A/N: Some canon changes are introduced here, and more will follow in the next chapter. Thanks for reading!
Rhaenys Targaryen, 4 BC
Her family stood in her garden, and none else were with them. The weeds had been shorn away, replaced by budding flowers and twining vines. Visenya said it was like a forest growing again after feeling the touch of Dragonflame. Coming from her elder sister, that felt like the highest of praises.
But she digressed, she was only taking her mind from the nerves swirling in her stomach, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly.
Today she was getting married. It wasn't the height of beauty, like the dreams her mind envisioned, but with her and Aegon, it was close enough.
Aegon stood across from her, wearing garments of Valyrian tradition. She wore the same. In each of their hands, a crude dragonglass dagger split their lips, and then the palm of their hands. She winced at the pain, they clasped hands, their blood mixed, and heat pooled in her belly, washing everything else away. His blood running into hers, and hers running into his, becoming one.
They met eyes, leaned in, and delved into a kiss that would remain in her memories for the rest of her life. Time held no meaning as their tongues danced, the taste of iron strong. His free hand came to her hips and pulled her in close. She felt weightless, and they melded as one.
A loud cough from behind them broke their lips apart, though Aegon still held her close. She rested her head upon his chest.
A sideways glance, and she saw Visenya looking at them, thoroughly unimpressed. Her elder sister's sharp gaze could cut Valyrian Steel, and a barely hidden emotion lingered in her eyes.
Rhaenys couldn't tell what it was.
Orys rubbed his head awkwardly. "I'll… leave you both to it," before walking away.
Visenya's stare lingered. "Congratulations," she said evenly. She followed Orys away.
Hmmph. Whatever. Today was her day. She peered up at Aegon's smirking face. His hand dipped to her bottom and he squeezed.
"No more games today, wife. Today, we make love."
"You won't tease me anymore?"
Aegon chuckled. "Eating your flower is teasing you? Your moans say the opposite."
She blushed. It was true. Since that first day Aegon gave her the Lord's Kiss, he had given it many more times. Sometimes in her room, sometimes in his, and sometimes in the garden. It was an adventure every time; but being outside always felt the best.
Rhaenys felt a burst of bravery and traced a language hand down to his soft shaft. Gently, she squeezed it, stroking its slowly hardening frame
"I've been waiting for years for you to take me. Anything less is but pleasurable torture."
Aegon smirked. "Then let us go to my room. No need to wait any longer."
"That might be the smartest words you've ever spoken," she smiled.
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Aegon Targaryen
In his first life, models, celebrities, and playboy bunnies were but a drop of water in the ocean compared to the goddess laying on the bed, nude as the day she was born. Aegon stood at the foot of the bed equally naked and drank in the seductive sight. Once, the idea of incest would have disgusted him. Seeing his sisters and knowing they could be his… That distaste didn't last long.
Like a halo, silver gold hair formed a canopy around her. Her lips were wet, and her purple eyes were dark with desire.
Pert, pink nipples hard enough to cut diamond were encircled by large areolas, capping off large and perfectly proportioned breasts. Her stomach was taut and her sides curved over her hips like an hourglass.
Her slender thighs and legs were pressed together. Rhaenys slowly opened them wide, revealing her dripping slit capped by a crown of silver curls.
She beckoned him forward with a finger and a sultry smile. He kneeled. Slow, sensual kisses traced the lines of her legs. Teasing Rhaenys was fun, and in bed, even more so.
He wrapped his arms around her legs to hold her in place, and they were softer than silk. His lips danced up her thighs, across her groin, and he licked the outside of her pussy before he broke away and started the same routine on her other leg.
Her breathing was heavy, and he glanced up and over the valley of her belly. She cupped her breasts, squeezing them, playing with her perfect little nipples.
He circled her slit with his hand, and a single finger slowly sunk into her warm, velvety tight depths, languidly pumping in and out.
"Aegon," she sighed.
He wished to hear her moans for eternity.
He couldn't help himself anymore. He needed to taste her, and so he did, lapping at her slit like a dog drinking, flicking her little button with his tongue. She got wetter and wetter, an ambrosia of the gods.
"More. More," she pleaded. She threw her legs over his shoulders and drew him in close, trapping his face against her. He eagerly complied. The slow lapping turned more passionate as she ground her hips against his face, looking for more, more, more.
A second finger joined the first, and he was beyond knuckles deep in an instant, her passage slicker than wet stone.
Her moans grew louder, and when she uttered his name once more, it sounded like a prayer and a demand all at once. Before long, her back arched. Her legs trembled like she was zapped by electricity and she instinctively pushed him away, her pussy too sensitive to take any more pleasure.
He was hard. So hard it hurt. Rhaenys legs were boneless and he shook them off easily enough, standing. He gripped his cock in one hand and rubbed the tip on her folds, lubing it up and enjoying the sweet sensitivity. The other hand rested on the curve of her hip.
"This may hurt," he warned.
"Then give me pain," she said, voice husky.
Who was he to deny her?
He lined himself up and slowly thrust forward, burying the head of his shaft in her. Aegon gasped. She was wet, warm, and tight. Rhaenys hands clenched the sheets, her bottom lip working between her teeth.
Not thrusting deep may be the hardest thing Aegon had ever done. As it was, he couldn't help but sink further into her. There was no barrier to break nor spilled blood, having long lost it on her dragon's back.
Rhaenys winced.
"I'm sorry, little sister," he said, sympathetic. He felt a guilty sort of pleasure, standing there at the foot of his bed. A Goddess was beneath him taking his cock, and all he wanted to do was fall deeper into her, no matter the pain.
"Don't apologize for making me yours."
Well, he wouldn't argue with that.
"Tell me when you can take more. I'll wait here for now."
She propped herself up on her elbows, desire filled eyes meeting with his own. Her heart shaped face called him like sirens did to sailors, and he leaned toward to take her lips. It was a gentle meeting, each swipe of tongues filled with love.
Aegon felt her tenseness slowly melt away. She whispered "I'm ready," and he buried himself halfway in.
The tenseness came back, and he kissed her until it went away. He slowly pumped in and out, pulling out till his tip remained before sinking back to the middle of his shaft. Her walls clung to him like wet clothes to skin.
Now that her passage was loosened, he conquered her inch by inch until he was balls deep. Aegon stayed in her warmth, basking in the pleasure he felt in his cock and chest.
"Beautiful," he whispered into her ear, tracing it with his tongue. "My sweet little sister, taking my cock so well."
"Give me a son. I want my King to give me a King."
"Only one son?"
"No. As many as you can give me. Princes and Princesses until Valyria is reborn through my womb."
That's hot, Aegon thought, and he couldn't hold himself back if he tried.
He fucked in her earnest, then, slapping skin echoing alongside Rhaenys moans. She wrapped her legs around his back, her feet resting on his butt as she helped pull him in with each thrust. He put his hands on either side of her and fell up onto the bed, drilling into her all the while.
"I'm close," he said, thrusting more erratically. Rhaenys' legs trapped him in a prison he never wanted to escape from until he spilled deep inside. He imagined it taking root, of her belly swelling, and giving him as many children as she could.
Aegon rested inside her warmth as he softened, and he pulled her into a deep kiss.
"Was it everything you desired?" He wondered aloud.
"That and more," she said, then winced. "I want you to take me over and over, but I fear I'm too sore. I'm sorry." Her legs opened and he pulled out, a thin trail of white leaking from her. He rolled over to her side and pulled her lithe form onto him so her head could rest on his chest.
"Don't apologize for that, Rhaenys," he chuckled. "This is the first time of many," he emphasized.
"I know, but I'm your wife now, husband. I want to take care of your needs."
He smiled down at her. "And I'm your husband, wife. I long for our pleasure, not your pain. I can wait."
"I know you can wait. You made me wait for years," she sulked. Rhaenys blushed then and tilted her head, considering her words. "The pain wasn't terrible. I—I sort of liked it," she confessed in a whisper.
"Oh?"
"Not at first. That was just painful. But after a while, the pain made the pleasure feel better."
"Hmm." Aegon hummed.
"It's not—it's not weird?"
"Many may think so," he honestly replied, "but here? I will never judge what brings you pleasure."
"Thank you, brother."
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Three Moon Later
Visenya Targaryen
With Dark Sister in hand, her problems usually melted away. Winning against men both larger and stronger than her with nothing but speed and a lifetime of skill, beating them into the ground… nothing felt better, truly.
She felt a true dragonlord, then.
Today, that wasn't so. Her issues lingered no matter how many guards she left supping on sand.
And it all centered around her little sister and brother, through no fault of theirs. That almost made it worse. Aegon still treated her as he did before, and though his time was strained between two wives, he still made an effort to not play favorites and spend an equal amount of the days and nights with each of them.
The problem was simpler, and yet, more complicated.
Aegon and her had been married for years, trying for children all the while.
He married Rhaenys and she had grown with child within a moon of their marriage. It felt like the Gods were laughing at her.
Was something just wrong with her? Fourteen forbid, was she barren? Or was her sister just blessed in both body and womb? A true woman.
The idea of being a mother was never one she longed for, except for when she layed with Aegon and her desire burned hot, but now with the possibility she would never have children floating in her mind…
She wanted to be a mother. To birth a son and teach him how to swing a sword, ride a dragon, and the ways of their ancestors.
And matter how guilty she felt about it, she hoped beyond hope Rhaenys birthed a girl. Visenya damn near raised her siblings after her mother died, no matter Aegon's maturity. And for all she loved her father, he had been a broken man for some time after her death. She ruled Dragonstone in Aegon's name when he couldn't be bothered to, and she knew once they conquered the Seven Kingdoms, she would work more and more.
Her son being King after Aegon wasn't truly so selfish compared to all she had given. Was it?
"Sister!" Aegon's voice broke her from her thoughts, and an irrational well of guilt tore through her.
"Brother," she acknowledged, and only a lifetime of experience kept the wince from showing on her face. She knew the greeting came out cold.
He frowned, then shook his head. "I thought to spar, if you are willing?"
"Not now. I've been out for hours. I need to bathe."
The frown deepened, but he nodded all the same. "I'll go check on Rhaenys, then. By the Gods… she is a terror to be near. I worry for my life when your womb quickens."
"If it quickens."
"Sister," he said, concerned. "We will have children. I know it. I've dreamed of it."
"You have?"
"Of our son," he seemed to war with himself for a moment. "His name shall be Maegor."
She gasped, uncaring of the surprise no doubt showing on her face.
Maegor. She knew that name. Since she'd been a girl, she'd loved it. It sounded strong. Valyrian. If she ever had a son, that would be his name, no matter Aegon's wishes or desires. To hear that name spoken when she'd never uttered it… he must have dreamed of it.
"I—I see. Maegor… I quite like it. It sounds strong," she said.
"He will be. Too strong, many say."
She smiled a small smile, and she didn't try to hide it. Many of her worries were eased.
"Any son of ours can't be weak. It's simply not possible."
"Strength comes in many ways," he said mysteriously.
Her interest peaked, but he spoke again before she could ask.
"Once you've bathed, meet me in the Chamber of the Painted Table. I wish to hear your opinion on matters."
On the conquest, went unspoken. She nodded.
"Wish me luck then, sister. I'm off to see Rhaenys."
The dread on his face made her want to laugh, and so did him walking away like he was heading to the gallows.
Maegor, she thought once more. Their son's name.
Warmth filled her.
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