The Maze Runner Masterlist

The Maze Runner Masterlist

Original Works

Gally

Sweet Pandemonium Series

Promise Me

Promise Kept

NSFW Alphabet

Under The Gun (2.3k words)

To Plant A Seed (2k words)

Requests

Gally

His Hoodie

You Are My Sunshine

Nightmares

Thigh Riding *NSFW Warning*

Catawampus

Game Over *NSFW Warning*

Tearing Me Apart (Gally & Newt) *TW*

Newt

Abolish The Page

Lighthouse *NSFW Warning*

Choices We Make

Thomas

Tattoos (Soulmate AU)

Leftover Ink (Part 2 of Tattoos)

Leftover Ink (Part 3) *NSFW Warning*

Stalemate

Miscellaneous

Crank!Reader *TW*

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🎵KING OF SHADOWS, KING OF SHADES, HADES WAS KING OF THE UNDERWORLD🎵

"Seeds of Love" - Hades!Daemon Targaryen x Persephone!Reader

a/n: the second installment of my greek gods/goddesses au! the next one will be hephaestus!aemond or dionysus!aegon 🤭

Summary: Daemon, the God of the Underworld, claims you, the sweet Goddess of Spring, for his own.

TW: dubcon, canon typical incest (reader is a velaryon), profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, abduction, fingering, oral f receiving, p in v sex, size kink/breeding kink if you squint

Word Count: 3,200 words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️

Sometimes, Daemon loves his position as God of the Underworld. He is not tied to King’s Landing and all its politics, rather, he is free in his own domain. Perhaps it is a bit dark and a bit gloomy, full of the dead, of course, but it is his home. His kingdom. He was always meant to be a king, he thinks, and in a way, Viserys has given him that. So, he does his best to be grateful for the life he has been given.

However, there are days when even his three-headed dragon, Caraxes, is not enough to bring him joy, days where his nymph lover, Mysaria, is not enough to soothe the emptiness inside of him, the darkness that threatens to consume him whole. On those days, he travels to King’s Landing, walking through the gardens, the Kingswood, anywhere he can bask in the sun, if only for a moment.

It is on one of those days that he sees you for the first time. The Goddess of Spring, the sweet daughter of Corlys, the God of the Sea, and Rhaenys, the Goddess of the Harvest. From what Viserys has told him, your parents have kept you safely cloistered away, far from the eyes of any gods who may wish to claim you. The God of War, Aemond, and the God of Wealth and Luck, Jacaerys, both sought your hand but were swiftly denied by your mother, who went so far as to hide you on Dragonstone for a time, fearing that one of them would steal you away.

However, it would seem that you have returned to King’s Landing. Daemon remains in the shadows, watching as you walk, adorned in a dress of fine white silk, a symbol of your purity, flowers in your hair denoting your status as the Spring Goddess. He watches as you walk, flowers blooming everywhere you step. He cannot take his eyes off of you, admiring the way the sunlight glows on your skin, your dainty bare feet that prompt flowers to bloom, the curves of your body barely hidden beneath your dress…

Daemon watches as you enter the Kingswood, accompanied by your entourage of nymph attendants, one of whom begins braiding your hair. You look beautiful, he muses, as you braid one of the nymphs’ hair in return before turning your attention to weaving yourself a crown of flowers, specifically daffodils. Daemon notes with no small degree of delight that your mother is nowhere in sight. So, he approaches you, the nymphs scattering when they see him approaching, his presence formidable.

You, however, do not notice him at first, a fact which amuses him greatly. He takes a few steps closer before saying your name in a soft, almost whispering voice.

You turn to look at him, your lips parted in surprise, “Yes?”

He smiles at this, finding your reaction to his presence adorable. His violet eyes seem to almost pierce through you as he stands tall before you, taking another step closer, his gaze flickering down to your lips, so soft and so very kissable. He feels a heat growing in his chest, a desire to take you back with him to the Underworld and claim you for his own. However, seeing the trepidation in your gaze, he realizes he must be careful.

“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld,” he says in a smooth baritone.

You stand up, backing away slightly, seeming to recognize him, “Does my mother know you are here, Prince Daemon?”

Daemon is not in the least bit put off by your reaction. In fact, he feels excited by it as he takes a step closer to you, his eyes greedily drinking in the sight of your curves as you move, so graceful and smooth.

“No, we happen to be away from your mother,” he says, not once looking away from you.

“Aren’t you meant to be in the Underworld?” you ask him, curious little thing that you are, gazing up at him, “Mother says you hardly come to the Keep.”

Daemon grins at you, moving in ever closer, “Sometimes I feel the urge to leave. To revel in the sun and its warmth. And when I do leave, I enjoy the company of beautiful women such as yourself.”

“She’ll be quite angry if she sees me talking with you,” you trail off, a bit uncertain as you continue moving away from him.

He continues walking toward you, slowly, almost like a lion getting ready to attack its prey, his gaze appraising you, “Why? Does your mother not trust her sweet daughter?”

“She trusts me,” you protest, your back hitting a tree, stopping you in place, “She says that it is men who cannot be trusted.”

Daemon’s grin grows wider at the realization that you cannot continue to move away from him. He moves closer to you, a primal urge deep inside of him taking control, a hunger growing in his stomach, though not for food. His eyes are filled with lust and his breathing grows heavier. He swears he can hear your heart beating just as fast as his.

“Does it not bother you to have people treat you like a fragile flower?”

You glower up at him slightly, bristling with annoyance, “I am a goddess. I am not fragile.”

Daemon enjoys the way you stand your ground, the fire in your eyes, as a mischievous smile graces his lips, “Oh, I know that, sweet one. The only fragile thing here is the restraint I am having to show in not just taking you and claiming you as my own.”

You arch a brow, crossing your arms and looking at him with an unimpressed expression, “I see why my mother says men are not to be trusted.”

He chuckles, loving the way you hold your own against him, your pride only further intriguing him, “That is a very narrow-minded thing for you to presume, my sweet, most men may be bad but not all. But,” he leans in close to you, his breath tickling your lips as he murmurs, “I do have bad intentions.”

You gaze up at him through your lashes and question, “And what bad intentions are those?”

Daemon’s eyes run the length of your body before returning to your eyes, then down to your lips, “My intentions are bad, wicked. Dark. I have never felt like this before, but right now I feel like I have to have you, no matter the cost.”

You are about to answer him when none other than your mother appears, giving Daemon a scathing look for having dared approach you. She drags you off, Daemon is sure, lecturing you all the way on the dangers of speaking to him. Yet, you turn and glance back at him over your shoulder, curious, as you disappear back into the Red Keep. Daemon’s gaze on you is hungry. You may have eluded him this time, but there will certainly be another day.

Daemon, for the first time in a long while, goes to Viserys, the God of Lightning, his dear older brother, for advice. And Viserys, happy to spite Rhaenys, is glad to give it. After all, a goddess of your age should not be sequestered away in the Red Keep, as far as he is concerned. So, the two hatch a plan, one that will ensure that Daemon gets what he wants.

He finds you a few days later, gathering flowers, looking as beautiful as ever. He observes you for a few moments, the heat inside him rising to new heights. He thinks of the plan he and Viserys concocted, his blood feeling as though it is boiling beneath his skin. Daemon makes his approach, grabbing you by the hips from behind.

“Hello again, my beautiful goddess.”

You freeze in place, though not for fear of him, he realizes as you respond, “I am not supposed to speak to you.”

You turn to face him and Daemon stares you directly in the eyes, moving closer, “Your mother?”

“Yes,” you say, slowly backing away, dropping the flowers you were gathering.

There is something in your eyes that Daemon cannot quite put his finger on as he gazes at you. Curiosity? Or perhaps something akin to desire? He has every intention of finding out. He grabs your wrist, though not roughly, pulling you flush against his chest.

“I think you ought to learn to listen to how you feel rather than what others tell you,” he says, eyes darting between your lips and your beautiful eyes which continue to gaze at him.

That is when you hear it. A rumbling. You gasp, looking around as the ground begins to shake. And soon, a great chasm opens near where you and Daemon stand.

“What’s happening?” you breathe, panicked.

Daemon grins at you as he pulls you into his arms, dragging you down with him, murmuring into your ear, “You are coming with me, sweet flower.”

You close your eyes in fear as the two of you fall for what seems like an eon, but truly isn’t more than a few moments. When your eyes open, you realize where you are. Daemon’s domain. The Underworld. You look around, realizing you are on the bank of the River Styx, staring somewhat awed at the sight, only to panic once more when a restless spirit attempts to drag you into the dark waters. You yelp and cling to Daemon, your chest pressed against his side in a way that allows him to feel you in all your splendor.

Your sweet little noises excite the God of the Underworld even more as he holds you close, “Do not panic, little one. There is nothing to fear. I will take you to a place where no one will be able to find you, not even your mother. A place where you will be mine.”

You mumble under your breath, “I do not like it here…”

Daemon lifts your chin so that you meet his eyes, “You will soon,” he pauses before adding, “Have you any idea how badly I want you right now?”

You are about to answer when you are interrupted by a low growl, one that does not come from the man beside you. You all but shriek and grab onto Daemon even closer as his great three-headed beast, Caraxes, approaches, staring you down.

“Fear not, little one,” Daemon chuckles, “You are perfectly safe with me. Caraxes knows you are under my protection.”

As if on cue, Caraxes approaches you, one of his heads licking you playfully, the other nudging you, prompting you to laugh softly, resting your hand against his warm scales, “He… He is quite friendly.”

Daemon pats his third head, smirking, “See, my goddess? He likes you. Perhaps he knows you are meant to be my queen. Even he can feel the connection between us.”

You turn to Daemon as Caraxes wanders off, no doubt in search of food, and speak, “The Goddess of Spring is meant to remain untainted-”

Daemon raises an eyebrow, resting a hand against your face, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb, “Do you truly think you remain untainted, my sweet? You so enjoyed the attention I gave you in the woods, did you not?”

He places his free hand on your lower back, moving it upward until he reaches the end of your dress, his fingers tracing your bare skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He feels you shiver slightly, your body responding to his touch.

“I know you enjoyed my touch, your body responds to me in a way you cannot deny,” Daemon whispers, his thumb moving from your cheek to your lips.

They are so plump and soft that all Daemon can think about is kissing you, feeling your lips against his skin. You part them slightly and he moves his thumb between them, into your mouth. You gaze up at him in surprise, your lips closing around his thumb, suckling at it slightly. Daemon feels his breeches grow tight at the sight, loving the way you so naturally seem to know what it is he wants. He removes his hand, unable to rest any longer, pressing his lips to yours.

Daemon kisses you with an insatiable hunger, as though he wishes to devour your very being. And you do not wish to deny him. Your kiss is more shy, hesitant really, but you wrap your arms around him, returning his kiss with ardor. He bites your lower lip, just enough to get you to gasp and part your lips, his tongue moving into your mouth, dancing against your own as they meet. He picks you off the ground, carrying you off to his chambers, dropping you gently on the bed, staring down at you, his gaze ravenous, famished.

“But where will I sleep?” you ask curiously, looking around.

Daemon smirks, “Right here with me. We will do more than just sleep beside each other, however. You will be my wife.”

“My mother will never allow it,” you say, a bit bitterly as you watch him move to lay atop you on the bed.

Daemon smirks, “She will have no choice in the matter.”

He runs his hands down your sides, caressing your waist, down to your hips, then your thighs. Your back arches off the bed as you gaze up at him, entranced by his every move. You weakly protest that your parents will be furious but Daemon quells your fears with his lips against yours. Your body is so soft and supple against him, it drives him almost mad with want. He moves to kiss your neck, biting down on your soft skin, leaving his mark on you, evidence of his desire for you. His mouth moves toward your collarbone, your hands threading through his hair, nails raking against his scalp.

Daemon makes quick work of your dress, sliding it down your body, his eyes greedily drinking in each bit of your exposed skin, your bare breasts, your hips… He removes his tunic, smirking as your delicate hands reach for his breeches, unlacing them with haste. You take his cock in your hand, so long and thick and heavy. He throws his head back as you move your hand along his length, slow and curious, before gently pushing your hand away and pressing his lips to yours, wanting to feel you.

He moves his hand to the apex between your thighs as he kisses you, his fingers teasing your entrance before he pushes one in. You feel so tight around him that it’s almost hard to move when he adds a second finger, but he continues, reveling in the little mewls of pleasure. His mouth moves to take one of your pert nipples in his mouth as he adds a third finger, pumping them in and out of you at a languid pace, his tongue tracing over your sensitive bud as he gazes at you, his eyes hooded, pupils blown wide with lust.

He brings you to your peak, feeling your walls squeeze tight around him, soaking his fingers with evidence of your arousal. He soon replaces his fingers with his tongue, wanting to properly prepare you for the moment he takes you, lapping at your folds eagerly, keeping his eyes on you all the while. Your hands fly into his hair yet again, fingers twisting in his platinum locks, both wanting to push him away and pull him closer. He alternates between suckling at your pearl and licking and sucking your sensitive core, making you cry out his name, reaching your peak against him once more.

Daemon pulls back, his lips shining with evidence of your arousal as he moves up to kiss you again, making you taste yourself on his tongue. The sensation is erotic, to say the very least, and you moan against his lips, whimpering slightly as you feel him running the tip of his cock along your center, teasing you yet again. You squirm, slightly oversensitized by his previous ministrations, but that is long forgotten when he pushes himself inside you.

He fills you up so perfectly, and gods, the way he makes you feel when he begins rutting against you, the the head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot with every thrust, his lips attached to yours, hands holding yours, his thumb tracing over your pulse point in a gesture that feels so very intimate. He’s so big that it is almost painful, but not quite, all you can concentrate on is the mind-blowing pleasure he is giving you. He pushes your knees up to your chest, allowing him to fuck into you at a deeper, faster pace.

Daemon feels you squeezing around him, knowing your release is imminent, and moves his thumb to circle your pearl, your release triggering his own, as he spills his seed deep inside you. As he pulls out of you, he replaces his cock with his fingers, eager to make sure his seed takes, to breed you. And you simply smile at him, blissed out in your post orgasmic haze.

Daemon makes the arrangements for you two to marry shortly thereafter, and as he said, you come to see the Underworld as your home. He has one of the minor goddesses, Alys, the Goddess of Magic, create a garden for you to tend so that you may be near your beloved flowers, something you find to be entirely thoughtful and romantic.

However, your blissful time as newlyweds is cut short when Viserys arrives with Rhaenys and Corlys on his heels, declaring that you must be returned to your parents, that Rhaenys has kept the mortal world in a perpetual state of winter, demanding your return.

You try your best to tell your parents that you love Daemon, that you want to be with him, but they refuse to listen. Your mind wanders to something Daemon had told you months ago, that if one partakes in food from the Underworld, they are bound to return, mortal and immortal alike. He never wished to trap you here, so he had Alys or one of the others go to procure you food from King’s Landing.

But you see a juicy, ripe pomegranate sitting on a plate before you, one that Daemon was just about to eat.

You look between your mother, her face stern as she stares back at you, and at Daemon, who seems entirely forlorn at the thought of you leaving him forever.

And so? You do the only thing you can think of.

You walk to your husband and take the pomegranate from his plate. You take a breath before biting into it, allowing the juices from it to drip down your chin, almost making it seem as though you are soaked in blood. And you kiss your husband once more, in full view of the Goddess of the Harvest, the God of the Sea, and the God of Lightning.

Never again will you allow your fate to be decided for you.

You have chosen him, and you would choose him again, given the chance.

Your Daemon, your husband.

Your king.

this song kept playing in my head when i was reading your recent osferth fic 😭❤️ can't wait for part two

Awww thanks so much🥹🥹🥹 I listening to it and it's pretty! Very dream poppy

I am quite proud of that line actually lmao. But thank you bestie 🥰 big apprece🥹💕💕💕

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

thanks to everyone who liked the first part, i appreciate y'all🥰

Summary: You and Osferth are in love, but neither of you know the feelings are reciprocated.

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), heavy angst, idiots in love (emphasis on idiots), Osferth being a manwhore and insecure (and Finan being his wingman), canon divergence (baby monk will NOT die), whump, PTSD references, hurt/comfort, fluff (promise), fingering, oral (f!receiving), and cockwarming (if you squint)

word count | 6.2k🤙🏻

part 1 | part 2

It had been a long, long time since Osferth rescued you.

Months had passed, a year almost having gone by, your past soon becoming somewhat of a distant memory. With the help and support of your newfound friends, you were able to live life to the fullest. Of course, you still had moments when you were back in that horrid little village, but your mind slowly started to figure out that you weren’t in constant danger anymore.

Due to Uhtred’s decisions that you couldn’t really understand, you all had moved on from Coccham, traveling north to Rumcofa where it was always cold. It wasn’t all that bad, you did prefer the cold to the blazing heat when all you could do was strip down, and even that wouldn’t be enough. So the cold was a nice change.

You finally had your own little house, in a more secluded part of this new town, which you appreciated but was fearful of all the same. A part of you, a big part actually, just wanted to stay with Osferth.

It was soon after your realization that you were in love with Osferth, is when he inexplicably started to pull away.

You didn’t understand it. Based on his interactions with you, you thought he might’ve felt the same. He started to spend less and less time with you, opting that beginning to train with Finan again was better for you, considering your swift progress with the sword. And Finan had forgiven you pretty quickly after your accidental outburst, finding out that he was more understanding than you originally thought. But you wanted Osferth to train you. You wanted his smiles of pride, not Finan’s. You wanted his hands on your body when having to demonstrate the correct combat posture. You just wanted Osferth.

The night you watched Osferth enter his own house with a lady on his arm, your heart broke into pieces.

All this time you had been hopeful he’d see you the way you see him, but seeing this display just confirmed your fears. And the worst of it was, that you were still in love with him. Even when he never made for you, even if he ignored you sometimes, even if he preferred the company of ladies with loose morals, you were still helplessly in love with him.

It was inevitable, but your mind started to go to the darkest places. Did he never see you this way? Did he find you undesirable? Was it because of your past? Did the things that were done to you make him disgusted? Has he ever seen you as whole?

You thought back to the night he gave you his cross, fiddling with the silver absentmindedly. He used to always wear the cross, why would he give something so special to you if you weren’t in fact, special to him. So, what changed? Why was he never around anymore? Did you do something to make him this way? And if so, what could you do to earn his forgiveness?

It’s not like you could’ve known why Osferth retreated from you. He didn’t really understand it himself. The two of you were…perfect. You were so incredibly important to him. He loved you, that much was true. That’s why he couldn’t burden you with the knowledge of how incredibly difficult it was for Osferth to be around you without desiring you. Carnally.

It felt like all his thoughts, night and day, were about you. How you’d look beneath him, what sounds he could elicit from you with his fingers, his tongue, his cock. He hated feeling this way. He hated that he felt no better than your former master, using you for his own pleasure whether you agreed or not. Of course, Osferth wasn’t actually doing these horrible things. But he thought of you, especially in the throws of his ecstasy, whether it was by his own hand or a woman of the night’s cunny. He was ashamed how often he needed to bed a woman, just to be rid of the aching feeling inside him whenever he gazed upon you.

Osferth could tell how confused and hurt you were by his actions, his arms becoming a safe haven of sorts. But he didn’t know if he could control his thoughts or actions in your presence, which is why he removed himself all together.

Osferth often thought what would happen if he came onto you like he’s so craved. He couldn’t possibly imagine you reciprocating his affections, so he thought of the worst case scenarios. You scream and cry, pushing him away and saying you never wanted to see him again. He thought of you being terrified to be anywhere near him. He thought of you seeing him as no better than her former master, and the idea often brought him to tears. So he decided, he’d rather you feel betrayed than scared by him. You could hate him, but he would rather die than have you scared of him.

So he continued to bed other women, pleading out your name when he reached his end, much to the dismay of these women. It wasn’t like he was doing this to hurt you, it was quite the opposite, he didn’t even realize he was hurting you until Finan talked to him one night. “You know she’s in love with you, right?”

Osferth blanched, his eyes widening at the mere idea that you could feel the same way about him. “What are you on about, Finan?” He asked, trying to make sure he heard him correctly.

“You’re mad if you can’t see it, mate. She’s obsessed with you, much like you’re obsessed with her. Can’t believe you’re still dancing around each other.”

Osferth blushed, much to the enjoyment of Finan. “I’m not…obsessed.” He almost laughed at himself with how clearly that was a lie.

“Thou shalt not lie, baby monk.” Finan teased, eliciting an eye roll from the younger man. “I don’t know what you’re so afraid of. Clearly, it can’t be rejection.”

“I don’t want her to be frightened of me.” Osferth admitted, making Finan furrow his brows.

“Why would she be frightened of ya?” He asked, concern etched into his features.

“Because I’m…I'm a sinful man, despite my best efforts. I’m so full of lust, it’s hard to even think.”

“You would force yourself on her?”

“No! Of course not! I’d sooner plunge my own sword into my heart.”

“And we know that. Everyone who knows you, knows that, baby monk. You’re scared of yourself for thoughts you can’t control. But you can control your actions. Just because you have bad thoughts doesn’t make you a bad person, especially if you’re appalled by these thoughts. Your mind just likes to fuck with ya.” Finan watched as Osferth pondered this, a pang of annoyance rippling through his body. “Talk to her tomorrow. If you don’t, I’ll kick your shins in.”

There wasn’t much room to argue after that.

The next morning, Osferth woke up with a sense of hopefulness, a shy smile decorating his face as he saw the run rise. His conversation with Finan really gave him some clarity, and he was terrified still, but he decided he didn’t want to live with regret. But first, he needed to gain your trust back and he just hoped you’d give him another chance.

Osferth fussed with his appearance for a moment before heading to your house, his pulse thrumming beneath his skin, his heart beating in tandem. He didn’t stop his pace, afraid if he slowed down he’d stop altogether. But when he saw you were already outside your house, sitting in a rocking chair reading a book, Osferth froze. He was always so stunned by your beauty, even doing the most mundane things like simply reading. God, he was so in love.

Osferth winced when a twig snapped beneath his feet, alerting you of his presence, watching as your head jerked up and made eye contact with him. “Osferth…” You whispered, barely audible but just enough for him to hear, and he swore his heart skipped a beat. The sound of your voice, it was like a weight lifted off his shoulders.

“My lady…” Osferth replied breathlessly, his voice wavering with emotion. “I was wondering if I could join you?”

“You want to read with me?” You asked in slight amusement, making him blush.

“I just meant, if you’d do me the honor of allowing me to be in your company?”

You frowned. “Why now, when you haven’t wanted my company for some time?”

Osferth took a cautious step towards you, continuing when you didn’t shy away, sitting on your porch at your feet, looking up at you with the most remorseful expression he could manage. “I’ll tell you everything, my lady. But first, I just wish to tell you my absence had nothing to do with you. I’ve been…dealing with my own troubles. But every day I’ve been away from you, my life has been awful. I’ve missed you…so, so much.”

Unwanted tears sprung to your eyes, the pure emotion in his voice making your heart swell. “I’ve missed you, Osferth.” You bit your lip when your voice wavered, but it only caused him to gently take ahold of your hand. He still sat by your feet, looking up at you like you strung up the moon and stars in the sky, practically resting his cheek against your knee, the sight eliciting an inappropriate thought to cross your mind.

“I wish to tell you much more. The most important thing I need to tell you is…” Osferth exhaled a shaky breath, “is that I’m in-”

Screams echoed sharply throughout the village, Finan calling Osferth’s name, interrupting his confession and causing the two of you to stand on high alert. “Osferth?” you asked, frightened.

“Take your sword and stay hidden, alright? Promise me.” Osferth spoke sternly, looking into your eyes with such intensity that you agreed without hesitancy, following his instructions to the best of your ability.

A group of soldiers waltzed into the town, looking like they were on a mission, their swords already drawn. It took naught but a few moments for a fight to break out, blades clashing together and fists being thrown. They were separating Danes from Christians, killing any Danes, men, women, and children. You couldn’t just stand there and watch, you had to do something.

You had been in very few fights, especially fights like these, but your morals gave you little choice. When you saw a soldier strike a child to the ground, about to push his blade into their little neck, you struck first. Blood dripped down your blade, onto your hands, as you pushed your sword into the back of the soldier, the sound of the flesh being pierced making you gag. But you saved the child, bringing them back to their parents before moving on to help the next resident of Rumcofa.

If Osferth had the time, he would have been pissed. He told you not to get involved, yet you were. But he couldn’t blame you for that, in fact, it was nice to have another helping hand. He was good at multitasking, he thought, fighting off two burly men while making sure you weren’t in danger. Osferth was lucky, it followed him around, to being able to join Uhtred and his men to finding you in this lifetime, he figured he was the luckiest man around. But a person’s luck has to run out sometime.

Osferth exhaled a sharp breath as an excruciating pain resonated through his body, his mouth filling with blood as he fell to the cold ground. He heard screams, your screams, and suddenly he wasn’t thinking about the pain.

You shrieked as you watched the brute of a man shove his blade into Osferth’s side, his form crumpling to the ground. Rage overwhelmed you, and you didn’t think as you charged forwards. You couldn’t know what you even planned on doing but it didn’t matter. You felt like you had been stabbed yourself and all that was on your mind was getting revenge. And despite all your training, and the few soldiers you managed to get the best off, your mind was in the worst place, going on pure adrenaline with no thought behind your attacks. It wasn’t that surprising when the man knocked you out, stealing the sword from your hands and hitting your temple with its pommel, plunging your world into darkness.

All Osferth could do was watch in a panic as you fought to defend him, calling out your name as the attacker knocked you down, your eyes rolling back as you stopped moving.

Finan was sprinting to Osferth, but he yelled at him to make sure you were okay first, your well being more important to him than anything. And after a few moments, Finan deemed you alright, getting his wife to look after you for now as he kneeled beside Osferth with tears in his eyes. As Osferth felt his best friend’s arms around him, his fear and panic washed over him, drowning him. “Oh my God, oh my God, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die!” He cried, holding on tightly to Finan.

“No, no, baby monk. You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay. I won’t let you die.” Finan sobbed, screaming for help.

Osferth whispered your name, gaining Finan’s attention back. “She’s okay?”

“Yes, yes, she’s alright.”

“Tell her,” He choked, “tell her how much I loved her. Tell her that she was the most important person in my life and that I’m sorry.”

“Tell her yourself, you daft prat. You’re gonna survive this, I promise.”

When you came to, your first thought and first word uttered was, “Osferth.”

The last thing you remembered was Osferth getting stabbed, and you running to his attacker to make sure he wasn’t stabbed again. Much use you were, you thought bitterly, you couldn’t even hold your own against this man for more than a minute. Pitiful. But that didn’t matter now, all that mattered was making sure he was alive.

You ignored all the pleas and urges from Finan’s wife and other healers taking care of you and rushed out of your room, trying to find your friends. Finally, your gaze met Finan’s, and he looked distraught. No, you thought, you wouldn’t believe it. But before you could even open your mouth to speak, Finance answered your silent question. “He’s alive…somehow.” The Irishman spoke in a broken voice, clearly just as affected as you were.

“Can I see him?”

Finan nodded solemnly. “He’s sleeping, and probably will be for a while, Ingrith tells me.”

As soon as you walked into the room, you had to hold in your gasp as you saw Osferth’s state. He was so pale, from blood loss and the cold, you’d think he was dead if you hadn’t been told otherwise. “When will he wake?”

“We don’t know…” He sighed, making your heart drop.

“But he will wake?”

“That’s our hope.”

But he didn’t wake, not for more than a few seconds at a time, muttering incoherent words before falling back asleep, not even when the surviving residents of Rumcofa had to relocate where it was more safe. You didn’t sleep, you didn’t eat; all your time was devoted to making sure Osferth’s heart was still beating, putting your ear to his chest multiple times every single day, praying to every god you could think of to just let him survive.

It was only a few days after settling in a more secure place that Osferth did finally awake. 

You were at his bedside, as you often were, reading to him and holding his hand, thinking that your voice might stir him. You almost fell off your chair in shock when you suddenly felt his hand weakly squeeze yours. Your head snapped up and saw that his eyes were already on you. “Osferth…” You called out softly, letting your book fall by the wayside to move to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. “You’re awake. At last.” Tears filled your eyes, falling down your cheeks and landing on his hand that you were now holding tightly, afraid that he’d fall back into unconsciousness.

Osferth spoke your name so softly, his voice cracking and hoarse from not using it for so long. “I must be dead, for I see only an angel before me…”

You chuckled tearfully, bringing up his hand to kiss his knuckles. “No, you’re alive. You’re alive.” You repeated, mostly trying to convince yourself.

“How long have I been asleep?” He asked, looking around the room he was in and furrowed his brows. “Where are we?”

You froze, unsure of how much you should say. You didn’t want him to faint from shock, but you couldn't lie to him either. You could never lie to him. “We left Rumcofa several days ago, everyone who survived the attack. But Uhtred is off to fight another war for Edward. They all wanted to stay until you woke, but…”

Osferth nodded solemnly. “What use would a man on the brink of death be, yeah?”

“They’ll be mad with joy to hear of your recovery, I’m sure. Especially Finan, he wept for you badly.”

“And did you? Weep for me?”

Your face flushed with heat, avoiding his gaze and instead fixing your eyes on your conjoined hands. “Yes…” You whispered. “I’ve wept every day since you were wounded. But you’re better now, awake and healing up nicely. Ingrith told me you might wake as soon as the fever leaves your body,” You placed the back of your other hand to his forehead, warm but not too warm, “and you feel fine now. Before, your skin was hot to the touch-” Osferth grabbed your wrist as you moved to pull away, eliciting a gasp from you. “O-Osferth?”

Osferth blinked, as if he suddenly realized what he was doing. “Sorry.” He stuttered, releasing your wrist.

“I’ll go get Ingrith.”

“No! No…please, just…I’d like to be alone with you for a moment longer. If that’s alright, my lady?”

You nodded, a bit too eagerly. “Of course. I’d love nothing more.”

And stay with him you did, up until you insisted you tell Ingrith and had her check on him. The wound was healing nicely, a deep red scar forming over the stab. It really was a miracle that he was alive, the blade barely missing the vital organs the body needs to function. You don’t know what you would've done if Osferth had died, the thought making your chest tighten uncomfortably, panic overriding your senses. But all you had to do to rid yourself of those feelings, was to simply look at Osferth, gaining his strength back more and more every day and starting to walk without help. 

Almost two weeks went by until he started to train again, though very carefully. Seeing grow stronger didn’t help ease your nerves as much as you thought it would, you figured you’d keep him on bed rest forever if you had any say. It took Ingrith assuring you that he was practically fully healed for you to stop fretting over him like a concerned mother. But Osferth didn’t seem to mind it all that much, a soft amused smile gracing his features every time you asked if he was alright. His answer was always yes, and he even told you not to worry so much, trying to come across as nonchalant so it didn’t seem like he was completely affected by your concern.

Osferth never did get a chance to confess to you that day, the fight in Rumcofa having such unfortunate timing. Though, you never brought it up, the fact almost making his insecurities come back and suffocate him. But he trusted Finan, and even though he was an occasional prankster, he’d never try to give someone false hope.

Osferth tossed and turned one night, thinking about you and his suspended confession. It’s ridiculous, why couldn’t he have gotten the words out quicker, rather than prolong those simple words. He said it to you every day in his mind, the words coming out so easily and repeatedly. Ridiculous. This was ridiculous.

As soon as the thought appeared in his mind, Osferth jumped up from bed. He knew it was entirely inappropriate, thinking about coming to you in the middle of the night, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he told you how he felt. And to his utter surprise, when he opened his front door, there you were. 

It was raining, the droplets of water pelting the roof of the timber home, the occasional thunder rumble making the frames vibrate. And there you were, a wet and shivering figure, your clothes melding to you like a second skin; Osferth could see your breath coming out in quick and shallow puffs. Even in the dark with naught but a lantern that he lit to light his way, he could see the tears in your eyes, only a keen eye would’ve been able to differentiate the rain from the tear drops. His face immediately fell in concern, and it only took him calling out your name softly for you to collapse in his arms.

Osferth quickly pulled you past the threshold of the doorframe, bringing you in from the cold and holding you tightly to him, the uncomfortable feeling of his dampening clothes the furthest thing from his mind. “My lady?” He spoke gently, like he was trying not to spook you, “What’s happened?” You mumbled words incoherently, your face pressed against his chest muffling what you were attempting to say. Osferth had to pull you off, not completely, just to look at your face. “What was that?”

“You were dead.” You cried, “You were killed and I couldn’t do anything but stand there and watch!”

“A dream…” He realized, sighing in sympathy and pulling you back onto his chest. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay. Here-” He took a hold of your hand, pressing the tips of your fingers to the pulse point in his neck, the blood flowing through his veins, the throbbing pushing at your fingertips minutely. “Do you feel? And you hear by heartbeat?”

“Mhm.” You sniffled, starting to calm down in the soothing cage of his arms.

“See? I’m okay. I’m not hurt anymore. I’m safe. We both are.”

“I’m sorry…” You hiccupped.

Osferth shook his head, cupping your jaw gently and forcing your eyes to his. “Hey, none of that. It’s not your fault. Understand me?” Reluctantly, you shook your head, wiping away your tears with your already damp hands. And you shivered, your body suddenly registering the cold. “Let’s get you warm, okay?”

And in a matter of minutes, Osferth had lit a fire in his hearth, the flames roaring to life and eliciting a sigh of relief from you as you saw in front of it on a pile of wool blankets he’d spread out for the two of you. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, Osferth, truly. It’s just…when my mind showed me such a vivid thing-”

“I understand completely, my lady. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same in your place. Besides,” Osferth grunted softly as he plopped himself down beside you, your knees barely touching, “I was about to come see you myself.”

You furrowed your brows. “Why?” And suddenly, Osferth was that same scared boy he was before he met Uhtred. He hadn’t meant to be so brazen, but he wanted to ease your mind so badly, he didn’t think you’d ever ask why.

“Uh, um,” Osferth swallowed thickly, his body becoming much too warm for his liking, “just wanted to check on ya, is all.” Liar.

“Oh…” You seemed to say in an almost disappointed tone.

Osferth sighed. Ridiculous.

“Actually,” He almost winced, his body, one thinking this was a good idea, was suddenly betraying him. No, he thought, he wouldn’t repress his feelings any longer. “Do you remember our conversation before the fight in Rumcofa?”

Your face flushed with heat, an achy feeling spreading in your heart. “You said you missed me.” You smiled softly at the memory, but your brows furrowed. “But you were trying to tell me something else, weren’t you?” Osferth nodded nervously, running his hands up and down his thighs, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. You playfully bumped his shoulder with your own, “Well?”

“I’minlovewithyou-” He gasped.

“What?” You almost squawked, his words jumbled and rushed, making entirely no sense to your ears.

But suddenly, Osferth grinned, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. He said it, finally. That’s all it took really, just to get it out there to make it more easy to say. Sure, it wasn’t the best way to go about it, but he did it. “I’m in love with you.” And this time, he didn’t rush. In fact, it was the most clear and precise you had ever heard him. He took his time saying the words this time, savoring them, just in case it was the last time he could.

“You’re…in love with me?” You were looking up at him with wide eyes, an adorable childlike awe displaying in your expression.

“Yes.” He smiled. “Completely and hopelessly. I…have been, for a while now. I wanted to tell you sooner but, ya know.” He gestured to his stab wound. You felt breathless, your throat constricting as you tried to fight back another bout of tears. But Osferth took it the wrong way. “I’m so sorry, my lady. I knew there was a high chance you’d be completely repulsed. That’s why I tried to stay away for so long because I didn’t want you scared of me like-”

“Osferth.” Responding to his name and your touch to his jaw, turning him to face you, he didn’t see one trace of disgust or fear in your eyes. “I could never be repulsed by you, or scared. Why would you ever think that?”

Osferth blushed a bright red, the flames from the hearth making his skin look an even darker red. “Since I’ve decided to be so honest tonight…you should know I also yearn for you, my lady. Your…touch. But I also want you to know it’s because I love you, not because I’m some…lecherous sinner. Although, I suppose I am that too.”

“Why would you think I’d be repulsed because you desire me so?”

“Well, because…because…uh.”

You closed your eyes in understanding, nodding slightly. “If you think I’d ever be able to compare you, sweet boy, to that monster, you’re sorely mistaken. You are nothing like him. Do you really think I would’ve kept close to you if you had been?”

“I suppose not. I just never wanted you to feel like I’m pressuring you into something you don’t want…”

“And that, my dear Osferth, is why I’m completely and hopelessly in love with you too.”

Osferth’s eyes widened. “R-Really?”

You smirked. “Shall I prove it to you?” You’ve never really kissed or been kissed, willingly at least, so as you leaned forward, you prayed that Osferth wouldn’t laugh as you softly pressed your lips against his. 

It was unlike anything you had ever experienced, the aspect of your choice in the matter only amplifying the sensation. And for Osferth? It was hard to keep in the whimper that was so desperate to escape him, but you pulled away, all too soon. You opened your eyes to see Osferth’s was still closed, his lips chasing yours with a blissed out expression on his face. He whispered out your name so softly, you could scarcely hear it. He sounded so needy, it lit a fire in your belly, much like the one still blazing in the fireplace.

“I shan’t ask for more, if you do not wish to give more.”

“I do, though, want more. I fear I want much, much more.” Your expression had noticeably darkened, lust filled, and Osferth had never seen this of you before. It wasn’t a bad change, though he was apprehensive.

“Are…Are you sure, my lady? I don’t want you to regret this. I’d hate for you to regret this.”

“I find that I have no regrets with you, sweet Osferth. Just promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“You’ll stop if I ask?”

“I wouldn’t dare disobey you, my love.”

“Good,” You leaned forward to give him another kiss, a bit more forceful and more sure of yourself, “because if you do, I’ll kill you with the sword you gifted me, baby monk.” You teased, making him giggle, the purest sound you would ever hear in your lifetime, you were sure. And this time, when you each pressed your lips together, it was filled with an altogether different feeling, charged and motivated, the thought of something more promising if you continued fueling your actions. It probably was because of the fire, but your body warmed and warmed to the point you thought your clothes would melt off your body if you kept them on any longer. “Can you help me take these off?” You asked shyly, gesturing to your still damp clothing.

Osferth’s eyes widened comically, that ever present blush on his face warming your heart better than fire in the hearth next to you. “S-Sure.” He stuttered, carefully and delicately removing each article of clothing (after asking if you were sure a few more times) until you were down to your bare skin. “Have I ever told you how absolutely breathtaking you are?”

You giggled, slightly self conscious. “I don’t think so.”

Osferth gently slapped himself. “What an idiot I am, huh?”

“You will be if you don’t take off your clothes too.” And with that, it was almost at the speed of light that all Osferth’s clothes were thrown into a pile of the floor, mingling with yours. You inhaled a breath as your eyes traced his frame, his pale skin making his battle scars more prominent, but you found that they made him more handsome. You didn’t mind that he was doing the same to you. “I don’t know quite what to do now…” You whispered, gently taking his hand and kissing his knuckles. “Will you help me?”

“Of course.” He replied back shakily, moving closer to you until you sat side by side, your exposed skin rubbing up against his, causing you to shiver pleasantly. “We’ll take it slow. I don’t want to rush this, not with you.” 

Osferth maneuvered you so that you were laying on your back, him resting beside you, propped up on one elbow, his other hand gently running up and down your torso. Gooseflesh rose along your skin as his calloused fingers marked a path across your body, from your jaw, down between the valley of your breasts, down your stomach to the tufts of wiry hair at the beginning of the apex of your thighs. “I have to ask again, love. Are you sure you want this? Want me?”

You could’ve whined, but you maintain your composure, however much was left. “With every iota of my soul.”

Osferth leaned down to kiss you passionately, that whine you had been holding in finally coming out when you felt his fingers dip in between you already silk folds. “So soft…” He hummed, trailing kisses down your neck to your breasts, covering one of your pebbled nipples with his tongue, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. You hadn’t realized how sensitive you were until now, his mouth sucking you in deeper as he slowly inched a finger inside you.

You moaned as he curled his finger, finding your sweet spot with inhuman ease. “Osferth…” You breathed, and he answered by gently tapping your sensitive nub with his thumb as he added another finger. “Osferth!”

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked immediately, causing you to chuckle wantonly, his eyes darkening as he felt your walls squeeze his fingers.

“No, heavens, no. Please, keep going.” You didn’t have to tell him twice, as he continued his ministrations with an added ferocity that had you aching your back of the blankets, moaning and bucking into his hand. A strange sensation that you couldn’t quite put into words seemed to keep building and building in the pit of your stomach, your eyes rolling back each time a deep pang of pleasure resonated through you. And as Osferth kissed you roughly and added a third finger inside you, the building sensation spilled over; like a fire doused with gasoline, you ignited, flames licking you from the inside out as you rode out the glowing waves of ecstasy with little care how loud you became.

And when it was all over, Osferth was there to soothe your burns.

“Are you alright, my love?” He asked softly, running his hand along the inside of your spread thighs.

“More than alright.” You smiled in a haze.

As you looked down, you couldn’t help but notice Osferth’s hardened length. You were surprised how it grew in size, always a wonder how such could fit inside a woman’s body. You absentmindedly reached out to touch him, a soft huff escaping his lips as you ran your hand along the silky skin. “We don’t have to do anything else, if you aren’t ready. I’m perfectly content having given you the pleasure you so deserve.”

“I told you I wanted you, Osferth. I meant that. I want you. All of you.”

Osferth pulled your hand away, kissing it before moving to settle in between your legs, the tip of his length prodding at your inner thigh before he guided it to your entrance. “Just tell me if you want to stop, for any reason. Promise me.” You sealed your promise with a kiss, nodding to him and he nodded back before very slowly pushing himself inside you, the both of you letting out gasps at the feeling. “Oh Lord above…” He groaned, bottoming out and stilling, burying his face in the crook of your neck, giving you however long you needed to adjust, but you found you didn’t need much time.

You whined, trying to cant your hips to get some very needed friction, but Osferth was too heavy. “Please…”

“I’m afraid…if I move so soon, I will not be able to last for very long, my love.” He spoke, his voice and body shaking. “I want…I need this to last.”

“Hey,” you lifted his head, looking at him lovingly, the flames of the fire shining in his bright blue eyes, “this will not be the first and last time we make love.”

“You don’t know that. I fear danger lurks around every corner now. We aren’t promised tomorrow.”

You kissed him, trying to push all his worries away. “Then make love to me as many times as you can.”

“Please?” He whined.

“Please.”

You cried out loudly as Osferth began to thrust into you wildly, moaning just as loudly with you, his cock hitting you in just the right places, the loud slapping of wet skin making your cheeks flush with heat. Your walls squeezed him perfectly, almost sucking him in deeper. Every ridge and every vein you could feel drove you wild, that same sensation building in you yet again. If you weren’t in such a pleasured haze, you’d be worried who might be able to hear you and Osferth, just from your moans alone.

“Oh, God, love. Feels so good. You feel so good.” Osferth groaned, his cock twitching inside you. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.” And before you could reach another peak, he pulled out quickly, his warm spend shooting out of his tip, white streaks coating your stomach. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry.” He moaned breathlessly, his blissed out expression the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“You’re beautiful, Osferth.” You whispered, the borderline predatory look in his eyes making you shy.

“You almost came again.” He spoke apologetically.

You smiled. “It’s alright. You already took care of me once.”

“‘S not enough.” He growled, lowering his face to your weeping cunny and before you could ask what he was doing, the words were stolen from you as his tongue licked and sucked at your nub, your denied peak building back up rapidly at his talented mouth.

“Oh, Osferth…” You almost sobbed, overly sensitive but not enough that you wanted him to stop, and from the moans he released, it seemed he was taking as much pleasure from this as you were.

“Come for me, my love. Please.” He begged, his words and moans causing vibrations against your mound, the pleasure overwhelming and all encompassing, your peak spilling on his lips and tongue.

Osferth rested against your inner thigh, his hooded eyes watching your cunt quiver and spasm as you came down from your high, the urge to dive back in almost too overpowering. But he withheld, coming back up to lay at your side with a crooked grin. “Are you okay?”

“How many times have you asked me that tonight, do you think?” You teased, catching your breath and moving to lay on his chest, listening to the steadying beat of his heart.

“If you’re annoyed with how many times I asked? Then just enough.”

Needless to say, neither you or Osferth got much sleep that night.

By the time everyone else returned for Osferth, the pair of you were inseparable. Where you go, he goes, and vice versa. It didn’t take a genius to see how disgustingly in love the two of you were. And neither of you expected to get away without a little bit of teasing.

As Finan watched the two of you, his words escaped him before he could even stop himself.

“So, when’s the wedding?”

tags: @tssf-imagines, @little-diable, @fan-goddess, @hiraethrhapsody, @chainsawsangel, @lauraneedstochill, @greenowlfactif, @st-eve-barnes

thanks for the support😊

The 100 Masterlist

John Murphy

Twisted Paradise (110.2k words, 43 chapters, discontinued)

Bellamy Blake

Just A Dream (0.6k words)

Miscellaneous

7x13 Rewrite

Peace After Death (1.4k words)

"Savior" - Aemond Targaryen x Twin!Reader

a/n: request from a lovely anon 😈 reader is described as having hightower features (dark curly hair + dark eyes)

Summary: When you begin meeting suitors, your twin comes up with a plan to insure that you remain by his side, where you belong.

TW: DUBCON, canon typical incest, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, loss of v*rginity, purity culture, f*ngering, oral f receiving, p in v sex, breeding k*nk, corruption k*nk, forced marriage

Word Count: 4,315 words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️

Aemond considers his family and his duty to it above all else. He does all he can to make his mother proud, to gain the slightest bit of love and respect from his father, to outshine his older brother and eldest sister…

But his most sacred duty, he believes, is being your protector. His beloved twin sister, born a mere twenty minutes after he was. Where Aemond is considered by many to be volatile, cruel even, you are considered to be the Jewel of the Realm, much as your eldest sister was called its delight. Your soft-spoken nature, your sweet temperament, and your beautiful face make you a desirable match for any lord seeking a bride, something that your grandsire, the Lord Hand, knows will help in securing you an advantageous marriage that furthers the interests of House Targaryen.

When you and your twin turn eight and ten, that is when talk of marriage and betrothals begins for the pair of you. Nothing is set in stone, of course, but Aemond is told that one of the ladies of House Baratheon would be the best option for him. He ignores this, not caring one bit for Maris or Floris, finding the former to be a caustic brat and the latter to be too insipid to hold an actual conversation with. The only lady he’s ever considered marriage with is you. The blood of the dragon is meant to be preserved, after all.

He dismisses both Baratheon girls with little effort, continuing about his other princely duties. He assumes that you will dismiss your own suitors with just as much disinterest as he walks into his chambers, removing his cloak. He sees your shadow, hiding behind his wardrobe, no doubt in an effort to scare him, something you’ve tried nearly every day since you were old enough to.

“Do you truly think I cannot see you skulking about like a wraith, hāedus?” (little sister)

You step out from behind his wardrobe, your lips forming a pout he can’t help but find adorable, “How do you always figure it out? I just want to scare you once!”

Aemond laughs, a bit harsh though not unkind, “Scare me? You wouldn’t scare a rabbit, much less a dragon!”

“I’m a dragon too,” you retort, sitting beside him on his bed, “Though perhaps a bit smaller. But I’m faster and craftier.”

“That you are, hāedus,” he smiles, “However, you do not know how to hold a sword properly. You ought to spar with me sometime so that I may teach you to properly defend yourself.”

You shake your head, sighing, “You’re too good at it. I would not stand a chance. You’re the best fighter I know.”

Aemond smiles back at you, teasing, “Not the best, sweet sister, but certainly better than you.”

“Can you teach me, lēkȳs? In case I ever need to defend myself?” you ask, your tone soft. (big brother)

Your twin looks at you, slightly surprised, “I suppose I can. But what would you ever need to defend yourself for?”

“If my husband to be is a brute,” you mumble.

Aemond scowls at your words, “Don’t you worry about that, sweet sister. No one will ever lay a finger on you, lest they wish to suffer every torment I can inflict upon them.”

“You won’t be there, Aemond,” you smile ruefully, “You will be with your own wife, whoever she may be.”

He scoffs, “I shall never marry.”

“Yes, you will,” you tease, bumping your shoulder against his, “My brother is the most handsome man in the Seven Kingdoms. He will marry.”

Aemond rolls his eye, shaking his head, “You say that out of fondness. The truth is that my face is marred by this scar.”

You take Aemond’s hand in your own, squeezing it softly, “Your scar makes you look handsome. It shows that you are brave, a survivor,” Aemond does not speak, rather he stares at how small your hand looks in his, feeling your soft palm against his calloused skin, “And you may have a temper, but you are a Targaryen. The blood of the dragon burns hot.”

His lips quirk into a small smile at your words and he keeps his hand in yours, “The truth is, hāedus, that you are the only person in the world who would find me handsome.”

“That is simply not true,” you protest vehemently, “Your hair, your eye, your sapphire, your scar, your jaw, your nose… You are so tall and graceful, lēkȳs, like a fairytale prince!” Aemond blushes visibly at this onslaught of compliments, prompting you to smile sheepishly, “Sorry, I will say no more. It is just… You are my twin, and when you speak ill of yourself, it pains me.”

Aemond’s small smile widens and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you in close, “You are the sweetest person in the world, sister.”

You lean into his embrace, “I adore you, Aemond. Never forget it. Now,” you sigh, standing up, “I must go to sleep. Tomorrow, Mother has arranged for me to meet several suitors,” you inform your brother, rolling your eyes.

His gaze darkens, “Your suitors?”

You nod, “Yes, Aemond, don’t act to surprised.”

He clenches his fist, his whole body taut with tension, “You will not be married. No one will marry you while I live.”

You watch him with a small degree of amusement, “You wish me to be a spinster?”

Aemond growls under his breath, “As the gods as my witness, I will have your suitors’ heads on pikes before the gates of the dragonpit.”

“Oh, Aemond,” you lean up and press your lips to his cheek, “My brother, my protector.”

He softens at this, though it takes him some effort to do so, stroking your hair softly, “You are too sweet for this world, hāedus. That is what worries me.”

“I am stronger than I seem, lēkȳs,” you assure him, “Goodnight. Pleasant dreams.”

Aemond smiles, pulling you into a tight hug. Your head rests against his strong chest as his hands run through your dark curls, something you inherited from your mother along with your dark eyes. He sighs at how soft your locks feel against his fingers.

“I love you, sister. Sleep well.”

When Aemond is asked to be your chaperone while you entertain your suitors the following day, it takes every effort for him not to strangle Aegon when he breaks the news. He clenches his jaw and, with a stiff upper lip, joins you in your solar where you greet him with that beautiful cheery smile that brightens his darkest moments. Mother has gotten a new dress for you, he notes, a beautiful emerald green that compliments your skin, your hair, your eyes, showing the slightest hint of your cleavage, something Aemond finds wholly unnecessary.

“You look ravishing, hāedus,” he smiles at you, a bit tense and forced.

“Thank you, lēkȳs,” you smile at him, taking a seat on the settee while he takes one on the armchair opposite you; you turn to your lady’s maid and nod, letting her know to send in the first of your would-be suitors.

Aemond watches as the young Lord Robert Arryn, the future Lord of the Vale enters. He’s not particularly impressive, Aemond notes with no little amount of glee, rather mousy even. He speaks too quietly, laughs too shakily, and is no match for your wit or humor. Yet, you entertain the conversation, smiling at him ever so sweetly, offering him a cup of tea. Aemond glares at the young lord, daring him to make a misstep in his dealings with you, jealousy burning in his eye.

After Lord Arryn leaves, it is time for Lord Mason Tyrell to enter. He is quite handsome, Aemond observes very unhappily, with a head of thick brown curls and emerald eyes that shine with mirth. This one is more of a flirt, he notes as Mason takes your hand, kneeling before you and pressing a kiss to it. He tries his best to hide his contempt for the man and his flirtatious, or borderline rakish, behavior, staring at him coldly. And it’s even worse when the Tyrell compliments your figure in your new gown and you blush at his words. Aemond’s jaw tightens and he tries to calm himself down, taking a sharp breath through his nose. His eye glistens with rage as Mason tucks an errant curl behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your cheek. But the final straw is when the arrogant bastard leans in to try and kiss you.

Before Mason can touch you, Aemond grabs him by the wrist, yanking him away from you roughly, his expression furious as he glares at the Tyrell, “Do not touch her,” he hisses, his voice low and venomous.

You pull Aemond away by the hand, dragging him to the corner of the room so you are out of Mason’s earshot, “Aemond, it’s alright, I can handle this-”

Aemond’s voice is a low growl as he stares at you, “Are you so naive to think this flirt is genuine? That he has any other intentions but to bed you?”

“Aemond, you must be diplomatic,” you whisper, resting a hand against his chest to calm him, “I shan’t entertain his flirting but we cannot afford to alienate House Tyrell, brother.”

“Hmph.”

Aemond watches as you bid farewell to Mason, giving him a polite smile and curtsy, the young lord walking off in a huff at not receiving a kiss from the lovely princess. Your final suitor of the day comes forth in the form of Lord Cregan Stark. Aemond watches the Lord of Winterfell as he walks to you and bows. The man is handsome, he muses, in a boorish sort of way. He doesn’t think that you’ll find the Northerner impressive, but he’s shocked when you seem quite taken with him. You ask if his journey was pleasant, a sweet smile on your face, while Aemond watches, his face betraying his jealousy.

“It was indeed, Princess, thank you for asking,” Cregan replies, his Northern accent quite pronounced, “You are even more beautiful than I could have imagined.”

Your twin’s expression darkens as the Stark tries to charm you, and by the looks of your blush as you thank him for the compliment and ask about his homeland, stating that the North has always fascinated you, it seems to be working. Cregan talks about the North and his home of Winterfell in a way that clearly demonstrates the love and respect he has for his home. He even mentions wanting to take you there one day, which Aemond finds to be quite forward as he rages in a stormcloud of jealousy.

When Cregan leaves, you turn to your brother, “What do you think?”

The scowl returns to his face, “That he’s just another damn suitor who only wants to bed you.”

You visibly flinch at his words, “You do not think he likes me?”

“I think he lusts after you,” Aemond says bluntly, “The way he spoke about that damned castle of his, wanting to take you there.”

“Oh,” you say, averting your gaze, looking quite put out.

Aemond sighs, looking weary and irritated, “I do not mean to insult you, only to warn you. These suitors have only one thing on their mind.”

You nod, speaking quietly, “I see. I am a bit tired so I think I will save our swordplay lesson for another day, lēkȳs.”

He sighs, “Alright. Fine. Just please be careful.”

You nod and walk away. Aemond’s eye rakes over your form, the effortless sway of your hips nearly hypnotizing him as you leave his view. He hates the thought of you being taken away from him. You are his twin. You’re meant to belong to no one save for him. You came into this world together, and that is how it must always remain.

And that is when an idea comes to the young prince. A rather sinister one, but one he cannot seem to shake.

If you were to be sullied, by none other than your brother, prior to marriage… What choice would your mother and grandsire have but to marry the two of you? All he needs to do is convince you of the necessity of it all.

But with how implicitly you trust your darling twin, he does not think it will be very difficult at all.

That evening, you sit in your chambers, ready for bed and reading a book of stories Daeron sent for you from Oldtown. Your nightgown is, perhaps, a bit too revealing for company, but when your twin brother enters the room, his eye roving over you, you think nothing of it.

“Good evening, brother,” you smile sweetly, “Did you need something?”

He takes a step forward, his eye fixed on yours, “Yes, sister. Come closer. I want to show you something.”

You put your book down and stand, walking toward him, curious as to what it is he wishes to show you. Aemond stares down at you, his singular eye boring into yours with an intensity that would frighten you were it anyone save for him. You gasp softly as he grabs you by the waist, pulling you flush up against his chest. Before you can ask him what it is that he thinks he is doing, his lips come crashing down onto yours. You freeze at the sudden kiss, unsure of how to react as his mouth moves against yours for what feels like a small eternity before moving away.

“No one will ever marry you,” he vows, “No one.”

You attempt to pull away from him, utterly confused, “What are you doing?”

Aemond presses his lips to yours again, more harshly this time, his grip on your waist tight and holding you in place. When he parts his lips from yours again, he presses his forehead to yours, his gaze burning as he looks into your eyes.

“You belong to me, hāedus,” he says with a sense of quiet fury, no hint of a joke or tease in his voice, even when you say that he’s scaring you and ask for him to let you go, “I will not let you go. I will not let you marry any man I do not approve of.”

He pushes you against the wall, his lips attaching themselves to your neck as he mouths at your skin, the sensation being altogether new. It isn’t unpleasant in the least, but you know if your mother ever learned of this, she would be furious. You bite back the moan that threatens to escape your lips.

“Aemond, stop,” you plead, “I don’t understand-”

Aemond’s lips find yours again, and this time, he bites down on your lower lip. When you gasp at the feeling, he snakes his tongue into your mouth, moving it against yours. You’ve never kissed anyone before so you merely stand there, completely bewildered as your twin kisses you, roughly, passionately, intensely. He seems to want to drink in your essences, your very soul, not allowing your pleas to cut away at his resolve.

“I want you,” he whispers, his breath tickling the shell of your ear “All of you. I need you. You are my whole life. And if another man ever took you away…” Aemond trails off, unable to finish the thought aloud.

“Aemond, I must do my duty to our house,” you attempt to reason with him, “Another marriage of one Targaryen to another does not help maintain alliances-”

“Don’t talk about that,” he hisses, “I care not for alliances right now, I care only for you,” Aemond manhandles you onto your bed, crawling over you as he holds you close, “I need you. I need to have you the way a husband has a wife.”

Your jaw drops at his words, “Aemond, you can’t, my maidenhead is my husband’s right-”

He leans over you, his fair falling into his face in a way you find devastatingly attractive, though you would never tell him, “Do not speak to me of rights and maidenheads,” he growls, “Unless you wish to be married off to an ugly, lecherous man, do not tell me what they mean.”

Aemond moves his hands to the supple flesh of your thighs, kneading them in his large hands, groaning to himself, gazing into your eyes, brimming with tears, as you plead, “Aemond, please-”

The hunger in Aemond’s eye is palpable as he stares back at you, seemingly drunk on his lust and passion for you as he questions, “Please what, hāedus?” He gently caresses your chin, running his fingers along your skin, “I am your twin, little one. The only man who will ever love you in the way that you deserve. Who will treat you like the princess you are, cater to your every whim. You will be safe with me. I will never beat you nor betray you. The same cannot be said for your suitors,” he smiles at you, a bit too sharply to be completely sweet, “If you give me your maidenhead this night, I will wed you and be able to protect you.”

The idea is tempting, you think, not having to worry about the intentions of your husband to be. Knowing that you will be with someone who will treat you right and never lay a finger on you. Someone who adores you.

“Mother will be furious,” you say softly.

“She’ll be horrified,” Aemond agrees, smiling wickedly, “But there will not be anything she can do.”

“And you are sure none of my suitors are safe to marry?” you ask, completely trusting him.

Aemond snorts, “Your suitors are all dogs who want you for your body and your titles, for the dowry Father will pay.”

You wince at his words, but believe them without questions, allowing him to remove your nightgown. The moonlight filters in through your window, shining on each bit of skin as it is bared. Aemond tosses the nightgown aside, licking his lips, like some sort of lascivious beast. The glint in his eye is wicked as he stares at your body, bare before him. You turn your face, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks at the intensity of his gaze, unsure of how to react. 

Aemond moves away from you for a moment, and so you move to look at him again, watching with parted lips as he strips off his own clothes. Your breathing grows heavier as he reveals himself to you bit by bit, his alabaster skin shining in the moonlight, his platinum hair so very beautiful. And when he removes his eyepatch, the way his sapphire gleams makes you feel as though your heart seizes in your chest.

He walks over to you, both of you completely nude and vulnerable, and begins kissing you again, unable to get enough of the taste of your lips, feeling entirely addicted to it. Aemond’s hands move to cup your breasts, moaning into your mouth as he pinches at your nipples, feeling them pebble beneath his fingers. You whimper slightly at the sensation, feeling an unfamiliar throbbing between your legs that you realize is your want for him.

“Will you be gentle with me?” you question as his lips move to your neck.

“I will,” he rasps.

Aemond’s lips move to take one of your breasts in his mouth, making you whine slightly, unused to feeling anything like this and unsure why it makes you feel so excited. His fingers tease your bare cunny, moving along your entrance, barely touching you, smirking against your skin as you buck your hips against his hand, desperate for his touch.

When he pushes two long fingers inside you, you let out a moan of his name, biting down on your lower lip as he begins pumping his fingers in and out of you at a relentless pace. You’ve pleasured yourself before, but you were always hesitant and unsure. Aemond has no such qualms, his fingers moving in a curved motion, brushing against that spot which you’ve heard so much about but have never quite been able to reach. You feel him mouthing at your tits, his fingers inside you, and it’s almost too much to bear. Then, he adds a third finger, his thumb circling at your sensitive nub, sending you over the edge, the coil in your stomach snapping as you spill yourself on his fingers.

Aemond moves his fingers from you, keeping eye contact with you as he licks them clean with a lewd groan, “You taste like the finest of ambrosia, sweet sister. Shall I taste you directly from the source?”

Your eyes go wide at his words and before you can respond, his mouth is on your cunny, his tongue licking a stripe along your slit. You whimper slightly as he pushes his tongue inside you, his nose rubbing against your already sensitive pearl. You try to squirm backward away from his touch, though not on purpose, but Aemond grabs you by the hips and holds you in place, lapping at your folds like a man starved. The feeling of his tongue moving against you, his hands on your waist, his nose rubbing against your pearl, it all brings your second peak forward more rapidly than the last as you spill yourself against Aemond’s tongue.

He pulls away, looking entirely pleased with himself, “I think you’re ready to take me now. Don’t you?”

You look up at him, feeling unsure, but Aemond said if not him, you’d end up with some lecherous old man. And of course, your twin is always right. You nod after a moment. You watch as Aemond gives his cock a quick tug, the tip already weeping with evidence of his arousal. You wonder how in the world something that big is supposed to fit inside of you, but before you say a word, he’s sheathing himself inside you.

The sting is nearly unbearable for a few moments as he bottoms out inside you, but it dulls soon enough. Aemond stays like that, supporting himself on his forearms as he gazes down at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, kissing away the tears that spill down your cheeks.

When he moves slightly to reposition himself, you’re hit by an overwhelming wave of pleasure that causes you to mewl out his name. Aemond smirks down at you, realizing that you’re ready. He pulls out of you slightly, then thrusts back into you, watching the way your head falls back against the mattress, face twisted in ecstasy. Aemond begins rutting against you like some sort of feral beast.

“Squeezing my cock so perfectly,” he growls in your ear as he pounds into you, leaving you entirely breathless, “Look at you, so beautiful and all for me. Going to fuck a babe into you tonight. And when those cunt suitors of yours see you, fat with my child, they’ll know what it was we did this night, hm?”

You nod dumbly, “Yes, lēkȳs, oh gods…”

Aemond takes your legs, pushing your knees up to your chest, allowing him to fuck into you even deeper, leaving you an incoherent mess, only able to mewl his name and buck your hips up against his, your eyes nearly rolling back in your head at the feeling of his cock moving in and out of you.

You reach your peak before him, but the way you squeeze around him, so deliciously tight, prompts him to release himself too, spilling his seed inside you as he promised. The two of you stay like that for a moment before Aemond moves his body from yours, moving to your wardrobe to grab a cloth and pour you some water from the jug on your table.

“Are you alright, hāedus?” he murmurs after he lays down beside you again, running a hand through your hair, “Was I gentle enough, sweet one?”

You nod, your eyes fluttering shut, “Yes, lēkȳs. You were perfect.”

The two of you are woken by the sound of your mother barging into your chambers the next morning as she demands, “What is the meaning of this?”

Aemond turns to the queen, not bothering to pretend to be ashamed, while you look at your mother in shock and horror, covering your body. Aemond looks at you, silently telling you to let him handle this, to which you nod, trusting him.

“You’ve dishonored your sister, how will she ever find a husband now?!”

Aemond stares at her with a cold glare, “Yes. I have. And I would do it again if given the chance. She will marry no man but me. She is my twin and she belongs to me now, body, heart, mind, and soul,” he says without any fear or hesitation.

You on the other hand, keep your eyes on the foot of the bed, unable to meet your mother’s gaze, too ashamed, “I am sorry, Mother.”

The queen is stunned into silence, looking between the two of you, wincing at the lustful way he stares at you, like some sort of wolf ready to claim you once again, and making no effort to hide it. She watches as you bury your face in Aemond’s chest, whispering his name, seeking comfort in his arms, which he gladly provides.

“I shall arrange the wedding,” your mother states coolly, “No one else will be willing to marry her now…”

Aemond smirks, “Of course you will, Mother. Thank you.”

As the queen leaves the room, your twin draws you closer yet again, drunk on lust and power, high off of the idea that you, the only woman he has ever loved, are finally his.

“You’re mine, sweet sister. Only mine.”

You look at him and know that it’s the truth. You cannot argue with it, you cannot deny it.

And you do not ever wish to.