Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6847750.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_-_George_R._R._Martin
  Relationship:
      Jon_Snow/Daenerys_Targeryen/Rhaenys_Targaryen
  Character:
      Rhaenys_Targaryen, Jon_Snow, Daenerys_Targaryen
  Additional Tags:
      Jon_Snow_is_a_Targaryen, Aunt/Nephew_Incest, Half-Sibling_Incest, Group
      Sex, Manipulation
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-05-14 Words: 1506
****** The Unpainted Stars ******
by honey_wheeler
Summary
     What woman could compare to the two of them? What woman could know
     him better, please him more? He has been theirs since even before
     their flowerings, when the three of them had played at adult love
     with tender curiosities and exploring touches.
Notes
     Written for the valar_morekinks kinkmeme, prompt: Jon/Dany/Rhaenys -
     When Rhaenys and Daenerys find out that Rhaegar has started looking
     at candidates to arrange a marriage to Jon with, they aren't happy.
     He belongs to them, and they're going to make sure he stays theirs.
He mentions it casually, as if conveying the menu for supper or detailing some
mundane happening of the day. The sunlight filters hazy through the hangings
around Rhaenys’s bed, dappling their bare bodies with pattern and shining off
their hair, Jon’s and her own dark twined with Dany’s pale.
“Father means for me to wed,” he says. His hand is brushing idly over Dany’s
hip while his other coils loosely around Rhaenys’s wrist as her hand explores
his belly. She’d been in the process of tracing the hair below his navel to his
cock, to see if he could be coaxed into another go, when his words stopped her
cold.
“To wed?” She sits up beside him in bed, ignoring the way his eyes drop to the
shift and sway of her breasts. “And you only tell us now?”
“Oh, Rhae,” Dany sighs. She stretches drowsily at Jon’s other side. Her cheeks
are still flushed and her thighs sticky from Jon’s lovemaking only half an hour
before. She always did get sleepy after. “I’m almost sixteen, after all. I’m
surprised he waited this long for me to catch up with you.”
Rhaenys slants her an impatient look. It would be so easy to let herself share
Dany’s dreamy placidity. Certainly, they’ve all heard Rhaegar go on about
legacies and prophecies, the three heads of the dragon and Targaryen dynasties
of the past. Since they were children, she and Jon and Rhaenys have believed
that they’d be wed someday, all three, as their ancestors had done for years
untold. As Rhaenys’s namesake herself had done, wedding her brother and sister
in a union of fire and conquest and desire. Jon and Rhaenys may not have the
same Targaryen look of their aunt and lover, with her moonlight hair and
twilight eyes, Daenerys may be her sister only in her heart rather than in
fact, but the same blood travels in all their veins, blood that demands its
like in matters of the heart and the marriage bed.
They are Targaryens. This is what they do.
“Jon is not to be wed to us,” Rhaenys tells Dany.
That brings Dany fully awake. “What? How do you know?” Rhaenys meets Jon’s eyes
and has her instincts confirmed by the cautious, guilty look on his face.
“Father would have told all three of us,” she says, knowing it to be true. “And
Jon would have told us before fucking you.” Jon has the good grace to cringe.
“I thought it would be easier,” he says. He still hasn’t loosed her wrist and
his thumb strokes soothing circles on the delicate skin there. It might work,
except that Rhaenys isn’t in the mood to be pacified.
“No,” Dany says. She shakes her head, sending her hair sliding over her pillow
with a bristling sound that mimics the feeling in Rhaenys’s chest. “No, Jon is
ours. You’re ours, Jon.”
“Dany,” Jon says unhappily, but his voice unravels into a moan as Dany rolls
half atop his body and takes his mouth in a fierce kiss at the same time that
Rhaenys wraps her hand around his cock, a cock that belongs to her and her
soul’s sister.
It’s ruthless, the way the two of them claim him as their own, working in
tandem to remind his body and his heart where they belong. Rhaenys’s knuckles
bump Dany’s hip as she works Jon’s cock with practiced efficiency, knowing the
secrets of his body better than anyone could. Remember that, she wants to tell
him. Remember the pleasure you’ve found with us the next time our father dreams
of grand plans for you. Remember the release you’ve found in our cunts and the
sanctuary you’ve found in our beds.
But the time for words is later. Now, Rhaenys dips her head and closes her lips
around the head of Jon’s cock. He bucks up instinctively, sliding further into
her mouth before he manages to control himself. She would smile if her mouth
weren’t full. He’s always so careful with them, which makes the moments he
loses control all the better. She hollows her cheeks, sucking and licking at
him, the sound of it echoing the sound of Dany’s mouth on his, the sound of
Jon’s fingers teasing Dany’s wet cunt. What woman could compare to the two of
them? What woman could know him better, please him more? He has been theirs
since even before their flowerings, when the three of them had played at adult
love with tender curiosities and exploring touches. They’d waited until Dany
flowered to fuck, Jon taking their maidenhoods in quick succession on the same
night as the two of them held hands, with Rhaenys welcoming him into her body
first solely by merit of her elder age. He has been inside no other woman, and
neither has either of them lain with any man but him. This is all there is, for
all of them, and Rhaegar will simply have to see that.
Jon’s cock is hard and weeping, ready for her to take him. Rhaenys nudges Dany
aside so she can straddle him, seating the head of his cock against her and
slowly, so slowly, sinking down until he’s as deep inside her as a sword in its
sheath. After a moment’s whining at being disrupted, Dany rearranges herself,
throwing one thigh over Jon’s face and sitting back without the slightest
pause, for all that she’s so young and by all rights should still have some shy
hesitation about such things. There’s no room for shyness or hesitation with
them. Dany has learned from a young age to take what she wants.
Jon feasts on her immediately. He hooks his hands over her thighs and holds her
in place as he eats her out, as he’s done so many times before. The life of a
prince affords much time for such idly pleasant pursuits, after all; it’s Aegon
who’s taken to the daily details of rule, leaving them to indulge themselves.
This is as familiar as breathing for them, though it never becomes routine. No
matter how many times Rhaenys has felt her brother’s cock moving within her, no
matter how often she’s felt his mouth on her, his tongue and fingers on and
inside her, it’s always new and shocking and pure. The sight of his chin moving
and his tongue flashing in Daenerys’s maidenhair as he devours her cunt is
always as evocative as if Rhaenys were in her place.
“We belong together,” Dany pants as she rides his face as if she’s astride a
dragon herself, her hips moving and her body straining. “Rhaegar will see. He
has to see. He has to know we belong together. I will take no man in my bed but
you, Jon, I will have no cock but yours, no babe but yours!” Tears are slipping
down her cheeks as she babbles, the words like those in Rhaenys’s mind that she
leaves unsaid. Jon moans into Dany’s cunt and bucks up into Rhaenys, spilling
long and hot inside her. He drops one hand from Dany to tuck between his body
and Rhaenys’s and bring her to her own completion, tipping her up over the edge
while his cock still spills and spurts within her. She imagines his seed inside
her, taking hold and giving her a babe with his dark hair and Dany’s violet
eyes, a symbol of the two most beloved to her in all the world. It’s enough to
make her heart ache.
She’s still astride him, his cock softening inside her, when Dany pitches into
her own peak. She writhes gloriously atop his face, rubbing shamelessly against
his mouth, wringing every bit of pleasure from him that she can as she leans
forward to rest her cheek on Rhaenys’s breast. Rhaenys is filled with a fierce
love for her, a pride in how she takes without hesitation or apology. Jon feels
the same; Rhaenys knows he does. Strange, to feel such protective pride over a
woman who is their aunt, for all that she feels more like a sister to them.
More, sometimes, in the most curious way, like their child.
It’s that thought of a child that comes back to her as they lie together, a
tangle of sated limbs. Rhaenys has taken moontea from the moment she flowered,
as has Dany. She’s making plans as soon as the idea crystallizes in her mind.
The master is old and foggy; he will not notice if she switches their moontea
for something harmless, he’ll never know to tell her father that anything might
be amiss. Rhaegar may be happy enough to buck tradition by taking a second
wife, but even he would balk at marrying off a son who’s expecting an heir. Jon
would be theirs. Rhaegar may be angry, but he would submit to their will.
Possibly he’d even forgive them for ruining his plans.
His daughter and his sister are true Targaryens, after all. What is theirs will
not be taken from them.
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