Fic offerings from the worlds of TLK, Vikings & A Song of Ice and Fire universe. Requests are open - step into the saga.🔞 18+ only. Minors, do not interact.
Menstruating, halucinating only one of her dead sons, surrounded by rats, unable to sleep since that's presumably the bed her mother died in, husbuncle wants to kill her little brother who is actually just some kid, girlfriend wants a worker's revolution, 3/6 kids of her kids are dead and one of her step daughters is unaccounted for, drunken gay ex-husband's father is comparing his whoring around to her and Laenor having a sperm donor/poly situation and then throwing a tantrum in public, head of the church won't even crown her until they procure her brother's remains. Terrible day to be Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen
Summary: Aerion has never wanted a wife, and now he is being forced to marry his uncle’s illegitimate daughter.
I’m at work and just wanted to get this out as I’ve been slowly adding to it for weeks and haven’t proof read- will do that when I get home and have a bit more time.
Master list
“I do not wish for a fucking wife.” Aerion’s voice boomed, echoing throughout the large hall in which he sat. The sudden loudness caused everyone to jump slightly.
Prince Baelor, hand to the king and heir to the Iron throne, ran his tongue over his top lip as he thought quickly of a response. He loved his nephew for the pure fact that his own blood ran through his veins, he did not however, like him in most senses. He and his brother, Aerion’s father both knew that this conversation would be a difficult one to have.
“This is not about what you wish, boy. This is about the legacy of our house.” Baelor explained, watching him with cautious eyes.
Aerion seethed, huffing air through his nostrils like the dragon that he believed himself to be.
“After the rebellion we have been left fucked.” Maekar spoke bluntly, as he always did. “It is imperative,” his hand slammed onto the table, “that you marry her. If you wish to continue to live the life of a spoilt prince then you need to strengthen our blood line.”
“A commoner will strengthen our blood line?” Aerion retorted.
Maekar very nearly reached across the table to slap his son in the face.
“Raised a commoner, perhaps,” Baelor raised his cup of wine to his lips, “yet the blood of a dragon regardless of status, definitely.” He took a small sip before setting the cup down.
“And you are happy about that uncle? To witness the marriage of your bastard daughter whom you abandoned and your nephew marry?”
Baelor smiled at Aerion’s vicious comment in a desperate attempt to halt the rage that grew within him. Valarr, Baelors legitimate son and heir sat silently, though the expression on his face told a thousand stories.
Maekar reached over the table and gave Aerion a swift slap around the head, deciding that he could not keep the palm of his hand at bay for a moment longer. Aerion scowled at the two of them, a hand now smoothing his hair down.
“Enough of this. Stop fucking speaking.” He commanded, a finger pointed at his son. “Bring the girl in.” He used said finger to gesture towards the doors.
The two guards that stood on each of the double doors moved in rhythm with one another as they pulled the large doors open. Aerion moved his head a tad to the right in the hopes that he would gain a better view, and so he did. There you were, stood alone. He had expected you to look frightened, anxious. Yet you displayed no such emotion, instead looking bored, and quite calm. As you began to walk forwards, he immediately discovered that you were beautiful, unbelievably so. Yet, he also immediately saw that you did not carry the hair colour in which he did.
“You expect me to keep the blood line pure yet you present me with a dark haired woman?” His words came out much louder than he had intended, and Baelor looked as though he could have thrown his own dagger at his head.
Baelor opened his mouth to respond, but you got there first.
“I had not even stopped and you already insult me?”
His head snapped towards you, his eyes darkening at your boldness.
You stood there staring at all four men before you, one of them being your father whom you had spoken to twice, one of them being your uncle whom you had never spoken to, one of them being your brother, and the remaining one being your cousin, and future husband.
You had gone from no family whatsoever, to a very full one in a matter of days.
“A lady bows when greeting a Prince.” Aerion snapped, though his posture remained calm.
“I know.” You replied quickly, his eyes widened.
“Then you choose disrespect upon our first meeting?”
Much to his surprise, you smiled.
“You truly are quite an insufferable little cunt, aren’t you?”
Baelor and Maekar simultaneously dug deep within their brains in the hopes of finding the saddest thought that they could in order to hide their amusement. Maekar resorted to biting the inside of his own cheek.
Aerion’s eyes widened at the harshness of your words, and he tutted, befuddled by you.
“It seems that you are too.”
“That’s funny because only one of us is known in the realm for it.”
Aerion did not know what to say to that, for it was true. A fire lit within his stomach; an anger that grew with every millisecond.
“Daughter.” Baelor started, and then cleared his throat. “Perhaps this is not the most effective start.”
You glared up at Baelor, still unable to process the absolute audacity of him to allow you nothing your entire life, and then call you forward to marry his nephew. He had provided clothing and coin for food and housing your entire life, but at no point had he ever bothered to come and see you, let alone claim you as his own. You saw that as nothing at all.
Yet, here you all were, and there he was, ready to name you a Targaryen and claim you publicly.
“Prince Baelor.” You said through gritted teeth, lowering your head slightly, still refusing to lower your body into a respectful bow.
There was a moment of silence, which felt deafening- no one quite knew what to say.
“Sister, it is nice to meet you at last. Though, I apologise for the circumstance.” Valarr said, his voice genuine and quite kind. You appreciated that, and so smiled at him, this time lowering your head further than you had moments before.
Aerion frowned at the interaction, foreseeing how Valarr’s presence would begin to annoy him more so than it usually did.
“Yes, always the gentleman aren’t you, Valarr?” Sarcasm dripped from Aerion’s words, his brows still frowning and his eyes dark.
Valarr did not reply, instead shooting him a sharp look.
You stood awkwardly, your arms dropping to your sides as you observed the frosty interaction closely, suddenly completely unsure of what to do with yourself. You felt as though a beam of light had been casted onto you, as though you were the largest thing in the room.
“Enough.” Prince Maekar announced after a few moments of tension. He looked at you, his expression holding nothing but boredom. “You and Prince Aerion shall stay here and eat, we shall vacate.”
A swarm of bees entered your stomach at the thought of being alone with your betrothed. Aerion was painfully handsome, yes, but his cruelty seemed to equal his beauty.
Aerion scrunched his face and parted his lips, you had anticipated his detest, yet before he could speak, Maekar held the palm of his hand to his face.
“Enough of your insolence.” He spoke quietly, almost as though he did not want the others to hear. Despite his intentions, all in attendance heard his words clearly.
You saw a flush of embarrassment wash over Aerion’s face, yet it only lasted for a short moment before returning to his usual glare.
Despite the daggers that he sent towards you, he was in fact silenced by his father. You could not help the smirk that arose on your own lips.
The dinner was awkward, and the only interaction that the two of you had were occasional insults, and a varied range of negative looks. You did not bother to attempt a conversation, and neither did he. The guards watched in silent amusement at the frosty atmosphere. Aerion seemed to hate you, unbelievably so.
That evening, you found yourself perched on a long, velvet chair in the library of Summerhall. It was comfortable, and was of the darkest shade of red. It was so comfortable that you had not quite realised how long you had been there.
Despite the grudge that you held for Baelor Targaryen, and in turn his entire family- your entire family, you could not help but to be grateful of the education in which he had ensured that you received.
You were very fond of reading, and not so very fond of people. Most people were insufferable, and you did not see the point in wasting your life by interacting with them.
Additionally, the books kept within the library were magnificent- a vast range of texts that spanned the large room in its entirety.
The clothing that adorned your body made you feel like an imposter; you had been essentially forced into the midnight black gown. You were reminded of your corset everytime that you breathed, which unfortunately, was quite a lot. You were not used to such restrictive, painful clothing.
Regardless of your imposter syndrome, you could not help but feel beautiful in the dress- you had never worn such fine materials. Half of your hair had been designed into an intricate braid, and the other half fell in waves over your shoulders.
You thought yourself thankful for the privacy, and vowed to spent as much time as possible surrounded by texts that would help distract you from your reality.
After two full moons had passed, you had half managed to successfully avoid Aerion for most of it. Though, he did seem to find ways to always make a lasting impression upon every small interaction.
He ignored for you an entire week when you first met, not bothering to acknowledge your existence at all at any dinners or private meetings, which had been arranged beyond either one of your controls. He made no effort whatsoever to interact with you, and he had seemed to want to hurt your feelings.
Hurt your feelings though, he did not. You did not care at all, which bothered him greatly.
One day, he had decided that he had grown bored of ignoring you. You sat at breakfast, spreading honey onto a piece of bread. Only you and Aerion sat at the table, but you had mastered the art of pretending to be alone whenever in his company.
“You have consumed a lot of honey.”
His words caused you to stop dead in your tracks.
“You have ignored me this entire time and now you tell me that I eat too much.”
“Precisely.”
Your relationship with Aerion quickly became a strange one. His ridiculous comments became less offensive, despite his tone always carrying conviction. He sat staring at you whenever you were near him, his eyes burning holes into you that became a new normal. Whenever Valarr tried to speak to you with kindness, Aerion would find a way to distract him and stop the conversation, whether that be discreetly or directly.
His differing behaviours, however, did not waver your own behaviours. You kept your fierce reactions, and used them when they were necessary- something that all the Targaryens seemed to be slightly grateful for, even if they did not admit it.
"I find myself wondering why a commoner would spend their days hiding in a library."
The sudden destruction of silence caused your head to snap upwards. There stood Aerion, his eyebrow slightly raised yet his other features monotone. He rested his back onto a book shelf, with his right hand crossed over his body so that he could rest it on the hilt of his sword.
You stared at him briefly, your mouth parted slightly in disbelief. You rolled your eyes at him, and closed your book as heavy handily as you could, causing a noise to ring out in the quiet space from the impact.
"I prefer the word avoiding, and it was going ever so well until you ruined it."
Aerion’s eyes darkened slightly at your words, though other than that, no reaction was shown.
“How did you learn to read?”
“I struggle to see why that is any business of yours.”
He pursed his lips, removing his shoulders from the wall and standing up straight.
“You are rude and insolent.”
You removed the book from your lap and placed it next to you, leaning back and crossing your right leg over the other.
“You are rude, insolent, and difficult to speak to.”
Aerion walked towards you, showing a clear sign of rage in his expressions. You wondered when he would stop, but he continued until he towered above you.
Despite your fear, you swallowed hard in an attempt to show as little emotion as possible. You would not give into him, and you certainly would not allow him to become aware that he frightened you.
“Would you care to say that to me again?” His teeth were gritted together as he looked down at you, his eyes locked into your own.
You peered up at him, your eyes larger than normal due to the angle that your head had to reach- your neck already hurting.
“You are rude, insolent, difficult to speak to, arrogant, cruel-“
“Enough.”
His command silenced you indeed, yet you could not help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth.
He did not confront your accusations, though he did stare at you for a while. Aerion studied you, every inch of you, in that moment. Your eyes, your nose, your mouth, the sharpness of your jaw, the apples of your cheeks, your flowing hair.
“Your hair is unacceptable.” He shook his head as he spoke. He used his finger and thumb to hold a piece of your dark locks, bringing it upwards so that he could look at it closely.
“My hair is beautiful.” You responded, allowing his hold to continue, your eyes still locked into his own- refusing to back down or give into his strange way of wanting to assert dominance.
“Who told you that?”
“Myself.” Your face held a glare.
You had expected Aerion to say something rude in response, express his differed opinion. He did not. Instead, he tilted his head as he continued to study your face before allowing your hair to fall from his fingers and stepped back.
In one swift movement, his legs bent and he sat beside you, bouncing back up slightly as he collided with the cushioned surface. You considered turning to face him, yet decided against it. Your forward facing position, however, did not stop you from feeling his gaze burning into the side of your head.
“We are to have children, I intend those children to be the perfect vision of a Targaryen.” He stated, his words grating on you more and more.
“You are excessively obsessed with hair,” you began, now turning your body to face him, “if you are so worried about your child’s hair colour then I suggest fucking your sister instead of me.”
Aerion’s eyebrow raised, surprisingly impressed by your fire. A smile tugged his mouth upwards forcefully. Your face flickered subtly at his reaction- it was not one that you had expected. He seemed to have made a habit of catching you off guard.
“No.” He shook his head, pursing his lips to stop his amusement. “I am betrothed to you.”
“Your family do not share the same concerns at you, it seems.” You said, choosing to ignore what he had said.
“Our family.” He corrected hastily, his face as hard as stone and his voice just as firm.
As far as you were concerned, you did not have a family- you never had.
You chose not to respond with words, instead huffing air out of your nostrils and facing your attentions onto your lap.
“Look at me.” He commanded.
Despite his seriousness, you did not do as he had told you too. And so, he used his hand to push your face sideward. His action did not hurt; he did not grip too fiercely, his touch felt more authoritative than invasive.
Your eyes met his once more, and despite his goal having been accomplished, his fingers stayed gripped under your chin. You let out a deep breath, not realising how long it had been since your last.
The pad of his thumb found your bottom lip. Slowly, he felt the plumpness of them and how dry they had become because of him. He felt the nervousness radiating from you, and he liked it.
You felt your heart begin to beat faster within your chest with each touch and look. Despite his arrogance and condescension, he was devastatingly handsome, and you could not deny that.
“I have seen the way that you look at me.” He said, his face moving closer to yours. “You pretend as though you hate me, but I do not believe that you do.”
“You decided that you despised me from the moment you saw me.” Your words came out slightly distorted, the grip on your jaw affecting your freedom.
“As did you.” His own words escaped him as a whisper. “You infuriate me, I find you extremely frustrating.” He admitted, this time his speech louder and certain.
You looked at him carefully, unsure of how to respond. You were offended, obviously; your very existence alone seemed to disgust him.
“I apologise that I am not the woman you dreamt of.”
You did not mean the apology, and he knew that due to the sarcasm that frothed at your words.
“I did not dream of anyone in such a way.”
Your brow furrowed in disbelief- everyone, regardless of how uptight they are, had dreamt of romance.
“Until you walked in and ruined it.”
Your head moved back ever so slightly in both surprise and confusion of his meaning.
“Ruined it?” You questioned, your words small as you became more and more aware of how close his face was to your own.
He tutted. “Your face,” he began, releasing your chin and moving his hand to hold the side of your face, “your voice,” his eyes flickered from your own to your lips, “everything about you sticks in my mind, like a poison.”
You saw a frustration within him, something that seemed to cloud his features completely. You stared at each other, though his darkened eyes did not match your brightly wide ones- complete opposites seeming to challenge each other.
You had no words to say, none at all. Many words, of course, swam within your mind, yet you could not find the gumption to speak them.
Luckily for you, you did not need any words for Aerion used the same hand that held your face to harshly bring you forward. His lips now ghosted yours, and you found yourself weakening at his touch, at the anticipation of what may unfold next.
He huffed, almost as though he did not understand what he was doing- almost as though he was angry at his own actions. His hot breath made you shiver, and you felt your knees become more and more unstable with every bit of contact that he had with your skin.
You could not take it any longer.
“Do it.” You challenged. That was all he needed.
His lips crashed onto yours- not what you had expected. Despite his seemingly cruel nature, you had expected the kiss to be somewhat gentle initially. Gentle it was not. Passion exerted from both of you as you panted, your lips battling one another’s in a desperate fight for pleasure. You felt his tongue tap your own, almost as though it was knocking to seek acceptance. You used your own tongue to invite his in further, craving the feeling of him.
The months of harsh words and looks seemed to have manifested themselves into this very moment. You were no longer sat gracefully on the chair, but more so crammed into the corner of it with him on top of you, your legs parted and bent upwards, your feet resting on the softness of the velvet.
His right hand stayed glued to the side of your face, and his left found yourself breast, his thumb tracing aching circles onto yours nipples. You moaned into his mouth at the tenderness of his touch, and brought your own hand to his throat, clutching it firmly, in turn causing a groan to escape him.
He broke away suddenly, looking down at you approvingly. He smirked at the sight of you- lips plump and swollen, your usually perfect hair a mess, and your legs parted- a vision of you he had imagined but had not yet seen in reality. The moment was better than he ever could have imagined.
With the hand that clasped his throat, you attempted to move his head closer to you once again, craving the feeling of his lips once more. Yet, he refused. He shook his head, a smirk still solidified on his lips at the sight of your desperation.
Aerion lowered his head once more, this time attaching his lips to your neck. He kissed gently at first, using his tongue to trail shapes onto your neck. Your sweet moans filled the room as you adjusted to the tender feeling, and his fingers continued to roam your body. Slowly, he began to use his teeth to nip your sensitive skin, occasionally sucking it- growing more and more vicious with every second. Your hands found their way to the back of his hair, tugging on it as your pleasure grew.
Finding your lips once more, you felt his tongue plunge into your mouth. Your lips no longer battled- your tongues now danced together in a way that seemed practised. Perfect.
You felt a hand in between your legs, and could not help the embarrassingly loud noise that escaped you when you felt the contact.
“What the fuck.”
A voice boomed through the quiet room, causing you to jump out of your skin. Aerion, however, did not seem at all bothered by the interruption. Both of your heads snapped towards the voice, Aerion still on top of you, and your legs still parted.
At the doorway stood Valarr, your brother, something that you knew would please Aerion to his core.
Valarr held a hand out to prevent his vision from landing at the sinned sight of you. Aerion laughed.
“What is wrong cousin? You have never seen a woman?”
Valarr seethed. “I was under the impression that you despised one another. I came to check on my sister.”
Aerion laughed once more, now peeling himself from you and in turn allowing you to sit up and smooth yourself down.
“To despise someone is very complicated.” Aerion said, using his own hands to smooth his own clothing downwards. “Perhaps one day you may understand.”
“I am going to tell my father.”
Aerion pursed his lips. “And what will you tell him? That you found me and my future wife getting to know one another?”
Valarr sighed in defeat at the realisation that both his father and his uncle would probably be delighted at his discovery.
“Do not worry Valarr,” A fake smile beamed on his face as he sat back down next to you, placing a possessive hand on your leg, “I intend to take very good care of the Princess.”
Summary: Aerion has never wanted a wife, and now he is being forced to marry his uncle’s illegitimate daughter.
I’m at work and just wanted to get this out as I’ve been slowly adding to it for weeks and haven’t proof read- will do that when I get home and have a bit more time.
Master list
“I do not wish for a fucking wife.” Aerion’s voice boomed, echoing throughout the large hall in which he sat. The sudden loudness caused everyone to jump slightly.
Prince Baelor, hand to the king and heir to the Iron throne, ran his tongue over his top lip as he thought quickly of a response. He loved his nephew for the pure fact that his own blood ran through his veins, he did not however, like him in most senses. He and his brother, Aerion’s father both knew that this conversation would be a difficult one to have.
“This is not about what you wish, boy. This is about the legacy of our house.” Baelor explained, watching him with cautious eyes.
Aerion seethed, huffing air through his nostrils like the dragon that he believed himself to be.
“After the rebellion we have been left fucked.” Maekar spoke bluntly, as he always did. “It is imperative,” his hand slammed onto the table, “that you marry her. If you wish to continue to live the life of a spoilt prince then you need to strengthen our blood line.”
“A commoner will strengthen our blood line?” Aerion retorted.
Maekar very nearly reached across the table to slap his son in the face.
“Raised a commoner, perhaps,” Baelor raised his cup of wine to his lips, “yet the blood of a dragon regardless of status, definitely.” He took a small sip before setting the cup down.
“And you are happy about that uncle? To witness the marriage of your bastard daughter whom you abandoned and your nephew marry?”
Baelor smiled at Aerion’s vicious comment in a desperate attempt to halt the rage that grew within him. Valarr, Baelors legitimate son and heir sat silently, though the expression on his face told a thousand stories.
Maekar reached over the table and gave Aerion a swift slap around the head, deciding that he could not keep the palm of his hand at bay for a moment longer. Aerion scowled at the two of them, a hand now smoothing his hair down.
“Enough of this. Stop fucking speaking.” He commanded, a finger pointed at his son. “Bring the girl in.” He used said finger to gesture towards the doors.
The two guards that stood on each of the double doors moved in rhythm with one another as they pulled the large doors open. Aerion moved his head a tad to the right in the hopes that he would gain a better view, and so he did. There you were, stood alone. He had expected you to look frightened, anxious. Yet you displayed no such emotion, instead looking bored, and quite calm. As you began to walk forwards, he immediately discovered that you were beautiful, unbelievably so. Yet, he also immediately saw that you did not carry the hair colour in which he did.
“You expect me to keep the blood line pure yet you present me with a dark haired woman?” His words came out much louder than he had intended, and Baelor looked as though he could have thrown his own dagger at his head.
Baelor opened his mouth to respond, but you got there first.
“I had not even stopped and you already insult me?”
His head snapped towards you, his eyes darkening at your boldness.
You stood there staring at all four men before you, one of them being your father whom you had spoken to twice, one of them being your uncle whom you had never spoken to, one of them being your brother, and the remaining one being your cousin, and future husband.
You had gone from no family whatsoever, to a very full one in a matter of days.
“A lady bows when greeting a Prince.” Aerion snapped, though his posture remained calm.
“I know.” You replied quickly, his eyes widened.
“Then you choose disrespect upon our first meeting?”
Much to his surprise, you smiled.
“You truly are quite an insufferable little cunt, aren’t you?”
Baelor and Maekar simultaneously dug deep within their brains in the hopes of finding the saddest thought that they could in order to hide their amusement. Maekar resorted to biting the inside of his own cheek.
Aerion’s eyes widened at the harshness of your words, and he tutted, befuddled by you.
“It seems that you are too.”
“That’s funny because only one of us is known in the realm for it.”
Aerion did not know what to say to that, for it was true. A fire lit within his stomach; an anger that grew with every millisecond.
“Daughter.” Baelor started, and then cleared his throat. “Perhaps this is not the most effective start.”
You glared up at Baelor, still unable to process the absolute audacity of him to allow you nothing your entire life, and then call you forward to marry his nephew. He had provided clothing and coin for food and housing your entire life, but at no point had he ever bothered to come and see you, let alone claim you as his own. You saw that as nothing at all.
Yet, here you all were, and there he was, ready to name you a Targaryen and claim you publicly.
“Prince Baelor.” You said through gritted teeth, lowering your head slightly, still refusing to lower your body into a respectful bow.
There was a moment of silence, which felt deafening- no one quite knew what to say.
“Sister, it is nice to meet you at last. Though, I apologise for the circumstance.” Valarr said, his voice genuine and quite kind. You appreciated that, and so smiled at him, this time lowering your head further than you had moments before.
Aerion frowned at the interaction, foreseeing how Valarr’s presence would begin to annoy him more so than it usually did.
“Yes, always the gentleman aren’t you, Valarr?” Sarcasm dripped from Aerion’s words, his brows still frowning and his eyes dark.
Valarr did not reply, instead shooting him a sharp look.
You stood awkwardly, your arms dropping to your sides as you observed the frosty interaction closely, suddenly completely unsure of what to do with yourself. You felt as though a beam of light had been casted onto you, as though you were the largest thing in the room.
“Enough.” Prince Maekar announced after a few moments of tension. He looked at you, his expression holding nothing but boredom. “You and Prince Aerion shall stay here and eat, we shall vacate.”
A swarm of bees entered your stomach at the thought of being alone with your betrothed. Aerion was painfully handsome, yes, but his cruelty seemed to equal his beauty.
Aerion scrunched his face and parted his lips, you had anticipated his detest, yet before he could speak, Maekar held the palm of his hand to his face.
“Enough of your insolence.” He spoke quietly, almost as though he did not want the others to hear. Despite his intentions, all in attendance heard his words clearly.
You saw a flush of embarrassment wash over Aerion’s face, yet it only lasted for a short moment before returning to his usual glare.
Despite the daggers that he sent towards you, he was in fact silenced by his father. You could not help the smirk that arose on your own lips.
The dinner was awkward, and the only interaction that the two of you had were occasional insults, and a varied range of negative looks. You did not bother to attempt a conversation, and neither did he. The guards watched in silent amusement at the frosty atmosphere. Aerion seemed to hate you, unbelievably so.
That evening, you found yourself perched on a long, velvet chair in the library of Summerhall. It was comfortable, and was of the darkest shade of red. It was so comfortable that you had not quite realised how long you had been there.
Despite the grudge that you held for Baelor Targaryen, and in turn his entire family- your entire family, you could not help but to be grateful of the education in which he had ensured that you received.
You were very fond of reading, and not so very fond of people. Most people were insufferable, and you did not see the point in wasting your life by interacting with them.
Additionally, the books kept within the library were magnificent- a vast range of texts that spanned the large room in its entirety.
The clothing that adorned your body made you feel like an imposter; you had been essentially forced into the midnight black gown. You were reminded of your corset everytime that you breathed, which unfortunately, was quite a lot. You were not used to such restrictive, painful clothing.
Regardless of your imposter syndrome, you could not help but feel beautiful in the dress- you had never worn such fine materials. Half of your hair had been designed into an intricate braid, and the other half fell in waves over your shoulders.
You thought yourself thankful for the privacy, and vowed to spent as much time as possible surrounded by texts that would help distract you from your reality.
After two full moons had passed, you had half managed to successfully avoid Aerion for most of it. Though, he did seem to find ways to always make a lasting impression upon every small interaction.
He ignored for you an entire week when you first met, not bothering to acknowledge your existence at all at any dinners or private meetings, which had been arranged beyond either one of your controls. He made no effort whatsoever to interact with you, and he had seemed to want to hurt your feelings.
Hurt your feelings though, he did not. You did not care at all, which bothered him greatly.
One day, he had decided that he had grown bored of ignoring you. You sat at breakfast, spreading honey onto a piece of bread. Only you and Aerion sat at the table, but you had mastered the art of pretending to be alone whenever in his company.
“You have consumed a lot of honey.”
His words caused you to stop dead in your tracks.
“You have ignored me this entire time and now you tell me that I eat too much.”
“Precisely.”
Your relationship with Aerion quickly became a strange one. His ridiculous comments became less offensive, despite his tone always carrying conviction. He sat staring at you whenever you were near him, his eyes burning holes into you that became a new normal. Whenever Valarr tried to speak to you with kindness, Aerion would find a way to distract him and stop the conversation, whether that be discreetly or directly.
His differing behaviours, however, did not waver your own behaviours. You kept your fierce reactions, and used them when they were necessary- something that all the Targaryens seemed to be slightly grateful for, even if they did not admit it.
"I find myself wondering why a commoner would spend their days hiding in a library."
The sudden destruction of silence caused your head to snap upwards. There stood Aerion, his eyebrow slightly raised yet his other features monotone. He rested his back onto a book shelf, with his right hand crossed over his body so that he could rest it on the hilt of his sword.
You stared at him briefly, your mouth parted slightly in disbelief. You rolled your eyes at him, and closed your book as heavy handily as you could, causing a noise to ring out in the quiet space from the impact.
"I prefer the word avoiding, and it was going ever so well until you ruined it."
Aerion’s eyes darkened slightly at your words, though other than that, no reaction was shown.
“How did you learn to read?”
“I struggle to see why that is any business of yours.”
He pursed his lips, removing his shoulders from the wall and standing up straight.
“You are rude and insolent.”
You removed the book from your lap and placed it next to you, leaning back and crossing your right leg over the other.
“You are rude, insolent, and difficult to speak to.”
Aerion walked towards you, showing a clear sign of rage in his expressions. You wondered when he would stop, but he continued until he towered above you.
Despite your fear, you swallowed hard in an attempt to show as little emotion as possible. You would not give into him, and you certainly would not allow him to become aware that he frightened you.
“Would you care to say that to me again?” His teeth were gritted together as he looked down at you, his eyes locked into your own.
You peered up at him, your eyes larger than normal due to the angle that your head had to reach- your neck already hurting.
“You are rude, insolent, difficult to speak to, arrogant, cruel-“
“Enough.”
His command silenced you indeed, yet you could not help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth.
He did not confront your accusations, though he did stare at you for a while. Aerion studied you, every inch of you, in that moment. Your eyes, your nose, your mouth, the sharpness of your jaw, the apples of your cheeks, your flowing hair.
“Your hair is unacceptable.” He shook his head as he spoke. He used his finger and thumb to hold a piece of your dark locks, bringing it upwards so that he could look at it closely.
“My hair is beautiful.” You responded, allowing his hold to continue, your eyes still locked into his own- refusing to back down or give into his strange way of wanting to assert dominance.
“Who told you that?”
“Myself.” Your face held a glare.
You had expected Aerion to say something rude in response, express his differed opinion. He did not. Instead, he tilted his head as he continued to study your face before allowing your hair to fall from his fingers and stepped back.
In one swift movement, his legs bent and he sat beside you, bouncing back up slightly as he collided with the cushioned surface. You considered turning to face him, yet decided against it. Your forward facing position, however, did not stop you from feeling his gaze burning into the side of your head.
“We are to have children, I intend those children to be the perfect vision of a Targaryen.” He stated, his words grating on you more and more.
“You are excessively obsessed with hair,” you began, now turning your body to face him, “if you are so worried about your child’s hair colour then I suggest fucking your sister instead of me.”
Aerion’s eyebrow raised, surprisingly impressed by your fire. A smile tugged his mouth upwards forcefully. Your face flickered subtly at his reaction- it was not one that you had expected. He seemed to have made a habit of catching you off guard.
“No.” He shook his head, pursing his lips to stop his amusement. “I am betrothed to you.”
“Your family do not share the same concerns at you, it seems.” You said, choosing to ignore what he had said.
“Our family.” He corrected hastily, his face as hard as stone and his voice just as firm.
As far as you were concerned, you did not have a family- you never had.
You chose not to respond with words, instead huffing air out of your nostrils and facing your attentions onto your lap.
“Look at me.” He commanded.
Despite his seriousness, you did not do as he had told you too. And so, he used his hand to push your face sideward. His action did not hurt; he did not grip too fiercely, his touch felt more authoritative than invasive.
Your eyes met his once more, and despite his goal having been accomplished, his fingers stayed gripped under your chin. You let out a deep breath, not realising how long it had been since your last.
The pad of his thumb found your bottom lip. Slowly, he felt the plumpness of them and how dry they had become because of him. He felt the nervousness radiating from you, and he liked it.
You felt your heart begin to beat faster within your chest with each touch and look. Despite his arrogance and condescension, he was devastatingly handsome, and you could not deny that.
“I have seen the way that you look at me.” He said, his face moving closer to yours. “You pretend as though you hate me, but I do not believe that you do.”
“You decided that you despised me from the moment you saw me.” Your words came out slightly distorted, the grip on your jaw affecting your freedom.
“As did you.” His own words escaped him as a whisper. “You infuriate me, I find you extremely frustrating.” He admitted, this time his speech louder and certain.
You looked at him carefully, unsure of how to respond. You were offended, obviously; your very existence alone seemed to disgust him.
“I apologise that I am not the woman you dreamt of.”
You did not mean the apology, and he knew that due to the sarcasm that frothed at your words.
“I did not dream of anyone in such a way.”
Your brow furrowed in disbelief- everyone, regardless of how uptight they are, had dreamt of romance.
“Until you walked in and ruined it.”
Your head moved back ever so slightly in both surprise and confusion of his meaning.
“Ruined it?” You questioned, your words small as you became more and more aware of how close his face was to your own.
He tutted. “Your face,” he began, releasing your chin and moving his hand to hold the side of your face, “your voice,” his eyes flickered from your own to your lips, “everything about you sticks in my mind, like a poison.”
You saw a frustration within him, something that seemed to cloud his features completely. You stared at each other, though his darkened eyes did not match your brightly wide ones- complete opposites seeming to challenge each other.
You had no words to say, none at all. Many words, of course, swam within your mind, yet you could not find the gumption to speak them.
Luckily for you, you did not need any words for Aerion used the same hand that held your face to harshly bring you forward. His lips now ghosted yours, and you found yourself weakening at his touch, at the anticipation of what may unfold next.
He huffed, almost as though he did not understand what he was doing- almost as though he was angry at his own actions. His hot breath made you shiver, and you felt your knees become more and more unstable with every bit of contact that he had with your skin.
You could not take it any longer.
“Do it.” You challenged. That was all he needed.
His lips crashed onto yours- not what you had expected. Despite his seemingly cruel nature, you had expected the kiss to be somewhat gentle initially. Gentle it was not. Passion exerted from both of you as you panted, your lips battling one another’s in a desperate fight for pleasure. You felt his tongue tap your own, almost as though it was knocking to seek acceptance. You used your own tongue to invite his in further, craving the feeling of him.
The months of harsh words and looks seemed to have manifested themselves into this very moment. You were no longer sat gracefully on the chair, but more so crammed into the corner of it with him on top of you, your legs parted and bent upwards, your feet resting on the softness of the velvet.
His right hand stayed glued to the side of your face, and his left found yourself breast, his thumb tracing aching circles onto yours nipples. You moaned into his mouth at the tenderness of his touch, and brought your own hand to his throat, clutching it firmly, in turn causing a groan to escape him.
He broke away suddenly, looking down at you approvingly. He smirked at the sight of you- lips plump and swollen, your usually perfect hair a mess, and your legs parted- a vision of you he had imagined but had not yet seen in reality. The moment was better than he ever could have imagined.
With the hand that clasped his throat, you attempted to move his head closer to you once again, craving the feeling of his lips once more. Yet, he refused. He shook his head, a smirk still solidified on his lips at the sight of your desperation.
Aerion lowered his head once more, this time attaching his lips to your neck. He kissed gently at first, using his tongue to trail shapes onto your neck. Your sweet moans filled the room as you adjusted to the tender feeling, and his fingers continued to roam your body. Slowly, he began to use his teeth to nip your sensitive skin, occasionally sucking it- growing more and more vicious with every second. Your hands found their way to the back of his hair, tugging on it as your pleasure grew.
Finding your lips once more, you felt his tongue plunge into your mouth. Your lips no longer battled- your tongues now danced together in a way that seemed practised. Perfect.
You felt a hand in between your legs, and could not help the embarrassingly loud noise that escaped you when you felt the contact.
“What the fuck.”
A voice boomed through the quiet room, causing you to jump out of your skin. Aerion, however, did not seem at all bothered by the interruption. Both of your heads snapped towards the voice, Aerion still on top of you, and your legs still parted.
At the doorway stood Valarr, your brother, something that you knew would please Aerion to his core.
Valarr held a hand out to prevent his vision from landing at the sinned sight of you. Aerion laughed.
“What is wrong cousin? You have never seen a woman?”
Valarr seethed. “I was under the impression that you despised one another. I came to check on my sister.”
Aerion laughed once more, now peeling himself from you and in turn allowing you to sit up and smooth yourself down.
“To despise someone is very complicated.” Aerion said, using his own hands to smooth his own clothing downwards. “Perhaps one day you may understand.”
“I am going to tell my father.”
Aerion pursed his lips. “And what will you tell him? That you found me and my future wife getting to know one another?”
Valarr sighed in defeat at the realisation that both his father and his uncle would probably be delighted at his discovery.
“Do not worry Valarr,” A fake smile beamed on his face as he sat back down next to you, placing a possessive hand on your leg, “I intend to take very good care of the Princess.”
Summary: Aerion has never wanted a wife, and now he is being forced to marry his uncle’s illegitimate daughter.
I’m at work and just wanted to get this out as I’ve been slowly adding to it for weeks and haven’t proof read- will do that when I get home and have a bit more time.
Master list
“I do not wish for a fucking wife.” Aerion’s voice boomed, echoing throughout the large hall in which he sat. The sudden loudness caused everyone to jump slightly.
Prince Baelor, hand to the king and heir to the Iron throne, ran his tongue over his top lip as he thought quickly of a response. He loved his nephew for the pure fact that his own blood ran through his veins, he did not however, like him in most senses. He and his brother, Aerion’s father both knew that this conversation would be a difficult one to have.
“This is not about what you wish, boy. This is about the legacy of our house.” Baelor explained, watching him with cautious eyes.
Aerion seethed, huffing air through his nostrils like the dragon that he believed himself to be.
“After the rebellion we have been left fucked.” Maekar spoke bluntly, as he always did. “It is imperative,” his hand slammed onto the table, “that you marry her. If you wish to continue to live the life of a spoilt prince then you need to strengthen our blood line.”
“A commoner will strengthen our blood line?” Aerion retorted.
Maekar very nearly reached across the table to slap his son in the face.
“Raised a commoner, perhaps,” Baelor raised his cup of wine to his lips, “yet the blood of a dragon regardless of status, definitely.” He took a small sip before setting the cup down.
“And you are happy about that uncle? To witness the marriage of your bastard daughter whom you abandoned and your nephew marry?”
Baelor smiled at Aerion’s vicious comment in a desperate attempt to halt the rage that grew within him. Valarr, Baelors legitimate son and heir sat silently, though the expression on his face told a thousand stories.
Maekar reached over the table and gave Aerion a swift slap around the head, deciding that he could not keep the palm of his hand at bay for a moment longer. Aerion scowled at the two of them, a hand now smoothing his hair down.
“Enough of this. Stop fucking speaking.” He commanded, a finger pointed at his son. “Bring the girl in.” He used said finger to gesture towards the doors.
The two guards that stood on each of the double doors moved in rhythm with one another as they pulled the large doors open. Aerion moved his head a tad to the right in the hopes that he would gain a better view, and so he did. There you were, stood alone. He had expected you to look frightened, anxious. Yet you displayed no such emotion, instead looking bored, and quite calm. As you began to walk forwards, he immediately discovered that you were beautiful, unbelievably so. Yet, he also immediately saw that you did not carry the hair colour in which he did.
“You expect me to keep the blood line pure yet you present me with a dark haired woman?” His words came out much louder than he had intended, and Baelor looked as though he could have thrown his own dagger at his head.
Baelor opened his mouth to respond, but you got there first.
“I had not even stopped and you already insult me?”
His head snapped towards you, his eyes darkening at your boldness.
You stood there staring at all four men before you, one of them being your father whom you had spoken to twice, one of them being your uncle whom you had never spoken to, one of them being your brother, and the remaining one being your cousin, and future husband.
You had gone from no family whatsoever, to a very full one in a matter of days.
“A lady bows when greeting a Prince.” Aerion snapped, though his posture remained calm.
“I know.” You replied quickly, his eyes widened.
“Then you choose disrespect upon our first meeting?”
Much to his surprise, you smiled.
“You truly are quite an insufferable little cunt, aren’t you?”
Baelor and Maekar simultaneously dug deep within their brains in the hopes of finding the saddest thought that they could in order to hide their amusement. Maekar resorted to biting the inside of his own cheek.
Aerion’s eyes widened at the harshness of your words, and he tutted, befuddled by you.
“It seems that you are too.”
“That’s funny because only one of us is known in the realm for it.”
Aerion did not know what to say to that, for it was true. A fire lit within his stomach; an anger that grew with every millisecond.
“Daughter.” Baelor started, and then cleared his throat. “Perhaps this is not the most effective start.”
You glared up at Baelor, still unable to process the absolute audacity of him to allow you nothing your entire life, and then call you forward to marry his nephew. He had provided clothing and coin for food and housing your entire life, but at no point had he ever bothered to come and see you, let alone claim you as his own. You saw that as nothing at all.
Yet, here you all were, and there he was, ready to name you a Targaryen and claim you publicly.
“Prince Baelor.” You said through gritted teeth, lowering your head slightly, still refusing to lower your body into a respectful bow.
There was a moment of silence, which felt deafening- no one quite knew what to say.
“Sister, it is nice to meet you at last. Though, I apologise for the circumstance.” Valarr said, his voice genuine and quite kind. You appreciated that, and so smiled at him, this time lowering your head further than you had moments before.
Aerion frowned at the interaction, foreseeing how Valarr’s presence would begin to annoy him more so than it usually did.
“Yes, always the gentleman aren’t you, Valarr?” Sarcasm dripped from Aerion’s words, his brows still frowning and his eyes dark.
Valarr did not reply, instead shooting him a sharp look.
You stood awkwardly, your arms dropping to your sides as you observed the frosty interaction closely, suddenly completely unsure of what to do with yourself. You felt as though a beam of light had been casted onto you, as though you were the largest thing in the room.
“Enough.” Prince Maekar announced after a few moments of tension. He looked at you, his expression holding nothing but boredom. “You and Prince Aerion shall stay here and eat, we shall vacate.”
A swarm of bees entered your stomach at the thought of being alone with your betrothed. Aerion was painfully handsome, yes, but his cruelty seemed to equal his beauty.
Aerion scrunched his face and parted his lips, you had anticipated his detest, yet before he could speak, Maekar held the palm of his hand to his face.
“Enough of your insolence.” He spoke quietly, almost as though he did not want the others to hear. Despite his intentions, all in attendance heard his words clearly.
You saw a flush of embarrassment wash over Aerion’s face, yet it only lasted for a short moment before returning to his usual glare.
Despite the daggers that he sent towards you, he was in fact silenced by his father. You could not help the smirk that arose on your own lips.
The dinner was awkward, and the only interaction that the two of you had were occasional insults, and a varied range of negative looks. You did not bother to attempt a conversation, and neither did he. The guards watched in silent amusement at the frosty atmosphere. Aerion seemed to hate you, unbelievably so.
That evening, you found yourself perched on a long, velvet chair in the library of Summerhall. It was comfortable, and was of the darkest shade of red. It was so comfortable that you had not quite realised how long you had been there.
Despite the grudge that you held for Baelor Targaryen, and in turn his entire family- your entire family, you could not help but to be grateful of the education in which he had ensured that you received.
You were very fond of reading, and not so very fond of people. Most people were insufferable, and you did not see the point in wasting your life by interacting with them.
Additionally, the books kept within the library were magnificent- a vast range of texts that spanned the large room in its entirety.
The clothing that adorned your body made you feel like an imposter; you had been essentially forced into the midnight black gown. You were reminded of your corset everytime that you breathed, which unfortunately, was quite a lot. You were not used to such restrictive, painful clothing.
Regardless of your imposter syndrome, you could not help but feel beautiful in the dress- you had never worn such fine materials. Half of your hair had been designed into an intricate braid, and the other half fell in waves over your shoulders.
You thought yourself thankful for the privacy, and vowed to spent as much time as possible surrounded by texts that would help distract you from your reality.
After two full moons had passed, you had half managed to successfully avoid Aerion for most of it. Though, he did seem to find ways to always make a lasting impression upon every small interaction.
He ignored for you an entire week when you first met, not bothering to acknowledge your existence at all at any dinners or private meetings, which had been arranged beyond either one of your controls. He made no effort whatsoever to interact with you, and he had seemed to want to hurt your feelings.
Hurt your feelings though, he did not. You did not care at all, which bothered him greatly.
One day, he had decided that he had grown bored of ignoring you. You sat at breakfast, spreading honey onto a piece of bread. Only you and Aerion sat at the table, but you had mastered the art of pretending to be alone whenever in his company.
“You have consumed a lot of honey.”
His words caused you to stop dead in your tracks.
“You have ignored me this entire time and now you tell me that I eat too much.”
“Precisely.”
Your relationship with Aerion quickly became a strange one. His ridiculous comments became less offensive, despite his tone always carrying conviction. He sat staring at you whenever you were near him, his eyes burning holes into you that became a new normal. Whenever Valarr tried to speak to you with kindness, Aerion would find a way to distract him and stop the conversation, whether that be discreetly or directly.
His differing behaviours, however, did not waver your own behaviours. You kept your fierce reactions, and used them when they were necessary- something that all the Targaryens seemed to be slightly grateful for, even if they did not admit it.
"I find myself wondering why a commoner would spend their days hiding in a library."
The sudden destruction of silence caused your head to snap upwards. There stood Aerion, his eyebrow slightly raised yet his other features monotone. He rested his back onto a book shelf, with his right hand crossed over his body so that he could rest it on the hilt of his sword.
You stared at him briefly, your mouth parted slightly in disbelief. You rolled your eyes at him, and closed your book as heavy handily as you could, causing a noise to ring out in the quiet space from the impact.
"I prefer the word avoiding, and it was going ever so well until you ruined it."
Aerion’s eyes darkened slightly at your words, though other than that, no reaction was shown.
“How did you learn to read?”
“I struggle to see why that is any business of yours.”
He pursed his lips, removing his shoulders from the wall and standing up straight.
“You are rude and insolent.”
You removed the book from your lap and placed it next to you, leaning back and crossing your right leg over the other.
“You are rude, insolent, and difficult to speak to.”
Aerion walked towards you, showing a clear sign of rage in his expressions. You wondered when he would stop, but he continued until he towered above you.
Despite your fear, you swallowed hard in an attempt to show as little emotion as possible. You would not give into him, and you certainly would not allow him to become aware that he frightened you.
“Would you care to say that to me again?” His teeth were gritted together as he looked down at you, his eyes locked into your own.
You peered up at him, your eyes larger than normal due to the angle that your head had to reach- your neck already hurting.
“You are rude, insolent, difficult to speak to, arrogant, cruel-“
“Enough.”
His command silenced you indeed, yet you could not help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth.
He did not confront your accusations, though he did stare at you for a while. Aerion studied you, every inch of you, in that moment. Your eyes, your nose, your mouth, the sharpness of your jaw, the apples of your cheeks, your flowing hair.
“Your hair is unacceptable.” He shook his head as he spoke. He used his finger and thumb to hold a piece of your dark locks, bringing it upwards so that he could look at it closely.
“My hair is beautiful.” You responded, allowing his hold to continue, your eyes still locked into his own- refusing to back down or give into his strange way of wanting to assert dominance.
“Who told you that?”
“Myself.” Your face held a glare.
You had expected Aerion to say something rude in response, express his differed opinion. He did not. Instead, he tilted his head as he continued to study your face before allowing your hair to fall from his fingers and stepped back.
In one swift movement, his legs bent and he sat beside you, bouncing back up slightly as he collided with the cushioned surface. You considered turning to face him, yet decided against it. Your forward facing position, however, did not stop you from feeling his gaze burning into the side of your head.
“We are to have children, I intend those children to be the perfect vision of a Targaryen.” He stated, his words grating on you more and more.
“You are excessively obsessed with hair,” you began, now turning your body to face him, “if you are so worried about your child’s hair colour then I suggest fucking your sister instead of me.”
Aerion’s eyebrow raised, surprisingly impressed by your fire. A smile tugged his mouth upwards forcefully. Your face flickered subtly at his reaction- it was not one that you had expected. He seemed to have made a habit of catching you off guard.
“No.” He shook his head, pursing his lips to stop his amusement. “I am betrothed to you.”
“Your family do not share the same concerns at you, it seems.” You said, choosing to ignore what he had said.
“Our family.” He corrected hastily, his face as hard as stone and his voice just as firm.
As far as you were concerned, you did not have a family- you never had.
You chose not to respond with words, instead huffing air out of your nostrils and facing your attentions onto your lap.
“Look at me.” He commanded.
Despite his seriousness, you did not do as he had told you too. And so, he used his hand to push your face sideward. His action did not hurt; he did not grip too fiercely, his touch felt more authoritative than invasive.
Your eyes met his once more, and despite his goal having been accomplished, his fingers stayed gripped under your chin. You let out a deep breath, not realising how long it had been since your last.
The pad of his thumb found your bottom lip. Slowly, he felt the plumpness of them and how dry they had become because of him. He felt the nervousness radiating from you, and he liked it.
You felt your heart begin to beat faster within your chest with each touch and look. Despite his arrogance and condescension, he was devastatingly handsome, and you could not deny that.
“I have seen the way that you look at me.” He said, his face moving closer to yours. “You pretend as though you hate me, but I do not believe that you do.”
“You decided that you despised me from the moment you saw me.” Your words came out slightly distorted, the grip on your jaw affecting your freedom.
“As did you.” His own words escaped him as a whisper. “You infuriate me, I find you extremely frustrating.” He admitted, this time his speech louder and certain.
You looked at him carefully, unsure of how to respond. You were offended, obviously; your very existence alone seemed to disgust him.
“I apologise that I am not the woman you dreamt of.”
You did not mean the apology, and he knew that due to the sarcasm that frothed at your words.
“I did not dream of anyone in such a way.”
Your brow furrowed in disbelief- everyone, regardless of how uptight they are, had dreamt of romance.
“Until you walked in and ruined it.”
Your head moved back ever so slightly in both surprise and confusion of his meaning.
“Ruined it?” You questioned, your words small as you became more and more aware of how close his face was to your own.
He tutted. “Your face,” he began, releasing your chin and moving his hand to hold the side of your face, “your voice,” his eyes flickered from your own to your lips, “everything about you sticks in my mind, like a poison.”
You saw a frustration within him, something that seemed to cloud his features completely. You stared at each other, though his darkened eyes did not match your brightly wide ones- complete opposites seeming to challenge each other.
You had no words to say, none at all. Many words, of course, swam within your mind, yet you could not find the gumption to speak them.
Luckily for you, you did not need any words for Aerion used the same hand that held your face to harshly bring you forward. His lips now ghosted yours, and you found yourself weakening at his touch, at the anticipation of what may unfold next.
He huffed, almost as though he did not understand what he was doing- almost as though he was angry at his own actions. His hot breath made you shiver, and you felt your knees become more and more unstable with every bit of contact that he had with your skin.
You could not take it any longer.
“Do it.” You challenged. That was all he needed.
His lips crashed onto yours- not what you had expected. Despite his seemingly cruel nature, you had expected the kiss to be somewhat gentle initially. Gentle it was not. Passion exerted from both of you as you panted, your lips battling one another’s in a desperate fight for pleasure. You felt his tongue tap your own, almost as though it was knocking to seek acceptance. You used your own tongue to invite his in further, craving the feeling of him.
The months of harsh words and looks seemed to have manifested themselves into this very moment. You were no longer sat gracefully on the chair, but more so crammed into the corner of it with him on top of you, your legs parted and bent upwards, your feet resting on the softness of the velvet.
His right hand stayed glued to the side of your face, and his left found yourself breast, his thumb tracing aching circles onto yours nipples. You moaned into his mouth at the tenderness of his touch, and brought your own hand to his throat, clutching it firmly, in turn causing a groan to escape him.
He broke away suddenly, looking down at you approvingly. He smirked at the sight of you- lips plump and swollen, your usually perfect hair a mess, and your legs parted- a vision of you he had imagined but had not yet seen in reality. The moment was better than he ever could have imagined.
With the hand that clasped his throat, you attempted to move his head closer to you once again, craving the feeling of his lips once more. Yet, he refused. He shook his head, a smirk still solidified on his lips at the sight of your desperation.
Aerion lowered his head once more, this time attaching his lips to your neck. He kissed gently at first, using his tongue to trail shapes onto your neck. Your sweet moans filled the room as you adjusted to the tender feeling, and his fingers continued to roam your body. Slowly, he began to use his teeth to nip your sensitive skin, occasionally sucking it- growing more and more vicious with every second. Your hands found their way to the back of his hair, tugging on it as your pleasure grew.
Finding your lips once more, you felt his tongue plunge into your mouth. Your lips no longer battled- your tongues now danced together in a way that seemed practised. Perfect.
You felt a hand in between your legs, and could not help the embarrassingly loud noise that escaped you when you felt the contact.
“What the fuck.”
A voice boomed through the quiet room, causing you to jump out of your skin. Aerion, however, did not seem at all bothered by the interruption. Both of your heads snapped towards the voice, Aerion still on top of you, and your legs still parted.
At the doorway stood Valarr, your brother, something that you knew would please Aerion to his core.
Valarr held a hand out to prevent his vision from landing at the sinned sight of you. Aerion laughed.
“What is wrong cousin? You have never seen a woman?”
Valarr seethed. “I was under the impression that you despised one another. I came to check on my sister.”
Aerion laughed once more, now peeling himself from you and in turn allowing you to sit up and smooth yourself down.
“To despise someone is very complicated.” Aerion said, using his own hands to smooth his own clothing downwards. “Perhaps one day you may understand.”
“I am going to tell my father.”
Aerion pursed his lips. “And what will you tell him? That you found me and my future wife getting to know one another?”
Valarr sighed in defeat at the realisation that both his father and his uncle would probably be delighted at his discovery.
“Do not worry Valarr,” A fake smile beamed on his face as he sat back down next to you, placing a possessive hand on your leg, “I intend to take very good care of the Princess.”
Work In Progress- snippet from The Dragon’s Witch chapter 8 (can find fic on Wattpad and ao3, the first few chapters are on here!)
Aerion x oc female
I haven’t proofread yet, and hoping to get this chapter out tonight because even though it’s my birthday all I want to do is write lol.
He had fallen asleep easily, light snores escaping him within minutes of laying his head onto the pillow. She, on the other hand, had been laying awake the entire time, attempting to make sense of all that had happened to her recently. Rag daunted her thoughts, she knew that he would not stop until he had her- especially if he were to catch wind that she was frolicking around with Aerion Brightflame. She did not intend to see him harmed, nor herself, selfishly.
Katelle moved slightly, hoping that if she moved position then perhaps she would be able to fall asleep. Carefully, she moved Aerion's arm from her waist. Despite her gentleness, Aerion awoke with a startle, his head raising and sleepy eyes now looking at her. She flashed an awkward smile, before muttering an apology.
"Why are you awake?" He rasped.
"I cannot sleep." She responded.
"Thinking about me?"
Katelle's eyes widened in the darkness, though he did not see her as she lay on her back, her head upwards. She found herself annoyed at his arrogance yet again, but on this occasion her annoyance stemmed from his accuracy.
She did not respond with words, instead tutting loudly. He let out a small, dry laugh and turned over. Bending his right arm behind himself, he grabbed Katelle and turned her body towards him, then found her hand, and lay it across his own waist.
Katelle tightened her hold and moved herself closer, her face now nestled into Aerion's bare back. She let out a quiet hum at the comfort that she felt from it, and squeezed her hands into his stomach. Aerion also let out a similar sound at the feeling it brought to him. The two of them felt a level of comfort that they had not yet before felt in this world, one that allowed them both to fall into a deep sleep.
Work In Progress- snippet from The Dragon’s Witch chapter 8 (can find fic on Wattpad and ao3, the first few chapters are on here!)
Aerion x oc female
I haven’t proofread yet, and hoping to get this chapter out tonight because even though it’s my birthday all I want to do is write lol.
He had fallen asleep easily, light snores escaping him within minutes of laying his head onto the pillow. She, on the other hand, had been laying awake the entire time, attempting to make sense of all that had happened to her recently. Rag daunted her thoughts, she knew that he would not stop until he had her- especially if he were to catch wind that she was frolicking around with Aerion Brightflame. She did not intend to see him harmed, nor herself, selfishly.
Katelle moved slightly, hoping that if she moved position then perhaps she would be able to fall asleep. Carefully, she moved Aerion's arm from her waist. Despite her gentleness, Aerion awoke with a startle, his head raising and sleepy eyes now looking at her. She flashed an awkward smile, before muttering an apology.
"Why are you awake?" He rasped.
"I cannot sleep." She responded.
"Thinking about me?"
Katelle's eyes widened in the darkness, though he did not see her as she lay on her back, her head upwards. She found herself annoyed at his arrogance yet again, but on this occasion her annoyance stemmed from his accuracy.
She did not respond with words, instead tutting loudly. He let out a small, dry laugh and turned over. Bending his right arm behind himself, he grabbed Katelle and turned her body towards him, then found her hand, and lay it across his own waist.
Katelle tightened her hold and moved herself closer, her face now nestled into Aerion's bare back. She let out a quiet hum at the comfort that she felt from it, and squeezed her hands into his stomach. Aerion also let out a similar sound at the feeling it brought to him. The two of them felt a level of comfort that they had not yet before felt in this world, one that allowed them both to fall into a deep sleep.
I’m in the middle of writing a few different things but they’ll be finished hopefully tomorrow and I want to write some requests I feel like I haven’t in ages!!! So pls if u want to request something go for it, they’re always open!
But wait!!!! Finn Bennett was asked if he’s returning to akotsk and he said we will see???? We will see????? I thought he defo wasn’t returning what’s happeninggggg
Summary: Aerion spends his entire life trying to please you, regardless of how difficult it may be.
Word count: I haven’t checked because I’m writing on my phone in the moment, but defo shorter than usual! Part 2 will be longer
I haven’t even read this back through tbh, and wanted to include an actual plot but didn’t want to make it too long so planning to write that later as a part 2- where there is something that he cannot provide for her. I’m at work so unable to format everything as I usually do on my laptop lol.
Warning: not really any, just a spoilt lady and a pandering Aerion
Master list
My requests are open
“I felt unloved by you today.”
The sadness in your voice cut through Aerion like a knife, yet the words themselves brought a small smile to his lips.
You felt the absence of his touch as he removed his hands from your back, where he had been carefully undoing your corset. Within the second, you felt the pressure of a hand on each of your hips, and was twirled so that you now faced him.
Aerion leant forward, planting a gentle kiss on your lips. Once parted, he did not move his face, instead holding himself there as closely as he possibly could, the ghost of him still touching you.
He bit the inside of his mouth briefly in order to stop his grin from broadening.
“And why would that be?”
He had no idea why you had felt neglected by him; he had held your thigh, as usual. He had stared at you for the majority of the evening, as usual. He kissed and held you at every opportunity, as usual.
You pursed your lips and looked away from him. He let out a short yet meaningful exhale, and used both his index and middle finger to turn your chin so that your eyes looked upon him once more.
“Don’t do this to me.” He darkened his eyes, his fingers still holding your face.
“You spoke to that woman.” You replied shortly, your voice closer to a whisper than anything else.
Aerion searched every crevice of his mind to find the memory of what you had accused him of. He stared at you, more so staring through you as he tried. Your eyes stayed firmly to the side, yet you could not help but to flicker between the window and your husband’s handsome face.
Then, he remembered. When introduced to a nobleman’s- someone he could not care to remember the name of’s- daughter. The conversation was brief, and Aerion had been as cold and rude as he usually was.
But it meant that he had taken his attention away from you for a few minutes, which, in your humble opinion, was an unbelievably long amount of time.
“My darling,” he began, now using both hands to hold your face in front of his to ensure that both of your eyes locked directly into his own. “My father would have hit me before everyone if I had ignored her and her father completely.”
“You did not even hold my hand.” Your response came with haste, indicating that you were not truly listening to his words, just thinking of your own.
Aerion allowed his smile to shine through, and so it did. Like sunlight beaming through an open window, Aerion’s white teeth flashed as he laughed. He often found himself cursing at your spoilt ways, yet he could not hold the curses for too long; you were a product of his own making- and he truly, truly adored it.
The Prince loved how much his lady wife relied on him, adored him, and asked from him. Most of all, he loved the fact that he was able to give you everything that your heart so desired, and more.
Aerion had been known to do an array of ridiculous things in order to provide you with things that you wanted, regardless of how small or large.
Notably, if you were to ask anyone whom resided within Summerhall, they would tell you about the tale of summer. It had been a brief flash of winter- barely even that. For one moon exactly, the sun did not blaze as strongly as it usually would have, and you could not stand it at all.
You believed your gowns to be much too fine to be hidden away by a cloak, and in turn refused to wear one. Despite how many times your handmaidens advised that you would stop shaking if you simply applied another layer. Aerion too attempted to reprimand you every time he caught you leaving the warmth of the castle with bare arms.
“Well, my dragon, if you wish for me to be warm, then you must find a way to bring me it without flames.”
Your words came with a beautiful smile, and if it was anyone else who had requested such a thing, he would have laughed.
But you were not anyone else, and he understood the seriousness that you spoke.
And so, both his family and the servants watched in amusement as he attempted to bring you summer. Aerion and two of his men spent hours in the library searching books- a desperate attempt to find anything that would help.
Eventually, Aerion found a page in an old text that spoke of a mirror- when angled at the sky in a particular way, the sun would shine off of it, in turn allowing a beam to flow through a gap in an open or closed window.
Additionally, one of his men heard word of a sorcerer in Lys whom claimed to be able to make birds sing on command. He sent word to the sorcerer, yet they drove a hard bargain and refused to come. Naturally, Aerion had to offer a price three times as much as his original offer.
Regardless of price, it worked.
Everyone watched in disbelief as you entered the large hall that day, and saw your emerald and gold embroidered chair waiting for you, in a patch of direct sunlight. A corner of the hall had been cornered off, and inside of the corner were a dozen birds all singing a melodic tune. Next to your chair, was a large platter of your favourite cakes.
You had let out a squeal of excitement, and jumped on him happily, wrapping your legs around his waist as you engulfed him in a passionate kiss.
In that moment, Aerion did not care for the money that he had spent, nor the time that he had wasted, for all that mattered was the fact that he had pleased you, once again.
Aerion had fallen in love with you the very first moment that he laid his eyes on you. You seemed to be an angel in the form of a woman as you stood confidently between two guards. Despite your smaller frame in comparison to the two men, whom were both of a tall and broad stature, your aura stood twenty feet above them.
Prince Maekar, Aerion’s father, had found himself to be a sweaty mess the entire morning before your arrival; his son, the self proclaimed dragon, had always voiced his lack of need for both lust and love- claiming that any man whom dedicated himself to one woman was a coward. You, a high born, proud woman, would never stand for such treatment.
Prince Maekar knew that, and in turn, he dreaded the outcome.
He watched Aerion carefully, and watched as his darkened, dangerous eyes vanished, and in their place came brighter ones, in a paler shade of violet. He watched just as carefully as you ignored everyone else who welcomed you, asked you questions and attempted to provide you with assistance. You were rude, yes, but you were not there for them.
You were there for the white haired man with the chiselled face.
You stood directly before him, not even bothering to look at anyone whom sat beside him. With your shoulders back, and a flick of your long locks, you placed your hand in front of him without a word. Aerion had looked up at you, confused. You, in turn, furrowed your eyebrows and gestured towards your delicate hand that still lingered in front of his face.
Everyone watched in anticipation, for they knew that if anyone would ever try and force such a pleasantly upon Aerion, it would be bound to end badly.
Yet, to their surprise, he smirked. His eyes locked into yours, and yours into his. Keeping his eyes held into a prison of your own, he leant up, grabbed your hand and raised it, planting a slow kiss onto your soft skin.
He fell in love with you in that moment, and you knew that you had stolen his heart, and planned never to release it.
What the Princess Wants, the Princess Gets (Part Two)
Pairing: Aerion x Spoilt Reader
Summary: as seen in part one, Aerion panders to your every want and need. Unfortunately, a situation arises where he cannot. This displeases you greatly.
Warning: the only warning here is smut tbh
Enjoy!
Can be read as a stand alone
Master list Part One
“The Princess will have another wine.” Aerion called out loudly, his body turned behind him, towards the servants. “Now.” He clicked, his impatience growing.
You did not look towards the direction though, you simply sat and waited. Shortly after the snap of his fingers, a small girl with scraggly hair came scurrying towards you, a firm clasp on the metal plated jug that seemed to be too big for her small, calloused hands.
Once your cup had been replenished, you gave a brief nod to communicate that the girl may now leave. In a panicked haste, she followed your silent command.
“This is possibly one of the most boring evenings of my entire life thus far.” You frowned as you spoke, raising your cup to your lips as you finalised your words.
Aerion found your hand, interlinking his fingers into yours. “Although I agree, my father specified that we must be in attendance for its entirety.”
He spoke with his usual abruptness, yet apprehension called out from the depth of his voice. He despised telling you the opposite of what you wanted to hear just as much as you despised hearing it.
You looked at him blankly and huffed before turning your head away from him, your right hand carelessly swirling the red wine in your hand.
Aerion too huffed, his eyes rolling briefly and his lips pursing together as he thought.
“How can I make it more entertaining for you, wife?”
Your ears perked up, and you turned your head towards him once again, the corners of your mouth tugging ever so slightly.
He watched as you thought with amused eyes, though the same amusement did not show on his lips.
“Perhaps,” you tossed your hair beyond your shoulder, “a duel would suffice.”
Aerion took a deep breath to calm himself, your request was ridiculous, and you knew that. His brows raised at you, and you simply watched him with expectance.
“Darling, I cannot turn this seemingly positive evening into one with gore.”
“Why not?” Your reply came immediately.
“My Prince, my Princess, my apologies for the interruption.” You heard an unfamiliar voice say, the tone polite. Your eyes rolled at the interruption, whereas Aerion’s glistened- he had been saved momentarily.
You did not look at the man, your eyes still locked onto your husband, still awaiting an answer. Aerion, however, faced forwards to see him. It was Lord Humfrey Hardyng, a noble from the vale. Aerion’s eyes scanned the man in his entirety.
“My lord.” Aerion said, though his tone was not driven by politeness.
“I believe that you have not yet met my daughter, lady Jeyne.”
Aerion did not respond, simply looking at the pair with the same monotone expression that he usually held firmly. Your husband knew that you would not appreciate his communication with another woman, even if it was a simple matter of polite politics. Dealing with you while in a bad mood would be much worse than an unpleasant exchange.
You, now momentarily giving up on Aerion’s explanation, turned your head to face the pair.
You had met Lord Humfrey before, and so you felt no need to acknowledge him. His daughter on the other hand, you had not met. Her hair was dark, almost jet black, and it sat wispily on her small shoulders. She looked quite young, perhaps a few years younger than yourself. Through no control of her own, she gawked at you.
“Do you not speak, girl?” You snapped, your arms now folded over one another. Aerion’s hand held your thigh firmly underneath the table, his fingers squeezing the skin underneath the fabric of your dress at the coldness of your words.
“My apologies, my lady, I-“
“My Princess.” You corrected, taking a large sip of wine before placing the cup back down on the table, the harsh metal clinking as it sat.
“My Princess, I express my deepest apologies.” The girl stuttered.
“All is forgiven.” You smiled a sickly sweet smile, fake of course, but a smile all the same. You looked at the girl more closely, and stopped abruptly when you saw the glistening stone on her neck. Your eyes widened in pleasure. Aerion groaned.
She wore a silver chain, one that was doubled and embroidered with hints of gold. The stone was an emerald snake that weaved intricately into rubies that glistened even in the dark candlelit hall.
“That is a fine necklace.” Your finger extended as you pointed towards her neckline, yet you did not speak to her, nor her father. Your words were directed to your husband, and he knew exactly why.
“It is, my love. A fine necklace indeed.” He agreed, placing a gentle kiss onto your cheek.
The girls face brightened, happy that the Princess herself had complimented her with such heartfelt words. Her Lord father, however, noticed the uneasy expression on Aerion’s face, and felt weary himself.
“Thank you, Princess, it is a family loom, it means a great deal to me.” The girl held the pendant as she spoke, her smile growing wider and wider with each passing moment. Your smile did not grow alongside it, though. It disappeared entirely.
“That is heartwarming indeed.” You said. “You are dismissed.” Your hand waved carelessly.
The girls smile dropped in confusion, and Lord Humfrey simply nodded before ushering his daughter away.
Your head turned back to face your husband’s, and he followed suit. You had intended to speak, but before you could, Aerion placed his lips to yours, inviting you into a kiss full of passion and love. You leant into it, of course, enjoying the hunger that drove him.
Yet, you would not be distracted that easily.
You pulled away after a little while, your hand placed on his chest as you gently pushed him from you. He groaned at the fact that he couldn’t feel the plumpness of your lips anymore, and begrudgingly opened his eyes. Despite the vast amount of people in the room with you, you both acted as though you were alone, as usual.
Using both hands, you smoothed his collar, allowing your hands to stay there as you pecked his lips once more.
“The necklace.” You said, your lips a mere centimetre away from his own. “I need it.”
As soon as Aerion had seen the necklace, he had known you would fall in love with it; it consisted of your two favourite colours, and its glowing intricacy and individuality were something that you looked for in every item that you owned.
He was just as certain that you would not stop until you had it.
Pushing out his chair and tightening his jaw as he forced his mouth shut, Aerion stood up. You looked up at him, a bright smile on your face now that you knew he would go to seek out what you desired. He stood above you and used his hand to hold your jaw, bending down, he placed a kiss to your forehead before walking away in search of the Lord and his daughter.
Unfortunately for Aerion, Lord Humfrey had outright refused his offer of a large sum of coin for the necklace. Although he had apologised profusely, he was absolutely certain that the necklace would not be leaving his daughters neck anytime soon. Aerion was worried that you may end up ripping it from her collarbone if you had to wait any longer.
Your husband cringed at the thought of having to tell you that you could not have it. It was the first instance where he would not be able to give you what you desire, and the very idea of it killed him.
Later that night, when he arrived to your shared chambers, he found you perched at the end of the bed, sat up straight, your right leg crossed over your left. You clasped your knee with your hands and bounced your hung foot in anticipation of his arrival- your impatience growing.
Your head visibly perked up when you heard your guard outside greet Aerion.
“My love.” He greeted, the huge oak door creaking behind him as it closed with a thud.
“My love.” You responded back to him.
“It is a complicated matter.”
Your body relaxed ever so slightly at the disappointment of his words.
“I do not see how? She has a necklace, I want it.”
A ghost of a laugh drifted through him at the simple stance you took on situations such as this.
“It is their family loom, they absolutely refuse to give it up, it would be a political nightmare.”
He sat next to you now, placing his hand on your bare thigh. You immediately removed his hand from your leg and shuffled away from him. Your husband raised his chin upwards and took a deep breath; preparing himself for what was to come, the way that you would now torture him.
“Alright.” Was all you had said. You did not even look at him, instead crawling underneath the thick furs that lay a top your bed, and closing your eyes with stubbornness.
Aerion lay next to you, he spent the entire night attempting to hold you or touch you in one way or another, but you swatted him away every single time. Even though you longed for him to hold you, to feel his skin on yours, your stubborn nature refused to give in.
For three whole sunrises, Aerion had not felt the tender touch of his wife. You would not let him anywhere near him, stating that he clearly did not love you enough, because if he did then you would have emerald and rubied snakes around your neck.
He brought you hundreds of different necklaces, ones that in his opinion were even more extravagant and expensive than the ones owned by the Lords daughter. But no, you refused them.
“Princess you are torturing me now.” He pleaded as he looked down on you. His knees crumbled as you looked up at him in that moment, your eyes shining in the sun light, looking so innocent and beautiful. He craved your touch, your kiss, your body. Yet you knew you would not give him what he desired until he had fulfilled your own wishes.
Without a word, you simply looked up at him with a sad expression, before huffing and looking away. He had tutted loudly, the familiar feeling of anger crashing through his bones.
And so he adventured out again, in the hopes of using his power of persuasion- which usually included violence, so he had no idea what he would do. He decided that he would not approach the Lord, but instead, Lady Jeyne herself.
Aerion wasted no time in stating what he wanted, and an immediate vision of panic washed over the young lady’s features.
“My Prince, I, I, I cannot. My family would never forgive me.” She clasped the pendant in her fingers.
Aerion gritted his teeth. “My wife will never forgive me.” He stated matter of factly, as though that would change anything.
Abruptly, the lady opened her mouth once more. “Do not tell my father I told you this, I beg of you, but-“ she paused.
“Continue.” The prince demanded.
“There is another, an exact copy of this one, kept by a family in Braavos. I am sure that they would sell it for a sum.”
That was all he needed, barely responding before crashing out of the room, a new found feeling of hope coaxing him forwards. Yet, as he approached the door, he had a thought. A thought that made his eyes widen, and caused him to stop completely.
“The princess would not stand for another lady wearing the same jewellery as her, you must leave.” He told her, half expecting her to argue it. She did not though, she simply agreed that she would travel back to the Vale before the duplicate would arrive.
And so Aerion spent the following evening and day in its entirety writing letters back and forth, bargaining. The final agreed settled price was one that he would try to erase from his memory entirely, and one that he would never dare to reveal to his father.
Finally, the necklace arrived, and as Aerion sat there watching the gems glow in the beaming light of the sun, he could not help but smile at the anticipated reward that you would give him that evening. He had missed you so much that his skin began to itch, and he craved the feeling of your mouth completely. The very idea of you underneath him made his mouth salivate.
You had been sulking in the library, mindlessly scanning the words on a book that you did not remember the name of, when you were summoned.
“Your husband wishes to see you.”
“It better be worth my time.” You told the man, who simply nodded, and extended a hand in front of him, signalling you to walk.
As you entered the hall, you found Aerion sat on a chair proudly, his shoulders back, a smirk on his handsome face, and a large box sat firmly on his lap. You fought the corners of your mouth, anticipating what lay under the cover.
“My Princess.” He said happily. He could not wait a moment longer before using both of his hands to carefully undo the fastening. He turned the box so that it faced you, and undid the lid slowly, revealing the beautiful jewel that sat inside.
You let out a sigh of relief, imagining the way that it would feel around your neck. Clapping your hands together joyfully, you danced towards him elegantly.
“Aerion, you did it!”
Truthfully, you had not actually expected him to successfully get the necklace, and had began to accept it- slowly but surely.
But, yet again, he had found a way to grant you what your heart desired.
“Shall I put it on you?” He asked, his smirk still sat stubbornly on his lips. His brow furrowed slightly when you shook your head.
“Not yet.” You turned your head towards the guards in the room. “Out.”
Aerion stay sat in the chair, and you planned to join him.
Now in front of him, you bent down and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on his lips. Using both hands, you equally as gently took the box off of his lap and placed it on the floor below, before straddling his thighs.
He sighed in pleasure at the feeling of you on top of him, his nose now trapped in the crevice of your neck. He took a breath inwards, the musky and sweet scent of your perfume filling his nostrils.
Using a hand, you held his chiseled jaw, and attached your lips to his once again. This time, much hungrier, your way of thanking him for his impeccable service.
As your tongues danced around each others, your hips naturally could not help but to grind onto his own, as you felt him grow harder beneath you. He groaned against your lips at the feeling, and wished that it would never end.
Yet it did.
Abruptly, you stood up, causing his eyes to snap open in detest. He relaxed again when you commanded that he remove his breeches. Hastily, he did as he was told, the complete hardness of him now springing free and bouncing off of his own stomach.
Sinking onto your knees, you looked up at him once more, and he nearly undone at the simple sight of you. A perfect depiction of beauty.
His eyes closed when he felt the wetness of your mouth around his cock, an embarrassing whimper escaping him at the feeling.
You were so talented with your mouth, in so many ways, and he thought of all of them as your tongue held him prisoner.
It did not take him long to come undone completely, and you happily swallowed it all. Standing up again, you wiped your mouth, your hands then immediately finding the hem of your dress, and hoisting it up so that you can straddle him once again.
Your sweet moans filled the room as you sank down onto him, the rhythm of both of your bodies meeting as one, like puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly.
Aerion thought that perhaps he should make you wait longer for items from this moment onwards, for although the torture of your absence was painful, this moment was worth it. So unbelievably worth it.
Summary: Aerion spends his entire life trying to please you, regardless of how difficult it may be.
Word count: I haven’t checked because I’m writing on my phone in the moment, but defo shorter than usual! Part 2 will be longer
I haven’t even read this back through tbh, and wanted to include an actual plot but didn’t want to make it too long so planning to write that later as a part 2- where there is something that he cannot provide for her. I’m at work so unable to format everything as I usually do on my laptop lol.
Warning: not really any, just a spoilt lady and a pandering Aerion
Master list
My requests are open
“I felt unloved by you today.”
The sadness in your voice cut through Aerion like a knife, yet the words themselves brought a small smile to his lips.
You felt the absence of his touch as he removed his hands from your back, where he had been carefully undoing your corset. Within the second, you felt the pressure of a hand on each of your hips, and was twirled so that you now faced him.
Aerion leant forward, planting a gentle kiss on your lips. Once parted, he did not move his face, instead holding himself there as closely as he possibly could, the ghost of him still touching you.
He bit the inside of his mouth briefly in order to stop his grin from broadening.
“And why would that be?”
He had no idea why you had felt neglected by him; he had held your thigh, as usual. He had stared at you for the majority of the evening, as usual. He kissed and held you at every opportunity, as usual.
You pursed your lips and looked away from him. He let out a short yet meaningful exhale, and used both his index and middle finger to turn your chin so that your eyes looked upon him once more.
“Don’t do this to me.” He darkened his eyes, his fingers still holding your face.
“You spoke to that woman.” You replied shortly, your voice closer to a whisper than anything else.
Aerion searched every crevice of his mind to find the memory of what you had accused him of. He stared at you, more so staring through you as he tried. Your eyes stayed firmly to the side, yet you could not help but to flicker between the window and your husband’s handsome face.
Then, he remembered. When introduced to a nobleman’s- someone he could not care to remember the name of’s- daughter. The conversation was brief, and Aerion had been as cold and rude as he usually was.
But it meant that he had taken his attention away from you for a few minutes, which, in your humble opinion, was an unbelievably long amount of time.
“My darling,” he began, now using both hands to hold your face in front of his to ensure that both of your eyes locked directly into his own. “My father would have hit me before everyone if I had ignored her and her father completely.”
“You did not even hold my hand.” Your response came with haste, indicating that you were not truly listening to his words, just thinking of your own.
Aerion allowed his smile to shine through, and so it did. Like sunlight beaming through an open window, Aerion’s white teeth flashed as he laughed. He often found himself cursing at your spoilt ways, yet he could not hold the curses for too long; you were a product of his own making- and he truly, truly adored it.
The Prince loved how much his lady wife relied on him, adored him, and asked from him. Most of all, he loved the fact that he was able to give you everything that your heart so desired, and more.
Aerion had been known to do an array of ridiculous things in order to provide you with things that you wanted, regardless of how small or large.
Notably, if you were to ask anyone whom resided within Summerhall, they would tell you about the tale of summer. It had been a brief flash of winter- barely even that. For one moon exactly, the sun did not blaze as strongly as it usually would have, and you could not stand it at all.
You believed your gowns to be much too fine to be hidden away by a cloak, and in turn refused to wear one. Despite how many times your handmaidens advised that you would stop shaking if you simply applied another layer. Aerion too attempted to reprimand you every time he caught you leaving the warmth of the castle with bare arms.
“Well, my dragon, if you wish for me to be warm, then you must find a way to bring me it without flames.”
Your words came with a beautiful smile, and if it was anyone else who had requested such a thing, he would have laughed.
But you were not anyone else, and he understood the seriousness that you spoke.
And so, both his family and the servants watched in amusement as he attempted to bring you summer. Aerion and two of his men spent hours in the library searching books- a desperate attempt to find anything that would help.
Eventually, Aerion found a page in an old text that spoke of a mirror- when angled at the sky in a particular way, the sun would shine off of it, in turn allowing a beam to flow through a gap in an open or closed window.
Additionally, one of his men heard word of a sorcerer in Lys whom claimed to be able to make birds sing on command. He sent word to the sorcerer, yet they drove a hard bargain and refused to come. Naturally, Aerion had to offer a price three times as much as his original offer.
Regardless of price, it worked.
Everyone watched in disbelief as you entered the large hall that day, and saw your emerald and gold embroidered chair waiting for you, in a patch of direct sunlight. A corner of the hall had been cornered off, and inside of the corner were a dozen birds all singing a melodic tune. Next to your chair, was a large platter of your favourite cakes.
You had let out a squeal of excitement, and jumped on him happily, wrapping your legs around his waist as you engulfed him in a passionate kiss.
In that moment, Aerion did not care for the money that he had spent, nor the time that he had wasted, for all that mattered was the fact that he had pleased you, once again.
Aerion had fallen in love with you the very first moment that he laid his eyes on you. You seemed to be an angel in the form of a woman as you stood confidently between two guards. Despite your smaller frame in comparison to the two men, whom were both of a tall and broad stature, your aura stood twenty feet above them.
Prince Maekar, Aerion’s father, had found himself to be a sweaty mess the entire morning before your arrival; his son, the self proclaimed dragon, had always voiced his lack of need for both lust and love- claiming that any man whom dedicated himself to one woman was a coward. You, a high born, proud woman, would never stand for such treatment.
Prince Maekar knew that, and in turn, he dreaded the outcome.
He watched Aerion carefully, and watched as his darkened, dangerous eyes vanished, and in their place came brighter ones, in a paler shade of violet. He watched just as carefully as you ignored everyone else who welcomed you, asked you questions and attempted to provide you with assistance. You were rude, yes, but you were not there for them.
You were there for the white haired man with the chiselled face.
You stood directly before him, not even bothering to look at anyone whom sat beside him. With your shoulders back, and a flick of your long locks, you placed your hand in front of him without a word. Aerion had looked up at you, confused. You, in turn, furrowed your eyebrows and gestured towards your delicate hand that still lingered in front of his face.
Everyone watched in anticipation, for they knew that if anyone would ever try and force such a pleasantly upon Aerion, it would be bound to end badly.
Yet, to their surprise, he smirked. His eyes locked into yours, and yours into his. Keeping his eyes held into a prison of your own, he leant up, grabbed your hand and raised it, planting a slow kiss onto your soft skin.
He fell in love with you in that moment, and you knew that you had stolen his heart, and planned never to release it.
Summary: someone on tiktok requested I write a desperate Aerion fic so that’s what I’ve done lol. No smut, I want to write a separate smutty one!
Aerion insistently asks for your hand in marriage but you keep refusing him
Haven’t proofread as usual I’m sorry about that.
Master list
Aerion felt like a prisoner in his own mind these days, and you were the very reason.
You had known each other for a year and a little bit, and you had weakened him upon every meeting. Aerion had been trying to marry you for over half of it, yet you said no every single time.
The reason was not that you did not love him, no. That was too simple. Of course you loved him, too much at times. You feared that Aerion may grow bored with you in time, and everyone knew what happened to people whom Aerion Brightflame grew bored with.
Unbeknownst to you, he himself could barely fathom the well of love in which he had fallen. He both adored and desired you with his entire being. An obsession, almost. One that he could not escape free from, and what made it harder was your constant refusal to become his wife. Every time you said no, the knife in his heart slit deeper. He did not know what he could do to assure you that he would always love you.
Many times had Aerion humiliated himself both with an audience and without, in the comfort of your furs.
Various people of the realm had witnessed desperate pleas for your hand, and then you refusing him gently, ensuring to plant a kiss on his lips- an attempt to lessen the blow significantly.
The proposals quickly transformed into something less traditional, and more so in the form of sarcastic comments, and remarks.
Once, at a feast, Aerion had consumed a few too many cups of wine- an import from Dorne which had been far stronger than the red that he was used too, and began skulking around as he watched people laugh and dance.
He had not seen you for a while, and so had set off on a hunt to find you and bring you back by his side, where you belonged.
Much to his dismay, he saw that you were in conversation with another man, a lord of somewhere, he was sure, yet the name he did not care to know. What he did care to know, however, was why that man stood above you with a grin on his face. He could not see your own expression, just the intricate braids that danced upon your head, and the loose, long waves that cascaded over your shoulders and back, resting comfortably on top the black bodice that you wore.
He fastened his pace slightly, and crossed the room directly towards you. Once next to you, his right hand snaked around your waist, his silver crowned fingers gently smoothing down the Targaryen red lace of your dress. Despite not being his wife, he still insisted that you wore his house colours. You knew it to be a way of showing the suitors of the realm that you were not available by any means.
He stood proudly, eyeing the man before him. The man’s grin did not fade, though. Instead, he welcomed him, spouting a paragraph of pleasantries.
As the man spoke his boring stories, more lords and ladies joined the conversation, all laughing in a choir at his tales and jokes. You laughed too, occasionally. Yet you did not laugh much. You did not care much for ridiculous lords and their rancid ways of funniness.
After a while, the jokes stopped, and the man sauntered away, mumbling something about being hungry. The lords and ladies that surrounded you stayed where they were, partaking in a conversation that you were half listening too.
You felt Aerion’s hand squeeze your hip gently, and in turn swivelled your head so that it gazed upon his face. Darkened in the candle light, his features looked sad. You furrowed a brow.
“What is wrong, my Prince?” You asked, your words soft.
“Do you prefer him?” His question came out louder that he had intended, and as a consequence, a few heads turned towards the couple.
A surprised laugh escaped you, one that you could not hold. Aerion did not laugh, though. His face was dark, and he looked expectant of an answer.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” You said sternly, placing a hand on your hip. “Why would I prefer that insolent man?”
Aerion furrowed a brow slightly, and rolled his eyes. “Why won’t you make me a husband, then?”
Your eyes widened at his sudden question, as did the eyes of the lords and ladies whom surrounded you. You felt trapped by them, and wished that a sudden tragedy would occur just so that they wouldn’t be able to see you for a second longer.
“It is not that simple.”
“Yes it is.”
You tutted at his words, and the quickness of them. His jaw tightened as he gazed at you, seemingly not bothered that an entire room of people watched.
You could not ignore the eyes that burned through you, and so you used both hands to hoist the hem of your dress, and began to walk towards the exit of the room.
Aerion made a noise of frustration, something between a grunt and a mirrored tut, before following you closely on your heel.
You felt a firm hand grip your velvet coated arm, which made you pause and turn.
“My love burns for you, please allow me to make you a princess.” His plea had turned from dark and stern, to light and desperate. A sigh escaped you, your heart thundering and the overwhelming setting paired with your own wine consumption meant that the room began to spin ever so slightly.
“As does mine for you.” Your eyes flickered between the crumbling Prince before you, and the audience who preyed on you both. “A worthy proposal shall not be one of a random statement, on a random evening.”
Aerion pouted at you slightly, his lips pursing as he realised that he would be unable to get his way as he usually would. Lightly, he held your hand in his and slowly brought it up to his mouth. Peppering kisses faintly, his eyes stayed locked into yours.
You had to make a conscious effort not to smirk as you looked down at him. He was such a pretty sight- the way his usually upright posture had sunken towards you, his eyes a prisoner of your own. So pathetic.
But that was what you deserved, even from the proud Prince, especially from the proud Prince.
It would take much more than that to gain your hand.
From that day, the influx of presents and gifts doubled. Since meeting you, Aerion had gone above and beyond to ensure that he showered you and spoilt you with anything and everything in which your heart desired; the rarest of flowers from the free cities, the rarest of fragrances so that your scent differed from all other ladies at court, the most expensive jewels hand made especially for you, exotic sweet treats, and multiple dragon trinkets.
The more desperate Aerion became, the more desperate the gifts became. Hand written poems on ink stained parchment- you could imagine him sat there for hours upon hours, writing and then scribbling and then writing again. You smiled at the thought, the sweet thought. You felt guilty for the men that had to stay with him while he did these things, you could only imagine how he took his anger and frustrations out on them.
His desperation had also manifested itself in the art of trying to impress you. He had always done this, yet he had equally, always made an effort to be subtle in his ways. Though as his want for you grew deeper, so did his outright ways of gaining your attention.
While jousting, you had been perched on your uncomfortable chair, shivering in the winter air. The deep, black, velvet cloak that adorned your body seemed to provide little to no warmth, and your impatience grew. You despised tourneys and jousts alike- finding them insolent, and a waste of time.
It did not stop your eyes from leaving Aerion, though. Something about his armour and the way he fought lit a fire within you in the form of desire. Something about the way he moved, the added arrogance that he carried himself with, made you weak at the knees; his adrenaline from the physicality always meant that his performance in your chambers exceeded the previous.
On this day in particular, you had taken note of his added aggression. Your silver haired Prince had always found aggression to be natural to him, however, on this day the dragon that lay within him seemed to have fully awoken.
As soon as the horn had sounded throughout the arena, Aerion wasted no time by performing to the crowd. His opponent, sadly for him, had decided that he wished to show off to the crowd before beginning. A bad choice, it seemed.
As the man frolicked around on his horse, his eyes scanning the audience, Aerion winked at you and lowered the face on his helm. Without a second thought, he charged full force towards his unbeknownst opposition. The impact was loud, and rang throughout the stadium in its entirety. The man fell from his horse immediately, clasping his knee which had smashed onto the mud first, the rest of his body following afterwards.
To yours and everyone’s surprise, Aerion did not smirk, he did not parade. He simply lifted the face of his helm once more, and looked to you.
“Did you see that, my love?” His voice called loudly. The crowd watched whole heartedly at his display, shocked at how childish his words had sounded.
“I did, my dragon.” You called back, though your words came much quieter than his had.
You felt Aerion’s father, Prince Maekar, shift uncomfortably beside you.
“Seven hells boy, get a grip, will you?”
Maekar’s hiss earned a loud laugh from you, though that was absolutely not his intention. He could not bare to watch his son’s desperate pleas for a moment longer. Unfortunately for him, shutting Aerion up would not be that easy.
Using his feet to kick, Aerion urged his horse towards you from the opposite side of the grounds. He stared expectantly as he rode, and you could have predicted what words would leave his lips next, as could all witnesses.
“Put me out of my misery and marry me.” He may as well have cried, for his words were coated with a certain sadness- one of drama and longing. He always was one for dramatics.
You said nothing. Instead, your arms slowly crossed over one another and your lips pursed. You would not be doing this today.
Aerion huffed as he stared up at you; the brightest star in a dark sky. Your beauty roared out to him, especially considering the miserable weather and grey clouds above you; they somehow exentuated your bright features, whereas others blended within it, you stood out. His jaw tightened in frustration, his own mind whispering to him, begging him to calm down.
“Tell me what it is I lack!” You heard his voice roar. Taken aback, you leant forward slightly, analysing him with your eyes. His handsome face cracked, and you genuinely believed for a second that he may weep.
The words of the silver haired prince were ones of pure irony. The most arrogant man in all of the seven kingdoms, the one whom had spent his entire life thinking that he lacked nothing. The one whom had always detested love and pandering, now screamed his love from the top of his lungs in front of the realm, needing to understand why the one woman he had devoted himself too will not marry him.
Aerion was many things, but unintelligent was not one of them. He knew how people viewed him, what they said of him. He knew that they all spent their days whispering, and every time he made a public comment about his devotion meant another week of gossip for ladies and servants alike. They could not believe his openness, yet they did not realise that he could have said much worse.
Many a time had he stopped himself from confessing to bedding you, detailing how you screamed his name. He would not ruin your reputation like that- though people already knew of the relationship in which you shared. How could they not?
“You lack patience, my dragon.”
You said simply, a small smile playing on your lips. Aerion’s eyes darkened as he thought about what you had said. He did lack patience, that was true. Despite this, he did not see how that was relevant to this situation. He kicked his feet inwards, in turn urging his horse forward, closer to you. He commanded his steed to stop, and then climbed off of him, landing into the mud with a squelch.
You leaned closer as he walked, your elbow now resting on your lap. His father tutted from beside you.
“What the fuck is he doing now?”
You briefly acknowledged Maekar’s words before turning back to your prior position. Aerion had not taken his eyes off of you, just how you liked it, and he did not plan too anytime soon. His eyes still locked into yours, he used his feet to feel the metal and then began to scale the frame that held the box in which you sat. You kept his eye contact with amusement, though you couldn’t deny the part of you that feared he would fall.
He did not, though. Proclaiming his desperation was one thing, but falling from a height in front of you all was something that he believed he would never recover from.
Aerion emerged directly in front of you, and you allowed a laugh to leave your lips.
“You are an idiot.”
The corners of his mouth turned. “That I am.”
Before you had a chance to react, his right hand reached out and grabbed the back of your head. Aerion crashed his lips onto yours before everyone- not something that was uncommon. Yet, this kiss was far too hungry for an audiences consumption. You did not complain though, you leant into him happily, equally as hungry as he was. He let go abruptly, and smirked as he used the pad of his thumb to swipe your lips, before climbing down the stand with ease.
That night, when visiting your chambers, he had used both hands to grab both sides of your face.
“You make me look a fool daily.”
“You act a fool daily.”
He let out a frustrated grunt at your words, still holding your face.
“Put me out of my misery.” He pleaded.
“When you ask me the way that I deserve, perhaps.”
His grip relaxed slightly.
“I have asked you countless times in countless ways.”
“How do you know that I will not bore you eventually?”
Aerion relaxed his hands completely, his face scrunching as he did so. A small laugh escaped him. “What a ridiculous question.”
He saw that you did not share the same humour.
“How would I ever bore of you?” He asked, now pouring himself a cup of wine.
You shrugged, suddenly not wanting to look at him properly. “I do not know. It is just something that I think of. That I am wary of.”
The conversation had stopped there, although Aerion very much wanted to continue it. You had refused to expand, not wanting to admit that your queries had been born from your own unsaid insecurities.
Exactly one week later, Aerion had told you that you needed to look your absolute best that evening. He said that his father would be hosting a grand feast and had invited all high up nobles in the realm. When you had asked him to expand with details of exactly whom and why, you had not quite believed his response, due to the lack of information that came with it.
Regardless, you did as you were told and dressed in your finest gown, ensuring to weave more jewels than usual through your long locks.
Aerion had been correct; even the warden of the north and his family had travelled through the cold to attend. You had no idea as to why they would bother, the Starks had never shown a great love to the Targaryen’s. You did not question it, though. You simply smiled and spoke your pleasantries, as was expected of you. Your father, friend of Aerion’s father, sat on the right hand side of you, while the Prince’s empty chair sat on your left.
“Where is he?” Your words were impatient. Your father peered at you and watched as you tapped your nails against the bottom of the silver cup in front of you.
“I do not know.” Your father had replied, knowing fully well of where Aerion was, worried as to how this evening would turn out.
Your impatience grew, and with it, anger. Yet just as you were about to leave your seat in order to find Aerion yourself, a loud horn sounded, the noise of it echoing off of the grand stone walls.
An old man whom you didn’t care to learn the name of but recognised called out, his shrill voice piercing through your ears. You had wondered who would require such an announcement this late into the evening.
You should have known that it would be Aerion.
The huge, metal plated oak doors were pushed open and in walked the man that you had been waiting for all night. You were surprised to see that his usual proud saunter had turned into something lighter- a nervous walk. He did not shrink by any means, yet his shoulders were slightly more forward than they usually would be. You knew him too well to not notice something so slight, but existent.
Behind him were two larger men carrying a heavy chest.
Once it had been placed down with a thud, Aerion stood in front of it and took a deep breath, before clasping his hands in front of him and looking at all of the people within the hall.
“As you are all aware, I hate parties and speaking.” His words lacked emotion, and you watched as people sat at their tables with confused expressions, equally as perplexed.
“You have all watched, as of recent, how I have begged the woman that I love to marry me. Equally, you have all watched as she had denied me every time.” He paused, his gaze now finding you.
“I do not mind being the subject of humiliation if it means that I can prove my dedication to you.” With his words, he turned his attentions to the chest on the floor. With one hand holding the hilt of his blade, he used his free one to slip the lock from the front of the chest, in turn allowing the lid to open.
“I have not known you for as long as I may have liked too, yet I feel like I have known you a lifetime. Hence why I have kept everything.”
Your brows furrowed slightly, unsure of what he had meant.
Your confusion did not last long, however, because Aerion then proceeded to remove items from the chest. Parchment, flowers, books, other things too small to see properly with your naked eye. He leant forward, grabbing hand fulls of objects and then held them up one by one to explain the meaning of each one.
“The first poem that you ever wrote me, the one about when you first saw me.”
Your heart warmed at his words and actions, you had not realised that he held such a value on the items that you had given. Despite your embarrassment for the confession that you wrote him poetry, your happiness made itself obvious by the wide grin on your face- your white teeth flashing in the flicker of the candlelight.
Once he had explained the twentieth item, Aerion closed the chest once more, and then went back to his original stance.
“You are the most unbelievable woman that I have ever known, so before all that witness,” the silver haired prince sunk down to his knees, “I am begging you, please, my love, please be my wife.”
He looked pathetic, a vision of desperation in human form. You had not paid much attention to the prying eyes within the hall since he had begun to speak, but you could not help but notice the wide eyes of the table closest to him.
Aerion stayed on his knees, his head bowed towards you, his eyes on the floor below. And now, all eyes lay on you.
Slowly, you pushed your chair out, your father attempting to whisper something in your ear- you did not listen. You stood up and made the short journey towards him, and stopped when his face aligned with your knees.
“Aerion.” You said, in turn, Aerion’s head raised, a look of apprehension obvious on his features. Fear, even. Scared of what you would do and say. He had lay his heart bare for all to see, and he feared he may not recover if you deny him again.
Now, on his knees looking up at you, Aerion did not just seem like the vision of desperation, but of pure beauty.
“I adore you more than anything in this world, Brightflame.” Your words echoed, despite your tries to quieten them. “Stand.” You commanded.
And so he did.
“This was the proposal that I deserved.” You confirmed, his eyes brightening at your words. “Of course I will be your wife.”
Aerion let out a sound that no living soul had ever heard him make, before picking you up and spinning you around, hie lips immediately attaching yourself to yours. The lords and ladies of the realm watched with a strange feeling- a peculiar mixture of fondness and disgust, as they watched the man known for cruelty repeatedly kiss every part of your face.
Aerion had learned from all of this that sometimes things are not simply bought, they must be earned.
Small snippet of chapter seven: ‘Claimed’ from The Dragon’s Witch ( out now on wattpad and ao3)
Aerion Targaryen x OC female
Can be read as a small stand alone imagine, if you would prefer :)
Boldly, Aerion used his right hand to clasp the top of Katelle's neck. He held her firmly, yet not nastily. Katelle jumped slightly at the sudden action, a small gasp escaping her. Her eyes stayed firmly on Aerion's lips, despite her attempts to move them towards his eyes- she could not.
Still holding her chin, he leaned his face closer. The sounds of the street seemed to fade, leaving only the space between them and the frantic beat of Katelle's heart.
Aerion's gaze dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes, as if giving her one final chance to pull away.
She did not.
The corner of his mouth curved upward.
Then he closed the distance.
The kiss was slow at first, almost cautious, betraying none of the arrogance that usually coloured his every word. His hand remained at her neck as though he feared she might disappear if he let go. Katelle froze for the briefest instant before leaning into him, fingers curling into the front of his tunic.
When they finally parted, neither moved far.
Aerion rested his forehead lightly against hers, a rare softness settling over his features.
“There," he murmured.
Katelle swallowed.
“There what?"
A faint, victorious smile appeared on his lips.
"I was beginning to tire of waiting."
Katelle, wanting to send a message of her own, tightened her grip on the front of his tunic.
Before Aerion could speak again, she pulled him back to her.
The second kiss held none of the hesitation that the first had.
It was hungry, deliberate, born of weeks of stolen glances, lingering touches, and words neither of them had dared say aloud, yet had both thought countless times. Aerion gave a low sound of surprise against her lips before sliding one hand from her neck to her waist, in turn drawing her closer.
She rose slightly onto her toes, and in response, Aerion tightened his fingers at her side, intended to keep her solidified exactly where she was.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing harder than before. Aerion stared at her for a long moment. Then a slow grin spread across his face, the hunger in his eyes still clear.
