looking into her eyes with a mocking smile.
Esme opens the door to Aegon’s chamber wide open, sees Aegon at the window, and quickly closes the door behind her.
“Aegon!” she whisper-yells at him, “not this again!”
Aegon is naked, pleasuring himself at his open window. He had turned around surprised at hearing the door open, but as soon as he saw her, he smiled and got right back to stroking his cock.
Esme sighted. She had tried to get him to stop before, but it was no use. He was five and ten, and only grew more reckless each day.
“Can you at least spill your seed into your chamber pot and not out the window?” Esme asks, crossing her arms “Last time I had to convince Septa Gena that a flock of birds had passed above her head.”
He laughs, momentarily stopping before continuing his fast-paced strokes.
“As you wish stepmother.” He says in a theatrically polite manner, walking to the chamber pot while still holding his cock. He stands over the pot and starts the fast strokes again, looking at Esme the whole time.
Esme takes a deep breath and looks away. She had come to accept their strange alliance, to the point that it no longer offended her that he was now constantly, and openly pleasuring himself in her presence. He was the only thing keeping her sane in King’s Landing. More precisely, the fact that she could drop the facade of the sweet dutiful wife and doting stepmother around him, kept her sane. Everywhere else in the Red Keep, she had to act proper, sweet, wise. Always biting her tongue, always pulling gently on Viserys’ puppet strings. The little reprieve that her trusted ladies in waiting Marie and Grace had given her, left with them, when they were married off far away from her. First Grace the oldest of the two in her first year there, then Marie just a couple of fortnights ago. Now only Aegon remained, the only one there was no pretending with.
She goes to the couch in the middle of the room and plops down on it, ungracefully. She puts her feet up on the table in front and looks at him.
“You are the biggest brat, I’ve ever met.” She tells him, “But at least you do have a very beautiful cock, my sweet stepson.”
He grins wickedly and starts stroking faster. She feels her cunt begin to pulse slightly, but she ignores it. Aegon, throws his head back and keeps stroking fast. She sits there watching him, until his eyes start to blink rapidly, and he starts to moan. She sees his body jerk before his seed falls all over his stomach, and all over the floor. None of it lands in the chamber pot.
She laughs. “You idiot!” She whisper-yells. He only looks at her and chuckles.
