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neptuneiris · 10 months

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detachment (01/03)

letting go and accepting what we can't change. detaching from the choices of others.

pairing: prince!aemond × niece!reader

summary: aemond not only breaks your heart after so many love promises, he also breaks his betrothal to you without any justification and announces his betrothal to a baratheon girl. now you will be married soon too.

word count: 7.9k

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Those had been his words before you left King's Landing and after you returned for an indefinite time due to the condition of your grandsire, King Viserys.

hello! i'm very happy to be back with a new story. new characters and new plot, now with our prince aemond🥰

comments and reblogs are always appreciated, thank you so much for reading, you are all awesome❣

"I love you."

But he had really felt them?

Did Aemond Targaryen truly loved you?

For a time, both expressed their love and devotion for each other, proclaiming kisses, caresses and titles that they wanted to seal permanently with a Valyrian wedding.

The affection began as children. You were never mean to your uncle compared to your siblings and his older brother, Aegon. And fortunately Aemond always appreciated the good treatment he received from you.

And that good treatment led the two of you to start spending a lot of time together. By sharing a taste for literature, having interesting conversations about the history of your ancestors or even learning High Valyrian, you both formed a fondness and affection for each other.

There was never any objection from your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, about a friendship between her only daughter and her half-brother, the product of her father's second wife and once best friend.

Nevertheless, Alicent Hightower did have a problem.

When she began to notice her second son's affection for Princess Rhaenyra's daughter, she had to forbid him to spend time with you with more than strict measures and supervision.

"Mother said I must not spend time with you. She said that our duties are different and that I cannot learn embroidery with you and you cannot learn to use a sword with me."

He had told you once when the two of them met in the library sneaking around in the middle of the night with a sorrowful look and a sad tone of voice.

"My mother has never told me I can't spend time with you, Aemond. She has never forbidden me."

You had told him with such disappointment as you understood that the two of you could no longer spend time together and that all those readings together could no longer be possible, neither could High Valyrian lessons despite the fact that neither of you have a dragon yet.

"I know, Y/N."

And he had told you that with such resignation that tears began to form in your eyes.

"Then… we can't be friends anymore?"

And even though Aemond Targaryen at his young age has always been faithful to his mother in everything she told him, the most respectful and obedient, simply the polite and perfect son, seeing your tears and your sad face, at that moment he decided not to obey.

"I'm never going to let that happen. We'll still spend time together, I promise. But we'll have to be very careful."

He had told you to then take you in his arms, hugging you. A hug that you reciprocated instantly, making you feel better knowing that their friendship would continue.

And he keeps his word.

You begin to have secret meetings in the library, the kitchens or in the gardens, both being very careful not to be discovered.

The lessons of High Valyrian continued, also the readings of stories about Old Valyria, the reign of Aegon the Conqueror or the First Men.

Sometimes you would steal bread or cakes from the kitchens, then hide in the library or in the innermost corridors of the Keep where you knew you could not be found.

Everything was perfect. Two innocent children enjoying a friendship and at the same time preparing for their respective duties to the realm.

Until one day, your mother decided to leave with her whole family to Dragonstone.

It was a very hard blow for Aemond and you because you had never been separated before. Your mother had never even considered leaving King's Landing as she was the Heir to the Throne and very much aware that she must remain at Court.

But Alicent Hightower had been more astute and by her behavior managed to dispossess the princess of her own home. And there is no alternative for you and Aemond to exchange letters and keep in touch as much as possible.

Once you arrived at Dragonstone, letters between the two of you were never lacking in that short period of time between your departure from King's Landing and then Aemond's accident at Driftmark.

Aunt Laena Velaryon had died and despite it being an unfortunate event, you were happy to see Aemond again and he too longed to feel close to you again.

However, the Gods are cruel and the accident marked Aemond's life forever, as well as the rivalry between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra.

And although Lucerys is your brother, Aemond, even in his state of hatred, never resented you for his lost eye, nor the clear rivalry between your mother and his.

On the contrary, the relationship between you was strengthened because you did not want to separate after such a fatal accident that made you cry while you hugged him tightly, thinking that maybe you could have lost him.

So the letters continued, some exchanges of gifts as well and even some secret visits that you allowed yourselves to have on the backs of your dragons to meet in a midpoint.

Or rather on a small island in Blackwater Bay.

Aemond had managed to claim Vhagar, the largest dragon in all the world and the one that once had Visenya Targaryen as a rider, while you claimed Silverwing, the dragon of the good queen Alyssane Targaryen.

Until King Viserys' health began to deteriorate in a serious and worrisome way, so your mother decided to return for an indefinite time to the Red Keep.

And the moment you and Aemond were reunited, that bond between the two of you only grew stronger, so everything formed the word courtship and it was no secret to your families.

It was no secret despite the clear rivalry between the Targaryens and the Hightowers and even more so with Alicent Hightower against the clear affection between his son and Y/N Velaryon.

But everyone knew that you are not a true Velaryon.

A bastard.

That's what you are in the eyes of the Hightower. And no matter that your hair was platinum like the Targaryen's, you were not the daughter of Laenor Velaryon, but probably of Daemon Targaryen.

Queen Alicent knows the depravity of Princess Rhaenyra and there was no other explanation for it, considering also that your brothers are bastards, but of Harwin Strong.

And Queen Alicent felt that spite and hatred for Princess Rhaenyra being so brazen and giving birth to children not legitimate. And the same thoughts she shared with her father, her children and Larys Strong.

However, Aemond didn't want to hear anything she told him about you.

He understood that his mother was angry with his half-sister, but that didn't mean she would have to turn him against you as well for something they had nothing to do with.

Bastard or not… you were always a good person to him. And all Aemond wanted, as well as you too, was to be together. It didn't matter that your brother was the boy who took his eye, that was a separate point for him.

And when you were ten and eight while Aemond was ten and nine, the talks and planning for a marriage began.

Marriage that was not approved by Alicent and Otto Hightower, but Aemond didn't care. He had already let too much time pass without making a move.

And that was dangerous considering that you are a princess of the realm and many lords had already asked for your hand. And because of your age, you had to make a decision now.

But you had already chosen him, in fact since you were a little girl. And now he had already done something about it by asking for your hand.

And finally you could both call each other husband and wife, what you always wanted.

Your father, Daemon, didn't agree to the marriage, Jace didn't either. But your mother took your wishes into consideration and spoke to your grandsire, King Viserys, who approved and gave his blessing for a marriage between his son Aemond and his granddaughter Y/N.

At this, Queen Alicent could do nothing, much less Otto Hightower despite their replies and clear displeasure.

And when your mother gave you the news, it made you very happy to know that finally Aemond could call you his and you could call him yours.

"But are you completely sure about this, my love?"

Your mother asks you, looking at you with eyes of love and understanding, holding your hand. To which you only nod with a small smile on your lips.

"Yes."

She smiles too, stroking the back of your hand with her thumb. Then she lets out a long breath and nods as she lowers her gaze for a moment, which catches your attention.

"You agree, mother?"

She again looks at you with a slightly bewildered look.

"It doesn't matter what I think, sweet girl. What matters is that you really are sure that he is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with."

"I know but your opinion matters to me."

Again Rhaenyra's sweet smile returns to her lips, watching you adoringly for a few moments to again let out a small breath.

"Well… I saw that coming, in a way," she smiles at you, "And I think we all do, actually."

"So you don't feel uncomfortable?"

"No," she denies absurdly, "I remind you that I did exactly as you wish, my love."

"It doesn't hurt to ask you and want to know how you really feel, mother."

Your mother is silent for a few seconds, thinking about your words and thinking about her own next.

"Well… if we go back in time, certainly your grandsire must have felt uncomfortable and… weird about the idea of his brother and his only daughter at the time together," she says sympathetically, "Something I never understood until now that I get to be in the same position as him. But that's our family and I couldn't oppose the idea of what you wish."

She assures you.

"Ever since you and Aemond started being inseparable as children, I knew it would turn out like this. And I knew that the thought of you both being meant to burn together could not be inevitable. And I understand that perfectly."

You nod slowly, listening and understanding his words, thinking.

"But father doesn't think the same," you say with some disappointment, "Neither do my brothers. They are upset with this and with me, I know."

"My love, you don't worry about them," your mother tells you immediately, "Your father will eventually understand, he can't be such a hypocrite, can he? And your brothers… they don't see that this will probably put an end to the rivalry between the two families, despite of happened in Driftmark. I don't expect Aemond to forgive Luke either."

She says and a wave of peace begins to envelop you.

"But there's always a chance and hope," she assures you, "So this is good, very good. Otherwise, Aemond would not have asked for your hand and I would not have spoken to the King to give his blessing."

That time your mother's words could not have comforted you more, making you feel genuinely happy and no longer feeling worried about the people around you because of your marriage to Aemond.

And that time you had also gone in search of Aemond after leaving your mother's chamber, finding him in the library, feeling relieved and happy.

"I spoke to my mother," you tell him, intertwining your fingers with his, "She said to be sure to set a date for the wedding with the king and she will tell us as soon as they come to an agreement."

Aemond watches you with a barely visible half-smile, all his gaze soft and watching you intently, with fondness and longing, noticing how you can't help but be excited about the wedding.

"And do you have any preferences for the wedding you'd like to share with me?"

He asks you softly, completely catching your attention, smiling at him.

"Actually, I should be asking you that question," you take a seat next to him, not letting go of his hand.

"I was the one who insisted on a traditional wedding," he reminds you with an obvious look, "You know I would prefer the Valyrian wedding, less people, few witnesses and everything just like the tradition of our house."

"The traditional wedding thing you asked for taking your mother's wish into consideration. She doesn't approve of this, so that's the only way to keep her less angry," you also remind him, "Still after our wedding at the Septon, we can fly to Dragonstone and have the Valyrian wedding we want. We can even stay there, just you and me."

Aemond smiles, bringing your hand to his lips, leaving chaste, soft kisses on the back of yours, understanding perfectly what you are implying, just what he desires as well.

"No celebration feast, then?" he peers over your hand.

"You want a feast?"

"It doesn't matter what I want, Y/N. All I want is to marry you and unite our blood, that's all that matters to me."

You smile softly, moving a little closer towards him.

"I know, nothing is more important to me too," you tell him softly, "but don't be so insensitive about the preparations, Aemond," you tell him amused.

He rolls his eye, still smiling and still not letting go of your hand for wanting to keep feeling your touch.

"Well, then tell me what's concerning you."

"They are not concerns, I just want to know your opinion and take into consideration some wishes you want to make."

"And what are those?"

"Well… your opinion would help me to know about what colors of the dress I should wear."

Aemond stops his caresses on your hand and watches you with a thin line on his lips and really expressionless for a few seconds without saying anything.

"I know perfectly well that this is about a concern of yours, Y/N," he finally tells you afterwards.

"Well, yes, it is a concern," you reluctantly confess.

"The colors of a dress?"

"Well, what am I supposed to do? Wear green or red?"

"My love, the dress will be yours, not mine. Besides, I know you don't like green."

"Yes but that color is yours."

"No, it's not mine, green is my mother's color," he reminds you, "I may wear it sometimes, but we are both more Targaryen than anything. So if you must choose colors, let them be red and black, just the same colors I will wear."

At that moment in front of him you don't show it, but you feel really relieved to hear his words, the dress being an issue that really had you worried sick.

So you get up, let out a long breath and sit on his lap, him instantly accepting you in his arms, while you drop your head on his chest in a defeated motion.

"What would I do without you," you murmur.

Aemond lets out a small laugh.

"'Rather what would I do without you, Issa jorrāelagon."

You let out a long breath, closing your eyes, taking comfort in the fact that you are in the arms of Aemond, the man you love.

"You're right," you murmur, "All I want is to call a Septon and have him marry us right now with no preparations and no other planning. I was going crazy over a dress and it's only the beginning."

"Don't worry, my love," he assures you softly, "We will plan the whole wedding together, without any third opinions and wishes. And in the end, it will all have been worth it. We'll finally be married, what we've always wanted."

You smile softly, lifting your face a little towards him to watch him, to which he also watches you, seeing your face light up, full of illusion and excitement.

"I still can't believe it."

"You know there's no turning back now, don't you? Once I see you at the Septon, you're already bound to me forever."

"Just what I've always wanted. Unless you don't want to."

"Of course I want to, I'm just warning you," he tells you with a smile, "And I also remind you that the blood of the dragon runs thick."

"We are lucky we share the same blood, my love."

Unable to help yourself any longer, Aemond's lips just above you being an invitation you complacently want to heed, you place your hands on his cheeks and begin to caress your lips with his, sharing a soft, affection-filled kiss that he reciprocates, holding you by your waist.

And even though you have shared countless kisses before, this one is undoubtedly different, because very soon he will be yours and you will be his, finally.

"Avy jorrāelan," you murmur against his lips.

"Avy jorrāelan, Issa gevie ābrazȳrys."

You let out a small laugh at his lips, pulling away from him a little.

"I'm not your wife yet."

"And your point is?"

You laugh again, stroking his long hair, watching his handsome face, stroking his scar as well, watching him with desire and adoration, all of him being what you want.

"Yet you will be soon."

And again he pulls you close in a needy kiss which you reciprocate instantly, really not looking forward to the big day anymore, wanting, no, rather needing to call him your husband as soon as possible.

And finally you can tell when the big day will be you are with Aemond in the gardens, both of you taking a walk before he goes to take his daily sword training and you get the seamstress to plan your dress, when your mother appears and approaches you both.

She has a small smile on her face, so you can tell this is good news.

"I spoke with the King a few moments ago. The Maester's are taking very good care of him and we have finally agreed on a date for the wedding."

"I hope it is soon," Aemond says to your surprise, listening and watching your mother carefully, with a serious gaze, "Though I would not be surprised if my father in his state, has suggested the end of the year."

"No, it's not like that," she tells him almost in the same condescending tone, "I let him know what you are expecting and the date has been dictated for before the end of spring, on another moon."

You hold back your huge smile and excitement, holding Aemond's hand a little tightly in a second out of excitement, that just sounding perfect, just what you wished for.

And even though you know Aemond must also feel the same happiness, he doesn't show it in front of your mother, holding back.

"Does my mother know?" he asks your mother in a softer tone.

Rhaenyra denies with a serious but restrained look of sadness and disappointment.

"No," she clears her throat, lowering her gaze for a moment, "I thought you would want to tell her," she confesses to him, "I never find the opportunity to talk to her," she purses her lips, "She won't let me."

Aemond at your side just nods in her direction, understanding. He also understands that this behavior on his mother's part towards his half-sister has always been there since she returned to the Keep.

And he doesn't think that will change, even after the wedding, but he appreciates Rhaenyra's efforts to try to talk to her and not leave her out of his wedding, despite her insensitivity at Driftmark.

It doesn't mean he'll be nice and friendly to her, it's just that little appreciation.

Then slowly Aemond turns to you and leaves a soft kiss on your forehead, locking you in his arms for a moment, wanting to feel you close.

You smile and hug him back, turning your face to look at your mother with a small more than happy smile on your lips, your mother also smiling in your direction, honestly feeling happy for the both of you.

News of the date begins to spread among the families and soon after throughout the Court as well, with the wedding of Prince Aemond Targaryen and Princess Y/N Velaryon being the most anticipated of the year.

It was still something Otto and Alicent Hightower didn't want, neither did Daemon Targaryen, but the King had already given his blessing and he himself wanted the news to spread throughout Westeros, wanting a truly unforgettable wedding.

Until a few days after your mother let you both know the wedding date, you unexpectedly began to see Aemond less frequently.

Usually the two of you every day go for a walk in the garden or meet in the library. And if you don't have time during the day, at night he sneaks into your chamber or you sneak into his through the secret passages.

However, none of that also happened to make up for lost time.

You would see him a few moments at the training yard with Criston Cole and a few other knights, but that was about it. And when you looked for him in the library, it looked like he wasn't going to spend any more time there.

And just when you decided to sneak through the secret passages to go to his chambers, you stopped and thought to yourself that maybe he's nervous and needs time to think about the wedding.

The wedding of the two of you is something you were longing for since you understood the meaning of a union that now that it's finally going to happen…probably has him very anxious and needs space.

Until the days go by and you start to feel that something is wrong, as you realize that he is avoiding you, something he has never done before.

You tried to talk to him but Criston Cole would let you know that he was having a meeting with his grandsire or was in the company of the queen. He would also tell you that the prince was out for a ride on his dragon.

You asked him to send him a message from you when he saw him, but it seemed that those messages never reached his ears or if they did, he ignored you.

And when you went to look for him at the training yard, you were told that the prince had skipped his training or had already trained very early in the morning, leaving you confused and not understanding anything.

You were completely disconcerted that the two of you suddenly stopped seeing each other and spending time together, so without thinking about it, one night you took the secret passage and slipped into the darkness with a candle in your hand and headed to Aemond's chambers.

But as you try to push his secret door, confusion overcomes you and your pulse stops for a moment when it won't open, being blocked by something from the other side.

You think about shouting his name, but instantly you know it's a very bad idea as you can't risk the secrecy of the passageways out of desperation.

But more and more disappointment and worry fill you, not understanding what is happening and thinking that it must be something bad.

At this, you show your concern to your mother, who continues to attend to matters at Court, keeping an eye on the King's health and helping you with the preparations for the wedding.

"Sure it's nothing, sweet girl. Men act in ways we don't understand, just as we act in ways they don't understand us. Perhaps he is preparing to be a good husband to you and both of you to do your duty for the realm.

"But it seems so strange to me," you say worried, "He doesn't talk to me, I practically don't see him and he even seems to avoid me."

"Have you tried to talk to him yet?"

"Yes, yes, all the time," you reply in an instant, "He even said he would help me get everything ready for the wedding but… I never see him."

"Y/N—

"I just don't understand, mother. We used to spend time together and now that we're finally getting married, he's acting weird."

"Sweet girl—

"Or is it that he doesn't want to marry me anymore?"

You interrupt him with a broken voice and utter disappointment and sadness in your eyes, realization starting to creep into your mind, truly not understanding anything.

"My love, you shouldn't go to extremes," your mother tells you in an instant, not wanting you to get upset and start thinking the worst, "He's been longing for this wedding as much as you have. He's probably just nervous and needs some time."

You look at your beautiful mother not so sure.

"Are you sure?" you ask her in a breathy whisper.

"Yes, my love, very sure."

She quickly moves towards you to lock you in her arms and comfort you, telling you that everything will be all right and that what you want so much , will finally happen.

But if only that had been it.

Not long after talking to your mother, once you head to your mother's chambers after leaving the chambers of your sweet Aunt Helaena with whom you were discussing some lovely ideas for the wedding, a guard intercepts you in the middle of the hallway, stopping you.

"Prince Aemond requires your presence in the Council Chamber, Princess. Immediately."

Such words could not have made you feel happier and relieved, finally ending this torture, so you quickly make your way to the Council Chamber, in an instant thinking about why Aemond has asked to see you there.

But honestly you don't care, all you want is to finally see him and talk to him.

And in an instant you already find yourself walking through the doors of the Council Chamber, happy to see Aemond's figure finally, standing with his back to you from the other side of the table, waiting for you.

But you must have thought something was wrong when he didn't even turn to look at you when he heard the sound of the doors opening and your footsteps approaching.

"My love, I'm so relieved to finally see you," you say with a smile, approaching him happily, "I was so worried, you don't know how much I wanted to see you and talk to you. I have so much to tell you, I even came to think that….

"I won't marry you."

Then your whole world stops, just like your feet, stopping abruptly at his words, your smile fading in a second and watching him now in shock.

The room goes completely silent, with no one else present, just the two of you, not even a guard present at his request for discretion… for now.

"I have spoken to my father… I have already cancelled all preparations, the Septon and my family have also been made aware."

And at his words, you feel like each one of them is a knife straight to your heart, tearing it from the inside, feeling an intent, sharp pain in your chest.

You look at him with your lips parted, your gaze completely bewildered and your eyes starting to fill with tears.

You are completely paralyzed, unable to move despite feeling yourself start to tremble, seeing him not even look back at you, telling you all this without any emotion, as if it meant nothing.

"Your family must also be being notified right now, the whole Court will know soon too."

"But…

You try to say with a thread of a voice, but he again speaks, still turning his back to you and with no emotion in his voice, no emotion in his posture either, leaving you to see a man you don't know completely.

"That's all. You can leave now."

Disbelief is completely reflected in your gaze, truly not understanding anything, with tears starting to involuntarily flow out of your eyes at his coldness and insensitivity.

Because he's already done everything… without you having the slightest idea.

"Are you serious?"

You manage to say, your voice completely broken and in a whisper, needing to sit up or lean against something, feeling your strength go.

"Doesn't it sound like I'm serious?"

"Aemond—

"I told you that's all, you can leave now," he repeats you with the same seriousness and coldness, as if you were nobody to him.

Then the first sob escapes your lips, trying to control yourself, but you cannot.

You continue to stand there, watching him with all the sadness in the world, also with all the confusion, really not understanding anything, needing an explanation, wanting to know why, what you have done wrong, what has happened, why he so suddenly changed his mind.

Everything was all right, everything seemed right, that you just don't understand.

"I-I don't… I don't understand anything—

"If you don't leave Y/N, I'll leave," he warns you, without even looking you in the eye for a second.

"But you… I-I… I thought—

He won't let you talk, he just doesn't want to listen to you and just like he said, that's what he does. He lets out a frustrated sigh and heads out of the Council Chamber, leaving you behind, heartbroken and not knowing why.

"Aemond," you call out to him between sobs, pleading.

Not knowing where you have drawn strength from, you move towards him once he is within reach, grabbing his arm, wanting to stop him and make him explain, but as soon as you reach him, he quickly pushes you away in a sharp, tactless movement, treating you, again, as if you were nobody.

"Don't."

He warns you in a threatening and cold tone, resuming his way to the doors in a more hurried pace, not even looking back.

His demeanor and coldness leave you completely shocked and static, never in a million years expecting such behavior from him towards you.

And once he leaves the Council Chamber, you feel your heart completely broken and your mind a mess of emotions, wanting to believe that this is not real, starting to cry and sob loudly.

A complete mess, Aemond leaves you there without explanation and without caring at all about your feelings, all being said and done.

Not long after, your mother and father rush into the Council Chamber, looking for you, finding you still a mess and you quickly asking them for explanations, explanations they had no idea about either.

And all that time, you kept asking yourself why, why he had done this to you if he was supposed to love you and want to marry you. But nobody understood anything.

Only he knew why he had done it.

Weeks have passed since the announcement of the cancelled betrothal between prince Aemond and princess Y/N.

You being the protagonist of the topic to talk about, even so the men and women of the Court were not at all dissimulated and kept feeding the news more and more with each passing day.

Different rumors ran about the possible cause that caused the wedding to be canceled, rumors that you did not want to hear and for which you ended up locking yourself in your chamber, not wanting to see anyone.

You barely slept and barely ate, watching the days pass by through your windows slowly, with huge bags under your eyes and dismissing your maids whenever they wanted to assist you.

You hadn't seen him since that conversation either.

You didn't hear from anyone except your family who were in charge of making you react by going into your chamber to take a bath and eat something, your mother extremely worried about you and your father specifically having someone in mind for wanting to murder upon seeing your state.

Everyone was still as confused as you were, even your mother asked Queen Alicent for an explanation, but to no avail. She even tried to talk to Aemond, but he wouldn't let her, saying that everything was already done.

It was so much the humiliation that not even your mother would force you to leave your chamber, no matter how much she wanted to get you out of your four walls, Daemon feeling extremely upset and indignant.

Your brothers never said anything to you, but they were extremely worried about you too, as were your sisters Baela and Rhaena.

Even your grandmother Rhaenys sent her concerns from Driftmark, but no one had any explanations for anyone.

And you too, despite everything, still wanted an explanation from him. You wanted to understand, you wanted to know why… because you needed to, you needed to know.

But you never tried to talk to him again. How could you if he had left you totally devastated with no justification?

And you knew that if you tried, Aemond wouldn't be willing to talk to you. He found it easier to forget and move on, as if nothing had happened, without caring, just what he is doing now.

Until one day the king requested a dinner with every member of his family, including you, without any exception, wanting to have a dinner with everyone together, wanting the waters to calm down after so much tension.

Your mother assured you that your grandsire was no longer blinded by the milk of poppy, that he made sure to drink less of it now, and yet you thought that your grandsire still conscious, made the worst decisions.

You could no longer continue to take refuge in your chambers, so with no alternative, your maids prepare you for dinner, dressing you and making you a hairstyle as usual, nothing new and nothing missing.

"You can do this, my sweet girl."

Your loving mother says to you, holding your face with both her hands.

"We will be with you at all times. I will be with you always by your side," she assures you, "You just ignore him, ignore them all, I will do the rest. Let's just please your grandsire on this, all right?"

Unable to help yourself, you hug your mother tightly and in one needy movement, to which she hugs you back with all that love and all that comfort you so desperately need, understanding you completely.

You try not to cry, because you've cried too much already and you're tired of it, but now you can't help it, needing your perfect mother for strength.

"Thank you," you murmur into her chest.

"I love you, my love. I would do anything for you."

You smile with happiness and sadness at the same time, with pain, starting to cry, trying not to make noise.

"I love you too."

She then tells you that you can stay a moment longer in her chambers before leaving to give you time, but what you don't want is to draw attention to yourself, so you prefer to arrive before anyone else in the dining room.

Then your whole family takes their respective seats, your father instantly giving you the seat next to your mother so that you are not sitting across from him, everyone knowing perfectly well which is his usual seat.

Then the doors open again and it's them, all the green ones.

You lower your gaze and pretend not to care about anything as he walks through the doors, following Aegon, just being in the same room as him making you feel something you don't know exactly what it is but you don't like it, feeling uncomfortable as well.

He doesn't look a single second in your direction either, but instantly being the center of attention of your father, who is the one who takes a seat in front of him, with Rhaena and Luke.

Shortly after, the King makes his entrance, everyone rising from their seats to greet him.

And more shortly after, you want to say that time fortunately passes quickly but unfortunately it doesn't, so you just suffer in silence, with your mother holding your hand from time to time, wanting to give you all her possible support in this.

The servants serve the food and wine, that fortunately distracting you, also the music your grandsire orders to play, this being a bit more bearable.

But all you want to do is get out of this room and never be in the company of all the Hightowers ever again.

You know that sweet Helaena is not to blame for anything, but she is part of them too by being Aegon's wife and already having three children with him.

And that couldn't make you sadder… sweet Helaena being wife to a man who doesn't deserve her.

Your father offers you his hand in a moment as Rhaena and Luke rise from their seats and head to the center to dance, also Jace invites Helaena.

Your father shows you his support even though he had said from the beginning that your betrothal to Aemond was a bad idea. But you are also his sweet little girl and he lets you know that he will always be there for you.

When the moment is interrupted by Otto Hightower, wanting to make an announcement, stopping the music and drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

You exchange a glance with your father, you don't even look in Otto's direction when everyone else does, because he is so close to his grandsire.

"Now that we're all together, I'm very pleased to let you know the great news."

Otto Hightower says and you raise your wine glass to your lips, not really caring.

"My grandson Prince Daeron who is in Oldtown, will soon return to the capital to marry Cerelle Lannister, daughter of our Naval advisor, Jason Lannister," he announces proudly.

Everything is silent for a few seconds, you still not giving importance to anything or anyone, still thinking about the great news, definitely.

You didn't even remember Daeron, he's been so long away from King's Landing that it's impossible to remember him. And before anyone says anything, just to corroborate what Otto is saying, he again speaks up.

"It is also my pleasure to inform you that my grandson Aemond…

Your heart stops for a second, as well as that definitely catches everyone's attention, everyone listening attentively and you too, unconsciously.

"He has also been betrothed to one of Lord Borros Baratheon's four daughters, the lady Floris Baratheon," he says and continues, "These two marriages clearly being more than excellent benefits to the house of the dragon and so securing our bloods, both the common and the blood of old Valyria."

At that moment you did not notice the exchange of glances from your brothers and sisters, also the mocking smile that your father let out when he heard the man's words, as well as the serious look on your mother's face when she heard everything.

You just focused on yourself, pretending none of it mattered to you, feigning indifference, when your mind could only repeat one thing at all times:

"My grandson Aemond has also been betrothed to one of Lord Borros Baratheon's four daughters, the Lady Floris Baratheon."

You want to cry. And a lot.

However, it was only more humiliation than necessary and you had to control yourself, needing this dinner to be over as soon as possible.

Again absolute silence is in the huge room, you couldn't care less.

When Alicent is the first to congratulate her son, as well as your grandsire in a weak and hoarse voice, then your mother also offers the coldest congratulations she has ever given, simply to keep up appearances.

And you can only think: was this necessary?

How mean Otto Hightower had to be and so did Alicent to want to humiliate you further by announcing such a thing, to you and your entire family for that matter. It just wasn't necessary.

Until finally the dinner is over and everyone can leave once the king takes his leave and retires to his chambers first.

Completely controlling your tears, you enter your room with your father more than furious, followed by your mother and your brothers and sisters.

"What the fuck was that!?" he inquires to your mother.

"My love—

"Do you really think I'm just going to stand here and do nothing!?"

"Oh truly? And what are you going to do?" asks your mother too, seriously, "Cut off the heads of Aemond and Otto Hightower?"

"They have humiliated us, Rhaenyra!" he exclaims to her in annoyance, "they can talk and humiliate me all they want, but they will not humiliate you or my family!"

"Father—

Baela tries to talk to him, but he won't let her.

"We're going to go talk to Viserys this instant and Y/N's wedding to that fucking one-eyed is going to happen."

"Are you serious?" your mother inquires again, "Husband, you were the first to oppose the marriage."

"They have humiliated our daughter, don't you see!" he points out angrily, "Her marriage to Aemond would have given us more power over them if we had him and Vhagar on our side. Now by the time Viserys dies, you're not going to have enough support for your claim," he tells her seriously, "We need Lord Borros on our side as well."

"Daemon, this isn't about the crown, this is about our daughter."

"And that is exactly why I will not let such humiliation pass," he tells her seriously and with a dark look on his face, "He asked for Y/N's hand, he gave you a whole speech to allow him to marry her, now he keeps his word or he marries no one, just like that."

"I want to go home."

You speak in the middle of all the discussion, staring at an unimportant spot in your chamber, tears running down your cheeks, your sad, tired, broken voice calling for everyone's attention.

Your mother and sisters quickly turn to you, concerned about your condition.

"What is it, my love?"

Your mother asks you, running her hands through your hair, watching you intently.

"I want to go home," you repeat, "I want to go to Dragonstone."

Your mother immediately looks at your father, who looks back at her, serious and attentive to you, feeling more upset at seeing you so broken.

"My love, we can't leave," your mother tells you in a soft voice, "We need to take care of your grandsire and stay at Court, as it should be."

"You stay here," you say in an instant, "I will go."

Your mother denies, understanding you, but unable to allow it.

"My love, don't—

"Mother please," you plead, "Please, at least just for a little while, I promise I'll come back," you beg, "But now… I just want to get out of here, please."

Your mother watches you for a few moments without saying anything with her lips parted, again exchanging a glance with Daemon, who nods slightly in her direction.

But Rhaenyra won't let you go just like that. She is your mother, after all.

"You'll be alone, my sweet," she says with some fear, "I can't leave you alone and I won't be at ease with that."

"She won't be," Rhaena says instantly, drawing everyone's attention, "I'll go with her and Luke will too. We'll come back when she's ready."

"No, absolutely not," says your mother resolutely, "I can't have the three of you in Dragonstone alone, no—

"Let them," your father interrupts, "I'd rather Y/N leave this snake pit until everything calms down. I feel better with the idea of Rhaena and Luke accompanying her, so the three of them will take care of each other."

"And we won't necessarily always have to stay at Dragonstone," Rhaena adds, "We can fly to Driftmark and spend a few days keeping our grandmother company too."

Your mother turns your gaze to you, who you completely beg with your gaze to let you do this, to let you go for now.

And of course, you feel completely grateful to Rhaena and your little brother for not letting you go alone. Clearly Jace and Baela are the heirs after your parents and it makes the most sense for them to stay here at Court.

Until finally your mother lets out a long breath, not herself believing she will accept this, being too afraid to let her children go to Dragonstone alone.

Though she knows there is no better safe place for them, even safer than King's Landing.

"All right," she finally says, "But I'll fly with you there and then I'll come back, just to make sure everything will be all right."

You immediately nod, not really caring, since all you want to do is get out of here and not come back.

Again your mother hugs you, transmitting all that comfort and affection you always need from her, really not wanting to leave here. You were so excited to go back to the Keep but you weren't expecting any of this to happen.

And now you just want to go home and come back when you feel better.

Soon enough you find yourself in Dragonpit, with your mother, Luke and Rhaena ready to fly to Dragonstone, with your father, Jace, Baela, Joffrey, little Aegon and little Viserys seeing them off.

All the while shedding tears, lasting more nights without sleep and more days with no appetite for anything, only finding comfort in riding your dragon as your mother was not around.

And as soon as you finish saying goodbye, the sooner you find yourself in the skies and the sooner you arrive at the black castle, your home.

You needed to let many moons pass to cope with your broken heart and such humiliation, also to accept that Aemond never really loved you and that he would soon marry another woman who would not be you.

But Silverwing was always there for you and could feel everything you felt.

Until one day, more moons after your departure from King's Landing, Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen return to Dragonstone with their entire family for a short time, promising to return soon.

And shortly after the Heir to the Throne leaves King's Landing, a raven arrives at the Red Keep, announcing the unexpected new news.

The Heir, Princess Rhaenyra returns to King's Landing in less than two moons with her prince consort Prince Daemon and her entire family to celebrate the wedding of Princess Y/N Velaryon to Lord Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell.

And that message is spread all over the Red Keep, all over King's Landing and eventually all over Westeros.

#aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 11 months

Note

Daemon x oc, where oc is alicent's 4th child and her favorite, but the oc also inherent Otto's scheming skills and so much better than him and overly can't stand rhaenrya and knows that rhaenrya likes daemon so she goes for daemon and daemon falls harder for the oc AKKKK and rhaenrya pov where she realizes that she is losing daemon to her much younger half-sister, please 🥺🫶

Half-Blood Rivalry || D. Targaryen x oc

GIF by @mad-witch-moon DIVIDERS by @straywords

a/n: tysm for this request!!! anons please continue to send me requests pls!!! I hope you guys are happy for Catarina to play oc as Rhaella :) also please imagine that this takes place in ep 2. when rhaella is born is around the time daemon is banished for taking rhae to the brothel. rhaenyra hasn’t married laenor or has children yet.

The youngest child of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen was sweet Rhaella. When Rhaenyra first held the girl when she was only a babe, she had a strange feeling about her half-sister. As years went by and both girls no doubt got older, Rhaenyra could not seem to shake off the uneasy feelings she felt towards her youngest sister.

“Happy Name Day, sweet child” Alicent goes on her tippy toes to kiss her youngest and—anyone with eyes could see— favourite child. “Thank you, mother,” Rhaella kissed her cheek. It was then her father’s turn. Rhaella and Viserys had always had a complicated relationship, the two never seemed to see eye to eye, quite similar with her other siblings.

Rhaella and her siblings knew that their father didn’t favour them as much as he does with Rhaenyra. Nonetheless, Viserys was still her father and he cared for him.

“Happy name day, sister” Rhaenyra bursts through the doors of the throne room with a drunken smile. Everyone in the room stared at the platinum white haired Princess in shock. Her appearance was dishevelled and she reeked of alcohol. It was only morning.

“Are you quite alright Rhaenyra?” Alicent raises an eyebrow as she looks the Targaryen up and down. Rhaella lets out a scoff. Typical Rhaenyra. “Quite so, I wouldn’t dare miss seeing my dear sister on this special day” She raises a cup towards the younger who rolls her tongue against her cheek in annoyance.

Rhaella looks to Viserys, a wide grin on his face making her scoff. Rhaenyra somehow always seems to pull Rhaella’s buttons without even realising. In her opinion, she was a stuck up Princess that was never grateful of what was given to her.

Rhaella could not stand her older half-sister, maybe it was because of the fact that their father always placed Rhaenyra on a pedestal and could never do anything wrong in his eyes. Placing a fake smile on her pretty face, Rhaella speaks up. “Thank you Rhaenyra, your presence here means so much to me” She pops a grape in her mouth.

Otto lowly chuckles yet shakes his head lightly at his granddaughter’s tone. There was no denying that out of his four grandchildren, Rhaella too was his favourite. The young Targaryen was very much like him in many ways, even better in some aspects you could say.

There was silence at the table for a bit as they all ate, when all of a sudden, the doors once again opened. This time, Ser Harrold walked in. “Your Grace, he’s back” Was all the kingsguard said. Rhaella and her siblings stop chewing their food and look to their father.

Viserys wore a shocked face before standing up quickly and walking away. Rhaella looks to her mother in confusion as she gives her a sad look and rubs her arm. “Father, where are you going?” The young Targaryen turns in her seat as she watches him walk away. What even stung the young girl was the fact that he didn’t respond.

“Daemon’s back” Rhaenyra says to herself with wide eyes. “Don’t be silly, uncle Daemon has not returned to court in how many years?” Aegon questions as Rhaella replies, “Since I was a babe” She shrugs. “But who else would Ser Harrold have referred to? Did you see father’s face,” She humorously scoffs, “That was Daemon alright” Rhaenyra shrugs.

“Enough talk about your uncle. It is Rhaella’s name day and I want you all behaved for her birthday celebrations today” Alicent sternly speaks before continuing to eat. The Targaryen siblings all give each other one final look before going back to their meal.

It was the night of Rhaella's name day where a huge feast was held. Alicent demanded the celebration to be extravagant for her favourite child. You could have mistaken the event as the King's name day.

Rhaella sat beside her mother and her siblings beside her, Rhaenyra on Viserys' side. When her father stood up to announce a speech, he was interrupted by a figure walking into the throne room.

It was no one other than Daemon. Young Rhaella had not seen him all day, him showing up there was her first time seeing him really as she could not recall him when she was a born.

Of course, the Targaryen often heard stories about her uncle. He held a bad reputation and yet everytime anyone would speak of him, Rhaella always found herself wanting to hear more about her uncle.

He sauntered in with a smirk on his face. "Brother, I thought you weren't going to come" Viserys puts a smile on his face as Daemon stands in front of the table, his hands clasped together. Rhaella could have sworn she saw a glint of mischievous in his eyes.

She looks up towards her father, than to her half-sister. Rhaenyra had a look on her face that Rhaella couldn't quite fathom out. "And miss my dear nieces' birthday celebration? How could I do that to Rhaenrya" Alicent gasps in disbelief and Aemond chuckles under his breath, a kick under the table from Otto shut him up.

"I think your mistaken dear uncle, it is not Rhaenyra you should be wishing a happy birthday, but me," Rhaella irked, crossing her arms. Daemon's eyes move to her. She watched him study her before a grin makes it to his lips. "Apologies...." He trails off, "Rhaella." "My brother failed to mention which niece of mine was celebrating. After all, I have little memory of his children before I left."

Rhaella nods her head politely, he was offered a seat at the end of the table near Rhaenyra. She couldn't help but notice her half-sisters' wanting eyes to Daemon. The young Targaryen knew of what had happened when she was born. In terms of Daemon and Rhaenyra.

But she did not expect her to still long for her uncle, after all, Daemon was gone for nearly 20 years. The whole time as they all feasted, Rhaella felt eyes burning into her and everytime she looked, Daemon shamelessly stares with a smirk on his face.

"I think I would like to dance," Rhaella says before standing up and making her way to her sworn knight, Ser Harwin. "A dance Ser Harwin?" The princess looks up at him with a smile. "It is my pleasure, princess" He smiles back as they start to dance, not knowing a certain Targaryen's eyes were fixated on the two the entire time.

"Your daughter is quite pleasing to look at, Alicent" Daemon chuckles to himself, his eyes still not leaving Rhaella. Alicent nearly choked on her drink as she glares at him. "My sister is nearly half my age uncle!" Rhaenyra laughs.

"Mhm, a shame indeed" He mutters as he taps his fingers on the table. Rhaenyra stares at her uncle in disbelief. The princess opens her mouth but shuts it again when Daemon stands up and makes his way through the crowd to where Rhaella and Ser Harwin were dancing.

"Might I have this dance, princess?" Daemon whispers against her ears as she breathed heavily from dancing. Rhaella gives a small nod to Harwin as he backs off and now dances with Daemon. "You know, you've grown quite alot," He starts off. "Thank you for pointing the obvious uncle," She rolls her eyes playfully, "Into such a, beautiful woman" Daemon finishes.

Rhaella smiles, "Thank you, I assume-" She was cut off by Rhaenyra who taps her shoulder, "Can I steal our dear uncle, sister?" She questions as she doesn't even bother looking at Rhaella, only Dameon.

The young Targaryen looks between the two before nodding her head. She walks away not before locking eyes with her uncle before his gaze floats back to Rhaenyra. "Did you just get told to bugger off, sister?" Aegon laughs as Rhaella approaches the table and smacks his head. "Ow!" He groans, rubbing his head. Alicent shoots a look to the eldest.

"I believe our dear Rhaenyra is still infatuated with Daemon" Rhaella tilts her head. "Not surprised, the way she was eyeing him the whole time, I thought she'd eat uncle on the spot" Halaena says concerned as Rhaella and her brothers laughed loudly. Deep down, Rhaella couldn't push aside a strange feeling as she watched her sister and her uncle dancing and laughing together.

“Do you jest, sister?” Rhaella’s mouth hangs open at Rhaenyra’s idea that she had created in her head. “What? Daemon and I are made for each other. We have blood of the dragons coursing through us. Not to forget, he wanted me before he was banished by Father” She paces back and forth in her room.

The young Targaryen only blinked a few times before laughing. Rhaenyra glares at her younger sister. “S-sorry,” Rhaella wipes the tears that escaped from laughter, “Do you still think uncle longs for you? Forgive me for saying this Rhaenyra, but you are no longer a maiden.” Rhaella tilts her head.

“Daemon might have lusted over you at one point but yet again, he did take you to that brothel and just left you there. And now he’s back after what? twenty years and you still think he has his eyes on you?” Rhaella’s jabs stung the elder. Her words were like knives to her heart.

“And what do you suppose? That he’s got eyes for you now?” Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow at the younger. A small smirk forms on Rhaella’s lips, “Time will tell” “Don’t tell me you like Daemon, Rhaella. You just practically met him!” Rhaenyra’s voice loudens. To piss her even more, Rhaella simply shrugged with a playful smile.

“Daemon would make a dutiful Husband wouldn’t he? All that experience and….. well you know. Plus, mother has been pestering me about marriage. What better way to honour her wishes of me staying close to home then marrying our deal uncle?” Rhaenyra scoffs at her half-sister. “Daemon will never want you, you wouldn’t even dare to approach him with those silly intentions-“

Rhaella stands up and storms to her older, and still slightly taller, sister. “Watch me dear sister. Watch me marry Daemon in our old valyrian ways and bear his children. Watch me live a life you only ever got to dream of.” She calmy says yet still, venom laced her words.

Rhaenyra stood still in shock at her sister’s words before opening her mouth, “You are a horrid person.” She said through gritted teeth. Rhaella only wickedly smiles before turning around and walking off. As soon as the door slammed shut, Rhaenyra grabbed the closest object which was a vase and aimed it at the door, shards flying everywhere.

Rhaella stood outside the door with a proud smirk on her face. It was finally time to put her older sister into her own place. She walked through the hallways of her home before she bumped into something hard. “Watch where-“ Rhaella shuts her mouth as she’s met with his figure. “you’re going..” She trails as he smiles at her.

“Rhaenyra is still in her bedchambers” She mumbles massaging her head. Before she could move to the side to leave, he takes ahold of her forearm. “It is not your sister I wish to see but you, princess”

“What could you possibly want to see me for, uncle?” She spoke, her arms folded and her head slightly tilted. “Am I not allowed to spend some time with my niece? After all, I know nothing of you” He says, his eyes wandering nowhere near her face.

Rhaella smirked. She hummed before replying. “I’ve always wanted to her your stories come from you, and more possibly-“ She was cut off by him, “You’ve heard about me and my stories?” He questions.

Rhaella playfully rolls her eyes, “Don’t flatter yourself uncle, your stories are the only entertaining thing to listen to around here” She chuckles. Daemon laughs, “Might you like to accompany Caraxes and I for a ride?” He suggests with smug smile.

1 month later…

“Where’s Daemon and Rhaella?” Rhaenyra looks around the table noticing their absent once again at the breakfast table. “Didn’t you hear, sister? Daemon’s taking Rhaella to Dragonstone today for a few months” Halaena says with a sweet smile as Rhaenyra’s jaw hangs open.

“D-Daemon’s taking Rhaella away? To Dragonstone?” She stutters as she processes what was happening. Dragonstone was supposed to be for her and Daemons. Not Rhaellas’.

“Why hasn’t anyone thought to tell me this?” She bangs her hand on the table in frustration. “I didn’t think it would concern you Princess, The Prince and Princess simply want to get to know each other more” Alicent speaks up.

“Get to know each other more? I don’t see why they can’t do that here, why must they be at Dragonstone. Father! Did you approve of this?” She looks to Viserys in disbelief. “My child, these are Daemon’s wishes. And besides, it is finally time that Rhaella chooses a Husband”

“A husband.” The princess scoffs as everyone on the table watch her, anticipating what was going to happen next. “I wanted Daemon to be my husband at her age and what did you do?! You banished him! Why does my whore of a sister get to do what ever she pleases!” Rhaenyra stands up in her seat as does Alicent. They could have sworn they saw steam leave her ears.

“How dare you call your sister that!” Viserys too stands up and hits his hand on the table loudly. “Rhaella is of age and you were not. You were the heir at the time and choosing Daemon as King consort? The realm would have been up in flames by now! My daughter. Your sister! Needs a husband sooner than later. Daemon is content with his position. Those twenty years where ever he was did him some good. Rhaella needs someone like him to confide to”

Viserys sits back down with a sigh, Rhaenyra only stood there in disbelief, shock and hatred for her half sister. Without uttering another word, she excused herself from the table and left. “She’s lost her mind” Alicent shakes her head.

Rhaenyra stormed out of the castle and into the dragon pit. She immediately paused as she witnessed Rhaella and Daemon in each other’s arms as they pat Caraxes. Rhaenyra was never able to do that the blood wyrm, he just never seemed to accept her. But Rhaella on the other hand.

Before she was could storm closer to the two a voice stops her. “Depriving your own sister of happiness?” Otto tempts her, “Just look at how happy they look with each other. I’ve never seen Daemon smile so much, have you?”

“He smiled plenty with me before” She mutters. “Ah there it is, before.” Rhaenyra glares at Otto. “Before he liked you, now he wishes to runaway with my granddaughter and marry her.” “H-he’s not marrying her” She chuckles to herself.

“Oh but he is my dear, he even asked for the King and Queen’s blessing. Your sister, much more youthful, smarter-“ “What are you trying to do?” The princess says desperately, “Stay away from them. Your sister is perfect for him and deserves happiness. Don’t let that childish dream of yours get into the road of them being happy. He’s obviously moved on and so should you Princess” Otto sternly speaks as the two of them look to the couple.

“I lost him once. Now I just lost him again,” The Princess shed a tear as she watched her half-sister get everything she ever hoped and dreamed of.

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bucknastysbabe · 29 days

Text

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW//age gap, grooming, manipulation, no one is properly nice, Criston being crazy, Targtower!reader, canon era, anxiety and panic attacks, sibling strife, Alicent is tired, isolation, angst, sad ending, innocence/corruption kink, slight religious kink, v!fingering, oral, frottage, pnv!sex, lots of tears, I was emo okay and no I did not rush the ending no I did not-

WC: 9.5k (idk what happened oops)

Taglist: @arcielee @bambitas @aemonds-holy-milk @lovelykhaleesiii @starogeorgina @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @sugarpoppss2 @fairysluna @jamespotterismydaddy @elaratyrell

Being Alicent’s second daughter, the third of Viserys, your political pawn status was minimal in youth. You minded your own and listened, a constant shadow behind your mother. The queen was your idol— she was strong, devout, and loved deeply. It was your siblings who were willful, dragon blood coursing through their veins that made her fraught.

Somehow it felt you didn’t get any dragon blood. Your egg had refused to hatch, your eyes an ugly dark purple. The worst was that you had red hair. The hair of the Hightowers. You'd been born too late and too plain it seemed. The feeling of being strange led to shyness plaguing you. Hence why you’d clung to your mother’s skirts, she made you feel safe and beloved. Any closeness with your siblings dissolved as time wore on. Alicent apparently didn't mind, even if her child was manufacturing her own isolation.

Aemond devoted himself to scholarly learning, training in the yard, and flying on Vhagar. Helaena seemed to rather keep to herself, stitching beautiful works and catching her lovely insects. Aegon— he embraced hedonism and you’d leave it at that. You had been close with Daeron when he was a babe, loving on your little brother. Then Alicent sent him to Oldtown.

Ser Criston and your mother seemed to be the only presence you were around most of your childhood. You loved the white knight dearly, he’d bring you little gifts and swing you around as Alicent prattled on about something. He was so handsome and chivalrous, always a kind word upon his lips. Just the thought of the oath-sworn knight made you grow flushed and giddy.

You’d hide behind Ser Criston's white cloak when your father occasionally took interest. Viserys seemed annoyed at your shy demeanor, asking Criston to bring you to him. It was dreadful, he was decaying and his rotten smile was frightful. You would weep and shake, turning toward your mother or Criston. Looking for an escape.

The king would frown. He sniffed, “Here Cole, take the girl, Hightower as they come hm?”

Criston’s jaw clenched before he sighed, “Come on princess, we have appointments to keep.” You had grabbed his hand and left— ignoring Viserys' muttering. It brought a feeling of uselessness to your young heart. At least Daeron was bettering himself in Oldtown. The Kingsguard scoffed, “I wouldn’t appreciate sitting in his lap either. He will always have eyes for your half-sister, do remember that. Your mother has your interests in mind.”

“I understand, Ser Criston."

When Alicent was sleeping or tending to the matters of the realm, you oft sat with Ser Criston as he guarded the queen. He would tell you about his youth in the Dornish Marches, harrowing tales of battle and blood. One time as a child you grew so frightened you hopped in his arms. He laughed and petted your hair, “You’re alright, no vulture kings shall get you. Not with me here.” His smile was bright, and his brown eyes lit with humor.

You hid a picture you’d drawn of you all grown up, a beautiful maiden holding hands with Ser Criston. A dragon would be there too. Fantasies plagued your innocent mind, courtly love between a princess and her loyal white knight. Nothing like the isolation and tension that brought strife to your family. Everything was perfect and happy. Everyone loved each other. Stupid, stupid, silly you.

As you matured into the early stages of womanhood, your shyness and frayed nerves did not abate. In fact, fits of crying and shaking began to afflict you. Tourneys, balls, and weddings made your stomach turn and hands grow clammy. The Maester had given a tincture for fits and fears such as these, citing a ‘hysterical disposition.' The tincture was diluted milk of the poppy.

You were half-dazed and daft but no longer weeping through an entire feast. Small victories.

At three-and-ten you visited Dragonstone, bonding with the gorgeous Silverwing. As you flew around the island, tears streamed down your face. It was beautiful, so very beautiful. When you landed, your white knight and mother clapped, proud of their favorite princess. Even Aemond gave a word of applause. Rhaenyra watched with a strange look, further back. You refused to acknowledge her, you had heard all you needed to know about your elder sister.

Later, Aegon had japed with a sloshing goblet, “Ah, I was beginning to think you were a bastard dear sister. Maybe a lord will take an interest now.” Ser Criston had cuffed the lad on the ear at that, Aegon squeaking an apology.

The knight consoled you afterward, gloved hand tilting your chin up. His dark orbs bore into your own, his thumb swiping your tears. He stated intently, “Never, never for a second think you are not true-born. My princess, you are just beginning to blossom, you’re Targaryen as they come. I will defend that claim until my death.”

Your heart skipped a beat, tears welling up as you hugged the older man, thanking Ser Criston for his kindness. He was stiff at first, then gloved hands came to rest at your shoulders. He called you blossom after that, the pet name never failed to make your cheeks flush. Alicent took great pleasure that you had kept to their sides instead of wandering off to find whatever to abate the stress of being Royal. She would sniff occasionally, "Do remember what white signals, virtue."

Ser Criston named you the Queen of Love and Beauty at six and ten, a tourney Otto and Alicent schemed for you to get a suitor. Although the suitors were cracked in the helm and knocked on their ass. Criston was rather vicious this tourney, winning the melee and joust. You chose not to dwell on the blood splattered on his shiny armor, for it caused wicked thoughts. He grinned with red lips, offering the crown.

Aegon rolled his eyes, quipping something foul as he guzzled his wine. Viserys had apparently glared at the knight, mouth twisting. You smiled and blushed, feeling like a silly child again. The handsome marcher was consuming you more and more. Eyes that saw you wholly, his little blossom.

Later in the evening, many lords or heirs were at the feast for your sake. They did not seem interested, casting wary looks. You decided it was partly your nerves and shy nature, the glaring knight at arm's length was no benefit. You made one connection that night with a son of the Arbor, a sweet-faced Redwyne lad. His name was Meryn, that was the extent you knew. Grandsire seemed to be pleased with your choice. Criston's dark eyes lingered in your mind. Meryn had dark green eyes and straw-blonde hair. He would be alright if you had to, Meryn was courteous. You swallowed down bile at the thought of living so far away.

You’d become so struck with Cole you had begun to lie awake at night, purposely ignoring the desire that coursed through blue veins. He had said that a true, chaste maiden did not give in to carnal pleasures. Your mother said that self-pleasure was sinful and wicked. You'd read the Seven-Pointed Star, the Stranger would fondly take fornicators down to the seven hells.

You agreed, feeling sinful if your womanhood ever throbbed. Innocence remained a quality of yours, Viserys liked to call you his Septa daughter to Daemon. You’d rather be a Septa than a whore. Aegon had doomed himself already. You hated when he spoke so vulgar at the table, you had to look away in disgust.

Aegon crushed your entire world, in fact. The pair of you had ridden to the Dragonpit to ride Sunfyre and Silverwing. You rode in silence, Ser Arryk and Erryk behind on guard. The stilted awkward air between Aegon and you seemed to thicken as the Dragonpit loomed closer. Your elder brother blurted “Are you still infatuated with that preening peacock Cole?”

You stiffened and stared, aghast, mouth agape.

Aegon’s full lips smirked. He laughed “Oh, you still are. I forget you follow him and mother around the keep like a shadow. You’re six and ten, you don’t want to fuck a lordling? Or are you saving it for Ser Cole?”

“Stop it, he’s kind and a good knight. You should respect our Kingsguard, he keeps mother safe.”

Hot tears began springing at your eyes as Aegon laughed harder, that horrid shrieking giggle. One of the Cargyll’s snorted. Aegon always made you feel so silly and childish. You sniffed angrily “What are you getting at Aegon?”

“Sorry sister, sorry, it’s just- hah! It’s just your white knight’s cloak has been likely been dirtied since I was born. You do know the rumor don’t you?”

Your heart began to patter uncomfortably against your chest. Ser Erryk always carried your medicine— you did not wish to take it as you were trying to fly. Aegon leered with a grin. He spoke in a low murmur, “He hates our dear half-sister so, we know that. Rumor has it Cole sullied his oath as he took her maidenhead. She spurned him later. Then your ‘white knight’ beat Laenor’s fop lover’s face in wrath at her wedding.”

Your legs and hands began to grow numb from sheer panic. You cried, “No, you are lying! Why would you say such dreadful things?” Shakes began, as tears leaked down your red cheeks. The prince noticed your state and sighed, “No one knows if he truly did. 'Tis not strange he became mother’s sworn sword after one night hm?”

Your vision swam. No, no, no— you couldn’t believe that. Ser Erryk rode up next to you, beckoning you to open your mouth. He yanked you onto his horse, chiding Aegon, “Shut your mouth about that, you know how she gets. I have to return all the way to the keep!”

The prince shrugged, offering a weak apology, face a rude smirk.

Ser Erryk sighed, “He’s a prick. Talk to your mother about Ser Criston. Back to the keep we go, just relax.” You felt like your chest had compressed into a tiny box, shaking and panting. It couldn’t be true. You would speak to your mother immediately. The tincture began to soften your muscles, eyes lolling as you slumped onto the Cargyll twin. Erryk murmured, “Can’t wait for this shite show with the marcher.”

You were still in a hazy lull, the movement of the horse and Ser Erryk’s familiar lilt leaving you in a poppy-laden stupor. He’d ridden into the courtyard, carrying your limp frame into the castle, barking at a squire to take his horse. You mumbled, “Mother, need her.”

“I know, princess.”

Ser Criston’s voice made your poppy laden eyes flick upwards. The knight demanded, “What the hell is this? Did you dose her with the entire phial? Where’s Prince Aegon? Give her to me.”

Ser Erryk bit back, “She asked for the Queen, Ser Criston. Not you.”

You nodded softly, Ser Criston’s brows pinching together, his lips thinning in anger. He snapped, “I’ll take her to the Queen, give me the princess. Seems you can’t follow the maester’s directions, Ser Erryk.”

“No. Trust me when I say this Cole, Aegon brought this on. He was telling your ‘blossom’ all about,” the man whispered something to the marcher. Criston’s face paled, a stricken look over his features.

The door opened without further protest, Ser Erryk laying you upon the plush settee, curtly nodding. He exchanged words with the Queen. Criston remained outside the door, dark gaze peering from afar. Your mother’s wide eyes and familiar green dress hovered in your vision. She stroked your hair and sighed, “Dear girl, what did Aegon say?”

Your sluggish hand gripped her own, glazed eyes meeting brown. You whimpered “Tell me he was lying. Just tell me Aegon was lying about him.”

Alicent’s lips pursed, turning to gaze at the lingering Cole. She ordered, “Ser Criston, please shut the door.” Even through the medicinal haze, the man looked downright fearful. The door shut with a soft click. Your mother’s attention was back on you, kissing your forehead.

“About who? Take your time.”

You moaned in anguish, “Ser Criston. He broke his oath to be with her?,” you sobbed, “He lies, he can’t, mother please!”

Alicent’s eyes flicked to the door once more. She bundled your frame into her arms, lifting your limp body up. Her soothing voice murmured, “Ser Criston is a good man. He loves us dearly. He is sworn and would die for us, my dear.”

You wept, “Tell me the truth.”

“He had a moment of weakness. Ser Criston was merely a few years older than I and Rhaenyra. She manipulated his good heart and bewitched him. That is all. He did not break his oath.”

You stared at your mother, unsure if she was lying while the pristine image of Criston darkened. Was it hurt? Jealousy? Childish affection gone wrong? There was nothing to do but softly weep in your mother’s arms before sleep took you. Supper was provided when you awoke, only Alicent caring for you.

She never lied to you before. Your mother cherished you too much to lie.

Right?

You faced Ser Criston again. The ache in your chest throbbed— but you would give him grace. He was devoted and good to you. His worried look made the apprehension die down. The knight grabbed your shoulders, eyes piercing as he frantically spoke, “Blossom, my princess, please. I have been distraught for days. What can I do?”

You stared at him, mind conjuring a response, feeling like a bratty child overreacting. His leather gloves squeezed again to draw your attention. It took everything in your weak heart not to babble and weep. This man was sworn to chastity and the Faith, yet you craved him like nothing else.

“Aegon just shocked me. This is a lot to process. I-I didn’t know anything about that, oh, ordeal.”

He seemed to sag, guilt wracking his handsome features. Ser Criston pulled your small form inward, chin atop your head. He murmured, “It is a stain that shall never be washed. Your mother saved me. I grew stronger from the failure. It pains me more now that you have learned the truth after so long. I should have let you know.”

You nodded against the steel plate of his chest, resigned.

You let him hold you— unsure of your intense feelings. The Red Keep was a web spun of lies. Even Ser Criston was caught in the horrid trap. You would remain to trust him, his affair with Rhaenyra was before you were even a thought. Still, your gut churned with uncertainty.

Criston murmured, "I shall never fail you again, sweet blossom."

You had distanced yourself from Ser Cole, protecting your own heart selfishly. He was upset and had been striving to gain your once devoted affection. It wasn’t hard to avoid him as war came in on Dragonback. They plotted and planned, too busy for Helaena to mourn. Aegon was raging at all times. You remained in your rooms, nervously awaiting Syrax or Caraxes to show on the horizon. Dracarys. Dracarys, the voices sang in your head.

They were always in the Council Chambers.

You’d been in your room, feeling madness creep at the edges of your mind. Shadows in the corners, fire on the horizon. A knight stood guard outside day and night, sometimes your mother would come sup with you. All she could do was tiredly ramble and apologize. You held her softly one night as she cried, how alone and useless she felt. You could empathize with that. At least in your room, you were safe from those fits. Sometimes.

Then your grandfather left. Criston was now Lord Commander and Hand of the King. A small ceremony was held in the throne room, Aegon strutting around like a peacock. You knew he was as scared as the rest of the Keep. Alicent sighed to you, “My darling, stay strong, you must.”

The man you had grown up with, the fancy of your girlhood, looked frightening with his chain of gold hands, lips curled up in pleasure. His eyes flicked toward you, entrancing. The newly appointed hand smiled with pride. You looked down and away, shaking hands clasped together. There was no reason for tears about this. Yet, the titles muddled and twisted your preferred concept of the loyal white knight.

War had truly begun with armies on the move around the realm. Criston, Aegon, and Aemond set off to Lord Staunton at Rook's Rest.

After the incident at Rook’s Rest, Criston returned colder, Aemond with the crown, and Aegon charred half to death. The now powerful marcher was paired with his protege, they could conquer and perhaps win this war. You were frightfully alone again, Alicent moved into Aegon’s chambers. Nothing new you supposed, yet your heart hurt.

About a week after the return, you were summoned to the Hand’s Tower. Criston sat at the desk, war plans drawn up. His hair was shorn, a beard grown in. The soft part of you ached at his bruised and nicked face. You awkwardly curtsied and murmured, “Lord Hand.”

“Don’t call me that, Ser Criston is fine,” he said, a hint of aggravation to his hoarse voice.

“Sorry, Ser Criston,” you apologized. He seemed like a different person sitting where your grandsire once sat. He beckoned you over, closer and closer until you were at the edge of the desk. He looked tired, sad, and beleaguered by his position. You murmured, “You requested me Ser?”

He sighed, leaning back in the supple leather chair. Criston’s eyes were achingly wet as he stated, “Do you still despise me so? All I think about is you, your safety, and how I can keep my blossom alive and well. After Rook's Rest, I began to remember my priorities."

You whimpered softly, the months of being alone and overlooked had taken their toll. You missed him dearly. Taking a few sighs, mouth quivering, you whispered. Whispered only so you may not sob. Your dress was bunched up by your distraught hands. Inwardly, you cursed yourself for being weak.

"I have been so…isolated. I don’t leave my room and all I can do is stare at the window and...and and hope I don’t!”

You clamped your jaw shut as your voice grew higher with emotions. Hot tears ran down your cheeks now— brought on by the outburst. Criston made a soft noise, pleading, “Blossom, come here. To me. You know how I hate to see your tears.”

It embarrassed you how fast you climbed into his lap and wrapped your arms around his shiny armor. The man cooed, cradling your frame and nuzzling your hair. His hands gripped into your curled legs— you didn’t care. It felt so good to be with him.

“There we are, poor princess, why are you crying blossom?”

His dark brows were pinched in concern, gaze quizzical in nature. You refrained from staring at his lips. One of his warm hands pressed into your back, rubbing up and down. You focused on that, tucking your face against the warm crook of his neck.

“Take your time princess, I’ve got you. Too sweet for this dreadful world.”

Ser Criston’s soothing words and hands, his gentle tone could almost lull you to sleep. It felt like an hour had passed, soaking in the moment. You blinked a bit, feeling syrupy sweet in his arms. He asked “Blossom, are you feeling better?” A soft little jerk of your head was the response before you pulled back to look at him.

“I feel better, thank you Ser Criston. I grow fearful,” you frowned at your words, “More fearful than usual.”

He cocked his head, seeming to mull over the words. The man sighed, “I haven’t done a good job of prioritizing your protection. These are arduous times.” Criston thumbed your cheek, sliding down to tilt your chin up. He murmured, “Tell me the truth. I feel a piece of me has returned. You cannot spurn me again, I need you my blossom, more than anything to keep going.”

His agonized eyes and the tiniest little warble at the end of his sentence melted your fears. This was Ser Criston— he’d done right by you, only second to your mother. Even then, he knew you in a way others didn’t. Something behind the mad little princess who cried at feasts. Criston saw qualities none seemed to perceive.

Making eye contact you admitted, “I missed you too. I- I had a hard time coming to terms. I was sickened with envy, picturing that…my sister, having Ser Cole’s heart,” you placed a hand over the white cloak on his shoulder, “I know it was a mistake now. I grew up thinking you were, Gods, the knight out of tales. Gallant and true. It was swept out from under me and I behaved as a child. You're only human.”

Criston’s jaw gritted, frustration crossing his features. He hissed, “If I could take my honor back from that viper I would. But I chose to be fooled, a young idiot. I know what it feels like to be truly loved now. Unconditionally.”

He licked his lips, “Knowing that I hurt you, hurt me. I prayed and prayed. I don’t know if I can be that knight for you, my dear blossom. But I can be the knight that gives his life for you, his heart and soul. You were merely hurt, I can understand why. But the Seven answered my prayers," he beamed, "You’re still here, with me. As it should be.”

Unconditional. He wasn’t wrong. You’d love Criston even if his cloak was stained black. He loved you. Only you. Prayed for you. Your heart swelled, pumping with excitement. At least that's what it seemed he said.

“Oh, Ser Criston, I, I love you.”

His face morphed into a pleasant look, eyes alight with happiness. You moved to straddle him, pressing yourself closer, your cheek pressed to Criston’s dark stubbled one. The knight rumbled, “I love you, innocent love for my little bud, now a blossoming young woman. You’re mine, to cherish and to love. Understand that. Just us.”

He squeezed your waist as you sighed, “Yes, yes Ser Cole, I am yours.”

“My perfect little Princess, the Gods are smiling upon us.”

You nodded along, smiling helplessly, more tears welling as your lips pecked his cheek. Criston turned his head to gently capture your lips, a chaste little peck. You shivered in his embrace, smiling as your noses nuzzled. He was chivalrous was he not?

Soon after you had spoken your feelings for Ser Criston, he wanted you moved into the Hand’s quarters. Said it was safer and you wouldn’t have to stare at the dreaded horizon that brought many a nightmare and fumbling for your tinctures.

It was done quickly, your garments and belongings now intertwined into the man’s quarters. He had the Lord Commander’s room too and pledged to sleep there for your comfort and honor. The knight was sweet and kind, letting you sit upon his lap as he wrote letters, amended decrees, and even kept you there when Aemond arrived to discuss battle.

Your brother looked shocked at your presence, a thin brow arching. He huffed, “Sister, I believe it would be best if you left us to the battle plans.” You nodded, the ingrained behaviors to follow orders hadn’t dissipated. Criston held you tight on his lap, remarking “She’s family. You think your sister to be a turn cloak?”

Aemond grimaced and sat down, his hair swinging as he glared. The crown of the Conqueror laid upon his brow. The crown that belonged to ailing Aegon. Criston poured some wine and handed it to the stiffened Prince Regent, opening the discussion.

You merely sat back and listened, your knight occasionally asking for your opinion. “I don’t know why you would not seek the high ground there,” you offered while pointing to the Westermen’s location. Jason Lannister would be slaughtered. You read up on historical battles now and then.

Aemond’s scoff and Criston’s noise of contemplation shut you up. You knew you were here to please your knight. Make him feel comfortable and less alone. You padded off toward the bed as they talked into the night, ignoring Aemond’s sharp questioning.

A kiss on your lips awoke you, blinking the sleep out of your eyes. The marcher seemed irritated and sleepy, now clad in a white shirt and thin breeches. He sat upon the downy bed to pet your hair, muttering, “Ignore your brother. He thinks he is the king right now, is all. But the hand pulls the strings.”

You shrugged, “He sees me as a distraction I suppose.”

Criston nodded, dark eyes rolling as he gruffed, “You are my motivation, blossom. He will learn to embrace your presence. Now, I have had a long day. I wish to hold you,” his face grew soft, “Is that okay with you dearest? Say no and I shall leave.”

Scooting over you pulled back the warm blankets, Criston crawling in with a sigh. You cuddled into his frame, the marcher flipping you around so he could press the length of his body to your own. He sighed in your ear, “Much better. Soft and sweet. Thank you for trusting me." He placed his chin on your shoulder, humming in contentment, tanned arm wrapped around your stomach.

The voices of the past screamed at you. So be it.

Criston now laid by your side every night, gentle and kind. He'd awaken you with a kiss and that saccharine smile. You fell deeper and deeper in love. His touches grew more frequent, keeping you by his side around the keep. Any snide comment was met with an equally acrid reply.

You'd been invited to sit in at council meets. Your mother seemed surprised, rushing to you, hands clamping down on your arms. She whispered, "What are you doing here? You should not listen to this, it shall give you a fit." You indicated the satchel at your hip and replied, "Ser Criston said I could come along, since I am able of mind and body I should have a say. He has stuck up for a Princess when everyone else has discarded me."

You did not mean to come off as harsh. Ser Criston's affections had bolstered you as of late. The dowager queen's eyebrows raised as her lips turned into a pursed frown. Alicent bit out, "Are you his kept woman now? I raised you better than this." Your mother drew closer to hiss, “Ser Cole loves you. Ser Cole is overstepping his boundaries as the Lord Commander. Lord Hand Criston sees you as his pretty little pet. Do take heed, princess.”

You frowned, chest tight with hurt, childishly scoffing, “Ser Criston cares for me. You’d rather sit and plot than visit your daughter? I’d like to visit Helaena with you, mayhaps Aegon. Don’t lecture me, your grace.”

Aemond called the council, breaking up the heated moment between you and the green queen. You took a seat to the side, watching and listening raptly. Alicent’s eyes flickered between you and Ser Criston, displeasure upon her pursed lips. He eyed her back, furrowing his brows. They had known each other so long the pair could speak without saying a word. Aemond and Lord Lannister prattled on. Worry began to pool in your belly, a shaky hand shifting to the pouch on your waist for comfort.

You could glean the wracked state of the Realm from the terse meeting. Daemon was at Harrenhal and men were gathering. The Hightower host led by a relative and Daeron approached from the south. Cregan Stark’s winter wolves were coming with a cold vengeance and desire to die in glory, grizzled grey beards that they were. You swallowed, mind a bit scattered pulling the pieces together. A crazed Greyjoy was on the loose and the Triarch had been called in. All-out war.

The meeting was adjourned. Aemond would leave soon for Harrenhal. Criston would join him later, much to your fear. Your white knight immediately came to your side, holding your elbow tenderly, “I must have…some words…with her grace. I’ll see you back in the tower?” You nodded, eyes panning toward Aemond getting an earful from your mother. Nerves began to prick— you kissed Ser Cole’s cheek and nodded. He smiled softly, gloved hand caressing your cheek as he murmured, “Sweet girl, relax, it will be fine.”

You may have dropped some of the diluted milk into your wine, hands shaky. You were going mad waiting, waiting, waiting. Mind-spinning rationalizations appeared to ease the rising panic. Your mother had no say anymore, it was Aemond and Criston in charge. If Aegon wasn’t bedridden he likely would not care. Ser Criston would not leave you, he loved you, yes.

The door swung open, clattering against some furniture, startling you upon the settee. Criston was pissed, anyone could see as much as the vetted knight masked his emotions. His eyes were dark, jaw clenched and his teeth audibly ground. He stopped in his tracks, running a hand through shorn hair. You warbled “Criston?”

His furrowed brow and wide eyes turned to you, sighing and stalking forward. The knight dropped to his knees, hands cradling your cheeks. Criston fumed, urgency to his tone, "You’re mine. You shall do as you please. I shall do as I please. I have the right, I'll leave my position as Kingsguard if the oaths are displeasing, you understand sweet girl? I need you to understand you’re my Princess.”

You held his gauntlets to nod, eyes wide upon his visage.

“Say it for me. Say it so I know it to be true. Now.”

Your eyes glossed over with tears. He was in quite the mood. Criston's dark eyes were wet, and desperation laced his roughed voice. Your hands curled around that cold chain of hands, lips frantically moving, “I am yours. Your princess. Nothing shall change that. I swear it on the Seven. I swear it on my heart.”

“I godsdamn love you blossom,” he growled, taking your lips roughly. Criston pressed himself into you, dominating the kiss. His hands moved down to your rear, jerking your hips flush to his own. You cried out, the dark-haired man swallowing the noise, tongue lapping against yours. His lips were insistent, and needy, leaving you breathless. You'd never felt Ser Criston so rough with you, it was intoxicating.

Shivering at his gruff words, you could not help from sliding your arms around his plated neck to moan. Criston pulled back, murmuring, “No one shall keep you from me, I’ll fucking kill them. I may do as I please now.” His lips trailed down your cheek, jaw, to your neck. All you could do was whine as he sucked and nipped little marks, big hands massaging the flesh of your ass. He nosed further down to your décolletage; greedy hands pausing at the neckline.

Lust-blown eyes met your own. You nodded, panting, “Please. Please. Take me as you wish.” His eyes scrunched shut, mouth swollen and wet as those covetous hands of his jerked your dress down, carelessly tearing the silky fabric. You yelped, never having been exposed like this, nerves sparking like wildfire. Criston’s lashes fluttered as he groaned throatily.

“Oh- fucking seven hells, precious girl,” he almost whined, nuzzling into your breasts. You seized up, unused to the carnal touches. Criston yanked off his black gloves to grab handfuls of the tender flesh, still on his knees for you. That seemed to abate the ever-looming presence of your neuroticism. He was submitting, lavishing lush kisses on your fiery skin.

You tightened your legs around his armored waist and cried out when calloused thumbs began to tenderly circle around your budded nipples. He watched your face, lips curled and eyes ever hungry. Criston murmured, “Sweetling, so responsive. Never had your pretty teats touched. Good, good, only me.”

You nodded in haphazard jerks, Criston pulling at one nipple and playing around with your other breast, big hand massaging. His kissing grew closer to the darker skin, lips closing around the bud. You mewled and squirmed, head thrown back to moan. He hummed around your nipple, flicking his tongue across the peak. Criston grew rougher, nipping before pulling off with a lurid pop.

The knight growled, moving onto your other breast. A shiver wracked your frame, your swollen peaks exposed to the chilly air felt like a white-hot line of arousal bolting down between your legs— throbbing and uncomfortably slick. You babbled, “Ser, Criston, Criston, wha-what?”

He chucked darkly, suckling a mark on your sternum. Criston hummed “You like that? Little princess needy for her knight?”

“Love, oh, love it, thank you,” you simpered.

He rasped, nose nuzzling into yours, “Of course…I take care of my blossom don’t I? Sweeter than sin.” His hands placed themselves atop your smaller ones, brown eyes begging. Criston breathed "Blossom- wanna feel you, help me out of this dreadful cage?" Once again mute- you began to unbuckle straps and buttons, exposing more and more skin.

"So good to me. Divine, ah, don't know how I was blessed with an angel."

You helped him out of the chest plate, leaving Criston to undo his white and gray gambeson. You were carefully putting the pieces on his armor stand, the man humming your name. Looking back, Criston smiled softly, his scarred and tanned torso exposed. He beckoned you over, cocking his head in surprise when you dropped to your knees.

“What are you doing, your grace?” Criston's lips curled up in amusement, dark orbs searching your serious expression.

Holding those inky eyes, you helped his boots and thick socks off. Criston threw his padded tunic to the side, cheeks growing flushed. He softly murmured, “Answer me, a Princess should not be on her knees like this.” His hand cupped your cheek, a smirk mirroring your own. You quipped, “Is it bad to be on my knees for you? I am merely serving an important man to the realm.”

You watched his face darken, eyes catching a glint to them. He swallowed, hand on your face tightening. Criston rasped “Is that it? Just merely service? Dirtying your knees like a woman of the night. Does my blossom want to be bad? Behave wanton and licentious so? Forget your maiden's day vow, hm?"

His words made your face grow warm. It was as if he was speaking your fantasies aloud. For once to not be the strange princess— nervous, wrong shade of hair, and overtly pious. No, you wanted to let go. No more being held back by others and your own swirling fears. Ser Cole soothed those aches. You wanted the keep to whisper more about how the littlest one was openly Ser Cole’s pretty blossom, driven from her mother’s teat at last.

“I- I want to make you feel good,” you murmured with blotchy cheeks. It was not necessarily a lie, but if you began to ramble about the lustful feelings you feared you may not stop or disgust the man. That simply couldn’t happen. Not after how far you have come with him.

“You lie to me blossom,” he teased, “I know exactly what you want. What you crave. To think the old king thought you to be a Septa. C’mere then, no more games”

You watched him unlace his light breeches, exposing his dark curls and full prick. A moan slipped from your lips at the sight, lust pounding your body in waves. The knight's cock was heavy and flush, the dark tip weeping. You squeezed your thighs in excitement, licking your lips. Criston’s tan hand jerked at the taught flesh, rumbling, “Needy little blossom.” It was almost funny how he stated it like a simple fact, yet you were on the edge of combustion.

“Y-yes! Please, want it so, want to be your bad girl, the bad princess…please,” you grew shy again after blurting out, “I- in m-my mouth Ser.”

Criston’s expression changed from playful to predatory, dark eyes narrowing a bit. He rasped, “Mhm, filthy little thing. I shouldn’t encourage this behavior. Especially as your protector.” As you shuffled forward to grab the thick flesh he stopped your hand, his amusement facing heady desire. You sulked, “Wanna learn so I can please you Ser.”

Ser Cole seemed content, enough to lean back on one arm, eyes roving to your tits and wide eyes. His other hand stroked himself one more time before shoving two fingers to your lips. You opened dutifully for the intrusion, eyes rolling back in bliss.

Criston’s princess was a dream, a godsdamn dream. He pressed the pads of his fingers down on her tongue, watching her shiver and whine. He soothed, “Settle now, I’ll teach you how. But I need my sweet girl to settle down. Focus on my fingers. Nothing else.” She nodded, wet lashes upon her cheeks now. Her hands were neatly placed in her lap.

He took the still moment to reflect, idly rubbing his cock. She was well trained. Helaena was the same in her mannerisms unless she grew distracted. Before Criston even remotely began to have romantic feelings, his blossom had always held him ensnared. She was horribly timid and clutched to Alicent’s skirts, then began to seek him for comfort. The white knight earned her trust with a trinket he bought in town. A small Yitish jade dragon— to place upon her bedside table. She still had it there, pristine and well-kept.

Criston was not sure when his protective nature slid into desire. It began with jealousy, perhaps around her name-day celebration and resulting tourney. Alicent and Otto were looking for a mate. Something twisted deep within his chest. Criston did not want the sweet thing to leave the castle. Get wedded and bedded by some callous lord or idiot heir.

Her smile after he routed the competition brought great happiness to his heart. That twisted thing in his chest swelled with a possessive pride that soared past his normal feelings for Alicent's children. He hated the feast. The princess was shyly speaking to a young Redwyne lad. The Arbor was too far away for his liking. Yet nothing panned out. He couldn't beat a boy for being kind.

Criston strapped his back bloody and raw for a fortnight as penitance. He could not imagine being a snake slithering around waiting for her. He already knew she held affection for him. Thus prayer would work, and he would be a good, pious protector. Alicent made a small comment and he withdrew from being too close. Those woes seemed to be gone by the time she turned eight and ten— leading to now.

The sweet, blossomed woman was dozing around his fingers now. Criston purred, "Such a good princess, just likes to be bad. That's okay, you deserve it, so kind for helping me out." She softly whimpered and drooled as he pressed upon her tongue.

"Gorgeous, being good for me."

She whined in response, pretty lashes fluttering. Criston almost lost her affection once. That dreadful day with Aegon and Ser Arryk telling him to stand down. He could have wrung his neck. But fear overcame the anger. The knight knew she mustn't gain access to that horrid secret. Criston prayed and prayed and prayed, mutilated, and prayed that Alicent would keep the truth hidden. Something in the uncomfortable hairshirt worked, his blossom forgave him, and the Gods had granted him a boon. Certainly, she was meant to be his then?

Criston blinked out of his reverie, asking gently "Blossom, are you with me?"

She looked like she was under her poppy tinctures. He smiled a bit, the princess blissed out from Criston alone. Eventually, she nodded, trying to speak around his digits. He sighed, "I think I've changed my mind, why don't you come sit in my lap? Must be chilly down there."

The blossom whined when Criston pulled his fingers out, mumbling, "Yes Ser, yes, whatever you need." She clambered onto foal-like legs, Criston guiding her to the plush leather chair. The man easily pulled her frame atop him. He hissed lowly as her ass pressed against his aching cock. Fighting the feeling, he nuzzled into reddish waves, lips quirked up. The knight whispered "You've always been such a pious one. Did you ever touch yourself?"

She shook her head slowly, body melting into Criston's. Her hands wrapped around his bigger wrists. The princess whimpered, "No, never, I would not dare. It is sinful," she paused for a long time, "Right?" Cole chuckled, one hand of his rubbing soothing circles onto her side. He teased "We're together now, I prayed for it, the Seven smile upon us. How can it be sinful if you're touching yourself for me? The Seven-Pointed Star says you may indulge with a paired soul."

He grabbed her chin to emphasize his point, her innocent eyes making his cock hurt "I would say we are paired souls. Do you agree?"

"You know it to be true, you always have," she stated.

"Good. I'll touch you instead, so you may remember this and feel better when I am away."

He bunched her woolen dress, exposing her plush thighs and untainted maidenhead. Criston inhaled sharply, fingers digging into the wrinkled cloth. He could see her slick and aroused, flesh darkened with need. The man gritted his jaw in restraint, he would treat the sweet girl like the delicate blossom she was. Her eyes were still upon him, dark and wet, skin flushed. Ser Cole could feel the tacky way his cock was plastering itself to her ass with his prick leaking the way it was.

"Does it please you?" came her tiny warble.

Criston groaned, "Yes, yes, more than anything yes...Hold your dress up now. I...need to take care of you sweet blossom. My needs can wait." She sniffled and clung to her raised layers of dress, head shyly tucked away as she panted. The Hand gripped the giving flesh of her thigh, coaxing her to open wider with a gentle coo. The redhead shivered in response, breasts bouncing as her breath hitched.

"Have you been this wet for me before?"

"Mhmmm," she whined, hiding her embarrassed look.

"Need you to watch blossom, or you won't know how," he stated. He could feel her gaze watch as Criston's spit-slick fingers cautiously slid across her opening. She mewled in response, gasping, "Ser!" He hushed and laid tiny lush kisses, easing her heightening fears. "Slow and gentle, breathe for your knight," came his rasp.

"Ser, Cris- oh heavens, oh what is that? S-so good!"

He laughed, "A special place the mother gave you, the maiden bestowed for naughty princesses like you to rut on and make a mess. You're making quite a mess, all wet and needy." She moved back against his swollen prick, Criston's eyes fluttering. His princess babbled, "'S for you, m'not, not, naugh-ty." He assured her she wasn't, now narrating his way down to her entrance.

"Your sweet pearl is fun to play with, but most green boys don't know how to work a woman's body. I'll let you take your own pleasure too."

The tips of his fingers slid into her wet warmth, tight and silky smooth. They both gasped into the room's silence, Criston groaning in contentment. He slid further in, minding her reactions. Maiden above she was tight. She planted her feet on the leather chair, her dress falling back. Criston was taken aback as she breathed, "Want to touch you, not this silly dress."

"Seven Hells, you'll send me to an early grave..."

Her hands held onto his forearms as Criston began to delve into her cunt, easing her in with rhythmic slides. She was growing restless, cute tits bouncing with every heave of breath. He would surprise her with the sweet spot. The marcher curled his fingers upwards, dragging against the soft ridged area.

He smirked as her chest hitched once more, a small confused noise leaving petal lips. Criston playfully crooked his fingers back and forth as watched her whine and squirm raptly. The man whispered against her ear, “Feel the heel of my palm? Go on, use your hips.”

Criston’s smirk broke into a smile as she rode his hand and fingers, shyly at first. The princess’ hips twitched tentatively, her slick cunt moving against Criston with ease. He nuzzled her neck, pressing more little kisses as she sped up, fingers digging into his arms. The knight found himself mumbling between kisses, “Good…so good..thassit’.”

His blossom was rutting hard now, huffing between her broken noises. Cole could feel her tighten around him, even one of her pretty tits under his hand was budded and tight. His dark gaze noticed her thighs were quivering as she grew frantic with pleasure, crying Criston’s name. It made his heart swell. Yet the deep-seated craving wasn't met by the hand of the king.

“Mine. Say you're mine. Before you come. Now.”

Her hips stuttered and ground down hard, the princess throwing her head back onto Criston's shoulder as she cried, "I am yours, only yours, forever yours Ser Cole! Hnghhh- oh my gods! Please!" She looked up toward him, begging softly, riding his hand, her ass rubbing Criston's prick to near completion. He demanded her release, gasping as the innocent m thing squealed and gushed all over his hand, grabbing onto him for dear life.

She sobbed in pleasure, sending a gut punch to Criston's own throbbing balls. He gripped down on her with his free hands, squeezing her soft hips as he rutted with heavy grunts, blinking and gasping for breath as he emptied all over her clothed backside. Criston moaned her name, pressing his sweating forehead to her shoulder, inhaling their mixed scent. He rasped, "Lovely blossom, just lovely, I'm so proud of you my love."

She stared with swollen eyes, the prettiest smile upon her lips as she said, "I love you Criston."

He would take that memory to battle with him. Else the man feared he'd pick her up and abscond. He was too deep, had too many scores to settle, dying with a name worth living for. Yet. Yet, she was always there, waiting for him. Ser Criston shut his ever-spinning mind down for the evening.

Criston was leaving for the Riverlands in the morn. He'd kept you by his side for the last week or so. It did not matter where— the throne room, the barracks, his tower, even the council again. People stared and remained silent. Alicent had refused to speak to either of you and Aemond looked at you like a common whore. It did not matter when you had your love.

Ser Cole was insatiable in the bedroom since he brought you to a peak with his fingers. He'd taught you how to suck him, rub him, how to get off on his thighs or tight stomach. Every night you'd lain in a mess of sweat, tears, and come. Nothing was finer than taking a sensual bath afterward, soaping each other up between slow kisses. You were in love, truly, but at such an awful time. You prayed the gods would give him back to you. You feared what would come of you when he left. The thought of death was too much.

Your white knight was in a forlorn mood tonight, holding you tightly. You rubbed his thigh and consoled Criston, "I have a dragon you know. I shall be fine." He grimaced and rolled over to face you, handsome face twisted with emotions. The marcher asked, "I hope you think me to be good and kind even after this all. Don't let me die in vain."

"Don't talk like that," you chastised, frowning.

He grumbled further, sinking into his foul mindset, barbs upon his tongue. A tense argument broke out between you two. Criston ended it by shoving himself atop you and bursting into tears. He gritted, "I am, fucking hell, reconsidering everything now. I must go on. I must face my reality, we both should. But it...hurts! It fucking hurts! You have to grow up now! I've left you in your pretty gilded cage for too long!"

You blinked in shock, his tears hitting your face. Criston seemed to deflate, apologizing and weeping, "M'just scared, I can't leave you alone, I can't. You're all I need. Oh gods forgive me." This was the side of the marcher you knew few had seen. Vulnerable, real, human. Criston huffed into your neck, his hands digging into your waist.

“You’re not wrong-“

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Whether you did or not, ‘tis true Criston. We must face our fates whether that be now or later. I must prepare my own dragon to defend the city. You must go lead our troops. I can’t sit and weep the rest of my life.”

He gazed with wet eyes, red rimmed and dark lashes clumped. You caressed your knight’s cheek, murmuring, “I want you to have me before you leave. The gods never promise anything.”

A soft noise fell from his swollen lips, Criston readjusting himself between your lax thighs. You thought idly about giving him your tincture with the way the man was shaking. He rasped, “They don’t, not the Stranger. I want to make this…good.” Criston’s lips trembled as he pressed them tenderly to your own, balancing himself on an elbow. You wrapped your arms around his wide shoulders, opening up.

The kiss spoke of the utter fear in the air. Long drags of tongue and sucking of lips, no urgency in the sacred moment. You arched into him, suckling gently on the tip of Criston’s hot tongue. He groaned, hips twitching against yours as he tilted his face some, lips dancing yet insistent. You grabbed some of his dark hair, crying out when he nipped your lip. The man ate up your noises, hands greedily roving your body.

“I love you,” he spoke, voice wobbly.

His lips moved down your jaw and neck, sucking at that sensitive place below your ear.

Criston’s cock had grown flush and heavy between your legs, twitching with need. Your own desire began to drip with slick and pounded with blood flow. You rocked against him with a whine, Criston’s eyes flicked to you with a sly smile as he ground back. You threw your head back in pleasure as he massaged and lapped at your tits, sucking at your tits with desperate noises.

Once again you yanked at his hair and Criston moaned, pausing to take your lips again. He murmured, urgency to his voice, “I’m going to stretch you out blossom, as best as I can, wan’ you to feel good. Feel so good.” The urge to cry bubbled up but you nodded along anyways, spreading your legs like the good princess. His good princess.

Criston hitched one of your thighs up around his waist, the other he held out. The man inhaled at your tender mound, eyes black as the coal on his sigil. You shivered involuntarily at the feeling of those sculpted lips sealing around your pearl, sucking ever so softly. One of your hands slapped down on the bed as you whimpered, thighs tightening. His calloused fingers swiped at your slick cunt, diving in two off the get.

It wasn’t painful— you’d gotten quite used to two fingers from your lover. But he pumped a couple of times before stretching his fingers outwards. That was a new feeling, a bothered whine elicited from the sensation. Criston flicked his tongue a couple of times and that was forgotten as hot licks of pleasure bundled up in your belly.

His ring finger slid in, a new feeling, a bit of a pinch. Criston rambled, “Breathe love, breathe, doing so good for me. The most obedient princess, wanton for her night. I wish you could see how much of a mess you’re already making.” He smiled at your keen of arousal and embarrassment, three fingers stretching your tight walls. He dove back down to flick, suck, lick at your pearl— relentlessly so.

Your hand not trying to rip the bed gripped his short hair, thighs clamping down now. He was abusing your other gifted place, curling his fingers as if to bring your release forward. Wet noises of his hungry mouth and ravenous fingers filled the room. He grunted, hips jerking to a standstill when you whimpered, “So close, closeclose, I love you, oh stars Criston.”

He didn’t cease his movements as you felt goosebumps arise across your hot skin, sweat beginning to bead up as pleasure rose and rose. Your lower stomach was a tight cord, ready to come undone, winding tighter and tighter. All you could do was mewl and squirm, enslaved to his ministrations. You gaped, breath going staccato, whining through your nose.

The coil snapped.

You fell apart in a flurry of shaking limbs, mouth wide open yet not a peep coming out. It was intense and fiery, the flames of carnal delights searing you. Criston moaned softly, “Ah- gorgeous blossom, made a mess all over.” He licked his swollen lips and wet chin, cock beaded and bobbing between trim thighs. You watched in a haze, feelings the subtle burn from his beard brushing your delicate skin. It felt delightful to you— the dull throb.

“Want you, please, want your,” you paused, “Want us to be truly together.”

Criston nodded, hand on his prick, precariously sliding atop your limp form. He slicked up the head of his already weeping member with your own essence, eyes rolling back at the sensation. Criston nuzzled against your face, promising to make you feel good. He seemed to grow more emotional, taking his time with sliding the blunt head around your entrance.

Carefully holding wide shoulders you tried to relax your nervous body, going limp when his cock breached your tight cunt. Criston shivered, pushing forward a bit more, gasping out. “Princess, are you okay? Hm?” Worried brown eyes flitted around as he met your eyes. You nodded in a slow jerk, it was uncomfortable but more foreign than anything. The man pushed in further, your inner walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock.

There it was, a pinch inside. Your chest went a little tight, nails digging into his shoulders. Criston’s mouth opened but you surged forward to kiss him, thighs and heels urging the man on. You’d never wanted anything else but this, right now. He moaned deep and long, holding himself from going too far. Inch by inch he settled, the pair of you panting into eachother’s mouth. A pregnant pause settled over your connected forms, his eyes upon yours. Brown and plum.

You didn’t have to say it again— it was felt.

Criston gingerly pulled out on a soft whine, pushing himself back into your cunt. Then again. Over and over until he built up a pace, mouth hanging open as he groaned helplessly. The friction was delicious, the pain blending away to fall into deep pleasure. Your nails clawed at his back some, keening your lovers name as he began to fuck you in earnest.

You felt so fucking full and satisfied, Criston’s gorgeous moans urging you to fuck back onto his fat prick. Useless babbles left your lips, “Full, oh, oh you feel s’good.” Criston whined wetly against your neck, feverishly kissing and sucking as he grabbed your hips to get a better angle. His beard rubbed your neck and collarbones raw— another reminder of his love. The marcher’s chest heaved as his hips and balls hit your skin, leaving nothing back as he gave in.

“Godsdammit, hah, sweet blossom, taking your knight so well. Made for me, swear- swear it.”

“All for you.”

He bit down on your neck, thrusting at a breakneck pace. The dark haired knight couldn’t quit from rambling or moaning, eyes scrunched shut as your tight pussy milked him. You squirmed under his heavier body, Criston’s chest hair rubbing against the delicate skin of your breasts, your nipples aching from the friction. Your nails drew deeper scores into his back. Tears pricked at your eyes.

Once again you were at the precipice.

Why did this feel like the last?

Criston whined as his hips stuttered, cock twitching deep inside. His tactful thrusts were mismatched and sloppy, the firmness of his voice chipped away to quavering emotional whimpering. You tightened further, your cunt spasming in waves as you felt the familiar throes burn deep inside. So good it hurt. The pair of you came undone together, sounding like a pair of young lovers squealing and crying. Thick ropes of his cum painted your insides, another shiver crossing your frame.

Would it be so bad if his seed took?

Criston fell down to his side, cock slipping out in a mess of spend and blood. He grabbed onto you tightly, tears slipping down your cheek. Your own tears mingled with his, you absently petting dark hair. He laughed blithely, “I shall bear your wounds proudly, hmph.” You pointed out your neck, agreeing to do the same in case you were needed.

“I’ll pray for you my love.”

“And I you.”

Many winters and summers later, barflies would say you could catch glimpses of a ragged white knight asking where his blossom was, down on some road south of the Gods Eye. The ghost would never know she perished in dragonflame, best that he didn’t, if anyone even knew what the apparition was talking about.

#ser criston cole x reader #ser criston cole #criston cole x reader #kingmaker era #heed the tags #targaryen!reader #hotd smut #hotd fanfiction

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rosemaryblossomworld · 4 months

Text

The Second Queen (ch.1)

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!reader

Summary: 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙳𝚊e𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝙻𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛, 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎

Warning:: 𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚜𝚝, 𝚁𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚗𝚢𝚛𝚊 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛(?)

A/n: English is not my first language, there may be grammar problems, so...read at your own risk.

Chapter 2

GIFs

Everyone knows that Daemon Targaryen is crazy about his niece! Everyone can see that!

But is he looking at her right now? Noooo, he's looking at another flower that just appeared within the walls of this castle. Young Y/n Hightower walked around the courtyard and didn't know where to put herself. Alicent was standing next to the king, and the girl was not well acquainted with Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra had changed a lot, and she didn't want to get in her face.

Daemon watched the girl's tossing carefully, he wasn't listening to what his brother was telling him. He wanted to laugh heartily, watching the sweet and funny Y/n. She had always been like that. He remembered that. She hid behind her older sister, acting quiet and demure. But it seemed to Daemon that there was more to it than that. The girl was clearly hiding something inside herself.

"The weather is wonderful today," Daemon decided to walk over and speak to Y/n.

"Oh my prince!" she perked up "You're right, it is very warm today and I'm glad of it."

"Do you like warm weather?" The man walked past her, sitting down at the table and taking a goblet of wine in his hands.

"I love it! When the cold weather comes, I feel like I'm withering like flowers in a royal garden. I get so sad." the girl said and took the goblet of wine as well.

Daemon liked the way she spoke. Easy and casual. No playfulness, no fear, no vulgarity. Calm, outgoing, smiling. Daemon wondered how Otto could have such a beautiful daughter. The man wondered, if they married and had a daughter, was she just like her mum, or just like her dad?

Daemon grinned to himself again. He thinks like a fourteen-year-old boy who has fallen in love with the first girl .

The lords who saw the young Lady Hightower and Prince Daemon chatting involuntarily cast a glance at Princess Rhaenyra, who sat off to the side, bored. She occasionally cast her glance at her uncle, but her face expressed nothing.

"Look Daemon, it's the irises, they're so amazing," the girl ran around the garden dragging the prince behind her.

Daemon only smiled and followed the little lady.

"Does my lady like flowers? Which ones do you like best?" asked Daemon squatting down next to the girl.

"I like n/f," replied Y/n simply and quickly.

They moved over to a tree and sat under its crowns. Y/n told the prince about her day, occasionally distracted by the maids passing by. Damon only smiled.

"kepus!" came a voice from somewhere in the distance.

Princess Rhaenyra was approaching the pair. With a slightly annoyed mood. She hadn't reacted to her uncle's attitude towards the younger Lady Hightower, because she knew he would soon get bored of her. But it had been a week now, and her uncle had not visited her once.

"Princess," the Lady immediately stood up and bowed her head.

"Lady Hightower, shouldn't you be with the queen and serving her?" Rhaenyra immediately decided to point out the girl's place, for her place was next to traitors and liars.

Lady Y/n was dumbfounded at such a harsh behaviour of the princess, but what the girl definitely did not like was people who stick their noses where they are not asked. Clenching her fists, Y/n grinned:

"Princess, I'm not a servant. My sister has enough of them. My job is to enjoy my life and look for a potential suitor," the lady replied.

Rhaenyra blushed, coughed and looked at her uncle. There's that dreamy look again, but he's not looking at her, he's looking at the girl who first bared her teeth.

"Ao didn't visit nyke, uncle. Gōntan mirros massigon? ao promised nyke iā kipagon va se zaldrīzoti!" Rhaenyra pouted, feigning innocence (You didn't visit me uncle. Has something happened? You promised me a ride on the dragons!)

"Iksan mirrī busy bisa week. Ivestragī's gaomagon ziry another jēda, Rhaenyra," the man replied (I'm a bit busy this week. Let's do it another time Rhaenyra).

Rhaenyra was a little taken aback. She was about to hit the young Lady Hightower with her shoulder, but surprisingly the girl managed to dodge, causing Rhaenyra to trip over the hem of her dress. She didn't fall, but her ears lit up even more with shame.

"My lady, would you care to dine with me?" asked Daemon.

"My pleasure!" pronounced Y/n.

They began to walk slowly towards the castle, they were in no hurry, they had all the time in the world.

"You know Daemon, I dream of riding a dragon with you too," the girl said quietly, she turned to the measuring man and smiled at him, walking forwards.

Damon smiled even wider.

Y/n didn't realise how she'd ended up in that position.

She and Daemon had just decided to read a book about the Ancient Kings.

It all started when Daemon decided to play a prank and as soon as the book started to get interesting he just slammed it shut and lifted it up, and of course Y/n tried to get it. She jumped up so hard and pushed off Daemon's arm that he didn't keep his balance and fell off the chair. And Lady found herself in his lap.

"Gotcha!" exclaimed the girl joyfully, and made herself comfortable on his lap. "You've thrown me off my reading, now I won't be able to find the moment!" whimpered Y/n and turned away from Daemon, showing her back.

"Please forgive me, but you were so sweet, lady, I just couldn't help myself," Daemon frivolously hugged the girl from behind and rested his forehead on her shoulder.

"I wonder if there's ever been one king who loved his wife so much that he was willing to die for her? Reading all these stories, no one narrates the relationship of the royal consorts. And if they do, it's cheating, strife and jealousy. It's not even pleasant to read," the girl turned the page.

"I wish I could use my brother as an example, but..." Daemon rested his chin on the lady's shoulder.

"Yes.... if you were king, who would you want to choose as your wife?" the girl asked.

"What is it, little flower? You want to be my wife," smirked the man.

"Maybe. But then I'd want to be the only woman in your life. And if I found out you kept going to Silk Street...but I'd treat you to manhood and turn the brothel into a bloodbath," the girl smiled and turned to the surprised man.

All Daemon could do was close and open his mouth.

"Oh, what am I...so what's up with Aegon the Conqueror?" the girl changed the subject and sat down on the soft sofa next to the man.

And so for a month Prince Daemon and Lady Y/n danced between each other. It was already clear to the whole council and the king that the prince was very warm to the girl. So rumours of the wedding had already spread far beyond the Royal Lands.

Y/n walked around in high spirits as everything she had planned began to come true.

"Sister!" came Alicent's voice from the empty corridor.

"My queen," the lady bowed respectfully, preparing to listen to a lecture from her older sister.

"The rumours are growing. You must not see Prince Daemon. Father is furious, I'm amazed that he's holding back from screaming at you," The queen equalled her sister and they walked further down the corridor.

"He yells all the time, I'm getting tired of listening to him. And what if it's Daemon, he's a prince!" the girl resented.

"But his reputation," fretted Alicent.

"I don't care. I hear King Viserys is getting worse. Who knows what might happen," Lady Y/n sniggered and walked on.

"What?" The queen stopped.

"Viserys has not yet appointed Rhaenyra as his successor. Father is doing a good job, if this continues, Daemon will be king as a sibling. The council may be outraged, but he will have a short conversation with them," Y/n continued to explain.

"You...want to be queen?... "Alicent looked at her sister with fear.

"Why not? I'll just combine my desire to be queen and my desire to have the right man by my side. It's not all about you being on top of things," Y/n continued walking, ignoring her sister.

Alicent now understood why her father didn't scold his youngest daughter, she was so much like him. Cunning and secretive. Alicent became even more worried, she no longer knew the girl who was walking down the corridor. It wasn't her sister.

"What do you mean?" turned sharply to her faithful maid Y/n.

"They were seen in the brothel. Rumours have already spread through the castle and the prince has been dragged before the king, my lady" Tala looked worriedly at her mistress, so gentle yet strong.

"Sir Conyn is finding out the circumstances?" asked the lady turning away from the girl.

"Yes, he went there as soon as we heard. They were in the brothel, but it's not known if they were asleep or not," Tala continued her explanation.

"He can't, can he? I'm...boring him so much..." Y/n settled into a chair next to the fireplace.

"My lady...rumours of his love for the princess have been floating around the castle for a long time. It was said that he was obsessed with blood purity and that he wanted to have a 'pure' child," Tala said.

Lady Hightower sat holding back tears, then stood up.

"I'll go and hear what's going on over there," Tala didn't follow her Mistress, only bowed her head.

Her heart pounded frantically, the closer she got to the throne room, the more clearly the voices of the enraged king and prince could be heard. There were no guards and the door was slightly ajar, you could see the king pinning the prince to the ground and shouting some questions.

"Wed her to me?" came Daemon's voice.

"Who?" gasped Viserys, hoping his brother would say the name of the younger Lady Hightower.

"Rhaenyra...Wed her to me," Daemon said.

Y/n stepped away from the door. Breathing hard, her heart began to pound even harder.

"I thought so," came the princess's voice from the shadows, and then she stepped into the light.

"How long have you been standing here?" Lady Hightower didn't dare look into the princess's eyes; she didn't want to see arrogance and self-righteousness.

"Since the beginning. Just as I thought, my uncle doesn't care about you ladies, he will choose me. As the heiress to the throne, as the one that will give him children of pure blood," her voice was quiet but cutting at the deep wounds of her heart.

"Princess...You cried out about never marrying and that you didn't want to bear a child because otherwise you would be treated like an animal. What has changed?" Y/n shifted her tearful eyes to Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra was once again taken aback. She had said those words at every corner, that she didn't want to be a 'laying hen', she wanted freedom. She looked into Lady Y/n's cold eyes and realised that she had changed herself for the sake of defeating her 'rival'.

The doors of the throne room opened. Guards dragged Daemon out. The man glanced at the two girls and his gaze darted to Y/n, but she paid no attention to him. She turned and walked further down the corridor.

"Y/n!" shouted Daemon, but the girl didn't turn around. He shouted once more, but was faced with silence and emptiness.

Daemon felt like he had crossed the line. Crossed it in everything. He looked at his niece, who was looking at him hopefully, but he only grinned and let himself be led away by the guards.

When he left King's Landing, Rhaenyra saw him off from afar. But he did not see the queen of his dreams.

And two moons later, the young Y/n Hightower left King's Landing, returning to Old Town.

#house of the dragon #hotd #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon x you #daemon x reader #x reader

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themotherofhorses · 1 year

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masterlist | part one

Aemond Targaryen, who needs to be held back by Ser Criston Cole, as well as two additional kingsguards, when he confronts his mother. The prince yells and screams and demands answers, all but brandishing his own blade. But Alicent Hightower just stares at him with the same face she wore when he was ten and still dragonless and stubborn and constantly around the beasts. Her lips twist in a frown as she lets out a heavy sigh.

“My dear son, you should have known that this was going to happen. Did you really believe that I allowed you to marry the wretched girl for love? The same girl whom you suffered such terrible abuse at the hands of?” She shakes her head, “In the animal world, pray tell me which beasts are the ones most feared by men. Mothers. The princess would have been wise to remember that the very moment she rooted herself within our family.”

Noticing her son’s face, she soon adds, “But the debt has been paid now, and it is my promise to you that she will be left alone.”

He cannot do anything, he realizes, when his eye meets Ser Cole’s. He cannot avenge his wife or their lost child, no matter how desperately he wishes to. His mother remains the Queen Dowager, and to inflict such harm on her very being is a death sentence, and the prince cannot risk such foolishness and idiocy when his wife still needs him during her recovery.

With a venomous glare thrown her way, he leaves the room, but not without his mother making one final remark.

“And Aemond, my love, I am sorry about the babe. Would you believe me if I said that it was not my intention for her to lose it? We tried to save it, truly.”

He chooses not to answer.

Aemond Targaryen, who finds himself a pathetic witness as his dear wife grows into a shell of the young woman she once was. No longer does her lips curl into that bright smile that could rival the sun above, nor does she fling herself into his arms and kisses his face and neck and knuckles while declaring how much she loves and adores him.

Instead, she flinches whenever he nears and casts her lone eye downward, refusing to meet his gaze as if a lowborn girl. She refers to him as his royal titles only, and never the ones he gained when he became her husband and lover. When he kneels before her to change the bandages each morning and evening, and daubing the wound with the ointment the maesters provided him with, she mumbles out apologies, and the quietest begs for his mercy and forgiveness.

He never thought it was possible, but this pains him more than when she slashed his eye out all those years ago.

When it is all done, he pulls her to his chest and rocks her back and forth as if she was a new babe in the world. “My darling wife,” he mutters into her silver hairline, “My sweet girl. Oh, my beautiful girl. I will never forgive myself for leaving you behind that day. Forgive your damned husband, my love. Forgive me, I beg of you.”

He is met with only silence.

Aemond Targaryen, who has not spoken to his mother in weeks. It is a refusal on his part, despite Alicent making her own attempts, having lost her favored child. The hours he does not spend by his wife’s side, he is with his older sister in the royal playroom, watching his niece and nephews play with their toys on the floor. It makes him think about his own child and what could’ve been. A pretty babe, perhaps, with silver hair and violet eyes, no doubt of the golden blood of Old Valyria. He wonders if there ever will be another chance.

“She told her that there was never any love for her.”

He turns his head to his sister, who has paused her embroidery to look at him with sad eyes.

“Mother, she had told our niece that you never did love her. That her losing the eye was meant from the beginning, and that you knew about it, and kept up your part so it could eventually happen.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No, it was never like that. Yes, I will admit, I wanted revenge, and yes, I did hate her for what she did to me when we were both children, but all that was before I learned how good she was. How sweet and gentle and loving. My sweet girl, my princess, she gave me all the love in the world. She-” he feels his chest tighten greatly, leaving him heaving out short gasps and wheezes, “I love her. I love her more than she could possibly know. I never…I never wanted this. I love her. I love her so much,” and he tries his best to blink away the tears.

Helaena scoots herself closer and wraps gentle arms around both his shoulders, drawing him close. And when he cries into her neck, she whispers in his ear, “An eye for an eye, a son for a son. When the war is won, all will be good and done.”

Aemond Targaryen, who enters his chamber to find the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen seated on the bed, cradling his young wife to her chest. Through the muffled weeps, he could hear her talking to her youngest granddaughter, trying to coax out a response from the girl. When she fails to do so, the woman flattens her forehead against hers and tells her, “You do not dare leave me, my child, do you hear me? I have lost both my children; I will not lose you either.”

“Let us take her to Dragonstone, then,” he says, making his presence known. “I agree that she should be with her family. Perhaps being there will help her spirit.”

Rhaenys shakes her head with a broken chuckle. “Ah, Aemond One Eye. You must be a proud man, having gotten your revenge, it seems, as my grandchild is now without her eye.” She is gentle when laying the princess back down on the bed before standing up to face him. “Tell me, does this make you feel good? Better about yourself? More of a man, now that your wife matches you?”

His mouth twists in rage, but he is quick to bite down his tongue. “She was pregnant,” he chooses to say instead, watching as her eyes widen at his words. “The maesters believed the babe to have been a boy, and I was so excited to finally be a father. Your granddaughter, my wife, she was the prettiest sight, such that made me fall in love with her more every single day that passed.”

“You loved her so much, you claim, yet you still maimed her.”

“No. It was not I who did this. You must believe me, Princess Rhaenys.”

“Then pray tell who it was?”

“My mother.” He sees the look on her face, and the way her mouth flattens into a tight line. “She had sent me to the North, to the Starks for business, so that I would be unable to stop her. When I returned, it had been done, and our child long gone. I wish for nothing but vengeance now.”

Maybe she believes him; maybe she does not. But he knows that Rhaenys will take her away from him, back to her home at Dragonstone, and will very likely deny him the right to follow them, despite him being her husband. He just cannot accept the thought of being separated from her, the love of his life, no matter how selfish that might sound. He glances at his wife where she rests, with her good eye watching the two of them. Such little life left in her, he sees, and he knows that keeping her here would be considered cruelty on his part.

“Her mother misses her very much, and when she learns of the abuse her only daughter has faced while here at the Keep, there will be a war to be fought. You realize that, right, Prince Aemond? Will you be ready for it?”

He knows that, but it is not the war’s responsibility- nor anyone else’s- to avenge his wife and child but his own. It is why he decides to help the Princess Rhaenys sneak out of the Keep with his wife when nighttime arrives, asking her to hand his sweet girl over to his older sister, her mother, so that the maesters there will tend to her.

With a final kiss pressed against her lips, he bids her a goodbye, and promises a fond reunion when everything has been settled.

Before they leave, his wife brushes her hand against his. It is the ever most gentle touch possible, but enough to garner his attention towards her.

“I love you, husband,” she smiles. “And thank you. Come home to me, please, for I’ll be waiting for you.”

Aemond Targaryen, who later sits near his siblings when their grandsire and mother receive a raven from Dragonstone, carrying the Princess Rhaenyra’s response to her daughter’s mutilation:

“An eye for an eye, a son for a son. My daughter and her babe shall be avenged.”

notes: show of hands for part three?

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond drabble #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #alicent hightower #rhaenys targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd drabbles #vic writes 🧸

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the-heartlines · 12 days

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age gap rhaenicent feat. older jealous rhaenyra with her new young queen and stepmother

“Just because you are my father’s new wife, does not mean you’ll ever be my queen!” Rhaenyra cried, sounding young, insipid, jealous, tears pooling in her eyes. “Or my mother, Lady Hightower!”

The young girl, Lady Hightower, remained calm, staring at Rhaenyra with her big brown eyes, saying nothing.

She was too polite, too proper to speak to a princess as her new stepdaughter was speaking to the newest queen.

It made Rhaenyra shudder with anger, with sheer sadness that her father had chosen someone more than a decade younger than her.

Almost young enough to be her own daughter.

But Alicent Hightower was far more level headed than Rhaenyra, being her own father’s puppet on a string; one that the hand of the king successfully replaced with her dead mother, when her mother’s blood still stained the place where Alicent slept.

The thought made her skin prickle with rage, the dragoness awakening.

“I will never accept you as more than my father’s whore.” Rhaenyra spat, growling low in her throat, thinking about this pretty, pious girl spreading her legs for a man twice her age.

Alicent’s pink lips parted as if she was going to speak, but then she closed them, flaring her nostrils instead.

Rhaenyra’s heart and veins were pulsating, roaring with a river of blood.

Good, let her be angry with me. I want her to know how much I despise her.

“What is it, stepmother? Do you have nothing to say to me? Spit it out.” Rhaenyra looked at the young girl’s plump lips again, wondering if her father made her cry, scream when he fucked her the first time, tearing through and taking her maidenhead for himself.

She also wondered if those cries, the screams of pain, were now ones of pleasure. If her father’s new queen, her perfect and pristine stepmother moaned like a wanton whore whenever he fucked her.

Rhaenyra pictured Alicent in the throws of passion, lust, pleasure, her lovely figure writhing on the bed.

She would be so small, vulnerable, even below me.

The thought blinds Rhaenyra with want, desire and before she knows it she’s striding towards her new stepmother, crashing her lips to hers in a passionate kiss.

Alicent finally utters a noise, a shocked gasp, one of delight, before she’s moaning into her stepdaughter’s mouth, already drunk after one taste.

Rhaenyra’s lips are brutal and demanding, her kiss frenzied as she wraps her arms around Alicent, pulling her small chest close to her heavy breasts.

Rhaenyra has never kissed anyone so delicate, so soft, like this; with teeth and tongue, saliva and salty tearsâ€”pouring all her hurt, her grief, her suffering into the young queen’s mouth, letting her intense emotions empty down her throat.

“Princess,” a sweet voice moans. low and so so prettily, but it snaps Rhaenyra back to reality, pulling away from her suddenly, and Alicent tries to follow, fall back upon her lips, back into her stepdaughter’s arms, but Rhaenyra keeps her once again at arm’s length, angry with herself.

Angry with how she let this girl burrow her way into the very flesh, flesh that’s feverish and needy, wanton and desperate for affection, for touch.

She grips her fists around Alicent’s arms, pressing her now swollen, bitten lips together in a harsh line. Lips that mirror her stepmother’s that are even plusher, pinker, now that Rhaenyra has tasted them, tasted her.

“Princess?” The queen questions, worry outlining her wide eyes, blown almost obsidian brown.

Rhaenyra takes a deep breath in and out through her nose, because she can smell her cunt.

How wet and ripe and sweet—earthy and woodsy, full of spice.

Alicent’s presence is all consuming, her scent too much for Rhaenyra to bear, so she loosens her grip around her stepmother and flees from her, running away, leaves her with her finger marks lingering, bruised into her young flesh.

Princess echoes behind her, louder, more hoarse this time, but Rhaenyra’s feet take her far from the hurt in Alicent’s voice, not ready to face the feelings that threaten to open like a gaping wound. The emotions that pour from her like blood, because the Lady Hightower is like a dagger, digging into Rhaenyra’s flesh, slicing her soul open, to be naked, vulnerable.

And around her new mother, her new queen, Rhaenyra feels the most vulnerable, the most naked. And most of all she longs to feel that way, craves it from the girl she so despises, who has stolen everything from her.

The girl who she cannot hate, because Rhaenyra sees too much of herself in her, reflected in her pretty brown eyes.

#rhaenicent #age gap rhaenicent #all time fave flavor of this ship #rhaenyra reverting to her young teenage self angry that her father married someone half her age to replace her mother and her to an extent #makes me unhinged unwellll 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫#rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #house of the dragon #hotd fic #wlw #sapphism #my writing

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darkened-writer · 2 years

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imagine| Sapphire Gaze

summary || “You remind me of sapphires.”

request || Could write a fanfic for Aemond where he and his cousin (Daemons daughter) are in love with each other and at the family dinner everybody can sense that they have a special bond, much to Daemons despise. Just some angst and fluff please🫶🏻Btw. I absolutely love your writings. :))

pairing || Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon! Reader

word count || 9,472

warnings || Minor angst, some fluff, Aemond needs a hug.

notes || This took me SO LONGGG, so I hope it was worth it haha. Enjoy!!!

The first time you met him was at your mother’s funeral.

Everyone was amongst themselves, chatting and dwelling on the memory of Laena Velaryon. Your sisters pouting and wallowing in their sadness while sitting upon a bench. Yourself, however, decided it would be better to stick by your father whom was near Viserys Targaryen; looming like a vulture seeking dinner.

You were always told, “You’re just like your father.” or “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” All in regards to your attitude and how well you swing your sword. You mirrored Daemon’s skills as if you were his long lost twin, and that worried plenty of people, especially Alicent Hightower.

“I’m old enough to notice your gazes towards Rhaenyra, Father.”

The man let his eyes leave Rhaenyra’s figure and settle on yours, your arms folded under your cloak. It was disappointing body language yet your face was upturned with amusement.

“Old enough? You’re just two years older than your sisters, my oldest.”

“I may be good at fighting, Father. But, I also have brains.”

He chuckles and turns to look at Viserys who was also looking at him.

The winds, however, pulled your gaze to a silver-haired boy looking at you from across the way, in a similar way that Rhaenyra was looking at your father. With admiration, a sense of longing, and yet you only knew the boy's name and nothing more.

Aemond Targaryen.

His eyes were scanning your figure, almost curious of who you are. What your origins were, but your train of thought was immediately interrupted.

“Your girls are the very image of their mother.” You turn to look at your uncle, the King, “A comfort and an anguish, as I well remember. The gods can be cruel.”

A firm pause, before your father answered, “It seems they’ve been especially cruel to you.”

The King finds the comment humorous, when normally it would be taken as an insult.

“Yes…” The tension was palpable between the two, so you speak.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Uncle.” You bow your head a bit and the man cracks a sincere smile.

“Y/N! My fierce little Niece, It’s great to see you also, even if under such dire circumstances.”

“Agreed, Uncle.” His eyes find Daemon’s again, “You should return with us to King’s Landing. It’s time that you came home.”

“Pentos is my home…and that of my children.”

“Daemon… I know we’ve had our differences, but let them pass with the years. There’s a place for you in my court if that’s something you should need.”

“I need…” His mouth moves to say ‘Rhaenyra’, but he stops himself, “nothing.” The silence hits once again but before Viserys could say anything else, your father walks away quickly.

“Brother…”

You place a comforting hand on your Uncle’s shoulder before walking away also towards the stairs to head toward the beach. The sky was a pleasant shade of gray, mirroring upon the shiny sea water that called to your very soul. The Velaryon blood coursed through your veins, drawing you towards the sea but the fire was just as mesmerizing.

The sand finally touched your boots, sounding a gentle crushing noise. The waves waning against the rocks, sea foam catching on the grains of sand. It was all too peaceful for such a saddening day, but somehow you knew that the sea took your mother with open arms to become a part of it once again.

“You remind me of sapphires.”

The voice pulled you from your concentration, eventually connecting a face to the voice. Aemond Targaryen stood with his cloak flowing in the high winds, hair also meticulously moving in tandem.

“Sapphires? Such flattery should only come between those who know each other deeply.”

“Well, I’d like to get to know you better, cousin.”

You tilt your head, “Ah cousin, should’ve known we were related based on the hair color.” Your hand finds the pin holding your locks upward and slide it out, letting the silver cascade down your shoulders and flow to the side. Aemond’s eyes watched your hair with great interest, rousing a laugh from the bottom of your stomach.

“Are you always this curious and interested in hair?”

He stifles a cough, “Erm– yes?”

“You liar–”

You quickly move past him, gently shoving him with a laugh that sounded like pure heaven to the boy's ears. You seemed to be in a playful mood, so the boy chased after you, laugh intertwining with yours. And what a true joy it was to meet someone in the family that didn’t completely anger you.

Hours later, after departing from Aemond, you were safe and warm within the covers of the bed you truly loved. Your sisters were asleep, subtly snoring until they were awoken by a familiar roar. Vhagar, Mother’s dragon who wasn’t supposed to even be flying or out this late at night. It worried the two twins, so they did only what they were taught in an odd situation, they woke their older sister.

“Y/N…Y/N… Y/N– wake up…!”

Your shoulders were being shook until numbness, but you eventually let your eyes fall open and settled on Baela.

“Mm…? What is it, sister?”

“Someone stole Vhagar.”

That sets the alarm bells in your mind off, “What?!”

Quickly, you put your dress and boots on and settled the dagger your father had made for you under your gown. Telling Baela and Rhaena to wake Jacaerys and Lucerys and meet you where Vhagar was going to land. And eventually, you all met up to investigate what was going on. Though, you held your sisters back behind you so you could go first in case of an attack. The distant crash of Vhagar landing made you jump, but alas you waited to see who was riding the Dragon that was to remain unclaimed.

“Jace, what are we doing?”

Yourself and the group of children all quieted down at the sight of Aemond.

“It��s him.”

“It’s me.”

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon.”

“Your mother’s dead. And Vhagar has a new rider now.” Venom was seething through his mouth, and you winced at his way with words, harsh and unruly.

“She was mine to claim.”

“Then you should’ve claimed her! Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride. It would suit you.”

Rhaena slipped from behind you in rage, going to grapple and fight Aemond but was quickly thrown to the side and to the ground. Baela couldn’t stand to see her sister hurt, so the girl took her turn, throwing a punch and landing it, but ultimately getting the same force of a punch back, knocking her down.

“Come at me again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!”

You leapt to check on Rhaena to see if the boy had hurt her, while Jacaerys began to throw punches himself. With a gentle caress, you wiped the blood from your sister’s nose, feeling Jacaerys fall to the ground and the shrill shriek of Lucerys. It was chaos, but in spite of Aemond’s meticulous strength, you helped Rhaena up and she went immediately to beating Aemond up with Baela and Jacaerys.

Blood was all over the boy’s face, while you took the liberty of staying out of the conflict and helping Lucerys up from the dirty ground.

It didn’t last though, Jacaerys was kicked aside, the girls thrown, but Lucerys lunged anyways; getting put into a chokehold. Everyone tensed up as Aemond grabbed a stone from the ground and held it up, your heart dropping to your stomach. Was he going to kill your cousin in cold blood?

“You will die screaming in flames just as your father did! Bastards.”

“My father’s still alive.” Lucerys wailed out with a bloodied face and salty tears, “He doesn’t know, does he, Lord Strong?”

Aemond’s tone became condescending, and within that rage, Jacaerys grabbed the dagger that laid upon your thigh while you were ultimately distracted.

“Jace!”

You grabbed your sisters and held them back with eyes of fear, watching as Aemond threw Lucerys to fall to the ground, but Jacaerys caught him and threw him softer to land. The boy swung the dagger you once had, missing and getting struck by the stone Aemond wielded. The dagger landed near Lucerys, who grew strength in the moment he had of being defeated. And as Aemond had his arm held up with the stone, ready to strike Jacaerys down, he looked to you and your sisters; and you shook your head in disbelief.

What happened to the kind boy you had met on the beach?

Sand and then the slash and scream that accompanied it.

Aemond cried into the sandy, night air, clutching his face in great pain. Blood pooled and spilled from his left eye, slipping through his fingers like wine being poured from a bottle. You felt a twinge of guilt for not breaking up the fight, but you knew you’d done right by keeping close to your sisters. Because they were most important to you, even if the boy who was now seething in pain was kind to you once.

“How could you allow such a thing to happen?”

The king was chastising the knight in front of him, and you let your eyes come to Aemond sat upon a chair, having his eye cleaned by a Maester. Alicent Hightower, the queen, sat next to the boy with a vastly worried expression. A mother’s worry for her son, her boy.

“Who had the watch?”

“Young prince was attacked by his own cousins, Your Grace.”

You held your sisters in a huddled hug, their blood coated on your fingers as you had tried to wipe their faces clean. Though, it had just ended with red smudges on their skin and crimson tips for your fingers.

“You swore oaths to protect and defend my blood!”

“I’m very sorry, Your Grace. The Kingsguard has never had to defend princes from princes, Your Grace–”

“That is no answer!”

Alicent’s voice chimed in, “It will heal, will it not, maester?” She sounded desperate.

“The flesh will heal. But the eye is lost, Your Grace.”

Alicent and Viserys seemingly reeled at the news of their son’s eye now being lost, and you felt bile rising in your throat.

“Where were you?” Alicent began to antagonize her son, “Me?”

The answer wasn’t satisfactory, so the woman slapped him and he quivered in fear at the anger on her face.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool.” The Hightower woman was seething in anger, a sight that was rare and never welcomed. But before anyone else could possibly speak or do anything, doors opened and Corlys and Rhaenys rushed down the stairs.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Y/N, Baela, Rhaena! What happened? What happened?” The older woman immediately embraced your sisters, pulling you into the hug roughly but with care. Corlys went front and center while Rhaenys was comforting your sisters and rubbing your shoulder in hopes of easing you. The grand doors opened with a creak and Rhaenyra Targaryen came waltzing in with a face stricken with intense, motherly worry, but what was odd was your father was trailing behind her; making eye contact with you before leaning against the doorway to watch the commotion.

“Jace? Luke!” She rushed to kneel in front of them, trying to assess the damage of Lucerys’s nose.

“Show me. Show me.”

His small hand moved from his nose, and a fresh gush of blood fell.

“Who did this?”

“They attacked me!”

“He attacked Baela!”

“He broke Luke’s nose!”

The children continued to shout and make their own arguments and claims of what had happened, “He stole my mother’s dragon!”

“Enough.”

“He was gonna kill Jace! I didn’t do anything!”

“Enough–”

“It should be my son telling the tale!” Alicent now joined the children in their chorus of cries and shouts, until–

“Silence!”

Instantaneous silence at the King’s yell, Jace leaned down to his mother’s ear to whisper something that made her face go pale as she rose. Must’ve been the phrase that started the physical altercation, ‘Bastard’.

“Aemond…” The King made his way down the small bit of stairs ever so slowly, “I will have the truth of what happened. Now.”

“What else is there to hear? Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible.” Alicent chimed in, “It was a regrettable accident.” Rhaenyra argued.

“Accident? The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush. He meant to kill my son.”

“We had no idea it was your son whom was riding, Vhagar!”

Alicent’s gaze turned to you now, “Past conflicts have arisen between them and yet you had no idea it was Aemond?”

“No– and it was I who brought the blade, for protecting my sisters and cousins in case of danger.”

Alicent’s eyes rolled, “And you claim to be oh so high and mighty now, protecting family–”

“It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves. Vile insults were levied against them.” Rhaenyra interrupted the Queen from continuing.

Viserys’ perked up, “What insults?”

“The legitimacy of my sons’ birth was put loudly to question.”

“What?”

“He called us bastards.”

The room went silent, even a drop of wine could sound across the room.

“My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace. This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders.”

The boy peeked from the rather large chair he was sat upon, looking you directly in the eye as Rhaenyra spoke, sending a chill up your spine at the view of his now lost eye, bloody and bruised.

“Over an insult? My son has lost an eye.” Alicent’s hand roughly gestured to Aemond.

“You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?”

“The insult was training yard bluster.” Alicent interrupted, “The lot of boys. It was nothing.”

“Aemond… I asked you a question.” A pause, before Alicent spoke once again, “Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The boys’ father? Perhaps he might have some say in the matter?”

“Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?”

“I do not know, Your Grace. I… could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk.” Your father was glancing at Rhaenyra with eyes you knew well, and your stomach felt like it was weighed down by stones. He was getting involved with his niece, on the day of your mother’s funeral.

“Entertaining his young squires, I would venture.”

No one laughed, not a single breath except for the hateful looks both Rhaenys and Corlys sent Alicent. Viserys was neglectful of the looks and continued his earlier conversation with his injured son.

“Aemond… look at me. Your king demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?”

Pregnant silence, before he spoke, “It was Aegon.”

“Me?” The other boy looked terrified, “And you, boy? Where did you hear such calumnies? Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!”

“We know, Father…” The room suddenly feels hotter, “Everyone knows. Just look at them.”

Most of everyone in the room peers at Rhaenyra and her sons, her hand laid on her youngest head, tears welling up in her beautiful eyes. Alicent visibly looked saddened, but you knew deep down she most likely felt satisfied about his answer, but the complete opposite could be said for Viserys.

“This interminable infighting must cease! All of you! We are family! Now, make your apologises and show good will to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!”

The obviously sick and decrepit man, our king, began to walk away, his cane clicking against the ground abrupt against the awkward silence. Alicent looked appalled at her husband's words, tears in her eyes mirroring Rhaenyra.

“That is insufficient.” He turns around, “Aemond has been damaged permanently, My King. “Good will” cannot make him whole.”

“I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye.”

“No, because it’s been taken.”

“What would you have me do?”

“There is a debt to be paid. I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return. And if not her son’s, then the one who brought the blade in the first place.”

The room began to murmur, your eyes widening at her proposition. Rhaenys’s grip around you became tighter in her own worry.

“My dear wife…–”

“He is your son, Viserys. Your blood.”

“Do not… allow your temper to guide your judgment.” He shares brief eye contact with your father.

“If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston… bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon or Y/N Velaryon.”

“Mother!” The small boy shouts, and you turn to look at your father who looks more antsy than before, worried.

“Alicent…”

“The one you choose can choose which eye to keep, a privilege neither of them granted my son.”

“You will do no such thing.” Rhaenyra defended, beginning to look just as worried as your father; if not worse.

“Stay your hand.”

“No, you are sworn to me!” She yells to Ser Criston, “As your protector, My Queen.”

A sense of relief washed over you, Alicent looking more and more disappointed by the second.

“Alicent, this matter… is finished. Do you understand?” The king and queen share eye contact for a moment, before the king turns to leave the whole situation all together, but he must leave a brief message.

“And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s sons should have it removed.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Rhaenyra leans down to console her sons once again, yourself choosing to kiss the tops of your sisters’ heads, until chaos strikes. Alicent moved steady towards Rhaenyra with the blade Viserys usually carried at his side, looking like a woman on a mission, and various people began to shout which alerted her to the oncoming attack; catching Alicent’s arms in a grapple. Luke screamed in fear and you instantly huddled towards Baela and Rhaena to protect them, not noticing your father trying to get to you but being interrupted by Ser Criston.

“You’ve gone too far.”

“I? What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom , the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you please. Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again.”

“Release the blade, Alicent.” Her father spoke, but she did not listen.

“And now you take my son’s eye, and to even that, you feel entitled.”

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you really are.” And with a push away, the blade penetrates Rhaenyra’s skin, conjuring up blood at her wrist that slips down, down, until the crimson liquid hits the marbled floor. Her face was open in shock at what had just happened, even Alicent looking shell-shocked at what she did. The blade in her hand tumbling down and hitting the floor to mirror the bloodshed.

But, now Aemond was up from his seat, eyes turning to him instead of the commotion.

“Do not mourn me, Mother.” She looks at him, “It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye… but I gained a dragon. And Y/N was not at fault at all–”

You both look to each other, “She didn’t even try and hurt me, she stayed out of it, so bid her mercy…”

You let the corners of your mouth slide up in a thankful smile, and he only replies with a nod.

“This proceeding is at an end.”

Ser Criston releases your father, and he makes haste in reuniting with you and your siblings and Rhaenyra, looking at Alicent with the same gaze as the rest of your family, stern, dark, and direct.

Ten years have passed since that fateful night.

Baela had traveled to Driftmark to be a Ward for Rhaenys and Corlys, Rhaena deciding to stay with you to keep you company against the hoard of boys. Lucerys and Jacerys were handfuls in of themselves, despite their older age. But now you had little Joffrey and his two brothers to mess about and yell into the halls of Dragonstone.

Your father and Rhaenyra had wed the morning after the night of bloodshed, happy and content within joining their two families, and Rhaenyra was now pregnant with yet another child after two younger boys with Daemon. You’d hope that they would be a girl.

Though, the peacefulness that was your home was breached by a letter sent by Baela, giving information about Corly’s brother challenging Lucerys’s legitimacy to the Driftmark throne. He was going to present it to the king in hopes of staking claim over Luke, which made Rhaenyra instantly angered by the audacity. And, that is when your parents decided that it would be best to travel back to the kingdom to make their own claim against Vaemond.

A ship ride and a carriage ride, and you were now arriving at the castle that held the man that weighed on your thoughts for a decade.

Aemond.

The boy saved you from losing an eye by claiming your innocence.

How would he look after ten years? Handsome? Stubborn like his mother? The question hung in your head until the carriage stopped and Rhaenyra sent you a small smile to tell you it was time to exit.

“All hail Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne and her royal consort, Prince Daemon Targaryen.”

The bells tolled, and the cold air drifted into the now open carriage as Rhaenyra exited promptly and with a regalness that only royalty could muster. Your father exited just after her without a care of how he looked, but you waited and helped Rhaena out of the carriage before letting Jacerys and Lucerys go and then yourself.

Your whole family was adorned in black and red colors, contrasting the green banners that were in the yard you stood in. Rhaena’s rather cold hand grasped yours, and you let your thumb absentmindedly rub against the frozen skin. She felt anxiety, it was only normal considering where you all stood.

Lord Caswell suddenly came from the entry doors with careful consideration, before coming to stand in front of Rhaenyra and bowing his head. His wrinkled hands found her soft ones, eyes speaking with care.

“Welcome back, Princess.”

“Lord Caswell.”

The man kindly escorted you all into the castle, and the decor change seemed to alarm both of your parents. The green, the religious symbols, it was all so daunting for two people who were raised here. Alas, you had to separate from them as they had duties to attend to, so you followed your brothers to the training yard, their black cloaks dragging behind them like crows feathers.

Two knights were sparring, catching the eyes of the boys, however you were focused on the blades sat against wood planks to be picked up.

They were awfully shiny and caught your eye, the indistinct chatter all around you becoming void.

“See? I told you this would still be here. And you thought you could swing Criston’s morningstar. And you almost took your own head off.”

Lucerys grumbled beside you, looking at the weapons also as Jacerys rustled the boys’ hair, yet he was focused on the various people staring at you three with curious eyes. Jacerys noticed immediately, “What’s your problem?”

You picked up a shiny blade, twirling it in your grasp, “Everyone’s staring at us–”

“Hyah!” Jacerys tried to play, even smiling a bit but it was shut down by Lucerys’s sour attitude.

“No one would question me being heir to Driftmark… if… if I looked more like Ser Laenor Velaryon than Ser Harwin Strong–”

You quickly dropped the sword and placed a hand on your brother’s shoulder, gathering his attention, “It doesn’t matter what they think.”

It seemed to ease him, before a crowd had gathered and cheering began, grunts from the middle of the crowd. Jacerys dragged you two immediately to whatever was going on, and the view shocked you.

A white-haired man brandished a shield and sword, moving swiftly towards the Dornish looking knight, taking a hit to his shield and causing the crowd to react with “ooo”’s and “ahh”’s. But the white-haired mystery was smart, he threw the shield to the side and began relentless swipes towards the knight, but he dodged anyways, now revealing the face of the man.

Aemond–

This alarmed Lucerys, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. He moved meticulously, like a spider on a wall, fast and deadly. His moves were awe-inspiring, and every jab of his sword made your heartbeat faster and faster; until the pointy end was at the knight’s neck and the crowd applauded.

“Well done, my Prince. You’ll be winning tourneys in no time.”

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys. Nephews, Niece… have you come to train?”

His one eye was wide and awake, an unnerving chill being sent up your spine just by his glance. But before any of you three could reply, a guard shouted.

“Open the gate!”

There was a large creak before your relative, Vaemond, waltzed through with his battalion, making a huge deal out of his arrival. Until you feel a hand grasp yours and pull you back and away from the crowd. The hand was warm and inviting, callouses from sword handling prominent but the veins in the arms were so very noticeable.

He was pulling you fast towards the library, not even giving you a second to rest before the library doors shut and his gaze was on you once again. His singular eye wandered your entire figure, starting from your face, down to your neck, your chest, your waist, legs, and then back up. He hummed a content, “hmmm”, before speaking.

“My– how you’ve grown, Niece…”

“Could say the same to you, Aemond.”

He circled you now, like a shark circling blood in the ocean, but your desire was probably ten times that. You missed him even after only knowing each other for a day, and it scared you; how much you wanted to kiss him, bite his neck, or nibble on his ear. The possibility of hearing the low, guttural noises of pleasure from him was surfacing in your mind.

You hoped whatever god or gods there were that he couldn’t read your mind right now.

The eyepatch slung on his head looked to be made of fine leather, of course made by someone of exceptional skill and yet, the man most likely saw himself as a cripple due to the loss of his eye. His hair was long and flowed down his back almost like a ravenous river, uncontrollable and wild. What brought out a slice of curiosity from you though was the blue glimmer from under the eyepatch he adorned, did he really stick a gem into his eye socket?

“You still remind me of sapphires.”

“Such flattery should only come between those who know each other deeply, Aemond–”

He smirks, lips upturning, as if remembering the very same day you both had met and spoke. Of course, it was hard to forget you, and the way you didn’t join your siblings in crippling him. You were merciful to him, yet, you were known to have the same anger and rage boiling in you as your father, Daemon. And after these ten years that had passed, there was never a quiet moment where he wasn’t pondering about you, your whereabouts, or how you might have aged and come into your own body.

And you sure had matured in all the right places.

“What did you hope to achieve by pulling me into the library?”

Were you hoping to get a rise out of him? Because the palpable tension of ten years was straining like a rope at its breaking point. About to snap.

“Privacy, mostly, Niece.”

He stood firmly in front of you, now closer than he previously was but just far enough to where you could feel the lingering touch of his hand. His fingers were long, slender, and strong; built for sword fighting and taking down armies of men. He was stronger than he looked. His hand trailed up your arm, settling just under your ear within the crease, cradling your cheek longingly. His gaze mirrored that of when he first saw you, adoring and curious. How is it that such a violent man could stoop into a passive state around a woman he cares for, admires and cherishes.

“You’ve gone soft, Aemond. Where is that daring sword fighter I just saw outside?”

“Even a man as violent as direwolves would falter under the eyes of the woman he loves.”

“And you love me?”

“Of course, I do… ever since we were kids. Ever since the day I lost my eye. I gained a dragon and a person worth fighting for.”

His thumb stroked the skin of your cheek, “Do you feel the same, Sapphire…?”

Before he could even utter another word, your lips were on his.

You didn’t see Aemond the rest of the day after the shared kiss.

He had duties to attend to and Daemon had called upon you for your sword training, which he always let you handle Dark Sister since you would be the one to inherit the blade. A powerful symbol and an even swifter blade then the dagger you’d been carrying since you were a kid.

The same dagger that took out Aemond’s eye.

The guilt of even taking the blade in the first place to the cavern was still apparent in your older age, but even your sisters liked to assure you that it was the right call.

You were their protector. Their older sister and through marital laws, could be the heir to the Iron throne if Rhaenyra deemed it so.

The oldest of all your siblings, you were also the fiercest, yet the most gentle.

‘The Realms Essence’, you’d heard in villages.

‘She embodies love and hate, the wind and the flame.’

Yet, you were always drawn to the sea and the color of sapphire blue.

The next day was the day of defending Lucerys’s claim to the throne of Driftmark, his birthright and exactly what Corlys’ would have wanted.

Rhaenyra awoke you in the morning, carrying a red and black dress with a blue dragon sutured up the back. It was the color of your dragon, Bessoarth, The Nocturnal. The glimmering yellow of the eyes of the dragon drew you in as your mother helped you put on the dress, smoothing out any creases and beginning to braid your hair in a Dragon riders’ style.

She had said she used to wear her hair the exact same way when she was younger, and a swell of pride bundled up in your heart.

You missed your true mother, Laena, but the attention and love from Rhaenyra brought new light to your inner child.

Eventually, you and your whole family were gathered in the sacred room that held the Iron Throne. The crowds chattering about whatever came to mind but all was put silent as Otto Hightower began to speak and start the meeting.

“Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.” He takes a seat on the throne.

“The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.”

Your relative walks up to speak his truth, while you immediately tried to find Aemond’s gaze, once locking, a smile arose on his lips that didn’t go unnoticed by a certain someone.

“My Queen. My Lord Hand.”

Alicent looks at Vaemond, “The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’s closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.”

“As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon–. If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition.”

Rhaenyra was right in her correct interruption of Vaemond, yet Alicent Hightower interrupted her immediately.

“You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.”

The tensions between the two formal friends was sharp and unyielding, but to make matters worse, Ser Vaemond came with a rebuttal to Rhaenyra.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn’t recognize it.” Rhaenyra nods to herself, “This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.” The man lets his eyes land on Lucerys, which you firmly reply with shoving the boy slightly behind you, looking Vaemond in the eyes with haste. How dare he look at him with such satisfied eyes, who did he think he was?

“My Queen, My Lord Hand.” He was an ass kisser, that much was obvious. “This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor… the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond.”

He sent one last glance at your family before taking his place once again.

“Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.”

She took firm steps to the front, holding her wrist with a certain amount of anxiety that was only a bit noticeable. But even in her worries, she gave off a sense of knowing it would all be okay somehow.

“If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago, in this very–”

A noticeable creak sounded throughout the hall, taking everyone's gaze to the grand doors behind. The almost toppled over body of your Uncle came firmly to enter the meeting, a golden mask clad on the right side of his face. His white hair was sparse and thin, just about all of it gone and yet his head still held the crown with delight. His cane clicked on the cobblestone ground, and you couldn’t help but notice the small smile on Rhaenyra’s face.

Her father was here to save the day.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

The room bowed their heads to the King who would die being known for the kindness of his heart, and the love he held for his family. A truly noble man.

He moved slowly and with a limp, but kept his gaze on his only child, knowing what he had to do, and he would not fail.

“I will sit the throne today.”

“Your Grace…”

The determination your Uncle exhibited was noteworthy and brought a great comfort to you, knowing the bloodline you stem from ties into a man so oddly heroic, even in his last days.

Through his difficulty to climb up to his lofty seat, the crown on his head fell with a thud which prompted yourself and your father to try and aid him.

Daemon held Viserys and helped him to the throne and you had the honor of placing the crown back onto his head. Even after bickering and arguments, the brothers knew they would always have each other, even if one were to pass. And you gave your Uncle an adoring gaze and a loving smile, before joining your family once again.

“I must… admit… my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present… who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

“Indeed, Your Grace.”

The whole room peered keenly at the older woman, herself stepping forward with her black grown dragging against the ground behind her.

“It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son… Lucerys Velaryon.” Rhaenyra perked up, “His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’s granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

Baela looked to be smiling a bit, Alicent shaking her head to herself as if in disapproval.

“Well…” Viserys began, “The matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucery Vvelaryon of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

He wheezed after his proclamation, Rhaenys rejoining Baela and Vaemond, staring daggers into Rhaenyra, making a ‘tch’ sound.

“You break law… and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir.” He steps up to speak once again, “Yet you dare tell me… who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

“”Allow it”? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

The man turns and points at Lucerys, face drawn up in a flame like anger, “That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine.”

You draw Lucerys back behind you, Rhaenyra turning and looking him in the eyes.

“Go to your chambers. You have said enough.” She looks to Vaemond with pleading eyes, not wanting to argue over something so realistically small. However, Viserys decides to chime in again.

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you… are no more than the second son of Driftmark.”

“You… may run your house as you see fit… but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides.” His venom laced eyes turned to our family once again, “And gods be damned… I will not see it ended on the account of this–” He pauses.

Daemon seeks the words Vaemond wishes to utter and says, “Say it.”

The whole room seemingly freezes, the air thin, but Vaemond couldn’t restrict his tongue.

“Her children… ARE BASTARDS. And she… is… a whore.”

The crowd stirs with gasps and while Viserys tries to rise, you put a comforting hand on Rhaenyra's shoulder.

“I…” The king pulls his dagger from under his cloak, “will have your tongue for that.”

But before anything could even happen, the sound of a sword being swung erupted and Vaemond Velaryon’s top half of his head fell to the ground, soon following his body. Everyone gasped and Alicent pulled Haelena into a hug, knowing the view troubled her. Rhaenyra was shocked but even you knew your father would not let those words go without punishment.

“He can keep his tongue.”

“DISARM HIM!”

“No need.” Daemon quickly cleaned his blade with his cloak and sheathed it, Aemond now meeting your wandering eyes with one thing on his mind.

You certainly inherited your father’s flare.

The King fell back into the throne, Alicent calling for the maesters and Rhaenyra rushing to his side to check on him. The dagger sheathed at your side seemed to burn and itch every second, yet that didn’t even disturb you. Aemond’s almost excited gaze towards Daemon is what truly did you in.

With the day just about gone, it was time for dinner.

The whole family, including Alicent’s children, were all to attend. You dreaded the ordeal simply by the fact that you knew trouble would most definitely stir up. It was bound to happen with the tensions rising between Rhaenyra and Alicent, not to mention Aemond’s anger towards Jace and Luke. The only person who seemed to not even care about what was going on was Haelena, as she was sipping her wine and smiling to herself, muttering phrases that made anyone shiver. You felt bad for her.

The doors opened to the dining room and Viserys was carried in, everyone standing in greeting to his royal majesty. He had looked tired, exhausted even, and that saddened your heart.

The sadness could never really last with Aemond staring into your very soul any chance he could, wearing a lustful smile, mind wandering to where the kiss prior could have led. The feelings stirring in your heart were that of love, the very thing that slays duty. A dangerous thing.

Once Viserys was finally seated, everyone else followed suit. His lowly eye looking around the whole table, taking in the sight of his family together, even if torn all the same.

“How good it is… to see you all tonight… together.”

His adoring gaze landed on Rhaenyra, before Alicent spoke.

“Prayer before we begin?”

“Yes.”

An odd thing that your mother had pointed out to you, was that Alicent was never religious during the time they spent together in their youth. The randomness of the religion she was now devout to had caused her great confusion, though she was not one to deny someone the freedom of worship.

“May the mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest.”

Your father sent a playful gaze at you, which you dismissed with an eye roll towards his attitude.

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young princes… and their betrothed.”

Aemond’s eye was on you once again at the mention of betrothal, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Hear, hear!”

Everyone raised their glasses, the bitter wine wrapping around your tongue and slid down your throat with an aftertaste that was oddly sweet. The aroma had accents of earthy tones that reminded you of the sea, your home. Aegon’s whispers to Jace were heard but not acknowledged by you as you enjoyed your wine.

“Let us toast as well Prince Lucerys… the future Lord of the Tides.”

“Hear, hear.”

“You’ll be great.”

Aemond’s lingering stare towards Lucerys was dark, one of extreme distaste, which reflected directly how he felt towards Jacerys also. But not you, never you, you were a person with an attitude that mirrored the harsh waves. Yet, you were delicate and sweet like his favorite fruit, the blueberry.

“You look beautiful, my daughter.”

Daemon laid a hand upon yours that sat on the table, smiling at you proudly.

“Thank you, Father. Rhaenyra has helped me pick the most beautiful of dresses. I owe it to her.”

The lovely couple now peer at each other lovingly before your Uncle rose up to speak, back hunched and breath coming out rugged and wild. Even while his face was covered, it was obvious his health was declining by the second.

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world… yet grown so distant from each other… in the years past.” His hand reaches up, grasping the gold mask and unclasping it, making you tense up immediately from surprise.

A skull. His skull.

The right side of his face had sunken in and molded to the bones of his face, the eye gone forever like his son’s. It was a horrible sight, but knowing that the man who had to endure it was your darling uncle made your heart ache.

“My own face… is no longer a handsome one… if indeed it ever was. But tonight… I wish you to see me… as I am. Not just a king… but your father. Your brother. Your husband… and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems… walk for much longer among you.” The mask is dropped to the table with a loud CLUNK, “Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown… then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”

Viserys shrinks back into his seat, being helped by Alicent who assists him in wiping his mouth, Rhaenyra now abruptly standing and holding her cup up. Her foot visibly shook from under the table, “I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen.”

The two women looked each other in the eyes, Alicent’s gaze softening a bit at those words before she continued.

“I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood… more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with… unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude… and my apology.”

She takes a quiet seat, setting her cup down, and Alicent responds.

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers… and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow.” She stands, ringed hand grasping her cup, “I raise my cup to you… and to your house. You will make a fine queen.”

Rhaenyra and Alicent are both smiling to themselves as Alicent finally sits, and oddly enough, Rhaenyra raises her cup once again and looks to you now with a soft gaze, one of a mother.

“I’d also like to announce… Here and now, since Y/N is now my oldest child by law, I want to grant her the title as heir to the Iron Throne after me. A title very deserving of such a smart and beautiful woman, I loved your mother and she’d be very proud of how far you have come.” She raises the cup higher, everyone now doing so except Aegon whom was too busy drowning himself in booze.

“Hear, hear!”

Daemon clasps a proud hand on your shoulder, but your eyes gravitate to Aemond who tilted his cup to you with a smirk before taking a rather large gulp. A sign of respect perhaps?

The positive feelings were always to be interrupted, with Aegon now up and refilling his cup of wine. He was whispering to your sister, not loud enough for you to hear until Jace slammed his fists into the table, seat skittering as he rose quite quickly.

Jace clears his throat, but the tensions didn’t stop rising, Aemond now stood and eyeing up Jacerys, almost mentally telling him to stand down. And instead of attacking Aegon, Jace raised his cup to toast, patting Aegon on the shoulder rather awkwardly.

“To Prince Aegon and… Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s good health, dear uncles.” He takes a swift swig of his wine and gives Aegon another pat on the shoulder for the second time, making the man audibly groan, “To you as well.”

Aemond slowly shuffled back down into his seat and Helaena muttered a phrase under her breath while messing about with a thing in her clutches, “Beware the beast beneath the boards…”

“Well done, my boy.”

Helaena stands a bit off kilter, raising her wine glass, “I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you… except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

A bit of laughter choruses from the two families and the bright girl takes her seat once again, smiling wider than before. She was definitely your favorite between her and Aegon.

“Let us have some music.”

The prospect of hearing gentle tunes eased the anxiety of being sat at the table, and you visibly relaxed, holding the hand that Rhaenyra had held out to you, tightly. Jacerys stood up and excused himself before offering a hand to Helaena to dance, the girl taking his hand with a faint enthusiasm. Aegon, however, looked offended at that fact, yet the two still jumped around merrily with large smiles on their faces, putting a smile on your face also.

What shocked you was the tap on the shoulder you received, followed by the piercing eye of the man you adored staring down at you.

“Would you care to dance, Princess…?”

You hesitated at first, feeling your father’s eyes barreling into your head, yet your hand found Aemond’s, his fingers gently cusping over yours as he guided you to rise from your seat and stand near your brother and aunt.

One hand stayed clasped in his, the other on his rather broad shoulder as his free hand slid down to greet your waist with a singular touch. He guided the whole waltz, taking the liberty of spinning you and adding flare to the dance, making you giggle and laugh out into the night, all to the displeasure of your father, intensely watching the whole interaction with distaste. Yet, your uncle only watched you two adoringly, seeing himself and Aemma within you and Aemond. A tough man and his adoring wife, a misunderstood boy and the one who understands him the most.

Eventually, the man who held your very heart in his palm guided you back to your seat, kissing your hand ever so kindly before taking his seat, grabbing his chalice to take a hefty gulp of wine. Rhaenyra looked fairly happy, face turned upward and eyes sparkling with child-like wonder that she had lost ages ago. Alicent looked just about the same, smiling at her. It felt… good, and normal, and like home, to be with all the people in your family.

The moment was cut short when Viserys began to groan in pain and Alicent called for the guards to escort him back to his chambers for rest, your father’s face dropping at seeing his brother in pain. Yet, servants came in with various food items as the king was just leaving, a finely cooked pig being set in front of Aemond.

This aroused a laugh out of Lucerys, who was looking Aemond in the eye while openly laughing, the music coming to a stop once Aemond slammed a fist into the wooden table. His thin and wiry fingers curled atop the wine chalice, raising it up.

“Final tribute.”

Discomfort surfaced over every other emotion you felt, and you pleaded with him through desperate eye contact which seemingly egged him on further.

“To the health of my nephews: Jace… Luke… and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…”

Alicent almost seems to stiffen, eyeing up her son, while his eyes bounced between his nephews and you. He was going to say it, you knew it, you felt it in your very heart of hearts, so you braced for the outrage.

“Hm… strong.”

“Aemond–”

“Come… let us drain our cups to these three…” Aegon raises his cup, “Strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again–”

“Why?” He gazes at Jace, “‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?”

The two boys strided towards each other quickly and Jace quickly swung a punch towards Aemond, striking him in the face. It sounded like Lucerys was also getting in a squabble, but you were only focused on Aemond being okay and Jace being unscathed.

You quickly rose and went to grab Jace to separate him and Aemond, but Aegon took the moment to let go of Lucerys and throw you into the table with him, causing your sisters to shout loudly and stand up, ready to defend you.

The guards quickly ended the fighting, but not before Aemond shoved Jace down to the ground with a chuckle.

Daemon was quick to help you from the table, holding you with loving arms of a father who cared heavily for his first-born daughter and future heir to the throne after Rhaenyra. Your eyes were on Aemond, who seemed satisfied with the petty squabbles, and even though he wasn’t looking at you, he could feel how hurt you were, like it was raining upon him from the very skies.

“Why would you say such a thing before these people?”

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother.” Daemon looks at you with eyes of suspicion due to your lingering stare towards Aemond, “Mm, though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.”

Jace lunges for Aemond, but you step up, “Wait, wait!”

You hold your arms up to keep distance between Aemond and Jace, everyone's face contorting in confusion. Rhaenyra excuses her sons to go to bed and you keep eye contact with Aemond.

“You went too far–”

“Y/N–”

“You went too far and you know it, Aemond. I thought you… cared for me.. Enough to at least not claim my brothers are bastards.”

His face contorts to one of guilt, looking almost sorry for even causing such trouble. His eyes suddenly look behind you, and you know your father is most likely staring arrows into Aemond.

“Mm..” You hear Daemon behind you, and Aemond shrugs it off, now walking away with haste. Before you could chase after him, Daemon gently grabs our wrist to hold you in place.

“Daughter, do you hold affections for the boy who just insulted your brothers?”

Rhaenyra stared intensely from beside him.

“If I did… then what? Would you have me exiled like you were? Fulfill what everyone thinks, that I am a mini version of you? I just want everyone to get along for once, but it seems there will always be a strain upon both of our families…” You look at Alicent, whom looks visibly happy that you are finally saying something about how you feel. Something she could never do as a young woman due to the men in her life.

“I will love who I want, and if Aemond is the one I choose… then so be it. Disinherit me from the throne, throw my name from our family books, I could care less.”

Before Daemon could speak, you walked past him, sending Rhaenyra an apologetic look with your hands balled into fists. You had to find Aemond.

You would eventually find Aemond within his chambers, clutching his eyepatch in his left hand while staring wearily out of the window to his left. You couldn’t see his lost eye from the angle you were standing at, but you could see his other eye, blue and almost glowing with the light of the night.

“You defend me against your family, yet when I insult them, you barely bat an eye… why?”

His voice is calm, low and tired. He had a point, why did you defend him? Should you have just sided with Rhaenyra and her blood children?

“Aemond…–”

“The connection we felt as young children was fleeting, yet you didn’t partake in beating me to a pulp. Why?”

You took firm steps to get closer to him, but he kept his head tilted just so you couldn’t see the other side of his face. He looked almost scared to be vulnerable with you. Yet, you brought a hand up to his cheek and slowly turned his head to look fully to you, and you stifle a gasp.

A sapphire glowed faintly in the socket where his eye would have been, the blue striking and beautiful. It held a sapphire glare, one that made your heart skip a beat.

He was beautiful, even if his mind told him he was imperfect.

“I’m monstrous, aren’t I?”

“Not in the slightest.”

His face softened significantly at your words and his head leaned down to be against yours, cold yet inviting.

“You always reminded me of sapphires, and I wanted to always keep you in my mind’s eye.”

“Such flattery should only come between those who know each other deeply-”

Before you could utter a word more, his lips were on yours.

The ocean and the flames, The sapphire and the ruby, together at last.

#xreader #fanfiction #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond

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itsgameofthronesimagines · 2 years

Note

Oooh good to know, thanks🥰 would you feel comfortable writing a Alicent x reader & a Rhaenyra x reader one? Where they are both fighting over reader’s love?

Title: Black & Green All Over

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x Fem!Reader, Rhaenyra Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 8,224

Warnings: Follows the events of the entire show and a little bit of the book, so spoilers for those who are not caught up! Angst, underage love, unrequited love, childbirth, unfulfilled ending, etc.

A/N: I apologize if you weren't requesting a female reader, but it's definitely what I wanted 😏 so that's what I wrote. Also, to have Y/n a part of the King’s court so that Alicent and Rhaenyra would have a reason to be around her, I placed her in the Strong family so that she also has a hot older brother. Sorry not sorry. Enjoy!

(I do not consent to my works being reposted/copied)

Lady Y/n Strong of Harrenhal was the oldest daughter of Lyonel Strong. Once he was appointed Master of Laws to King Viserys, Lord Lyonel brought his two sons and Y/n to King's Landing with him, leaving his youngest daughter behind. Once in the capital, Y/n was appointed to be one of Princess Rhaenyra's handmaidens, along with one other young woman, Alicent Hightower, the Hand of the King's daughter.

The three daughters of Viserys, Otto, and Lyonel became thick as thieves over their years of friendship. Despite being in service to her, Rhaenyra treated Alicent and Y/n as her equals, reliant on them as close friends would. But one particular day changed the three young girls' lives forever.

After Queen Aemma died in her birthing bed and Rhaenyra was named Heir to the Iron Throne, something began to strain between Rhaenyra and Alicent, and no matter how hard she tried, Y/n couldn't find whatever tear in the cloth this rift started on. The three girls were beginning to near womanhood, and with that came the expectations of marriage. All three of the girls' fathers were trying to find a suitable match for their daughters, and Y/n feared that this might break their bond permanently should the three friends separate.

"It is the way of things," Harwin tried to reassure his little sister as he walked with her through the royal gardens, hands held behind his back, "You are Father's oldest daughter. He would've married you off a while ago if he wasn't so busy attending the Small Council meetings."

"I know. But if that was the case, he should've married you off years ago," Y/n pointed out sternly, lifting her skirts as they walked up the stone steps leading up to a beautiful gazebo, "You are his oldest son."

Harwin smirks, acknowledging her clever response with a nod before directing the subject in a different direction, "And what makes you so certain that marriage would break your friendship with the princess and Lady Alicent?"

"Because we'll each be sent away to live with our husbands in separate corners of the country. Perhaps Rhaenyra could stay, but I'm not a princess. Neither is Alicent. We go where our fathers command it. Rhaenyra... she could do whatever she wants."

Her voice was sad, and upon sighting the first bench he sees, Harwin sits down and now had to look up to meet his younger sibling's gaze, "That doesn't have to be a bad thing, sister. Perhaps Rhaenyra will demand that you and Alicent stay with her as her handmaids."

Y/n paced in front of him, playing with her hands as her eyes drift off with her thoughts, "Perhaps... though I don't see her and Alicent mending their bond anytime soon."

"How do you mean?"

"They've been acting... strange as of late. They rarely speak to each other anymore, but they'll still speak to me."

"The princess just lost her mother, Y/n. Lady Alicent lost hers before that. Perhaps confiding in each other is not how they wish to grieve."

"But they would separately confide in me?" Y/n stops pacing briefly to glance at her brother, "How does that make any sense?"

Harwin shrugs, "Rhaenyra was just named her father's heir. She might feel pressured into confiding her secrets and council onto only one individual."

Y/n's eyes widen in shock, "Are you saying that she trusts me over Alicent?"

"... Alicent is the daughter of the King's Hand."

"That's ridiculous. Rhaenyra wouldn't do that," Y/n returns to pacing, stubbornly stomping that thought away.

Harwin thinks for a moment before something dawns on his face, followed by a shit-eating grin, "Maybe they both prefer you over each other? Would that be so awful? I must take any advice you could give me, sister. I would kill to be the centerpiece of two women's affection."

Y/n stops her pacing once more, instinctively smacking her brother in the shoulder as her face screws up into a scowl, "You're a dog, Harwin."

He laughs at her distaste for his choice of words, a hand on his heart as he pipes down with a genuine smile, "Try talking to them, Y/n. Ask them firmly and stop trying to decipher their thoughts in the shadows. Their answers may surprise you."

~~~~~~~~~

Unfortunately, her chance at talking to the pair of them never came to pass before King Viserys announced his engagement to Alicent, stunning both Y/n and Rhaenyra and furthering the princess' disdain for Lady Hightower. It broke Y/n's heart to watch her two most entrusted friends look absolutely miserable, especially as both she and Rhaenyra laced up Alicent's wedding dress together. What was once a fraying friendship now appeared to be completely shattered between the princess and now the new queen, with Y/n caught in the crossfire.

Rhaenyra would try to keep her mind off of all the drama in her family by riding her dragon, and sometimes, she would take Y/n along as well. Y/n was far less scared of Syrax than Alicent and was far more willing to ride with the princess, feeling as free as a bird and as large as a dragon when flying over King's Landing, unable to see the people below. If she was feeling bold, Rhaenyra would even fly the pair of them as far as Dragonstone and the two young women would have a picnic over the ragged cliffs, overlooking the unforgiving sea. Sometimes, they would get so full of cake and wine, they would huddle close to each other, leaning their backs against Syrax, and fall into a dreamless sleep, the wild winds blocked by Syrax's form. Those days were blissful and always took the weight off the girls' shoulders, momentarily forgetting all of life's struggles and hardships. Y/n especially loved watching Rhaenyra in her element, flying over everyone's heads, wind in her hair, and smile as wide as a dragon's jaw.

Months passed and Alicent quickly became pregnant to the whole kingdom's delight. Y/n tried her best to be there for her friend's pregnancy, but it was difficult as long as she remained Rhaenyra's handmaiden. Perhaps Y/n imagined it, but it felt as though Rhaenyra kept her closer now more than ever, purposely keeping her from Alicent. It distressed both Y/n and Alicent, the Queen wishing to have a true companion to comfort her in her time of need but unable to voice her wishes when Rhaenyra seemed adamant about keeping Y/n to herself.

"Perhaps you may enjoy having tea with the Queen later this afternoon?" Y/n tried to negotiate as she braided Rhaenyra's hair before breakfast.

"I would not," Rhaenyra spoke briefly, stubbornly avoiding the subject every day Y/n tried persuading her.

But the princess could not deny Alicent for long. Once she started her labors, Alicent finally found the will to use her stature as Queen to her advantage. A servant girl entered Rhaenyra's chambers that night, bowing her head in respect, "Princess, forgive the intrusion, but the Queen asked to have Lady Y/n by her side."

Both Rhaenyra and Y/n appeared shocked by this request, glancing at each other before the princess sternly spoke, "I deny it. Lady Y/n stays with me."

The servant girl, now pale and afraid, stuttered out her next words, "Her Grace thought you might say that and she said-- forgive me, Princess, but she would then demand that the Lady Y/n come to be at her side. Her Grace is no longer asking. A thousand apologies, princess. I am only the messenger."

The room falls into silence, Rhaenyra's expression crumbling into rage and betrayal. In the corner of her eye, she caught sight of her handmaid rising from her seat, her skirts in hand. Rhaenyra whips around to address her lady-in-waiting, "Y/n--"

"You may do as you like, Princess..." Y/n's eyes refuse to meet hers, her head bowed in departure, "But I cannot deny a queen and a friend who is in need of me."

Y/n swiftly leaves the room with the servant girl, not wanting to wait for Rhaenyra's response. The princess' actions spoke louder than words, and it angered Lady Y/n. It angered her to see how little Rhaenyra cared for Alicent as if their years of friendship no longer meant anything now that Rhaenyra's father forced Alicent to marry him. As if Alicent was the one who betrayed her. However, in Y/n's eyes, it looked as though it was Rhaenyra who betrayed Alicent. To falsely claim that Alicent was playing a twisted game behind the princess' back was childish, and Rhaenyra should've known better than anyone that her friend wasn't at fault for the King's stupid choice of marriage. Instead, Rhaenyra blamed Alicent for everything and now openly despises her, dragging Y/n into the mix even when she wanted no part of this... unnecessary feud.

The servant girl brings Y/n to the Queen's chambers, and she doesn't wait for the guards to open the doors for her. Y/n pushes her way through the heavy doors herself once she heard the sound of Alicent's screams of pain and raced into the room. Alicent was found kneeling over her own bed, sweating from head to toe, her hair loose and unruly. Her shift stuck uncomfortably to her skin and her hand was grasping her swollen stomach in pain. The wet nurses parted for Y/n as she reached the queen, her hands immediately flying to Alicent's hair as she gently pulled them out of her face. Alicent looked up, agony slowly crumbling into relief when she noticed the woman in front of her. She let out a soft cry and her hands immediately held onto Y/n's shoulders as another contraction hit her like a wave.

"I missed you so much," Alicent whimpered.

Y/n gently shushes the expecting queen, ignoring the pain she felt against Alicent's iron grip. The Lady Strong holds onto Alicent's shoulders as well, never wanting to let go, "I'm here for you, Ali. I always have been and always will be."

Y/n stayed with Alicent and personally helped deliver Prince Aegon II. Y/n stayed while Alicent was resting, the queen only trusting her friend to care for the baby while she lay unconscious, and she even stayed for the days Alicent recovered, never leaving her side. They dined together, took turns with the baby together, and even rested together. If Y/n was honest with herself, these few days were some of the happiest of her life. It felt amazing to reconcile with Alicent and spend so much time together as if no time had passed at all between them. It was like a huge weight was lifted off her shoulders. She never wanted this to end.

Alicent eventually allowed Y/n to return as Rhaenyra's handmaiden, and the princess stubbornly pretended as if Y/n was never away, flying the two of them to Dragonstone for yet another picnic. However, for her next two pregnancies, Alicent continued to demand to have Lady Y/n by her side, again, only trusting her children's safety in her friend's hands. Y/n eventually started looking forward to Alicent's pregnancies, knowing that she would soon be able to spend precious time with her dear friend.

However, after Alicent's forth and final child, Daeron was born, Lord Lyonel Strong began to talk about a possible suitor for his daughter. King Viserys listened and approved of a union between Y/n and Jason Lannister of Casterly Rock. When Rhaenyra caught wind of this, she sought an audience with her father.

"I forbid it!" Rhaenyra proclaimed with as much authority as she could muster, "Have Y/n's betrothed come and stay in King's Landing if you wish, but I don't wish to be parted from her."

Viserys sighed with exhaustion, fighting off a headache as he tried taming his daughter, "Rhaenyra--"

"You had already ruined my friendship with Alicent when you decided to marry her instead of Laena Velaryon," Rhaenyra snapped, glaring into her father's soul, "Don't you dare try to ruin my friendship with Y/n by having her married off to that disgusting excuse for a man."

As always, Viserys tried to please everyone by disappointing a few. Instead of announcing Y/n's engagement to Lord Jason, he had Lord Lyonel instead marry her off to his twin brother, Ser Tyland Lannister. It all fell into place rather quickly. Jason Lannister married Johanna Westerling at Casterly Rock and Tyland Lannister traveled to King's Landing and married Y/n Strong soon after.

Rhaenyra thought she played the game skillfully, believing that keeping Ser Tyland in the capital meant keeping Y/n as her handmaiden, but her victory was only brief. During Tyland and Y/n's wedding celebration, Alicent stood over her guests and excitedly asked the bride to become her own lady-in-waiting. The proposal stunned both Rhaenyra and Y/n, but the latter of the two quickly accepted without ever looking at her princess for permission, which angered Rhaenyra.

"It is the highest honor for a lady to become the Queen's handmaiden," Y/n's other brother, Larys, sat in a chair by the fire while he watched her fuss around her old chambers, packing essentials. With this new... promotion, her chambers were now going to be moved closer to Alicent's, and while a part of Y/n was excited, another part of her was going to miss this old room and all of its memories. It was her room for years, ever since her family arrived in King's Landing. Larys wasn't as sentimental as his sister, looking around the room with a blank expression, "Surely the princess would understand that."

Y/n briefly paused from her packing, turning to show the dread in her eyes, "You weren't there."

"Of course, I was there, Y/n. It was your wedding. Do you truly believe I would not attend my own sister's wedding?"

"You weren't looking in the right places. You should have seen Rhaenyra's face when I accepted Alicent's request. She looked at me as if I betrayed her."

"And what else would she have expected you to do? Deny a queen's request?" Larys slowly, carefully, rose to his feet, reaching for his cane.

"Larys. You do not have to stand," Y/n quickly disregarded a dress in her hands and crossed the room, gripping onto her brother's elbow, "Stay a while. Rest your feet."

"My ever-dutiful sister," he affectionately pats the woman's hand, ignoring her invitation as he grabbed his walking stick, "And although I enjoy your company, I have reason to believe you'll have a different sort of company soon enough."

"What do you mean?" The new Lady Lannister eyed her brother suspiciously, "My lord husband has already left for Casterly Rock. He won't be back for a couple more moons."

"It is not Ser Tyland I speak of," with his sister's aid, Larys is able to limp towards the door, "But of the princess."

Y/n stops in her tracks, letting her brother walk the rest of the way before she spoke, "Have you been spying on her?"

"Why, sister, to spy on the princess would infer I had a possible agenda against her," Larys smiled, although weak as he opened the door and peered outside, something or someone catching his eye, "I just simply made an observation-- Ah. Princess Rhaenyra. Forgive me. I would bow, but--"

The door fully opens as Larys indicates to his bum leg and his little strength being used to open the door for said princess. Y/n straightens her posture as Rhaenyra drifts into the room, the Targaryen princess stiffly nodding towards the crippled man in the doorway, "There is no need for apologies, Lord Larys. You may go."

"Princess. Sister." Larys bids the two women goodnight and leaves, the sound of his cane slowly thumping down the hall.

Y/n keeps her eyes lowered, but kept her head tall. She waits for the yelling and accusations, for the princess to insult her and her virtue, but it never comes. Instead, Rhaenyra steps forward and gathers her friend in her arms. Y/n could feel the princess' breath on her neck where she had buried her face, thin arms wrapped around Lady Lannister's shoulders. Slowly, Y/n relaxes and hugs back, basking in the silence and the warmth of her friend. The calm before the storm.

"It's not fair," Rhaenyra starts off, pulling away but keeping a tight grip on Y/n's arms, "You should not have to juggle between us. She's clearly doing this to alienate me from you. She just wants you all to herself."

Something inside Y/n snaps at the princess' words, eyes narrowing as speculation slowly forms in her mind, "You speak of juggling and Alicent wanting me for herself as if I was just some toy... Princess."

Rhaenyra's eyes widen, her mouth falling open and shut as she tried to form words, "I... I didn't mean it like that."

"But perhaps you're right," Y/n snatches her arms out of Rhaenyra's grasp, turning away and getting back to packing, "Perhaps I am just some toy you two women have been fighting over these past three years. Maybe I was a fool to believe I was more than just some prize to be won. Maybe I was a fool to believe we were friends."

"We are friends, Y/n!" Rhaenyra rushes over and slams her hands over Y/n's clothes, forcing her to stop folding them, "We are the best of friends, and-- And... and sometimes I wished we could be more."

Y/n's eyes widen in confusion before peering up to stare at the princess, her brows furrowing together as she tried to form an appropriate response, "Excuse me?"

Rhaenyra's face pales, caught off guard by her own confession. Her voice comes out in whispers of disbelief, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You're married now, and... And even still, I thought I could have you all to myself."

"Rhaenyra, of the very few times you've held your tongue, now is not one of those times," Y/n regrettably spoke harshly, in denial of what she believed Rhaenyra was saying, "Speak bluntly and plainly, as you always have."

The Targaryen princess lowers her gaze, straightening her back and away from Y/n's bed. She appeared conflicted, eyes frantically trying to find something in the room that could possibly turn her invisible. Finally, she summons the courage and wets her lips before speaking, eyes slowly peering back up at Y/n through her lashes, "I love you. I think I always have. I just wasn't aware of it. When we were younger, I just thought I was in admiration of you. But as I watched other ladies speak to one another... I realized what I felt for you wasn't normal."

Y/n's entire body froze, breath refusing to escape her lungs as her mind tries to comprehend Rhaenyra's words. She looked back down at her clothes, her voice not nearly as strong as she had wanted, "But it is. Alicent speaks of me the same way you do. It's perfectly normal."

"Perfectly normal for being in love," Rhaenyra steps forward, voice darkening ever so slightly at the mention of Alicent. Her pale hand softly touches Y/n's as she bends her head to stare into her hiding eyes, silver hair spooling over her shoulder, "She fancies you, too."

Y/n hesitantly meets her eyes, still in denial, "You don't know that."

"I do. Why do you think we stopped speaking to one another? We both realized we loved you."

The room falls into silence as Rhaenyra finally bites her tongue. Guilt began to pool in her stomach as Y/n's eyes widen in horror. Stepping back from Rhaenyra, Y/n also pulls her hand away as if the touch had shocked her. Lady Lannister felt as though her whole world was closing in around her, unable to crawl out of the chilling revelation, "So... these past few years... when my two best friends stopped speaking to one another... it was because this had all been a contest? A battle over who could win me over?"

When Rhaenyra didn't answer appropriately, Y/n's eyes darken, "Do you realize how foolish that sounds now that it's been said out loud?"

"Why must it be foolish to love you?" Rhaenyra tried to desperately defend herself, hurt pooling into her eyes, "You're wonderful."

"No. Stop." Y/n turns away and finds a goblet to fill with a pitcher of wine, quickly bringing the drinks to her lips to calm her wild emotions. She found it hard to breathe and to think, tears threatening to form, "After all this time, I thought... I thought-- I've been trying to mend your relations with Alicent so everything could go back to the way it was. But this whole time... you've intentionally grown apart, fighting over someone you could never have."

Rhaenyra's brows furrow as her lip began to quiver, "Y/n--"

"No." Y/n shocked even herself at how stern and cold her voice became, slowly turning to stare down the dragon princess, "I don't believe you. This is a stupid game, Rhaenyra, and I will not be made a fool. Even if Alicent loves me the way you say she does, and even if she's willing to play this silly little game with you, I will not! This ends tonight, now, this very second. You will come with me and beg Alicent for forgiveness because this. Is. Over."

The demand hardens something in Rhaenyra's chest, the dragon slowly coming out of hiding. Y/n knew she just ordered a princess to do something against her will, despite not having the authority to do so, but she didn't care. She barely even flinched when Rhaenyra's once broken gaze suddenly began to harden, venom dripping from her voice, "I can't believe you... I've given everything to you! And you betrayed me... betrayed me just like Alicent!"

"By the gods, Rhaenyra! Are you truly mad enough to believe Alicent had any say in marrying your father?!" Y/n roared back with the might of a lioness, stepping forward and surprisingly driving Rhaenyra to step back in shock at her friend's raised tone of voice, "Like every other lady in this gods' forsaken world, she gets no say in who she marries! She does her duty as a wife and mother and then she dies! That's it! You can't blame her for doing the very thing she was born to do. I may not have known about this stupid game you played with her, but I know one thing. You betrayed her. You accused her of treason and you couldn't find it within yourself to forgive her for something she didn't do. Do you want someone to blame? Blame your father. You betrayed Alicent by not supporting her, by leaving her to the vultures, by wringing her out, and by leaving her to dry. You alienated me from her, keeping me away from my friend because you were jealous. That is betrayal. And the sooner you see the difference, the sooner we can put all of this behind us."

Every step Y/n took brought her to stand right in front of Rhaenyra, staring her down with a ferocity that cannot be formed unless years' worth of keeping quiet were to suddenly boil over. Rhaenyra barely recognized the woman in front of her, and instead of feeling grief, rejection and anger took over. The princess' scowl forms and fire lights behind her pale eyes. Rhaenyra quickly whips around and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her before either one of the girls said something they could not take back.

~~~~~~~~~

After that night, Y/n couldn't bring herself to ever look Rhaenyra in the eye, always moving to stand beside Alicent whenever they had to share a room with the princess. Even though she wanted to ask Alicent for the truth, Y/n couldn't bring herself to do so. She couldn't bear to know whether or not Alicent felt the same as Rhaenyra did, to know that they were both aware of this game without ever telling their prize the truth of it. Y/n felt ashamed and even dirty for the first few weeks of being Alicent's lady-in-waiting, but she tried not to show it. Instead, she did her duties, smiled, and nodded, but nothing more outside of that. Alicent noticed this change but decided not to question it. Instead, she enjoyed having Y/n in her company again, without the worry of Rhaenyra trying to take Lady Lannister back.

A part of Y/n wondered if maybe her rejection caused Rhaenyra to start lashing out. First, the princess raced out of the hunting party on horseback with Ser Criston Cole in tow, then she decided to end her engagement tour early, and then the worst scandal of all... she snuck out of the Red Keep late one night with her uncle, Daemon. The next morning, as Y/n helped Alicent clean up in the King's chambers, Otto Hightower walked in to speak with Viserys. Both women hid behind the changing screen as the two men spoke, horrified as they both listened to the scandalous rumors about Rhaenyra's night activities with Daemon. It didn't feel as though it was in Rhaenyra's nature to sneak into a whore house and sully herself with her uncle, but Otto confirms the rumors by stating that one of his own spies from the city had spotted the princess and her silver hair. Once Otto had left and Alicent snuck herself and Y/n back to her chambers, the two women consoled one another, with Lady Lannister determined to prove Rhaenyra's innocence.

"I don't believe it, Your Grace," she states while brushing Alicent's hair, "I will speak with my brother. He had the watch patrol last night. Perhaps he could shed some light on these disgusting rumors."

As always, she persuades her oldest brother to walk with her into the royal gardens, but this time, under hushed voices. She asks him if he saw anything strange the previous night, to which Harwin appeared tight-lipped about it. Once Y/n confided in him about the rumors revolving around Rhaenyra, Harwin finally relents, knowing he could trust his sister, "Yes. I saw her. But not at a whore house. She was running through the back alleys with Prince Daemon. Nothing more."

It relaxed Y/n's thoughts for the time being, and she reported this to Alicent. However, the queen seemed reluctant to believe Harwin's report, pacing her chambers that night with a cup of wine in hand. Y/n sat off to the side, watching Alicent wear a path into the floor.

"It's possible that she only wanted to explore the city with the prince," Y/n tried to reassure her queen, "And all anyone who wouldn't want to see her on the Iron Throne would have to do is start a train of whispers."

Alicent nodded, but continued to pace, "I had wondered if my father's spy was just trying to win favor from him."

"Favor? Why would Lord Otto reward someone for this scandal? He'll serve Rhaenyra one day, so why would he want to see her public image fall?"

The question falls from her lips and a thought dawns on Y/n as she watched Alicent pause in her steps, looking away from her handmaid. It was the only answer Y/n needed as she stated the obvious, "Your father doesn't want her to rule."

Alicent doesn't face Y/n when she confessed, "He believes the Seven Kingdoms would burn if she ascended the throne."

"Do you believe that?"

"I don't know," Alicent admits, starting her pacing again while taking a sip of wine, "But Rhaenyra told me herself that nothing happened."

Y/n's eyes widen, shock evident on her face, "You spoke with Rhaenyra?"

"I did."

Lady Y/n's heart falls, her shoulders beginning to slouch with the weight of that sentence. So Alicent and Rhaenyra do still talk. Did that mean this whole contest for Y/n's heart was just one-sided on Rhaenyra's behalf? Alicent doesn't appear to have the motivation to compete with the princess, so why would Rhaenyra say such awful things about her?

She swallowed the bile crawling up her throat, lowering her eyes to the floor, "Do you believe her?"

"I have to believe her. She's my friend."

Y/n's heart continues to shatter at the revelation. Alicent still saw Rhaenyra as a friend, so it could only be Rhaenyra whose envious of this whole... stupid game. It might mean that Alicent doesn't love Y/n the way Rhaenyra does, leaving the princess' anger all for naught... so why did Y/n feel disappointed?

"But...?"

Alicent sighed in exhaustion as Y/n pressed on, "But I can't help but feel like it's true. Rhaenyra isn't the girl we once knew. She's... changed."

"And if the rumors are true, then what difference does it make?"

The Queen's eyes snap back to her lady-in-waiting as if appalled by her friend's stupidity of the obvious, "Her maidenhead was taken, Y/n! Rhaenyra's virtue has been soiled!"

"If that is true, does it really concern you, Your Grace?" Alicent's eyes widen as Y/n finally looks back at her, shocking even herself when her tone and posture remained calm and insincere, "You are not her mother. Whatever happens to her will not affect you."

"She's acting childish and taking advantage of her stature in life. She acts like she can do whatever she wants. And I want her to answer for it."

"You're the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms... anyone would kill to be in the position you're in. And Rhaenyra swore to you that nothing happened. Isn't that enough?"

Alicent never responded, instead asking Y/n to fetch more wine and draw a bath.

~~~~~~~~~

A week passes and Otto is disregarded as Hand of the King, replaced by Y/n's father, Lord Lyonel. Alicent was distraught the night her father left; perhaps it was envy, but she didn't want Y/n to comfort her. Plans had been made for Viserys and Rhaenyra to leave for Driftmark to propose a marriage between her and Laenor Velaryon and not long after they left, Y/n noticed her brother Larys taking a quiet fancy with Alicent. She had caught him speaking to the queen under hushed voices more than once since the king and princess have been away, and Alicent refuses to answer why when Y/n asked her. With her father gone in Driftmark, Y/n instead turns to her other brother.

"I think Larys is spying on the princess and reporting back to Alicent."

Harwin's dark eyebrows furrow, his eyes clearly troubled by this accusation, "Are you certain? He's our brother, Y/n. Do you think he means harm?"

"I don't know... all the same, please keep an eye on Rhaenyra for me. When she returns, that is."

When the King and his daughter return, the Velaryons soon follow and a grand, seven-day wedding ceremony was set to take place. The planning and decorations were as grand as a gods' feast, and half the kingdom was excited about this union. Even Rhaenyra looked happy... and oh, so beautiful in her wedding dress. Being Tyland Lannister's wife, Y/n had to walk into the throne room under his arm and announced as Lady Lannister along with Lord Jason and his wife. Alicent was quite alright with this and told Y/n not to worry about her. She planned on getting herself ready for the night, and for some reason, the way she spoke sent chills down Y/n's back.

It was all going smoothly until Daemon showed up... and then Alicent, wearing the most radiant green dress in the entire world. The color of the dress is what drained the blood from Y/n's face as she sat next to her husband, Tyland even had to help his wife stand when the Queen passed their table. Looking across the way, Y/n spotted both of her brothers standing at the table reserved for their house, and she had trouble swallowing when she noticed her brothers' mouth the words 'green' and 'war'.

Y/n was no fool, and the way Alicent coldly spoke to Rhaenyra only made her stomach turn. Trying to ignore the meaning behind Alicent's dress, Y/n tried watching Laenor and Rhaenyra dance. Over time, others joined the dancefloor, Y/n included. She first danced with her husband and with a brief spin, they switched partners, Tyland now dancing with Rhaenyra and Laenor dancing with Y/n. After a few other dance partners, Y/n eventually spun into her brother's arms and didn't hesitate to whisper in his ear.

"Go dance with the princess. Get her to laugh... I think she needs someone to keep her mind off of things."

Harwin nods with a look of determination. At the next spin, Harwin fits himself between the crowd and eventually finds Rhaenyra. Y/n smiled while watching them dance and didn't pay attention to who her next dance partner could be until she fell into Daemon Targaryen's arms.

"You have quite the loyal dog for a brother, Lady Y/n."

Y/n's posture tightens and her voice thins, "Quite an observation, my prince."

"I haven't had the time to converse with you as of late," Daemon smirks as he spins the pair of them in a circle.

"I apologize, my prince. I have been busy attending to our queen."

"Ah, yes. You're new position as her handmaid. I did wonder why Rhaenyra never spoke of you last time we talked."

Something tightens in Y/n's chest, confusion sprouting on her face, "I doubt she speaks of me that often for you to notice."

"When she was younger, all the time."

It hurt to hear this from Rhaenyra's uncle of all people. Y/n briefly looked away, feeling ashamed enough to change the topic, "I had meant to come to you and apologize for the loss of your wife. The gods are cruel to take away life so young."

"Her life was no loss to me. She was never kind to me. The reason why I came to this celebration was to acquire a new wife," Daemon's smirk had yet to leave, his eyes ever mischievous while looking down at the lady in his arms, "Perhaps you know of someone, my lady?"

Y/n bites the inside of her cheek, "I have been wed to Ser Tyland Lannister for many months now, my prince."

"Congratulations. Although I wasn't referring to you," Daemon's eyes briefly look over her shoulder, "No disrespect. You are quite the creature. But Rhaenyra would never forgive me if I married you. Too many of her family members have taken her lovely friends away as of late."

Y/n followed his gaze and sure enough, Rhaenyra was watching the two of them out of the corner of her eye, but then quickly looked away to laugh at something Harwin had said. The guilt in Y/n's stomach tightened and so she excused herself from the dance floor with the reason of tending to Alicent, who remained sitting at the front of the room.

And just in time as well. Before Y/n could even reach Alicent, a swarm of screams and cries rang out over the dancing crowd, driving her to spin back around. Kingsguards frantically try to break through the mob of lords and ladies, but to no avail, and yet no one knew why there was chaos running through the dancefloor. People were shoving past one another, frantic to find an exit or further crowd around whatever was going on, blocking the view from sight. After a moment of fear, Y/n's feet bring her to Alicent, shielding the Queen with her own body in case of any danger, Alicent's hand gripping onto her friend's arm in fright. As Y/n's eyes scan the room, she noticed that Harwin was standing on the outskirts of the fighting crowd, and Rhaenyra was nowhere to be seen. Lyonel, who just so happened to be standing near his daughter, heard Y/n cry out to him.

"Father! Where is Princess Rhaenyra?!"

With one movement of his head, Lyonel ordered Harwin to move. Y/n could only watch as Harwin rolls his shoulders and forced his way into the crowd, fighting off lords throughout the chaos and pushing his way through until Y/n lost sight of him. Within minutes, she spotted a white dress being risen up over the crowd, and eventually, Harwin pushes his way out of danger, with Rhaenyra thrown over his shoulder. Harwin brings her to the King's table and when no one moved to comfort her, Y/n breaks away from Alicent and gathers the princess into her arms, trying to tame Rhaenyra's shaking body. Rhaenyra clings to Y/n like a lifeline as the crowd grows silent, small gasps of horror shushing over the crowd. As people back away and give each other space, the King's court is finally able to make out the horrific scene.

Due to obvious reasons, Laenor and Rhaenyra were married that very same night, with no one else around but the King and his family, the Knight of Kisses' blood still splattered over the throne room floor.

~~~~~~~~~

Ten years pass, and it felt as though Rhaenyra, Alicent, and Y/n became strangers to each other as time passed on. Between three children born from each woman though everyone seems to forget Daeron, switched alliances, and the King's disintegrating health, Y/n has learned to move on and treat her once entrusted friends as just her Queen and her Princess.

Even though Y/n was still her handmaiden, Alicent began to grow distant from her once close friend. By the time those ten years came around, Y/n was nothing more than another servant girl to Queen Alicent. Y/n Lannister wanted the days when Alicent trusted her with advice and secrets back more than anything, and she couldn't help but feel that loss and even disgust when Alicent forced her to go to Rhaenyra after the princess just gave birth to her third son. Y/n couldn't look Rhaenyra in the eye when she spoke on the Queen's behalf to see the newborn prince, Joffrey, and was quickly sent away when she tried helping Rhaenyra dress. For years, Y/n wanted to be a part of Rhaenyra's pregnancies as she was there for Alicent's, but the Targaryen princess never permitted her to, and always sent her back to her 'precious queen'.

Y/n wasn't sure why Alicent began alienating her, but instead of finding out, she instead let Larys keep her old friend company. Y/n embraced her crippled brother as the Queen's spy, despite not approving of it. She didn't want Alicent to feel lonely, so at least she could still find a friend in Larys. Y/n just let them be.

As for Rhaenyra, both Harwin and Laenor filled in the roles Y/n could not be for the princess. Over the years, Y/n entrusted the two men to care for Rhaenyra in her place, and they always felt the need to report back to Y/n. It was as though Harwin and Laenor understood Y/n's motives were genuine and they wanted her to feel as though Rhaenyra was still a part of her life as she is in theirs. Harwin even spoke to Laenor in secret once, telling him about the relationship between Rhaenyra and Y/n. As someone who understands what it's like to love someone you can't have, Laenor was kind to Y/n and treated her like a friend, always informing her of Rhaenyra and her children's well-being.

From a distance, Y/n loved Rhaenyra and Alicent's children, almost as much as her own. Y/n and Tyland Lannister had two sons and one daughter, Gerold, Lyonel, and Rohanne, all with hair like their father and eyes like their mother. Despite not being the Lord of Casterly Rock, Ser Tyland was highly respected among the King's court and so were his children. Therefore, they had lessons besides all the royal children. The daughters sang together and the sons often trained together in the yard. It felt peaceful, in a way, despite Alicent and Rhaenyra side-eyeing each other. Along with Y/n, people began to call the women the Three Mothers. Y/n didn't want a part of that title, already tired of the whispers she hears about the Greens and the Blacks in the King's court. No matter who asked her, Y/n's answer was always the same.

"I am nothing but the Queen's handmaiden."

Peace suddenly came to an end when Lyonel Strong decided to take his son back to Harrenhal after Harwin attacked Ser Criston in the training yard. Lyonel kissed his daughter goodbye with the promise of returning soon. As for Harwin, Y/n hugged her brother as tight as she could muster, half hoping to break Ser Breakbones' ribs so he would be forced to stay. Harwin kissed the top of his sister's head as he bid her farewell, "Send letters as often as you can. Write about your children and how they're managing."

"Every day," she promised.

Harwin laughed quietly, his expression heartbreaking. Y/n understood why, but didn't say it out loud as he whispered, "Promise me you'll look after the boys and their mother."

His sister nodded in understanding, so he left without another word, afraid of watching Y/n shed tears for him.

That was the last time Y/n ever saw her father and brother.

Word got back to King's Landing about a fire that set Harrenhal aflame around the same time Rhaenyra took her family to live in Dragonstone. The deaths of Lyonel and Harwin Strong brought the Red Keep into a week of mourning in black. Y/n was beside herself, distraught and mourning the death of her family members. Larys, now the Lord of Harrenhal, barely bats an eye at the news and didn't ever visit to comfort his little sister.

Alicent, however, became kind and gentle to her old friend, as if the years of alienating Y/n never happened. The Queen was strangely sincere and comforted Y/n when she needed it the most. What was meant to comfort Y/n, however, only brought a dreading and chilling sensation to the back of her neck. Every inch of her wanted to pull away whenever Alicent touched her as if her body had a mind of its own, but she forced herself to keep still and let Alicent be her friend once again. The returning friendship continued even as the royal family traveled to Driftmark to pay their respects after the death of Laena Velaryon. Y/n left her husband and children and traveled with the Queen herself.

It was like hitting the last nail in the coffin for Lady Y/n. Tensions were high during Laena's funeral, but it all came to a head late that very night after Lucerys attacked Aemond with a knife, leading to the loss of the Targaryen prince's eye. Rhaenyra continued to lie and defend the legitimacy of her children's parentage as the reason behind Luke attacking Aemond. This terrible occurrence led to Alicent demanding an eye for an eye, much to Y/n's horror and disgust. Even if Rhaenyra's children were bastards and they attacked a prince... Y/n couldn't find it within herself to care. Those boys were not just Rhaenyra's sons... they were Harwin's as well. Y/n never wanted harm to come to her secret nephews, and she made a promise to her late brother to protect his family.

When Alicent took King Viserys' knife and attacked Rhaenyra, Y/n's first instinct was to hold Jace and Luke back, despite their screams and cries for their mother. They buried their little faces into Y/n's skirt, scared to watch as their mother fought for her life, all the while Y/n cried and begged Alicent to stop this madness. Alicent and Rhaenyra's true colors were shown that night, and Y/n's heart was completely shattered.

After the attack, Rhaenyra was rushed away to be tended to by a maester, and Y/n took the boys to be with their mother. Lady Y/n even stayed with the small family as Rhaenyra was stitched up, neither woman saying a word to the other. Y/n felt reluctant to tend to her queen that night, but duty demanded her to do so, forcing her to leave Rhaenyra and her sons. Rhaenyra watched Y/n leave the room with a heavy heart, calling out to her as she reached the door.

"Lady Y/n... thank you."

Y/n could only nod to her old friend before leaving for the Queen's temporary chambers. As she entered, Otto Hightower, the newly regained Hand of the King, was leaving. Y/n bowed her head to him and closed the door once he left, not saying a word as she moved to help Alicent undress.

"Stop," Alicent ordered, her eyes hard as she watched Y/n flinch under her gaze, "You shielded Rhaenyra's sons... you sided against me."

"I meant no offense, Your Grace," Y/n whispered, unable to meet Alicent's gaze, "I acted upon my motherly instincts to shield a child from further harm... that's all."

"That's all?" Alicent lets the room linger in silence before making her accusation known, "How strange that after your brother's death, you started to dote on the very children suspected to be his bastards."

Y/n's eyes spring up and firmly lock onto Alicent's, "Princess Rhaenyra's sons are Velaryon, Your Grace. I believe that."

"Name your proof."

"Their grandmother, Princess Rhaenys, is half Baratheon. Black of hair runs in the blood of that family. Lord Laenor may have Velaryon descent from his father, but he also carried that dark hair trait from his mother and onto his sons. It's the only explanation."

"So you don't believe your brother sired these children?"

"My brother was many things, Your Grace..." Y/n's voice broke as she recounted her recent loss, letting out a shaking breath, "A dishonorable man wasn't one of them."

This answer didn't satisfy Alicent. It only angered her. She swiftly turned away from her handmaiden, "Go. I'll tend to myself."

Y/n bows despite Alicent not noticing, turning to leave the room. She makes it to the door before her inner demons took over. Slowly, the Lady Lannister turned back to face her queen, "Your Grace... was it my fault you and Rhaenyra became disheartened? If I had done anything different... all those years ago, would you two still love one another?"

The room fell silent apart from the crackling of the fire. Alicent stubbornly keeps her back turned to Y/n as she slowly, coldly, spoke with the regency of a queen and not a friend, "Whatever thoughts you have in mind, Lady Y/n, squander it. Don't ever ask me that again."

Y/n sucks in a sharp breath, blinking back tears, "Then it's true. What Rhaenyra said about your love for me was true."

Alicent spins around and spoke with a dark, threatening tone, slowly teetering into madness even with more tears in her eyes as the events of tonight come jumping back at her, "Watch your tone with me, Lady Y/n! I am the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms! And... and I have the power to be rid of you."

~~~~~~~~~

The day after the royal company settled back into King's Landing, the King and his court and family receive news of Laenor Velaryon's death and the marriage between Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra. Watching the way everyone reacted to this news, Y/n felt the final piece of the puzzle fall into place in her head. When she heard of the marriage herself, her mind had been made up.

Y/n asked the King if she may be excused from Alicent's service so that she would be able to leave for Casterly Rock. When Viserys appeared shocked by this request, the lady further explained that her children should spend time in their family's keep and reunite with family members from their father's side. She also reasoned that her eldest son needed to learn how to govern a keep one day, and what better way to learn than from his uncle, the Lord of the Westerlands. Viserys obliged with this request, seeing the logic behind Y/n leaving instead of the actual intent.

She packed up her children's clothes that day, her husband already waiting for them with a wagon and company at the gate of the Red Keep. Y/n ignored her offspring's pleas of staying and tried reasoning with them.

"Think about the adventures you could have with your uncle's children. Does that not sound like fun? I promise you'll love the Rock. It's going to be beautiful this time of year."

The boys groaned and dragged their feet while Rohanne clung to her mother's hand as they make it outside to the gate, the King waiting by Ser Tyland to say goodbye. To Y/n's surprise, the Queen and her children were also waiting in a line of farewell to the Lannister family, the children kindly bowing their heads to one another and promising to write. Viserys embraces Y/n and her children, even petting her hair for good measure.

"This has been your home ever since you were a girl. I would be lying if it didn't feel as though I am saying goodbye to someone like my own daughter."

A brief smile flashes onto Y/n's face as she wished her king good health before walking down the line of the royal family. She dutifully bowed to each of the princes and the princess before making it to the end of the line. Hesitantly, Y/n approached Alicent, and both women held a tense gaze for what felt like ages. Finally, Y/n bowed to the Queen, lowering her sorrowful eyes.

"I wish you good fortune, my Queen."

Alicent didn't appear surprised or impressed, her voice tight with paranoia, "Do you truly?"

Y/n straightened her posture and raised her head back up, sporting heartbroken tears in her eyes, "As I wish for Princess Rhaenyra's."

She turned away and climbed into the carriage without ever looking back at Alicent. If she had, she would've seen unshed tears swimming in the queen's own eyes, tears she would have said were caused by the wind if anyone asked, but no one questioned her emotions.

Once the carriage leaves King's Landing, Y/n's tears have dried and she instead watches the land move outside her window, occasionally entertaining her children for their long journey ahead. Eventually, Tyland leaned towards his wife, voice lowered, "I still don't know why you wanted to leave. Over the years, I learned to stop asking you since you seemed adamant about staying."

Y/n rolls her lips, forcing a sob down before it could even crawl up her throat, "I was being torn in two for a war I didn't ask for. I would rather die than choose sides."

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I got carried away again. Sorry. I know I made this kinda depressing, but I was struggling over who Y/n should choose, then I decided to have the fighting over her come at a stalemate. It's like a divorced couple fighting over a child and thinking "why does my kid never come and visit" only it's actually their lover and she knows that in their own way, both women are toxic.

I guess this story is a little biased because of me. I'm Team Black, but only because in the books, Alicent is already portrayed as the enemy and her relationship with Rhaenyra is vastly different from the show. Rhaenyra is easily portrayed as the hero in the books, so it's easy to root for Team Black. However, in the show, Alicent is a more complex character and she's even likable, so I can easily see why people are Team Green. So, since I'm undecided, so is Y/n Strong/Lannister.

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 1 year

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More of Viserys and Stark!reader.😁😁

The Right Path

pairing: Fanon!Viserys Targaryen x Female OC

summary: More of Viserys and Stark!reader, Elna trying to interact with Rhaenyra

Word count: 2,4K

Warnings: Fluff, Angst

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Elna was more than happy, she was overjoyed. The King had chosen her for a bride and announced that during a small council meeting, she was not in attendance but her father was there. He came running to her to inform her of the King's decision. Her father was happy for her but he only showed her his sorrow of having to be separated, even little Cregan threw a tantrum.

Elna however needed to breathe a little, she needed to get her thoughts straight. She liked the king, he was nice to her and she was happy she would not end up with a dying man however this was all too much for her, she was going to be Queen, that was a huge responsibility. So Elna decided to take a walk in the gardens after she successfully put Cregan down for his nap.

She enjoyed the sight that greeted her, a sight she was going to see for a very long time, the gardens looked like they were alive with so many flowers and trees, something she did not see back at home. She no longer needed to pick flowers from the southern regions when visiting because she was going to have it all here.

Elna had walked for a short time when she caught sight of a weirwood tree. She knew they had one here but she did not know the location, but now she knew where to go to pray. She was a couple of steps away still hidden behind a bush when she saw princess Rhaenyra and Alicent Hightower sat under the tree. The princess was pulling on the grass looking angry while the Hightower girl looked relieved.

"I cannot believe he wants to marry so soon after mother's death. Has he no respect?" Rhaenyra threw some of the grass in her hands somewhere by her feet. Elna's heart dropped at the words, she did not think the princess would be so angry with the marriage, she had been so caught up with her own family and the king to think of the princess.

"Princess, your father has the right to remarry" Alicent tried calming down the dragon princess.

"To a northerner savage, out of everyone" The princess pushed herself up from the floor and started pacing. The Hightower girl remained seated but started twiddling with her thumbs.

"I am sure Lady Stark is not so bad, I have heard many great things about her" Alicent defended Elna. She was just glad she had not been chosen.

"Yes and she will give my father sons and then I will be thrown away when I am no longer heir" The princess hissed. Elna now understood that the princess was not only enraged and sad over her father's decision but also afraid.

Elna decided that hiding was no longer an option, she had too much to say. She faked a cough putting on a smile and moved out from behind the bush. She acted shocked seeing the two girls only a couple of years her junior.

"Forgive me princess, I did not know you were here" Elna curtsied trying to keep her smile gentle. She did not want to anger the princess even more.

"What are you doing here?" Rhaenyra asked with anger lacing her words. She crossed her arms in front of her protectively.

"I heard there was a weirdwood tree and wished to pray" Elna answered. She stepped closer to the duo. Alicent had pushed herself to her feet by then and stepped closer the princess. Rhaenyra eyed her weirdly, she had no escort, not even a handmaiden.

"I am gladdened to have found you here, I intended on visiting you princess" Elna continued before the princess could speak. Rhaenyra's eyebrows shot up in confusion and shock.

"Visit me? What for?" The princess asked suspiciously. Elna found her palms growing wet with sweat, she was nervous with the way the princes was seizing her up and down like some criminal.

"I am sure you have heard of the King's decision-" Elna started. She took a deep breath to summon every single piece of bravery she had in her body and stepped closer to the princess.

"- I wanted to tell you that I do not intend to take your mother's place neither in your life nor the king's or int he kingdom-" Elna reached over to grab the princess' hand in hers gently, not wanting to startle her or make her think she was here to attack her.

"- if you wish I will not even show you my face if that makes you feel at ease but I assure you princess that if I and the king were to be blessed with children you would still be a priority to us both and the heir will remain to be you" Elna finished. Alicent took a step back giving the two women their moment. But the shock on her face was still evident.

"You could never take my mother's place, you are nothing compared to her, so do not attempt to win me over with your words, that will not work on me" The princess pulled her hands out of Elna's hands harshly and pushed past her to walk away. Elna stumbled a little back when Rhaenyra's shoulder collided with hers.

"Apologies Lady Stark, the princess is a little stressed" Alicent picked up the hem of her dress and followed after the princess. Elna rubbed her shoulder as her eyes darted back to the red tree. Her eyes welled up with tears, feeling humiliated at being rejected but pushed them back.

She stepped closer to the tree kneeling down by one of the roots. Her hands glided over the rough surface remembering her mother. Her mother always told her to have patience, Elna believed that she had patience, she raised her brother from the moment he was born and her mother died. But the princess seemed nowhere near close to warming up to her.

Elna wished her mother was here to advice her on what to do and how to act. If she were to tell her father he would simply tell her to endure it and Elna knew that was not the right way to face the situation, yes the princess needed time but at the same time Elna needed to do something to win the princess' favour. She did not come to the capital to make enemies.

"Lady Stark" Elna jumped at the new male voice. She turned around to find the King standing where she had stood earlier with his hands behind his back.

"Your grace" She stood back up to her feet and curtsied. The King stepped closer to her loosing his smile at the sight of her tears.

"Why are you crying, Lady Stark?" He placed his forefinger under her chin and raised her head up so she would look at him. Elna knitted her eyebrows in confusion and raised her hand to touch her cheek to find it wet and immediately wiped the tears away.

"I had not noticed" She admitted. She gulped trying to compose herself.

"Did the thought of marrying me repulse so?" The King joked. She shook her head with a small giggle.

"Of course not, I just - I wish my mother was here tis all, your grace" She heaved a sigh. The king placed a hand on her cheek trying to comfort her.

"I am sure she is happy for her wherever she may be" The king's words made Elna's heart flutter. She smiled, just a tiny smile, but it was enough for the king.

"Your words comfort me, my king" She placed a hand on top of his over her cheek. The King clicked his tongue disappointed.

"Call me Viserys" He grinned when her cheeks darkened and she dropped her gaze down. His eyes trailed over to the tree when a thought struck him.

"Do you wish to marry here? In the ways of your people?" He asked. He grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to the tree.

"What about the maesters and the seven and the people?" She asked feeling dumb when she realised that she knew nothing of this religion, her father did not spare this religion a second thought and refused to teach her and Cregan about it. She knew only from what she had heard from other people.

"I am the King" He reminded her. her mouth opened in an O shape and nodded her head. Viserys chuckled tightening his grip on her hand when something caught his eye, the history book of Aegon the conquerer.

"Do tell me Lady Stark, was there a different reason for your tears?" The King asked. He let go of her hand to grab the book delicately to not damage the old pages.

"No, why, my king- Viserys" She paused when he turned to glare at her and immediately changed the way she addressed him.

"I wonder-" He held up the book to show her. She tilted her head to the side confused.

"It was my daughter, was it not?" He asked. His eyebrows twitched into a frown of his own.

"The princess? no she welcomed me warmly" Elna tried to cover up. She did not come here to make enemies meaning she will not be the reason that a father and daughter fight each other. She could not bare it.

"Do not lie to me" The King demanded. Elna swallowed the lump in her throat and looked down at her feet. She could not lie to the King either, he was the king and her future husband.

"I will talk to her" He intended for his words to assure her but she only looked at him with horror.

"NO, I mean please do not mention this, she just needs time" Elna tried to stop him when he attempted to bypass her. The King was more than confused but nodded nonetheless.

"How about you show me the rose bush again?" She wrapped her arms around one of his and pulled him away from the weirwood tree. Viserys was not dumb, he knew she was changing the subject but did not mention it now curious how she was going to act to win his daughter over.

It was the same day the King announced that a feast will be held to celebrate the betrothal between him and Elna. Her father insisted she wore a grey dress one last time before she would join house Targaryen and wear red and black for the rest of her days. She could not say no and wore her favourite grey dress that was off shoulder and had bell sleeves. She also made Cregan wear the same of grey matching with her.

When they arrived at the feast she was sat beside the king with her father on her other side and an empty seat beside the king for the princess. Cregan was sent to play with the other children of the nobles with his wet nurse to look after him.

"My King, the princess seems to be running late" The Hand of the King pointed out also noticing the lack of his own daughter's presence.

"She's going to be the end of me" Viserys replied. He had hoped she would come and not make a fuss of it but now he could see that she had not intention of showing her face at the feast also sparking he rumour of her not accepting the betrothal.

"If I may my king-" You spoke earning the attention of both men. The Hand glared at you heatedly as you moved your body closer to the king.

"-I can go and see if the princess is alright" You suggested. You gave a nod to Viserys wanting him to accept. The King was hesitant but accepted either way. You pushed your chair back and made your way out of the hall accepting congratulations with a sweet smile and grace in your movement.

You had to ask some guards for the way to the princess' room but finally found your way. You knocked on her door before stepping in. She was sat on her bed with a dress by her side. Alicent was sat beside her in a beautiful green dress and she looked ready for a feast while the princess looked like she was ready to go to bed.

"What are you doing here?" The princess asked, angrily standing on her feet to glare at you.

"Lady Hightower, if you do not mind, I wish to speak to the princess" You nodded at the door. Alicent was hesitant but moved closer to you. You moved to the side giving her space to pass before closing the door behind her.

"What do you want?" The princess asked harshly. You had to push back a wince at her tone but you lost the sweet smile on your face.

"Listen Princess, I know you view me as a horrible person, a monster here to steal your father and throne but I am not a monster and I will not steal either one" You moved closer to her. Your tone was stronger and your patience was wearing thin, even if it had been only a day.

"You are the princess and the heir and my father bent the knee to you in extension the north meaning I am loyal to you. A Stark has never broken and oath and I will be damned if I were to be the first" You leaned closer to her, and her eyes followed your every move, your fingers wrapped around the dress on the bed.

"You will wear this beautiful gown and you will come with me to the feast, your father is worried sick about you" You held out the dress to her. She took it from you but still watched you every move.

"I am not your enemy Princess, I wish only for us to become friends. I wish not for a rivalry to grow between you and my future children" The princess sighed sadly. She nodded her head accepting the words of Elna. She may have not warmed up to her but she was on the right path.

Rhaenyra changed her clothes before the women made their way back the feast. The king's face lit up at the sight of his daughter walking into the ballroom with Elna by her side. Rhaenyra was still stiff in her walk and when she sat down but at least she had a tiny smile on her face, and that was good enough for now.

#visery x oc #viserys targaryen #viserys x reader #hotd viserys #king viserys #rhaenyra x oc #rhaenyra imagine #rhaenyra fanfiction #rhaenyra fanfic #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #house targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #game of thrones #requests #request

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lillyfics · 6 months

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Soaring through the Skies || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: The trials and tribulations in the journey of your love with Aemond.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! College's kicking my ass

TW: swearing, sexual violence, angst, heartbreak, violence, child death, infidelity, death, references to smut

Chapter 4 (WC: 3,199)

You wake up, thinking you must have fallen asleep under your dragon because you don’t think you are physically capable of moving. Staring at the canopy hung over your bed, you wonder what went wrong. Was any of it even your fault? If not, why do you have to endure any of this? If yes, where did you go wrong, and can you even fix it? During your dwelling, you catch movement in the corner of your eyes. It’s not just you it seems, even your good mother seems like she is faring at her worst. Even though it seems impossible, you gain enough strength to evade her touch when she tries to pet your cheeks. She flinches, but you can also see the understanding in her eyes. You readjust your head and continue staring at the canopy. Tears (of sadness? Or dryness?) leak through the corner, sliding across your face and into your hair.

As much as you want to, you know you can’t avoid this any longer, you need to know what’s happening, nothing but the whole truth, and Alicent Hightower is your best bet. You choose to sit up and lean against the headboard, again refusing her help and reach for the water pitcher yourself to quench your parched throat. You know drinking water straight from the pitcher is unlady like but you don’t have an ounce of care anymore. Seems like your good mother doesn’t care either, as she doesn’t reprimand you. She looks at you with pity and sadness, and you look back at her eyes with despair and anger. Knowing that she can’t avoid you anymore, she talks.

“I didn’t agree to it you know, my father’s ideas. I have accepted you as my good daughter at the sept, and it was a vow that I wasn’t willing to break.”

“Oh, so you are only willing to break the oaths made to the king then?” you scoffed. Even in your delicate condition, your impatience had to take the reins. She chooses to not respond to your attitude, and instead just continued. “Aemond didn’t want to either, he loves you, every lie out of his mouth was to protect you.” You can’t help but be impressed by the audacity of this woman.

“How can I even trust any of you after this?” you questioned. It is the truth. You have given them all your trust and they have done nothing but misuse it. “Even if everything else was a lie to protect me, what about the bastard at Harrenhal?” You know that you hit the mark, as she plainly refuses to meet your gaze now, confirming your suspicions.

You could feel your heartbreak. You didn’t think you could lose anymore hope, but you just did. Even if Aemond had lied to you about the other things, you think you could have recovered. Sure, it would take a lot of effort and it might not go back to what it was but now, the life you thought you had just ended.

Alicent Hightower knows that she comes off as an awful person, but in this moment she knows she will always be on your side, even though she knows she can never make you believe it. After all, just like you, she was once a young girl who dreamt of a hopeful future only for it be crushed like a flower in the hands of a toddler who doesn’t understand its beauty yet. She reaches forward and clasps your hand tightly not letting it go despite your struggle to do so.

“Look, I am not asking you for your trust or support, knowing that I have lost the rights to it a far long time ago. All you need to know is that I won’t let anything happen to you, I only have three grandchildren now when I should have four instead, Jaehaera, Maelor, and the babe in your belly. You might not trust me, you might think I am doing this just for your babe but that is not it. Even after the babe is born, you will have my protection to my utmost capability. I will find a way. I will.”

Her eyes shone with sincerity. You want to believe her and gods what would you do to have at least one person on your side you could be true with, but you restrain yourself. You trusted one person and look what happened.

Titles are long gone. You don’t see her as the dowager queen anymore. She is just Alicent Hightower, a flower who withered. You on the other hand, are a flower who is steadily withering.

In that moment, something shifts between the relationship between you and Alicent. She starts spending time with you every day, whether it be alone or sometimes with the children she bring along. It soothes a little bit of the pain, but you know it can’t completely be cured. Your babe grows, and that is all what you have been focusing on lately. One evening, you sit by the fireplace, doing some light reading while munching on some apple pies, something of which you have been craving lately. However, your moment of peace was interrupted when Alicent marched into your chambers, with a worried look in her eyes. Taking a seat next to you, she tries to gage your feelings so that she can cautiously deliver some terrible news it seems. While you are worried about harming the babe, you don’t think any news she brings could cause you more distress than the previous news you have received. She moves to hold your arm, and you let her. “I know you were close with Jace…” she hesitates when she sees your eyes widen. You think you know what follows, but still you don’t want to believe it. “Just tell”, you stammer. “Jacaerys Velaryon was killed by the triarchy. His dragon was shot down.” You are in agony, but you still see that she has more news to tell, and you nod for her to continue as tears drip from your eyes. “The triarchy attacked when Rhaenyra was trying to send her youngest two sons away to safety on a ship-“ You don’t let her finish, immediately enquiring her about your younger brothers. Her eyes drop even more, and along with it your stomach does too.

“From our sources, Aegon was able to escape on his dragon, but…but…”

“But what?” you raise your voice. “Nothing is known of Viserys.”

Small, but noticeable sobs escape your lips. Alicent, in her motherly tone, tries to console you. “Nothing is set in stone about Viserys yet, he could still be alive, try to keep some hope up for your baby brother”, she says softly. How could you? How could you still hope for better things. Just when you try to accept that things can’t get more worse than this, it does. Viserys, oh Viserys, he was like you first child. You remember his small giggles. You try to remember how he tried to learn to walk for the first time. You try to remember how much he loved you, and how much you love him. And you can’t even grieve him properly now, could you? Some part of his grief is stolen by Jacaerys. Jacaerys, a sweet, honorable, noble, prince. Though he was young, he was one of the greatest people you have ever known, and the honor of being loved by him is something you will hold close to your heart forever. You can’t help but wonder if he hated you before he died. He gave you something dear to him, only for you not to accept it. Maybe that’s why you are suffering now, atoning for your sins.

Days now are a blend of repetition. Nothing unique. You sob. You grieve. You suffer. You are painfully aware that you are in no position to make any moves. Just a pawn. Bent to everyone else’s wills. The only thing that is able to bring you out of your pit of despair is your growing babe, and its movements within. Gods, your babe is so active. Is it because he is excited, or is it because he is struggling to get out of this cage of misery? You could never know, yet you still try your best to protect him. Him? Your mind wants you to believe it will be a little boy, however you still aren’t sure. In the beginning, you wanted a little boy like Aemond. Intelligent, honorable, and so much more, your Aemond was. Now, you aren’t even sure if he is your Aemond anymore.

Slowly pacing across the chambers, the only company being your good mother and your niece and nephew, you try to calm yourself from the discomfort you are facing, but from the look on Alicent’s face it is obvious you are failing to do so. “What are you feeling? And do you need anything? Some cakes perhaps? Maybe pies? Something to drink mayhaps-“ You stop her rambling, noticing that it has increased in the past few months- only to clutch your belly as a sharp pain spreads throughout your core. Wetness slithers down your legs. NO, NO, no-your mind is racing, knowing it is not time yet, how could it be? Your belly might look big, but it is only a few months along right? Alicent rushes to your side, helping you to rest nearby while the maids come in to rush the children out. She tries to get help, but she is unable to so as you don’t leave your iron grip on her. You need her to be by your side. Please, please. She is the only one to have shown kindness to you, even though it might not entirely be truthful. You don’t have your father by your side, you don’t have your sister by your side either. Neither are your brothers. Most importantly your husband, which breaks your heart. So, of course, you need Alicent by your side. And she does. As the midwives fill the chambers, Alicent helps you out of your dress along with a few maids, with nothing but tenderness etched across her face. She also undoes your elaborate braiding, only to replace it with a simple braid that keeps hair out of your face and causes no trouble laying your head back if the need arises to.

And it begins, the labour. Your lower body convulses with pain. You feel nothing besides it. Blood, sweat, and water coat you. You only realize now much time has passed, as the chambers have started to darken as the maids began lighting candles around. Nonetheless, you are still pushing. You are crying, screaming, howling out of your chest, hoping that any of it could possibly stop the pain. You just want it to be over and done with it. In the delirium, you didn’t notice someone arriving your birthing chambers. “Aegon, this is no appropriate place for you”, Alicent reprimands. He still doesn’t leave, instead choosing to sit on the other side and hold your other hand that is not held by Alicent. He hasn’t uttered a single word, just taking a cloth nearby and wiping your sweaty forehead. More time passes by, and both Alicent and Aegon has yet to make a move to leave your side. You take notice of the maester talking to both of them, but you don’t have enough energy to acknowledge what he is actually saying. You only know that whatever he said must have offended Aegon as he sent the maester out of your chambers in disgrace. Aegon moves closer, helping you sit up, and then takes his place his behind you so you could lean against his back. And he helps you push. His hands are on your stomach, pushing it forward as you are slouched down and screaming. Few more pushes and then, your screams were interrupted by new cries filling the crowded chambers. You blink your tears away in a desperate attempt to catch a glimpse of your babe. “A girl! Princess, you have a baby girl!” exclaimed one handmaiden, whose name you can’t be bothered to remember. A baby girl. You have a baby girl. You reach your arms forward, trying to touch your child, afraid that she would disappear if you don’t. Understanding your emotions, Clara roughly wipes her and hands you her over to you. Placed upon your arms, she ceases crying, opting to stare at you instead. Her eyes, one purple, one brown, both so dark they are almost indistinguishable, glimmer with wonder. Her fat cheeks tinted red, thick silver strands curling upon her head. “She’s beautiful,” Aegon says behind you, reminding you of his presence. While a small part of you intrigued that he is here, taking part in a very intimate moment with you, you push it away as only the thoughts of your baby occupy your head now. Alicent, also next to you, asks what you want to name her. Aelora. An old valyrian name meaning “unexpected.” While it may not mean something grand, you think it fits her, as she is an unexpected boon to you in these troubling times.

“Aelora”

“Guess I will make the official announcement then,” Aegon exclaims before leaving, finally not being able to stand Alicent’s judgmental looks. Not just Alicent’s looks, but the maesters and the maids you notice. It was when he moves to leave you become aware that you were laying on his chest, and become aware of what it implies. You don’t know what to make of this new found predicament, but as you meet his eyes when he stands by the bed, you notice something familiar. A something familiar that you look at in the mirror every day these past several months. A feeling of loneliness. Guess he was trapped here too, and wanted to feel something. Anything. Even if it is a gruesome birth he had no purpose participating in. He nods at you, a flicker of understanding between the both of you.

You hold Aelora as she feeds from your breast. Even though she was scarcely a week at this point, she feeds from you like it her last meal. You could think that it was just yesterday Aemond held your hand and told you about how he killed Luke. Now, you are holding your babe in your arms. It has been nearly eight moons, not perfect but a near time for a babe to be born. Has it really been that long? You made a babe and the babe has taken its first breathe, yet still the war is going on, a war that was started on the night he she was made.

The birth of your babe has been a nice change, kept you lighter on your feet, and you took advantage of that. You stroll through the corridors, the courtyard, and the gardens more frequently now. Being trapped in your chambers with your babe is no good for either of you. The movement keeps you alive, and your babe is also looking at the world for the first time, with you to introduce it to her. One night, you were perched upon a balcony, showing the moon to Aelora. No, you were showing your Aelora to the moon. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” you hear yourself saying. You cherished these solitary moments spent with your daughter. You are alone no more, as you have your Aelora with you. While everyone else who loved you had their conditions, you knew Aelora held none. You knew it from the toothless grins she gave you. And you do the same. You love her unconditionally too. But you are not alone all the time now, as everyone seems to be excited about the new babe. Jaehaera and Maelor join you frequently, along with their grandmother sometimes. Alicent looks a juxtaposition of youthful, maternal, and exhausted these days. The war is keeping her occupied, you guess. But you don’t mind the solitude. You bravely march upon the court, with your concerns only existing regarding your daughter. Their looks and stares don’t bother you no more. It’s you and your Aelora against the world, not that any harm would befall you in court. At first you were convinced that it was Aemond’s love that was protecting you from any harm. Instead, it was Otto Hightower, wanting you as his pretty little bird in a cage so that Runestone wouldn’t go against the greens’ factions. Before, you would have been devastated that your safety wasn’t out of Aemond’s love but now, it doesn’t bother you much. Sure, it still stings, but he is no longer the most important person in your life. You do feel guilty of how easily you were able to discard him, but he was the one to do to you first, even more insulting is that it is with a bastard witch. While these thoughts drowned your mind before, now they don’t. Aelora is there to keep you afloat now.

The stars glitter across the sky, and Aelora can’t fall asleep, hence, you are wide awake too. She necessarily isn’t fussy, just content to be in your arms, with reasons of her own. Nights like these are when you think of your escapes. Would anyone even notice you making your escape. You can easily tie Aelora to your chest, make way through the secret passages and onto your dragon. No, it is too much of a risk, not just to you, but to Aelora too. Surely, they might have gotten more aware of the passageways since your father’s stint. Thinking of your father, you aren’t even sure how welcomed you would be from the other side. Surely your father wouldn’t have sent those assassins if he had at least a slight regard for your position, neither do you want to be part of a side that would kill children. What do you even do now? All you could do is be still for now. However, just because you are sitting still doesn't mean you are idle. You are always thinking. Plotting. You might be a glorified prisoner, but you are still the Lady of Runestone and that means a lot, doesn’t it? You just have to be patient.

The night gets colder, and right when you think Aelora is about to rest her eyes, you hear muttering outside the doors. “Is it a good time…maybe tomorrow…might be asleep…” Tomorrow what? You can never sleep now can you? Not without know what they are talking about. “What?” you commanded sternly as you open the doors. Even while just dressed in robes, the domineering tone of your voice and the sharp gaze of your eyes made them cower. It’s Clara, one of your maids and Ser Luther, one of your knights. It seems that they are both ashamed to be discovered, but you need to know. “JUST TELL ME!” you scream-whispered, taking note to not disturb your Aelora. Unable to meet your eyes, Clara has her head down while the good Ser gives you the news. “There are rumors your highness, rumors that your husband killed you father on top of God’s Eye.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond x oc

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fan-goddess · 8 months

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it ain't a chance that I am letting this chance go, so if I may... for kinktober, may I ask for alicent hightower x religious? because the religious guilt is hitting me fully ugh.

thank you and have a lovely day!

Authors Note: I myself am not religious, so I may get certain aspects of it wrong. If I do and I offend you, please send me an ask or dm me directly if you’re not comfortable saying so in the comments.

Am I entirely happy? No. Does this have less smut than I would like for a kinktober post? Yes. But I just hope I do my best as this’ll be my first Alicent fic so I hope I do my little angsty closeted lesbian justice

Warnings: Sex, religious guilt, very closeted alicent, reader is female,

Taglist: @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @sweettastemakerpenguin, @mochi-rose, @blue-serendipity, @omgbrcat

Ever since you were a young girl, you were always taught in what was right and what was wrong. You were taught that a husband is the only thing you should look for in your life, and that as a woman, it was your responsibility to give him his heirs and to carry on his legacy.

Yet you were a mere girl of ten and three when you began to realise what it was that made you so different from the other ladies.

For years, you had never found yourself interested in the typical lady talk. What man looked most handsome or which knight looked the most dashing in their uniform. For years you wondered if there was something was wrong with you.

Then, you arrived at Kingslanding to work as a handmaiden for the princess, and met the eyes of Alicent Hightower.

She was beautiful, and kind, and showed you how to do the things the other women sneered at you for whenever you tried to ask for help. She became your best friend. But in your head, she became so much more than that.

At the age of ten and four, a mere year after you’d been employed as a maid, you’d begun to hear the gossip of the kitchen staff who talked about how one of the ladies who’d recently been married to some unknown lord, would need to fulfil her own pleasure and seek her own desires. The words had confused you when you first heard them, as all you had been taught about the act of pleasure is that only a man typically was able to achieve it.

Though that next day, when all your chores had been completed, the words of the kitchen staff still echoed around in your mind. They could not be shaken no matter how many topics you tried to distract yourself with. So you went to the library and sought out books that could hopefully satisfy your curiosity.

When you left a couple hours later, your face had turned a light shade of pink, and if the head septa could look inside your head at that moment, you knew she’d condemn you to the deepest depth of the seven hells if she could.

That night, you touched yourself and reached self fulfilment for the first time in your life. Only you didn’t reach it with the thought of any of the knights, nor with any lord. Instead, you only reached it thinking of Alicent Hightower.

Many years had passed since that night, and you’d recreated it many a times since then. Though much to your horror and delight, you’d become much closer to Alicent ever since her marriage to the king. The princess had casted her aside soon after the betrothal was announced, and you made sure you were there to help Alicent pick of the pieces of her broken heart.

There were many a nights when she would come to your chambers straight after the king would summon her to his own, and she’d cry in your arms from sadness and exhaustion.

Every time you would hold her and soothe her with whispers of affirmation and kindness, and by the looks of bashfulness she’d send you every time you did it, you could tell she did not hear them often.

It was one of those nights when Alicent had first kissed you. Her tears had already soaked through the thin and cheap fabric of your nightgown, and you distinctly remember using one of your sleeves to wipe at any that had dripped to her chin.

“There there Alicent it’s okay. I will always be there for you, no matter what, through thick and thin, I will always be by your side. I would never leave you.” You had murmured as you placed a stray hair behind her ear.

She looked at you with hooded eyes, and the next thing you knew you were tasting salt on your lips. Your hands had somehow already knew to delicately hold her head, whilst your lips however were much less knowledgable. They moved clumsily without any real rhythm against Alicents own, and when she pulled to look at you, a mix of apologises and prayers spilled from red swollen lips faster than you could comprehend.

“I-I am so sorry my lady! T-the seven deems though who lay with the same sex as sinners!” Alicent exclaims before she runs from the room, leaving you in shock and slight giddiness from how the events have ultimately played out.

It goes like that for months. You would never kiss Alicent, she only kissed you when the emotions were hitting her all at once. Still, even though she’s the one who always initiates it, the act always brings tears to her eyes and solemn prayers on her lips as she’s the first to stop it.

That night, after another summon to the kings chamber, Alicent walked into your own like clockwork. She embraced you with quiet tears in her eyes, as unlike the first times, her mind has finally become numb with how many times she’s been forced to endure it.

Her body has already provided the king with a son and his wife. Yet she knew she must prepare for another, as her father whispered into her hair whilst she held her screaming daughter, there must be a spare.

Your thumb instinctively went to Alicents face to wipe her eyes of tears, and this time, neither of you knew who began to kiss who.

You expected Alicent to draw away after a few minutes, yet she appeared to continue. Her hands stayed locked in a grip on your body and her lips stayed frantic in their search for your taste.

“Let me feel loved…” She murmured against your lips, so silent you barely heard her.

“Whatever you wish for my love…” You murmured back. It was the first time you called her that out loud. Yet she seemed to show no true reaction to your sudden endearment. Or maybe she wished to ignore it…

You gently direct Alicent to lay on the bed, and slowly bring yourself to lay by her thighs. When you pull the length of her dress up and your hands make it halfway up her soft inner thigh, your eyes make frantic movements to her face, yet when you eventually make eye contact, she merely nods her head and makes a small plea for more.

Your fingers explore her body cautiously, and as you pull down her underclothes, a slight gasp escapes from you before you could stop it. The queen of the seven kingdoms is revealed in-front of you, and when your fingers enter her slowly and you hear slight mewls of pleasure from above, your head begins to dizzy with it all.

One hand thrusts your fingers inside of her whilst the other holds down Alicents hips as she lifts them in her pursuit of this unfamiliar pleasure. Though you cannot help yourself in that moment from kissing the inner skin of her soft thighs as a way to let her know you were here for her.

When your head looks back up, you can see that her lips were trapped in the confinements of her teeth, looking as if they were drawing blood with how hard she bit down. Yet still, small noises escaped that made the area between your thighs ache for something more.

Your eyes flicker between the view of your soaking fingers to her eyes that have now shut tightly. Yet when you feel her clench tightly on your fingers as she presumably peaks, your hands retreat from her warmth, and your greeted with wet fingers you can’t find yourself able to stop from sucking on slightly, the slightly sweet yet also slightly tangy taste of her juices spreading on your tongue whilst you hum slightly in delight.

It’s sad that you can’t savour the moment. As one minute there is silence that consumes the two of you, and the next there is only the sound of frantic movements and rustles as Alicent quickly moves to kneel at the edge of the bed, her eyes clenched shut as her hands lock together in a prayer and her lips begin to repeat that all too familiar prayer you’ve heard so many times before.

You can only look to her in defeat, with exhausted tears building in your eyes, as she now looks to the ceiling and prays for forgiveness for her sins.

Yet you never ask her why she deemed your love such a sin, that she felt the need to indulge in it so much. Even if it seemed to be paining her so.

The reason you never ask you lover why she does this to herself, is because you loved her, and your mother always told you to never ever strike an arguement with the person you loved...

#house of the dragon #alicent hightower smut #queen alicent #hotd alicent #alicent hightower x reader #alicent targaryen #lady alicent #alicent hightower #alicent hightower request #young alicent #my works

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piinkyypriincess · 4 months

Text

SWEET SUMMER ORANGE

Targaryen Dynasty x Fem!Teen!OC

"Green must find her way to orange, or all is lost. The dragons will dance and die, surrounded by fire and blood.”

Multiple Main Pairings!

Main Focus ~ Fem!OC and Targaryen Dynasty (Yandere, Obsessive, Protective)

Warnings ~ Nostalgia, Heartbreak, Anger, Alicents Person Feelings of Rhaenyra, and Denial.

Spoilers ~ Tons!!

Masterpost ~ Here.

Beta Read/Edited ~ No (No Beta Lmao)

Word Count ~ 2k Words.

Chp Summary ~ Alicent tries to eat lemon cakes on her own to quell her sadness after speaking to her father. Vhagarhā Qo, who perfers oranges, is a child unlike any other the Queen has ever met, but she reminds Alicent of all her children; as if she mourns the idea of who they were and cannot fathom who they are now.

Chp 3 ~ Sweet Orange Tart, Sour Lemon Cake, Bitter Apple Turnover

Alicent had grown to enjoy the smell of lemon cake in her youth.

Now looking down at the sweet treat displayed on top of the serving table, Alicent breathed in the sweet citrus smell and refrained from gagging.

It was too sweet, not enough lemon present; the recipe had changed. Alicent favored granny smith apple turnovers, the bitter apple pleasant to her taste buds.

What followed in the wake of lemon cake at the red keep was what she really enjoyed.

The smell of wooden fire and sweet lemon followed the air wherever Rhaenyra Targaryen walked. None knew that the Princess had a breeze of brimstone on her skin after a day of dragon riding.

Alicent knew as the Princess curled under her arm and in her lap when they were frolicking kids in the Keep.

Meeting Rhaenyra had been the downfall of Alicent's life.

The Princess had involved her deeper into politics by proxy of her company, and Alicent resented the fact the Princess betrayed her trust.

That is why they do not speak, that is why Rhaenyra left Kings Landing to live at Dragonstone with her cowardly ways.

Picking up a lemon cake, she placed it over a small glass serving plate and bit in.

The crunch of the candied lemon on top invited her with a sweet tang; the sweetness being followed by an even sweeter soft cake that had icing dribbled on top.

The lemon cake was sweet by itself naturally. Alicent realized what was off, the candied lemon was too thick with melted sugar and it was canceling the natural sourness.

“They are quite sweet aren't they, Queen Alicent?” Alicent whirls around, her plate still in hand and lemon cake shifting with the haste of Alicent's movements.

The newcomer had a sweet bell-like voice that reminded Alicent of Helaena when she was younger.

The shy kindness is all Aemond – before the incident however. Alicent clears her head of the thoughts.

The Queen's hazel-green eyes first catch the ginger-orange of the girl's hair.

The boldly colored hair is thick like a Velaryon's. The Queen can tell despite the corkscrew curls being slicked back into a neat bun at the back of the girl's head.

Curls spill outside the bun elegantly as there are autumn-colored faux flower hairpins inside of her tresses.

The next thing the Queen notices is an expensive-looking gold circlet that wraps around the child's head.

The design is simple with a small gemstone that rests in the middle of the child's forehead.

A sign of royalty.

Alicent squints her eyes at the gem, the pink teardrop shaped stone glittering in the sunlight.

“Yes, Indeed. And you might be?” Alicent places her plate down on a space the serving table has.

She clasps her hands in front of herself as she takes in the child's brightly colored gown, trying to associate her with a region.

“Princess Vhagarhā Qo, of The Sweet Lotus Vale in Jhala,” The girl bows her head and curtseys to the Queen.

Alicent curtseys back out of respect.

She swallows a bit of her pride.

Alicent Hightower studied like no other within the Keep, always staying up to read her books and retain knowledge.

Alicent shakes away a memory of a blonde that comes to her mind, and covers it up with a tilt of her head.

She'd never heard of the Summers Isles before.

Alicent licks the bottom of her lip quickly as she attempts to store away and make note of the exotic name.

It sounded traditionally Valerian, with a twist of words at the end.

The girl's accent sounded like liquid amber; smooth and sweet as the common tongue escaped her mouth.

“If it pleases you Queen Alicent; you may call me Vhae Summers,” The girl's teeth are an unnaturally blinding white, the viper notices.

Without changing the expression on her face, she scrutinizes the child under her harsh gaze.

The child seemed unnaturally pure, like soft fallen snow that hadn't been stepped on.

Her marmalade colored dress was one of fall, with different brightly colored leaves and flowers stitched into the fine fabric.

Small fake flowers, made up of a sheer material alicent didn't recognize, started from the left side of where her ribs sat to make a sleeve.

The other sleeve was the same way with the sheer fake orange flowers covering her arms but it started from behind her on her back.

The Summers Isle had an elevated taste for fashion beyond anything Alicent had seen or studied.

The child looked truly regal as she stood covered up enough for the fall breeze.

Large golden hooped earrings, thick bangles, chunky rings with colorful gemstones, a gold necklace filled with different cut gems.

Whoever the child was, she came from money beyond Oldtown or the Lannisters.

Alicent quits her staring as she notices the child fiddling with her fingers.

Alicent blinks, rubbing her hands down the sides of her gown.

“Would you like to join me by the weirwood, Princess?” Her hands ball tightly into fists, the words escape her mouth faster than she can think.

She imagined repeating those words to one with silver-white gold hair and deep lilac eyes.

The child has light brown skin, a smooth nutty color with speckles of teak that splattered across her face and hands.

Another happy reaction is pulled from her heart-shaped face, displaying the pink of her gums and joyous smile on her thick lips.

“Of course! I would love to!” The girl's gown flows against the gentle breeze of autumn as she moves to link arms with Alicent.

Alicent blinks again in surprise at the gesture.

She can see a pair of knights at their station start to move before she lifts a hand to beckon them away.

The woman of forty and three shivers at the childish affection, unused to another person initiating wholesome skinship.

Vhae's dress is a long one, the expensive cotton garment brushes the floor with a gentle sway, breathable and moveable.

Swallowing a sigh of anxiousness, Alicent decides to speak first but rethinks her words before she speaks them.

“So Queen Alicent, anything exciting going on in King's Landing this month?” The child's other hand goes to grasp Alicent's hand, free of wounded flesh and cuticles nicely manicured by a servant.

The Summer child's nails are covered in nail varnish, a lively pink, with delicate leaf detailing in multiple different colors.

Alicent thinks to ask the girl of her home country, their fashions quite different from Westeros.

At the darker girl's question, Alicent's mind drifts to the battle of succession that will be held in court soon.

“Well, there is court being held in five days' time. And of course, the ladies of the realm are planning a charity event that will take place here on the twelfth moon,” Alicent's tone is a bore as she recites over the larger events outside of her small council activities.

“Oh, court? How exactly is your court held here? In my country, court is held with the Ladies of Judgement,” Alicent's eyebrows raise as she takes in women having a station of absolute power for themselves.

Clearing her throat she responds to the question diligently, “Here court is held in the Red Keep when lords in higher power petition it so. The King will usually handle such matters but the King is feeling unwell at the moment.”

The girl hums and the pair stop in front of the carved face weirwood.

Breaking away from the Queen's hold that seemingly tightened through their walk, she lifts a hand to the face of the tree hesitantly.

Alicent sees a past memory of Rhaenyra, white long hair staring back at her as she traced the face of the sacred Weirwood.

A flock of servants break her out of her trance as they pass under the open walkway of the gardens.

They bow respectfully with straight faces and go rigid when she lifts her hand for them to stay.

Vhagarhā is circling around the thick white tree, hand tracing the thick bark of the red leafed tree.

The girl has that wide smile again that makes the Green Queen reluctantly grin.

“Fetch us a spread for a picnic,” The Queen demands. She gives the servants a small quirk of a smile as she watches the girl no older than ten and five.

Turning back to the child, she lays backwards with her entire body laying on the lush padded grass. She has no care about her delicate dress getting dirty with Earth.

It reminds her of the young Princess, she reminds her of the young Princess.

Carefree and wild, taking to life like a duck in water or a dragon to fire.

Alicent represses a grimace to give the child a small tight-lipped smile.

Alicents nails start to dig into the flesh of her palms, indenting crescent moons into soft skin.

A hand pulls her out of her thoughts, and she retracts her nails from her flesh.

The Summers Isle child is marveling at the leaves as if it was the first time she's seen them before.

Only then does Alicent notice it.

She casts a glance at the child's eyes and catches a glimpse of purple.

Vhagarhā looks up at Alicent, her irises shining a pale lilac purple, almost white as if she were blind.

Near the child's pupils, a molten orange color swirls against her slitted purple, similar to a beasts.

Alicents eyes go wide, and she squeezes the foreign girl's hand in a panic; accidentally catching her attention.

“Oh, I do hope you guys have orange tarts! They are one of my favorite pastries,” She remarks with a questioning look on her face.

Rocking forward on the tips of her heels excitedly, she averts her gaze to the plethora of servants who lay out a picnic sheet and baskets of food.

The Green Queen goes steady, fear ebbing away from her as she analyzes the child's features once more.

Copper-orange hair with strings of white diamond laced between the curls, a trait of Old Valarian blood.

A button nose, small, but ethnic like a Velaryon's.

Her skin is a shade lighter than Laenors, a red undertone to the brown skin and freckles spread out all over her face.

A oval heart shaped face, similar to a celtigar, but with more fat on her cheeks rather than sharp and hollow.

Lilac swirling eyes with hints of coral and slitted pupils similar to a – Dragon.

Alicent knew nothing of the Summers Isles – but this child was special.

Vhagarhā didn't resemble Rhaenyra, she even didn't look like any Valyrian Alicent had ever seen.

Vhagarhā Qo is positively a stunning child.

One with features she cannot match to any region but of Old Valerian blood beyond the Targaryens.

Alicent wants to rip her hand away, and walk back to her solar but – Vhagarhā gives her a smile that brightens up the Keep, despite the sun out in full effect.

Vhagarhā is not Rhaenyra or one of her brood, she's a foreign child for the Sevens sake.

Vhagarhā was unnaturally stunning, but didnt have the sharp features of a Targaryen besides her eyes.

She was soft, pure.

Even with the eyes of a Dragon hidden within her pupils, her eyes were wide and inviting.

Alicent thought that she would always resent the classic aristocratic look of a Targaryen.

The purple eyes, and majestically stunning features beyond human understanding.

She thought she hated them, but that hate melted into sorrow when she saw her children's faces.

The child's soft way of speaking reminds her of Aemond as a child – sweet and kind before he lost his eye.

Her smile reminds Alicent of Aegon's previous sunny spirit before he drowned in his cups.

Her fascination is a mirror of Helaena as she discovers a new insect; before her nightmares and flinching away.

Alicent cannot even try and sic a trait of Daeron onto the child; she hardly remembers his face before he was whisked away from her to Oldtown.

Alicent didn't know this, but she needed someone to just be around. She was lonely even in the presence of her children – regardless If she made them turn out mad.

She didn't think so though, she was just ensuring their safety.

Any thought of that white haired lier makes Alicents stomach turn sick and her heart pound ferociously.

For the first time in many years, Alicent smiles, huffing out a laugh, “Of course sweetling, we have plenty.”

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