srim01997

[srim01997]

The Red Princess & The Green Knight | Gwayne H. x OFC

Paring: Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Slight Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Eventual Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC)

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO)

Warning: House of The Dragon Season 2 Ep. 3 Spoiler, NSFW

Writer’s note: Here the NSFW

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Chapter 9 The Paramour

Alyssan deeply kisses Gwayne as her hands swirl around his breeches as if to untie them. The green knight’s hands slide along her curve before peeling off her pajamas. He feels the waist of a slightly plump body from pregnancy under his strong palms. The lilac eyes woman said.

"I'm not as thin as I used to be." The red-haired princess said, "My waist is getting thicker..."

"You're beautiful to me, Alice," Gwayne said, moving his hand around her body in a daze. "You are carrying children, so I admire your courage." The copper man kissed her face down against her neck and shoulders before stacking her body to lie down on his bed. He began to pamper the girl with his mouth.

Gwayne's touch is very different from Aemond. Because he is usually softer than the one-eyed prince and worried about whether he will force her. The young knight looked at her as if to ask if he could continue. When he saw the sight that he could continue, he began to use his fingers and tongue to insert it into her cunt until her hand immediately moved to grab the copper hair of the Hightower knight. Her lips made a sweet sound that came from his tongue and his finger hit her weak spot causing her waist to arch for more. The green eyes of him glanced at the expression on the little princess's face and felt that his manhood was erecting.

The Hightower knight uses his fingers and tongue to pamper the sweet core until it is soaked with clear nectar. He licked it and looked at her with a look that only they could understand. The tall man with copper hair moves between her legs and spreads until he can be between her legs.

Her hands tease his hardened manhood under his dark cloth pants before helping him untie his breeches and move to tease his cockhead until Gwayne lets out a low moan in his throat. The copper-haired princess smiled mischievously.

"I miss your tower, I want to use my mouth," Alyssan said in a voice that Gwayne couldn't stand anymore. The young knight leaned down and kissed her mouth until their tongues became tangled.

"Next time, little princess," The copper-haired knight slowly thrust his cock into her core and let her adjust his size. Even though they have done it for a while, hewant her to feel good about it without delay. When she signals that she is okay, he starts to move slowly before starting to move so fast that her slender hand moves to grab her strong arm.

"I've been thinking of you all the time, but it's not as good as the real thing," Gwayne whispered in Alyssan’s ear, "because it tightens my cock."

"My fingers are not as good as you and Amon are always....done before me, sometimes they go to the Silk Road until dawn."

"My nephew is insatiable when he has a young wife waiting for him at the keep," Gwayne continued to move his hips as he looked at the young princess beneath him. His hand moved to teasing her breasts and kissing until leave the red mark on.

The copper-hair man couldn't help but wonder how different life would have been if they had married from the start. By now, Oldtown might have been filled with red-haired children running through the halls, their laughter echoing through the streets. The more he learned about what Alyssan had endured, the more torn he felt. Should he let things remain as they were or take her away to Oldtown, far from the pain she faced in King’s Landing? Aemond should have been the one comforting her after the loss of their child—not chasing after brothel women and leaving her to seek solace in someone else’s arms. What had his sister been thinking, marrying her daughter to Aemond in the first place?

“Gwayne, please…” Alyssan’s lilac eyes, glistening with unshed tears, fixed on him. Though he was her uncle, the longing in her gaze was undeniable. “Fuck me harder enough to make me forget Aemond—just for one night.”

The red-haired princess knew what they were doing was wrong. But if Targaryens could marry one another and call it tradition, why should her relationship with her Hightower uncle be any different? The gods had never blessed her, not once. And it wasn’t as though she was the one who had broken her marriage vows first—Aemond had seen to that.

To hell with the Seven and their judgment. Let them look the other way, as they always had. And as for her one-eyed brother-husband? Why hadn’t he asked for a divorce and freed her from this misery already?

Gwayne smiled at the corner of his mouth when he heard what his niece was asking for, and grabbed the pillow to support the girl's hips. One hand holds the headboard and the other supports her head. The Hightower knight began to move faster until full of the hilt, his cockhead hit her sensitive spot repeatedly. Her lower belly bulging that he pressed it lightly with his hand, and the sweet moan calling his name was so pleasant that he wanted to do it all night until her voice hoarse or she forgot the name of the one-eyed prince.

Alyssan arched her back as he thrust, feeling herself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. The red-haired girl felt a fullness and pleasure that Aemond could never provide. Her hands gripped his strong back, her nails digging in as the copper-skinned man moved relentlessly, leaving long red marks in their wake.

Gwayne feels string but doesn't care, because he's more interested in her feelings now. The red-haired man moved her to sit on his lap and let her control the pace. He sat leaning against the headboard in a comfortable position. The man with emerald eyes watched as the slander figure bounce up and down on top of him until his fat cock disappeared into her slit. His hand moved to help her control the movement.

"Let’s cum together," said Gwayne. “Do you want me—”

“Cum inside me until you satisfied.” Alyssan said, "After tonight, I promise to drink moon tea—"

"Don't drink, I'll ask King Aegon to divorce you and Aemond, let us marry, and you'll be my wife." His hand held her face softly, "I promised to do it until you had no voice."

"And what are you waiting for, uncle?" She said teasingly, feeling her posture change and Gwayne murmured.

"You ask for it yourself, princess...."

Now, they lay entwined on the bed, exhaustion settling into their bodies after countless shared moments of passion. Gwayne had taken meticulous care to clean her, using a damp cloth to wipe her skin until it was fresh and cool, and then dressing her in a soft nightgown. Yet as he adjusted the fabric on her back, his fingers froze upon noticing faint scars crisscrossing her smooth skin, marks resembling those left by a whip.

“This scar…” He began, his voice low with concern.

“I did it to myself,” Alyssan admitted softly, her head resting against his broad chest. Her lilac eyes glazed somewhere far away, lost in memory. “I’ve been doing it since I was seventeen. Whenever I disappointed my mother, I punished myself.”

The Hightower knight let out a disapproving growl in his throat. He didn’t understand what had happened to his nieces and nephews who grew up in King’s Landing, but Alyssan—once a bright and spirited girl—had changed dramatically since returning to the Red Keep. Was it the people around her? Or was it because her sister, overwhelmed by her duties as queen, had neglected her children? At least Daeron seemed to have turned out decently.

Gods above, why hadn’t they moved all the children to Oldtown in the first place?

“Don’t ever do that again,” Gwayne said firmly, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. He kissed her forehead repeatedly, his affection possessive and tender. “You’re mine to protect, and I’ll keep you safe. If you’re troubled, tell me. Or write to me if you can’t find the words.”

“I’d rather fly to you on my dragon,” she replied, a small smile playing on her lips, though her voice carried an edge of bitterness. “I’m afraid someone will burn my letters again.”

“You think someone’s been destroying your letters?” Gwayne frowned deeply, recalling the many times she had claimed to have written to him while he swore he’d never received a single message.

“I think,” she said carefully, “that someone’s been intercepting them before they ever reach you.”

For years, Alyssan had suspected someone of sabotaging her relationship with Gwayne. Who had been spying on them and spreading rumors? Was it Lord Larys? Aemond? Ser Criston? Or some meddlesome servant who had seen too much? She had her suspicions but chose not to voice them, not wanting to burden him with worry.

“You should rest, Uncle,” She said, shifting in his arms to press a lingering kiss to his lips. “I hear you have a long journey ahead tomorrow. Stay alert, and don’t travel through open fields. Your shinning armor catches the light and can be spotted from miles away.”

“No enemy would dare approach me,” Gwayne replied with a grin.

“But a dragon might,” She countered, her lilac eyes narrowing in mock warning. “They’re drawn to anything that glitters in the sunlight. And if you go to a tavern, don’t let any women lie with you.”

“Jealous, are we?” Gwayne chuckled, his hand lifting her chin so their eyes met. “Alyssan, I’ll have you know I’m as loyal as a sworn knight can be.”

“See that you stay that way,” she murmured, her lips brushing his once more. “Don’t make me regret trusting you.”

As dawn broke, Alyssan slipped away from Gwayne's bed. He understood her reasoning; she couldn’t risk being caught by Aemond or anyone else. A servant arrived shortly after to help him prepare for the day ahead. Before joining the others in the courtyard, Gwayne made a stop at his favorite niece's chambers. He knocked on her door and waited until Anna opened it. His emerald eyes took in Alyssan, dressed in an elegant green gown embroidered with silver thread. She nodded at Anna, signaling her to leave.

Gwayne knelt to greet young Arron, who was playing with a wooden toy in his small hands. 

"I must leave now, Arron. Be good for your mother, alright?" 

"Father—where's Father going?" the child asked in his innocent, lisping voice. Gwayne froze, momentarily unsure if Arron referred to Aemond. How could he explain this without revealing that Aemond was likely wandering the Silk Road again? 

"Father is attending a council meeting with Uncle Aegon," Alyssan interjected smoothly, walking toward them. Her voice carried a practiced ease as she placed a hand on Gwayne's shoulder. "May the Seven guide your way, Uncle, and keep you from shadows and death." She handed him a handkerchief without needing to be asked. 

Gwayne accepted it with a grateful nod, bowing slightly before leaving. Alyssan followed him at a distance, watching as he joined her mother, Alicent, and Ser Criston in the courtyard. She paused by the stairs, listening as the three conversed. Alicent formally introduced Gwayne to Criston with a faintly strained smile. 

"Ser Criston—or should I address you as Lord Hand now?" Gwayne asked, a wry smile playing on his lips. 

"Ser Gwayne, King’s Landing welcomes you," Criston replied evenly. 

"What an honor to arrive at court only to find that my father, who served three kings with unwavering loyalty, has been cast aside," Gwayne retorted, tilting his head mockingly. "In favor of a man whose origins are... considerably humble. The gods, it seems, have been especially kind to you." 

Sharp words, Uncle. 

Alicent cut through the tension, attempting to smooth over the moment. "Ser Gwayne has volunteered to join your campaign, Ser Criston." 

"Our forces are sufficient as they are," Criston replied curtly. 

"Then consider them strengthened," Alicent countered firmly. 

"Mother is right, Ser Criston," Alyssan interjected, stepping forward with a knowing smile. "Hightower knights have as much—if not more—experience than some of the boys here who call themselves soldiers." Her words were a deliberate jab at her twin brother's lackluster Kings guard. 

"The road is treacherous, Ser," Criston said with a faint smirk, attempting to undermine Gwayne. 

"No one is more eager than I to march alongside the Dornish," Gwayne replied smoothly, turning to Alicent. He took her hand, pressing a chivalrous kiss to her knuckles. "Sister." With that, he walked past Alyssan, brushing his fingers fleetingly against hers, a subtle gesture only she could notice, before heading to mount his horse. 

Alyssan's sharp gaze caught something—her mother's expression toward Criston. The faint tenderness in Alicent’s eyes. When Alicent handed Criston a handkerchief, a spark of realization lit within her. So, they shared a secret of their own. Alyssan chuckled softly, shaking her head in amused disbelief. 

She descended the stairs, approaching her mother with a sly smile. "You seem quite fond of Ser Criston, Mother." 

"It’s not what you think, Alyssan," Alicent stammered, flustered by her daughter's insinuation. 

Alyssan leaned in to whisper, her tone dripping with mischief. "We’re not so different, are we? Each of us seeking something—or someone—to satisfy our desires." She stepped back with a playful grin. "If you'll excuse me, Mother, I have a crucial plan to attend to."

TBC.

[srim01997]

The Red Princess & The Green Knight | Gwayne H. x OFC

Paring: Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Slight Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Eventual Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC)

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO)

Warning: Angst, Implied Violence, Canon Divergence, Child Lost mentioned, House of The Dragon Season 2 Ep.2 spoiler, DV mentioned, Dub-con mentioned

Writer’s note: NSFW will be coming soon ;)

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Chapter 8 The Princess’s request

“I will not allow his body to be paraded through the streets!” Alyssan declared through tears as she sat beside Arron, her trembling hands brushing through her son’s fiery hair. She had just learned of Otto’s proposal to display the bodies of Jaehaerys and Vaegon around the city before their funeral at the Dragonpit. The plan also called for her and Helaena to accompany the procession, a ploy to garner the public’s sympathy and paint Rhaenyra as a monster. “I won’t let them pity me or Helaena. And she wouldn’t allow her children to be treated this way either. Have you ever asked Aegon?”

Alicent said nothing and turned to leave, her silence cutting deeper than any retort. Moments later, Aemond entered the room. His face betrayed no clear emotion—anger, guilt, or grief.

But Alyssan didn’t hesitate. She stormed toward him and struck him hard across the face. Ser Criston moved as if to intervene but faltered under her glare.

“Stay out of my business with my husband, Ser Criston!” she hissed, pointing a shaking finger at him. “Where were you? Sleeping soundly while monsters entered my sister’s chamber? They severed my nephew’s head, and my son’s head, right in front of me and Arron. You call yourself Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, but every time you vanish, disaster strikes!”

“Forgive me, Princess—”

“Forgive you?” Alyssan’s voice broke into a guttural shout, her fury like a storm unleashed. 

Aemond had never seen her so enraged, though he understood why. They had just buried their youngest child. And while Arron still lived, Aemond knew the boy was not truly his. He had long kept the secret that Arron was Gwayne’s son, the result of an affair his wife had concealed with their uncle. He clasped his hands behind his back, schooling his expression into cold composure.

“I, too, grieve, my love,” he said finally. “But you should honor our mother’s wishes.”

“What did you say?” Alyssan’s voice cracked, incredulous. “You want me to ride in that cursed procession, dragging Vaegon’s body through the streets? Do you know how humiliating that is? Last night, you should have been there to protect me and the children.”

“You should have protected them,” Aemond replied coolly.

Alyssan’s tears fell faster as she pulled her gown aside, exposing the healing gash on her neck. “Do you see this, Aemond? They held a blade to my throat while they beheaded our son. And where were you? Rolling in some brothel while your wife and children were left to die! Do you know what they said? ‘An eye for an eye, a son for a son.’ They demanded retribution for what you did at Storm’s End. For Luke.”

Aemond remained silent. She was right. Yet it wasn’t entirely his fault—what happened with Lucerys had been an accident, a tragedy born of circumstance. He reached out, placing his hands on her trembling shoulders. Lowering his head, he pressed his forehead to the curve of her neck, inhaling her scent as if it could absolve him.

“You should go,” he whispered. “Let them see what they’ve done to you and our family.”

“You’re asking me to let them parade Vaegon’s body?” Her voice broke, raw with pain. “No mother should ever have to endure that. Not me, not Helaena—she would never agree.”

His grip on her shoulders tightened, and he leaned in to murmur in her ear, his voice low and unyielding. “Do it, Alyssan. Tonight, I promise, I’ll stay by your side. Where is Arron?”

“With Ser Gwayne,” she replied bitterly, her lips trembling as she met his gaze. “He’s taken him riding.”

Aemond smiled at the corner of his mouth before saying, "Then we have time to do it before you join the funeral." The tall figure grabbed her leaning against the windowsill before pulling up her skirt and moving between her legs. Alyssan closed her eyes when she heard him untie his pants to insert them inside her.

Her slender hand gripped the window sill as he moved around. But she didn't want to—no, she thought more about other people than she did when she was made love with Aemond. The figure flinched as he moved out and walked out of the room, letting the other person organize herself.

Dressed in black with a lace veil draped over her fiery hair, Alyssan emerged from her chambers with an air of solemnity. Outside, she found Ser Gwayne cradling her son, Arron, who giggled softly at the knight’s gentle play. Alyssan leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her son’s forehead, and without a word, turned to climb into the waiting carriage.

The procession began to move, the slow creak of wheels carrying the weight of grief through the city streets. The bodies of Jaehaerys and Vaegon, now sewn together by silent septas, lay on a cart ahead, their youthful forms lifeless.

“Behold Rhaenyra the Cruel!”

Villagers lined the streets, their reactions a mix of sorrow and outrage. Some wept at the sight of the young princes, their hearts aching for the princess and queen. Others hissed curses toward Rhaenyra’s name. But the mournful march halted abruptly as the wheels of the carts sank into a muddy rut. Guards struggled to free them, and the crowd surged closer, their desperation palpable. Helaena shrank into herself, her discomfort turning to visible distress. She looked ready to weep, but Alicent pulled her into a comforting embrace, shielding her daughter’s anguish from the prying eyes of onlookers.

Alyssan, watching her mother’s uncharacteristic tenderness, bit back her tears. Never had she been held like this. Swallowing her emotions, she remained stoic until the procession reached the Dragonpit. There, waiting septons prepared for the funeral rites of the Targaryen princes according to their ancient customs.

As her dragon emerged, its powerful form moving toward the pyre, Alyssan stood tall despite the weight in her chest. When she whispered, “Dracarys,” flames engulfed the bodies, reducing them to ash. She turned, enveloping her weeping sister in an embrace, her lilac eyes fixed on the inferno that consumed their son.

Back at the Red Keep, the somber mood persisted. Alicent retreated to her chambers, leaving Alyssan and Helaena to ascend the stairwell together. Helaena paused abruptly when they encountered Aegon, who said nothing. They exchanged only tense glances before continuing in opposite directions. Alyssan escorted her sister to her chambers before returning to her own.

Upon entering, she found Gwayne seated on the floor, playing with Arron. The boy’s laughter filled the room as his small hands reached for the toy dragon Gwayne held. The knight, clad in a simple green tunic and black trousers, looked up at her with a smile.

“Uncle,” Alyssan teased, leaning against the doorframe, “do you have nothing better to do?”

“Can I not play with my grandson?” Gwayne chuckled. “He has Hightower blood, after all. That red hair—just like his grandmother’s.”

Alyssan almost told him the truth—that Arron was not merely his grandson but his son. But it was not the time. Instead, she seated herself beside the boy and glanced at the unfamiliar toy.

“Did you buy this for him?” she asked.

“For all my nephews and nieces,” Gwayne replied with a wistful smile. “I’m sorry about Vaegon. He and Jaehaerys didn’t deserve this.”

“They said, ‘A son for a son,’” Alyssan murmured bitterly, her hand tightening around the toy.

A sudden commotion interrupted them as Anna burst into the room. “Princess! His Grace has ordered the execution of rat-catchers!”

“What?” Alyssan’s voice sharpened, and she rose to her feet. “Was this Otto’s idea?”

Anna shook her head. Alyssan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Mitty (idiot),” she muttered, storming toward the door. “Watch Arron, Anna. I’m going to talk to him.”

Alyssan found Aegon in his chambers, speaking with Otto. Her sharp eyes noticed the absence of the Hand’s pin. “Grandfather,” she began, her tone sharp, “Has he dismissed you?”

Otto’s face twisted in frustration. “Your brother is a fool, Alyssan. If you were a man, things would be simpler. You have everything Aegon lacks—”

“And I told you not to put an idiot on the throne,” she interrupted. “Who replaces you? Larys?”

“Criston Cole.”

“Perfect. We’re doomed. I need to talk to him”

"No, Alyssan, I'll go to High Garden to negotiate with the Tyrells to join us." The former king's hand said before walking back to his room. Alyssan brushed past him and pushed open the door to Aegon’s inner chambers.

“I warned you, Aegon! Stop making foolish, impulsive decisions!”

She shoved him against the wall with enough force to rattle the furniture. Ser Criston moved to intervene, but her glare froze him in place. “Don’t you dare? Leave us, or I’ll toss you out the window myself.”

Turning her fury back to Aegon, she spat, “Killing rat-catchers? Are you insane? Do you think this will ease your grief? Vaegon is dead, and Jaehaerys too—but this? This will make people loathe you even more, perhaps more than Rhaenyra!”

Aegon smirked through the pain. “Criston has already handled it. He’s sent someone to assassinate the whore at Dragonstone.”

“Really?” Alyssan sneered. “And who did he send?”

“Ser Erryk Cargyll,” Aegon replied smugly. “No one will suspect him.”

“Fool,” she snapped, pressing her foot harder against him. “And if he fails? What happens when Daemond finds out someone tried to kill his wife? He’ll take your head—or Helaena’s. Maybe mine. Think, Aegon, think!”

She released him with a frustrated growl and stormed out, slamming the door. Criston hesitated before asking, “Shall I deal with her, Your Grace?”

“No,” Aegon replied, rubbing his bruised ribs. “We fought as siblings do. She’s my twin. Only I have the right to kill her, Ser Criston.”

Alyssan sat by her son’s bedside, watching over him as he drifted into a peaceful sleep. The faint rise and fall of his tiny chest brought her a fleeting sense of calm, though her thoughts wandered elsewhere. She glanced toward the door, frowning. Why hadn’t Aemond come to her chambers tonight? 

Curiosity gnawed at her until she called for a servant boy, who hesitated before revealing that the prince had once again slipped away to the Silk Street. Alyssan closed her eyes, rubbing her temples in frustration before shifting her gaze back to her son. Guilt simmered beneath her skin, but a deeper ache made her restless.

Turning to her handmaiden, Anna, she asked, “Can you watch my son for a while?”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Anna replied with a knowing smile. “Take as long as you need. I’ll tell the prince you’ve gone for a walk in the gardens and wish not to be disturbed.”

Alyssan hesitated, then nodded. “Thank you, Anna.”

Slipping out of the room, she moved swiftly toward a hidden passage. She had discovered the secret corridors through one of Maegor the Cruel’s old texts and often used them to slip away unnoticed. Tonight, her destination was clear—Ser Gwayne’s chambers. She knew where to find him; she always did.

Dressed in nothing but her nightgown, Alyssan made her way down the passageway, her heart thudding in her chest. Finally, she reached a vantage point where she could peer into the room through a narrow slit in the stone wall. The sight of a green cloak draped casually over a chair confirmed her suspicions, but Gwayne was nowhere in sight.

Disheartened, she turned to leave, only to feel the sudden press of a broad chest against her back and a strong arm sliding possessively around her waist.

“And where do you think you’re going, Alyssan?” a familiar voice murmured.

She spun around to face him, her breath hitching as her gaze met Gwayne’s. His dark hair was damp, droplets of water sliding down the sharp planes of his face. He had just bathed, and the musky scent of soap lingered faintly in the air. He wore only a pair of trousers, his torso bare and glistening.

Once, she might have blushed, but tonight her need burned hotter than any embarrassment. Without a word, she stepped closer and kissed him with a fervor that left no room for hesitation. Her lithe body pressed against his, her nightgown absorbing the moisture from his skin.

“Gwayne,” she whispered, her voice trembling as her fingers curled against his shoulders. “I need you.” The way she addressed him—like a lover, not a niece—sent a spark through him. “Please…”

The knight’s jaw clenched, his arms encircling her waist. “Are you certain, Alyssan? Because once we start, I won’t stop until you’re left voiceless.”

“I’m certain,” she breathed, her lilac eyes locking onto his.

Gwayne’s restraint snapped as he claimed her lips again, his hands mapping her curves as if to memorize every inch. For once, she didn’t care about propriety or consequences. If the gods wanted to punish her, let them. They had never shown her their favor, and tonight, she would take what little joy she could grasp.

TBC.

[srim01997]

The Red Princess & The Green Knight | Gwayne H. X OFC

Paring: Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Slight Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Eventual Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC)

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO)

Warning: NSFW, Underage sex, Consensual Under Sex, PIV (I age up some character for this chapter; Alyssan and Aegon 16-17 y/o, Helaena 15 y/o, Aemond 14 y/o, Daeron 13 y/o)

Writer’s note: Apologies for my English, as it is my second language. As I translate work from Thai to English, updates may be gradual. I'm Team Black but this knight stole my heart. ;)

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Chapter 4 The Tainted

"Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown,"

The guard announced, and sixteen-year-old Alyssan descended the steps swiftly. Yet she stopped short upon seeing her mother and grandfather already engaged in conversation with the red-haired knight. Steadying herself as a princess of House Targaryen should, Alyssan composed her stride, moving gracefully toward her favorite uncle, now standing before her. The green and gold embroidery of her High Tower dress accentuated her maturing form under the gown.

Gwayne offered her a small, warm smile. “My little princess has grown,” he said, taking her hand to kiss it before they walked together.

“Forgive me for not replying to your letters, Alyssan. I’ve been... rather busy.”

“You’re a knight, Uncle, I understand.” She glanced at him, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “And Daeron...how fares he?”

“He’s well and quite popular with the ladies,” Gwayne replied, earning a faint, approving smile from her. She leaned in closer, tilting her head playfully.

“The earrings you gave me, I wore them,” she murmured, showing off the delicate silver piece. Gwayne smiled, admiring how they suited her.

“Beautiful, indeed...though your neck is rather bare, don’t you think?”

“The maids tried to dress me up, but the chains were far too thick,” Alyssan replied with a laugh. “So, I left them off.”

In response, Gwayne opened a small box, revealing a fine gold necklace adorned with a deep green gemstone. He stepped behind her, gently fastening it around her neck. His fingers brushed her skin, causing her to start slightly at the unfamiliar sensation. She turned to look at him, her gaze shifting between him and the beautiful necklace he had gifted.

“Thank you, Uncle. It’s lovely.”

Alyssan glanced toward the balcony, catching sight of Larys Strong watching her with a penetrating gaze that sent a chill down her spine. Larys had always unsettled her with his strange behavior around her mother and his unnerving stares.

“Uncle Gwayne...let’s leave here, please,” she whispered, grasping his hand as they hurried away. Gwayne, surprised at her sudden urgency, simply followed her lead. Once out of sight, she took a breath, still uneasy. “I just... don’t like being stared at. Will you be joining us for dinner with mother tonight?”

He nodded. “Of course, my niece.” His hand almost settled on her waist but paused at the last second. “See you tonight, my lady.”

At that moment, they both heard Queen Alicent’s sharp reprimand echo down the hall—Aegon must have found trouble yet again. Gwayne cast her a questioning look, and Alyssan sighed.

“Aegon must have caused another mess. I wonder which maid will be dismissed this time,” she muttered. Her brother’s behavior was infamous; he often took advantage of the castle’s maids, and it fell to their mother to smooth things over, offering coin and apologies.

Alyssan noticed her maid Lyla standing nearby, looking pale. “Lyla? What’s wrong?”

“My lady, I—” The maid stammered.

“I understand, Lyla. Say no more.” Without another word, Alyssan stormed toward Aegon’s quarters, with Gwayne close behind. Finding Aegon alone in his room, she kicked him hard, sending him sprawling to the floor. She pounced, pinning him as he yelped in protest, her grip on his chin fierce.

“I should’ve strangled you with our umbilical cord, Aegon,” she hissed. “Lyla is my maid, not some tavern girl you can take liberties with whenever you please.”

Her grip tightened on his jaw as he squirmed, her voice low and cold. “You’re married to Helaena. She’s carrying your child, for God’s sake. I can’t fathom what our mother and grandfather see in you that makes them think you should be king.”

She released him, turning to find Alicent standing in the doorway, visibly aghast. Gwayne tried to calm her, but Alyssan’s expression remained steely. “Mother, he’s all yours.”

“Alyssan...why is your brother bleeding?” Alicent demanded.

“I merely reminded him to keep away from my maid. Next time, I might cut... his dick,” she said, marching away as Gwayne hurried after her.

As they reached the corridor, Gwayne took her arm gently. “Alyssan, I—”

“I know, Uncle,” she whispered, a touch of resignation in her voice. “Send Lyla back to Oldtown. She’ll be safe there; I can’t bear the thought of her staying here.”

Gwayne nodded a quiet promise in his eyes. She glanced back at him, her face softening. “Sometimes I wish I could return to Oldtown myself. I was happier there. If it weren’t for my betrothal, I’d be gone already.”

“Betrothed? To whom?” Gwayne asked, his brow furrowing.

“To Aemond,” she replied. “My previous betrothed married another... after he got a lady with child. I suppose the match was never meant to be.”

Gwayne laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, his expression pained. Sometimes he wondered why Alyssan, more than any of her siblings, seemed burdened by the twists of fate. She hugged him quickly before running off to her room, leaving him to shake his head, unaware of the quiet gaze watching from the shadows.

Later, Alyssan found herself reading on her balcony, overlooking the training grounds where her maids giggled and gossiped about the knights below. Alyssan’s eyes, however, lingered on Gwayne, his red hair catching the sunlight as he trained with another knight. His linen shirt clung to his form, his chest visible through the open collar, where a chain dangled a ring that she knew belonged to her grandmother.

The red-haired girl bit her lip, lost in watching Gwayne from afar for too long. When he glanced her way, she quickly held up her book to hide the blush rising on her cheeks.

“Is he looking at me, Anna?” she whispered to her maid, who was about her age.

“No, my lady,” Anna replied, stifling a laugh. She had noticed Ser Gwayne walking directly toward them. “I... I’ll go prepare your bath.”

“What’s the rush, Anna—Uncle, aren’t you going back to your training?” Alyssan asked, flustered, as she saw the tall, familiar figure standing right before her. She quickly used her book as a shield, afraid that if she stared at his open collar and broad chest any longer, she might blurt out something embarrassing. Trying to feign annoyance, she turned to leave. “Stop teasing me!”

Gwayne called after her with a chuckle. “I didn’t say a word, Alyssan!”

That evening, dinner with the Targaryen-Hightower family was tense after the day's earlier events. Alyssan and Aegon exchanged glares from across the table, while Helaena sat entranced with a beetle in her hand, muttering softly to herself. Otto Hightower listened to her murmurs, while Aemond ate in silence, seemingly detached. Alicent guided King Viserys to his seat with the assistance of Maester Orwyle, whose gentle touch helped the frail king.

Gwayne joined them, taking the seat beside Aegon, which placed him directly across from Alyssan. His green eyes occasionally flicked toward his eldest niece, especially noticing the pendant resting at the hollow of her collarbone, just slightly visible.

"Gwayne, is the food not to your liking?” Alicent asked, observing the unusual look on her brother’s face.

“The food is fine, sister,” he replied, quickly taking a bite. Meanwhile, he could hear Alyssan and Aegon trading sharp remarks across the table, and he silently hoped they’d get through the meal without any real fighting. Over to his right, he heard Helaena mumble softly.

“The green knight and the red princess dance in darkness.”

Gwayne paid little mind to Helaena’s cryptic words, thinking them merely musings from his quiet niece. The dinner concluded peacefully, and everyone dispersed to their chambers. Yet, the tall green knight found himself wandering the dim halls of the castle, unable to sleep. As he passed Alyssan’s room, he paused, hearing faint sounds from within. Unsure what it might be, he decided to knock gently on her door.

"Alyssan, are you okay?"

"N—nothing, uncle."

"Don't let me—"

The young princess opens the door with a pretty face that indicates that he is trying to hide something to escape the guilt. Gwayne shook her head and walked into her room. He closed the door and looked at his niece with a look of smug.

"I heard something, Alyssan."

"I—I.....," Alyssan looked at her uncle. The girl bit her mouth and spoke out. "I'm just thinking about what it will be like and that I'm going to marry Aemond soon, I don't want the first wedding night between him and me..."

The red-haired princess remembered that when Aemond turned thirteen, Aegon took him to a brothel under the pretext of taking him to open up the experience, so her second brother ran to comfort her in the early morning. In the morning after that, Aegon and her fought, so it was not strange to worry that the wedding night would be a fourteen-year-old's nightmare.

She approached Gwayne before speaking. "You must have some experience, right, Uncle?" she asked without hesitation, as she suspected that the man in front of her, having traveled to another town, had encountered some girls.

The Green Knight was even stunned by her courage to say that. He didn't know what to do, or how to answer the question in front of him, because the person in front of him was his niece, but in another whisper, it said that the Targaryen could still marry a family member. Why can't he do that?

“I thinking about you...” Alyssan murmured to Gwayne, “I thinking about how was I feel when your fingers inside—”

Gwayne didn’t let her finish because his lust clouding his mind already, the copper-haired man kissing her deeply while carrying her to the bed without their lips separating. His hands massaged her bulging breasts under her nightdress until she softly moaned.

Alyssan's slender hands prop up his nape and move down low to feel his muscular mass. She pulled off the linen shirt he was wearing, and her slender face turned red when she saw his beautiful figure as if she was dreaming. She felt his thick fingers thrusting inside her cunt.

His thick fingers made Alyssan tremble with an increased desire that caused her to arch her waist from the bed, his other hand teasing her nipple until it was hardening. Gwayne could feel his cock became harden under his breeches as she made a wantonly sound underneath him.

He couldn’t wait anymore; he took off his breeches. His hardening cock shows up, his green eyes noticed something in his niece’s eyes and said,

“What’s it, Alyssan?”

“I—It’s too big, I think it’s not fit me...”

Her thin lips bit her lips until Gwayne couldn't control himself anymore. The young knight bowed and whispered in her ear soothingly. “Relax, Alyssan. Your nectar was enough for me to slip in.” His hands raised her nightdress until it was above her hip and spread her legs wide, he started slowly thrusting his fat cock inside her.

Alyssan tried to hold her moan down when Gwayne slowly thrust inside hers until reach the hilt, her hands gripped his back while her cunt adjust his fat cock’s size. He started moving harder when she gave a sign to go on until they squirmed with pleasure.

Gwayne raised her legs, put on his shoulders, and start moving harder, he smirked when he saw the face that she made, her wantonly moaning and her wall gripped on his cock tightly like a cocksleeve.

His hand placed on her bulging belly caused her to startle, and he kissed her teary cheek in comfort.  

“I’m so full, uncle”

“Can you stop calling me uncle?" said Gwayne, "When do you call me my name, my little princess?”

“Gwayne....Harder, please?”

When the little princess called him with his name, he started to move harder until the headboard hit the wall hard. His hard movement caused her nails to grip his back hard until made thin red lines. They have nearly reached the climax now, Gwayne whispered in her.

“Let’s cum together, Alyssan.”

The red-haired princess bit on his shoulder hard as she reached the climax and his hot seed released in her womb to the brim, the young princess felt her position change with her body on top of his with their bodies still connected.

"I haven't taught you all yet, Alyssan..." His hands were placed on her hip.

Gwayne watched his little niece who was in deep sleep as they finished many rounds until she was worn out, he didn’t forget to wipe the mess on her body off, put the nightdress, and put the blanket on before walking from her room quietly. The young Hightower hurried to his room, only to find Otto already standing inside. Before the young knight could say a word, his father threw a punch that knocked him to the ground. The father's gaze rested on his son, filled with disappointment.

“What do you do, Gwayne? You sullied your niece!! What the seven hells are you thinking!?!”

The red-haired young knight gazed silently at his father. He had never managed to win his father's approval, as he was not the favored child-like Alicent. His eyes drifted to the King's hand before he spoke.

“Then go and ask King Viserys to arrange my marriage to Princess Alyssan," Gwayne said. "Let her marry me and become the lady of Old Town.”

Otto grabbed his son's collar and said, "You should be modest. You are not worthy of her. Tomorrow, she will marry Prince Amond, not a knight like you."

Gwen packed his things and left King's Landing as Otto ordered. He didn't say goodbye to his favorite niece. He looked at the window of Alyssan's room and saw Alicent enter. Her voice told how much she was furious about her daughter sleeping with her uncle.

Alyssan was deeply asleep after many rounds that she had done with her uncle—Gwayne but disturbed by her mother. Alicent's face was twisted with anger, and her slender hands pulled off the blanket. Her dark eyes saw blood stains that indicated that her brother had taken away his niece's virginity. Along her daughter's throat, there were all kinds of bite marks.

The queen’s hand slapped her face before pointing at her, "Tomorrow you will marry Aemond, I will ask Maester to bring you a moon tea!! You've disappointed me a lot, Alyssan."

The red-haired princess gazed at her mother and said, "I'm not the Aegon you expect me to be; he's more disappointing than I am."

"?!" Alicent tried to calm down from slapping her daughter in the face again. She could only clench her fists before continuing, "Tomorrow you will marry Aemond, don't refuse, or run away, or ask me to give you up to Sir Gwayne, or I'll send you as a silent sister!!"

Alyssan bit her lip as she watched her mother walk out of the room, and three minutes later, maester brought her moon tea. He walked away as soon as he saw his lilac eyes staring at him. The slender hand grabbed the moon tea glass and paused as if there was some thought about it.

Lilac-colored eyes looked out the window before .....

TBC.

[srim01997]

The Red Princess & The Green Knight | Gwayne H. x OFC

Paring: Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Slight Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Eventual Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC)

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO)

Warning: Angst, Impiled Child Mudrer, Impiled Child Death, House of The Dragon Season 2 Ep. 1 Spoiler, Slight NSFW (For Gwayne's masturbation)

Writer’s note: yeah, Aemond. Congratulations on bringing more doom to your family. ;) and NSFW will coming soon

Previous Chapter | The Red Princess & The Green Knight| Next Chapter

Chapter 7 Eye for Eye, A Son for A son

Alyssan was unraveling—losing herself in a storm of panic as she read her mother’s message. Her brother Aemond had just killed their own nephew, Lucerys, while at Storm’s End. Lord Baratheon had allowed it, claiming the act did not take place within his castle. Yet, in Westeros, the murder of kin was a grave sin, one that risked invoking the wrath of the Seven.

“I should return to the Red Keep and deal with Aemond myself,” the red-haired princess said, pouring herself a goblet of wine. “It’s horrific that he would kill his own nephew. Doesn’t he realize the danger he’s put me and our family in? Rhaenyra’s people won’t let this go unpunished.”

“Wait until morning, niece,” Gwayne said, gently rubbing her back. “Your dragon won’t fare well in such thick storms.”

Alyssan’s lilac gaze turned to her uncle—her first lover. Gwayne resembled Aemond in some ways, but he was also different in ways that kept him ever-present in her mind. She had wanted to marry him once, but her mother had threatened to send her to a silent convent if she spoke again of wedding the Hightower knight.

“I’m… afraid,” Alyssan admitted, her voice trembling. Though she often wore a mask of strength, she couldn’t hide her fear that Aemond’s reckless actions would have lasting consequences. With Daemon’s volatile nature on their side, the Blacks would surely respond to such a blow.

Ser Gwayne moved to embrace her, resting his chin gently atop her head and planting soft, reassuring kisses. Looking down at her, he spoke in a gentle tone.

“Aemond won’t let anything happen to you or your children, will he? He has Vhagar to protect the Red Keep.” His hand stroked her back, and he thought of the last time he’d held his niece in his arms. Gwayne tried to restrain himself; after all, she had a husband now, and anything more would be improper, risking scandal and harm to her reputation. He forced himself to let her go.

“You should get some rest, so you’re ready to leave at dawn.”

Alyssan nodded. “I think you’re right. Good night, uncle.”

She turned and left his chambers, her heart heavy with the unknowns that lay ahead.

When Gwen was sure that the beautiful niece had left the room until the sound of a silent walk disappeared from the hallway, he took off her pants. He warped his hand around his hardened manhood—memories of that night years ago, the way he had marked her pale skin with kisses, drawing soft gasps from her lips as they tangled together. Though he had tried to keep his composure, the flood of images left him overwhelmed. As he finally lay back, exhaustion took hold, but his mind remained filled with lingering desires as sleep claimed him.

He awoke the next morning, feeling disoriented and frustrated when a young servant informed him that Alyssan had already left at dawn, flying back to the Red Keep. A sense of duty quickly overtook Gwayne’s frustration; he had orders from Lord Ormund to lead some troops ahead, with Daeron and the other forces following per King Aegon’s command. Without hesitation, Gwayne readied himself, eager to fulfill his orders and hoping he might see his niece again on the battlefield—or perhaps afterward, in a quieter moment.

"Where is Prince Aemond?!" Princess Alyssan stormed toward the small council chamber, fury simmering beneath her calm exterior. She was halted at the entrance by guards who informed her she would have to wait outside until the council meeting concluded; no one was permitted to enter the small council without the king's explicit permission.

When the meeting finally adjourned, nobles and lords filed out, leaving Aemond as he strode over to her, speaking before she could even voice her anger. "It was an accident. Vhagar was provoked; she became agitated after the attack—"

"He was just a child!" Alyssan retorted. "Anyone would panic if a massive dragon chased them through a storm!" She ran a hand over her face, trying to steady herself. "I only hope the gods are merciful. The Blacks won’t let this go unpunished. I pray it won’t demand yet another life as reparation for one already lost."

"Has Oldtown responded? When will our uncle send reinforcements?" Aemond interrupted, shifting the conversation with an intense stare from his good eye.

"Lord Ormund is sending Ser Gwayne and a small force ahead, with Daeron and Tessarion following once they’re prepared," she replied before turning to leave. Yet Aemond caught her wrist, halting her. "Aemond… I’m going to check on our children."

"You haven’t spread your legs for any knight, have you?" Aemond’s words dripped with suspicion, though he never named names. Alyssan knew who he meant—Gwayne, their uncle, and the only man she'd been close to before their marriage. "You belong to me, Alyssan."

She lifted her chin defiantly. "You needn’t worry. I have been faithful, unlike you, my husband." Her lilac gaze held his, sharp and challenging. "What about you, then? Have you lain with a lord’s daughter? Or are you sneaking back to your favorite whore?"

Aemond’s jaw clenched as he grabbed her chin firmly. "Your duty is to bear my children. You shouldn’t—"

"Shouldn’t what? And tell me, brother—did you keep that letter I meant to send to our uncle?" She was ready to confront him further, but they were interrupted by little Jaehaerys, who ran over to embrace her leg, looking up at her with innocent excitement. "Aunt Lissy! I want to play with Arron and Vaegon!"

Aemond released her, shooting a cold glance before striding off without another word. Alyssan shook her head, picking up Jaehaerys and carrying him toward her children, where she found Helaena watching over Jaehaera, who was busy playing with Arron and Vaegon.

“I found Jaehaerys along the way, Helaena,” Alyssan said, setting him down beside the others and seating herself next to her sister. Helaena, the Targaryen queen, turned her pale gaze toward her.

"I'm afraid of the rats," Helaena murmured in her distant, anxious tone, her fingers absently continuing her embroidery. "Two gone… and one more to come."

Alyssan placed a comforting hand on her sister's back. "Aegon mentioned catching the rats tonight; don’t worry, they’ll be gone soon. By the way, what are you embroidering? It’s beautiful."

Helaena gave a slight nod, engrossed in her stitching, and Alyssan shifted her attention to the children. Her lilac eyes lingered on Arron and Vaegon, watching them play with a soft expression. Her hope was that her youngest son would grow up with a gentler spirit than Aemond. Smiling, she handed a finely carved wooden toy to her son, who eagerly grabbed it, giggling with delight.

It was a scene she wished could last forever—a fleeting moment of peace in the shadow of impending war. Both Alyssan and Helaena knew their children would soon be swept into the turmoil around them. For now, though, they were simply children, still untouched by the world’s darkness, and the sisters hoped to preserve that innocence for as long as possible.

The halls of the Red Keep were dark, lit only by the occasional flicker of torchlight. The evening rain had cast a gloom over King’s Landing, deepening the oppressive stillness, and Alyssan despised the rainy season in the capital. Despite her children around her, she felt a hollow solitude within the castle’s towering walls. She didn’t know where Aemond was—likely strategizing with Ser Criston or perhaps haunting the same brothel he frequented whenever they quarreled.

The red-haired princess sat and played with her children before tucking them into bed. After, Anna, her maid, brought in a cup of warm tea, leaving quietly once Alyssan settled down to sip it. Cloaked in her midnight blue nightgown, she watched her children as she savored the warmth until the sound of approaching footsteps broke the quiet.

"Anna, I told you to take a rest—" Her words halted as a blade brushed against her neck, its cold steel pressing into her skin. A hoarse, unfamiliar voice whispered behind her. Two figures introduced themselves, calling themselves Blood and Cheese.

"Greetings, Princess," Cheese rasped. "We’ve brought a message from Prince Daemon. Eye for an eye, son for a son. Keep silent, or your children will witness their mother’s throat slit."

"Please… don’t hurt them," Alyssan stammered, feeling the knife press harder against her throat. The children, startled, huddled together in the far corner, eyes wide with terror. "Take my life instead; don’t harm them. If you want valuables, take anything you wish, just please—don’t hurt them!" She felt the blade bite into her pale skin, a thin line of pain tracing her neck.

"Not your life, Princess," Cheese sneered. "Choose, or we’ll choose for you." Before Alyssan could respond, Blood interjected, smirking darkly.

"This little one looks like your husband, doesn't he?" He looked at the pale-haired boy who was hugging his brother tightly. They hugged each other while their mother was strangled by the neck. The big man snatched the pale-headed boy out of the arms of another child before flicking the knife to cut off his head in front of the eyes of the little boy's mother and brother. The young princess screamed loudly when she saw the scene in front of her as if she couldn't do anything because of the knife on her throat.

"Vaegon!!" Alyssan's lilac eyes filled with tears as she watched her son's headless body fall to the ground. His head was put away, a cloth bag with blood dripping on it. The red-haired princess was released to rush to the body of the dead child. Aaron hugged his mother tightly before running out.

A small red-haired child ran headlong into someone, nearly stumbling. He looked up, eyes filled with fear, and recognized the glint of armor in the torchlight as a figure he could trust. In a trembling voice, he pleaded, "Help... help my mother." His small hand clutched the man's wrist, imploring him to follow. The tall knight did not hesitate, racing behind the child back to the chamber.

As they reached the doorway, the knight’s heart dropped at the scene within. Princess Alyssan, her auburn hair disheveled and face streaked with tears, clung to the lifeless body of her youngest son. Her nightgown was stained with his blood, her neck grazed with the mark of a blade. She looked up, eyes hollow and filled with grief, and whispered shakily,

“Uncle?”

“Alyssan,”

Gwayne breathed, his voice strained. He took in the blood pooling across the floor, the shock etched onto her face, and the terror still in the wide eyes of the red-haired boy who stood beside him.

Rage surged through him, his fists clenching. The guards who should have been posted at her door were nowhere in sight. He shouted for them, his voice ringing through the hall, furious at their absence and at the unspeakable act that had been allowed to unfold here.

But this terrible tragedy was not confined to Alyssan alone. The same nightmare had descended upon Queen Helaena elsewhere in the Red Keep.

That night, chaos swept through the castle as servants were dragged out for questioning and soldiers scoured every corner in search of the merciless assassins. King Aegon roared in fury, smashing anything within reach upon hearing the news of young Jaehaerys's death. An emergency Small Council meeting was called, but only a few could gather quickly enough.

“Alyssan—” Alicent gasped when her daughter stormed into the council chamber, dressed in her bloodstained nightclothes, with Gwayne following behind. “You have no right to—”

“My son is dead, too! He was only a child!” Alyssan cried out, her voice shaking with grief and fury. “The gods curse us because my husband acts without thought! And now the children are dying for it. Tell me, where was Aemond when my son, my nephew, lay helpless? And where were your soldiers when they were murdered?”

Ser Otto Hightower turned to Gwayne. “Ser Gwayne, take the princess away to calm herself.”

Gwayne lifted Alyssan onto his shoulder as she struggled, demanding justice for her son. Deeply troubled, he couldn’t shake the thought that if he’d arrived sooner, her child might still be alive. He carried her through the dim halls to her chamber, where her eldest son still sat, red-haired and trembling. Gently, Gwayne set her down.

“You should wash and rest. I’ll stay with him,” he murmured quietly.

“He’s called Arron, if you were wondering,” Alyssan whispered. She moved behind a wooden screen where her maids had prepared a bath. As she scrubbed her skin, sobs escaped her lips, haunted by the memory of little Vaegon’s final moments. She could hear Arron’s soft laughter as he played with Gwayne, oblivious to the truth—that this knight was his true father.

When she emerged, clean but visibly worn, Alyssan pulled Arron into her arms, hugging him tightly as she murmured apologies over and over. He clung to her, resting his small head on her shoulder, seeking comfort.

“I’ll stand guard tonight,” Gwayne said quietly, turning to leave.

Alyssan shook her head. “You should rest; you’ve just arrived!”

Gwayne gave a slight shake of his head. “I’ve had my rest, Princess. Tonight, I’ll stand guard better than those boys in white cloaks.” He closed the door gently, his shadow stretching across the hallway as he began his watch.

Alyssan carried Arron to bed, determined to keep him close, afraid to lose yet another son. She kept glancing at the door, reassured each time she saw the emerald cloak passing in the torchlight. Only when her eyes grew heavy did she finally drift off, confident that her child was safe at least for tonight.

TBC.

[srim01997]

The Red Princess & The Green Knight | Gwayne H. x OC

Paring: Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Slight Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Eventual Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC)

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO)

Warning: Implied non-con, Character Death, House of The Dragon Season 1 Ep.9-10 spoiler

Writer’s note: In the chapter, I aged up the green team's children for their age in four years later in the event of Vaemond's death;

- Alyssan and Aegon 20-21 y/o

- Helaena 19 y/o

- Aemond 18 y/o

- Daeron 17 y/o

Previous Chapter | The Red Princess & The Green Knight| Next Chapter

Chapter 6 The Green and the Death

 Alyssan attended a family dinner at the behest of her ailing father. Despite the palpable tension, her half-sister's family's presence was expected. Alyssan bore no ill will towards Rhaenyra; her resentment stemmed from their father's preferential treatment of Rhaenyra, the progeny of his first love, which left his other children feeling overlooked.

The red-haired princess positioned herself across from Aemond, the one-eyed prince, who was already next to Aegon. Aemond greeted her with a kiss on the hand, his attention, however, seemed fixated on Lucerys, his eye gleaming enigmatically.

Shortly thereafter, Viserys was brought into the hall by a knight in white. His deteriorating health was evident. He settled between Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent, surveying the table and urging his offspring to bury their animosity. Alyssan, with her brothers, managed a strained smile towards the children of her half-sister, who felt like distant kin.

The meal unfolded with awkward cordiality and contrived mirth. Jace's invitation to Helaena for a dance drew scowls from Aegon and Aemond. Not long after, Viserys had to be taken away due to his declining health, foreshadowing the fragile peace's collapse. Shortly, a roast pig was served before Aemond, who noticed Lucerys's suppressed laughter.

Aemond slammed his hand on the table and raised his goblet, his eye focusing sharply on Jace and Lucerys. Alyssan sent him a warning glare, but he went on. “Final tribute to the health of my nephews—Jace, Luke, and Joffrey,” He said, emphasizing each word. “Each of them handsome, wise, and... strong.” His tone was laced with irony, drawing scowls from Jace and Luke.

Alicent leaned over, whispering a harsh warning. “Aemond, enough.”

“Come!” he continued, raising his glass again. “Let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.”

Jace's expression darkened as he stepped forward. “I dare you to say that again.”

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment.” Aemond replied, towering over him. “Do you not think yourself strong—” But before he could finish, Jace’s fist connected with his face, sending him stumbling back. Luke jumped in to help his brother, only to have Aegon slam his head against the table. White-cloaked guards rushed in to separate the brawling youths as Alicent scolded Aemond.

“Why would you say such things before these people?”

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother.” He replied with a smirk. “Though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.” The two boys looked ready to lunge at him again, but Daemon stepped in to keep the peace. Rhaenyra ordered her sons off to bed, and Aemond relented, retreating under Daemon’s steely gaze.

Alyssan hurried after him, her voice tight with frustration. “You ought to know better than to speak like that,” she said, grabbing his arm. “Aemond, stop and listen to me—”

“Are you siding with them?” He gripped her wrist firmly, anger flashing in his eye. “I’m your husband, Alyssan. You should be on my side—not theirs!”

“I just wanted us to avoid any more conflict for one night, not to stir up more!” she countered, digging her nails into his hand until he released her. “And… let me go. I’m going to see our children.”

Aemond stepped back, his expression unyielding. “I’ll be at the Silk Street tonight. Don’t come looking for me.”

“Not that I’d have to guess where you’re going,” she muttered as she left, heading to her chambers where her children waited, playing with their nurse. Arron ran to her, hugging her legs. She picked him up, holding him close, and a pang of sadness filled her chest. The older he got, the more he reminded her of someone—the man who was truly his father.

“I wish you could meet your real father someday,” she whispered, tracing his little forehead with her finger. “Your true father.” She gave him a wistful smile, her thoughts drifting to Ser Gwayne. But as she recalled the many letters she’d sent without a single reply, she sighed. She didn’t dare ask her mother or Otto about his whereabouts—they were still bitter, she was sure, over his affair with her.

Exhausted, Alyssan finally fell asleep, only to be woken by her maid, Anna. “What is it, Anna?”

“King Viserys has passed, my princess. Your mother requests that you prepare for the crowning of the new king…”

Alyssan rolled her eyes, understanding that her grandfather and mother were eager to place Aegon on the throne now that Viserys was gone. Rising from her bed, she bathed and dressed in an emerald gown, as her mother preferred. The red-haired princess led little Arron by the hand and carried Vaegon on her other arm, heading toward Alicent and Helaena. She crossed paths with Aemond and Ser Criston along the way.

“Where are you off to?” she asked.

“Looking for Aegon,” He replied curtly. “He’s missing from his chambers. Mother wants him brought back.”

“Well, of course… my twin brother is a drunken mess, but he’s clever enough to escape when he feels like it, isn’t he?” Alyssan chuckled, exchanging a knowing look with Aemond. “Sometimes I wonder if our mother’s lost her mind, insisting that our father named Aegon king. He had all the time in the world to make that clear, but he didn’t. To him, Rhaenyra was always the heir… but, no matter. Mother would still argue that Aegon deserves the throne. Hopefully, it doesn’t scorch his behind too badly.”

Alyssan took her children to play with her niece and nephew, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, and sat beside Helaena and Alicent. Helaena muttered something cryptic to her.

“Beware the beast beneath the boards,” she whispered.

When Aemond returned with Aegon, he ushered him to get ready while the crowds were guided into the Dragonpit for the coronation. Alyssan entered, dismissing the attendants with a wave as she neared Aegon. She draped the heavy cloak over his shoulders and fastened it around his neck, pulling it snug.

"Pay attention, Aegon. You ought to be thankful—our mother has sacrificed everything for you, whereas Aemond and I have had to fight to earn our place." As she secured the cloak tighter, she continued, "Here's a piece of straightforward advice: stay put and avoid rash actions. Let Otto and Aemond manage the circumstances. Comprehend?"

Her twin nodded hastily, and Alyssan released him, adjusting the cloak as their mother entered. She smiled at Alicent before leaving for the Dragonpit with the others. Once seated beside Helaena in the carriage, her sister took her hand and murmured something else.

“Beware the rats,” Helaena whispered, gripping her hand.

Alyssan paid little mind to her sister’s words, chalking them up to her usual nervous mutterings. When they arrived, they waited as the High Septon and the other priests completed the preparations. At last, Aegon entered.

Ser Criston placed Aegon the Conqueror’s crown upon his twin’s head and declared him the true heir to the Iron Throne, now King Aegon II. Alyssan noticed the look in Aemond’s eye as he watched Aegon. The crowd’s cheers were subdued, though they were cut short as something erupted from beneath the floor. A crimson dragon burst through, with Rhaenys atop it, astride Meleys. Meleys approached them, and Alicent instinctively shielded Aegon, her eyes closed as though accepting Rhaenys’ next move—but Rhaenys held back.

Rhaenys directed her dragon to fly out of the Dragonpit, scattering the panicked crowd. Alyssan murmured to herself,

“It’s a dark omen. If Aegon stays on the throne, more blood will spill.”

Otto had tasked Aemond with a mission to Storm’s End, where he was to deliver a message to the Baratheon lord. Meanwhile, Alyssan was dispatched to Oldtown to communicate with the Hightowers. Before her departure, the red-haired princess bid farewell to her two children. As she made her way to the Dragonpit, she spotted Aemond standing nearby and walked over to him.

“What is it, Aemond?”

“Grandfather wants me to take another wife,” Aemond replied with a stoic expression, “to solidify our alliance.”

Though irritated, Alyssan kept her face neutral. “Then do as you see fit. You’re doing this out of duty, so why consult me? If possible, choose someone you favor.”

She looked up as her dragon emerged from the pit, pressing her forehead against its warm neck before mounting. With a command, they took flight toward Oldtown, where House Hightower was now led by Lord Ormund, the eldest son of Hobert.

Lord Ormund greeted Alyssan warmly, fully aware of the presence of the king’s sister. She dismounted, handing him the letter. After reading it, Ormund bowed respectfully.

“House Hightower stands ready to serve the king, Princess. Our forces will march to King’s Landing soon.”

Alyssan nodded, though a different figure lingered in her thoughts. She forced a smile for her uncle. “Yes, it’s good. I’ve longed to see my younger brother.”

Lord Ormund instructed a servant to guide her to the training yard. Her lilac eyes quickly spotted two figures sparring, surrounded by lords and ladies watching with approval. She recognized one of the men: Gwayne Hightower. The younger fighter with pale blond hair had to be Daeron.

“Your swordplay is as fine as your flute-playing, nephew,” Gwayne jested with a smile, only to stop short when he noticed Alyssan. He hadn’t seen her in years, and he had to admit, his niece had grown into a strikingly beautiful woman.

“Daeron.”

“Sister.”

The two exchanged shy glances, each unsure after so long apart. Alyssan broke the silence. “Our father has passed. Aegon has taken the throne, but Otto has sent me here to inform our uncle that the Greens need his support.”

The young prince nodded. “And how is everyone else?”

“We’re well.” The red-haired princess reached up to touch her neck—a nervous habit. “You’ve grown much, Daeron.” She glanced at the sky, where clouds darkened ominously.

“Storms approaching, is it?”

“I’ll have them prepare a room for you,” Gwayne offered, noticing a faint red mark on her neck that looked suspiciously like a handprint but refrained from asking about it, respecting her as a married woman.

"See you at dinner, sister," Daeron called, flashing a charming smile as he departed to chat with some of the young ladies in the courtyard.

Alyssan turned to Gwayne, and together they found a more private corner. “He seems to bite popular with the ladies.”

“He’s gentle and kind,” Gwayne replied, glancing around before lightly kissing her hand. “And you, you’ve grown into a beautiful woman. I hear you and Aemond have two children now?”

The Targaryen princess fell silent at the mention of her children. How could she tell him that one of those two was his child, not Aemond’s? Her son Arron often asked why he bore no resemblance to Aemond, but she hadn’t the heart to explain that his true father was Gwayne Hightower.

“And Aemond—has he been good to you?” Gwayne asked quietly. “I’ve noticed…”

“He’s good and bad, depending on his mood,” she replied. “He loves me in his way, Uncle, though there was once another I wished to marry. Mother rejected it, of course. And you? Are you wed?”

“Who would marry a notorious charmer like me?” Gwayne said with a smile, though in truth, he’d never wanted anyone but Alyssan as his wife—the mother of his child. Had it not been for her marriage to his nephew, he’d have kept her here forever.

“So, you don’t have any…”

“I may be charming, but I don’t spread bastard across Oldtown, dear niece,” he said, chuckling. “I have my honor, after all. My father would have me beheaded for that.”

Alyssan laughed, though her tone became serious. “You never responded to my letters. I sent dozens.”

“Letters? What letters?” Gwayne frowned. “I’ve never received any.”

“What?” Alyssan’s brows knitted together. “You never received them?”

“I swear it. No raven has ever arrived for me, aside from those sent by your mother, Alicent.”

Before she could question further, a young servant hurried over with an urgent message. “A letter for Princess Alyssan—from the queen.” He handed her the scroll and withdrew.

Her lilac eyes scanned the message, and her face paled as it slipped from her hands. “Aemond… what have you done? May the gods have mercy on me and my family.”

Gwayne picked up the letter, reading over her shoulder to understand her distress.

On that day, the Seven Kingdoms learned that Prince Aemond One-Eye had slain Prince Lucerys in a fit of reckless fury—or for reasons known only to Aemond himself.

TBC.

[srim01997]

The Red Princess & The Green Knight | Gwayne H. X OFC

Paring: Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Slight Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Eventual Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC)

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO)

Warning: Slight Angst, Implied Childbirth, Implied non-con, Character Death, House of The Dragon Season 1 Ep.8 spoiler

Writer’s note: In the chapter, I aged up the green team's children for their age in four years later in the event of Vaemond's death;

- Alyssan and Aegon 20-21 y/o

- Helaena 19 y/o

- Aemond 18 y/o

- Daeron 17 y/o

Previous Chapter | The Red Princess & The Green Knight| Next Chapter

Chapter 5 The Wedding

The following day, all of King’s Landing was abuzz with the sudden announcement that Princess Alyssan Targaryen would soon be wed to her younger brother, Aemond. The hurried nature of the arrangement sparked countless rumors, and no one quite understood why Queen Alicent was in such a rush. Some speculated it was due to King Viserys’s failing health—perhaps Alicent wanted him to see his daughter wed before his condition worsened. Others whispered a darker tale, suggesting that the Queen’s brother, Ser Gwayne, had compromised Alyssan’s virtue. Fueling the scandalous rumors was the noticeable absence of Ser Gwayne himself, who had not appeared in the training yard that morning as he usually did, leaving many to wonder what had truly happened behind the castle walls.

Alyssan paced around her chamber, dressed in a traditional red-and-black wedding gown. She glanced toward the door when Anna, her maid, spoke up.

"Prince Aemond wishes to see you," Anna announced, then quietly exited to give her lady and the young prince some privacy as Aemond entered.

Alyssan turned to him. "Finally, you came, Aemond—"

"Aegon insisted on lecturing me on... what to do on the wedding night,” Aemond replied, cheeks tinged with faint embarrassment. “He went on about how I should ensure you… bear an heir.” His voice trailed off, his face coloring more as he added, “But… I told him I’d handle things my own way.”

Alyssan gave a small smile as she fastened her jewelry. That ruled out Aegon as a suspect in overhearing what had transpired between her and Gwayne the previous night; her twin had probably been too drunk to remember much beyond the servant girl he’d dragged to his bed.

"Well, if there's one thing Aegon good at bedding, it's those matters,” she said lightly, her violet eyes meeting Aemond’s. “There’s no need to rush anything on the first night, Aemond. Just follow the moment."

Extending a hand toward him, her voice grew firm. “This marriage is a formality, is it not? You’re looking for the blood of the dragon in my womb.” Her words, tinged with resolve, met the eyes of the young prince standing before her. In her view, this marriage was meant to ensure she wouldn’t bring disgrace upon her house, and that Otto wouldn’t have to worry about Gwayne involving himself further in her life.

"And if I hope for more than duty, my sister?” Aemond asked, his single lilac eye searching her face, as if his heart longed for something deeper than mere duty.

“You’ll only bring pain upon yourself.” Her tone was steady as she turned back to adjust her reflection in the mirror, watching him leave with a quiet sigh. She’d held her tears back since her maid had come to help her prepare.

As soon as she was alone, a lone tear finally slipped down her cheek. "You’re cruel, Ser Gwayne… leaving without even a goodbye."

The wedding of Alyssan and Aemond took place in the grand Sept, overseen by the High Septon himself. In her red and black gown, Alyssan felt a rush of nervousness under the weight of countless eyes upon her and her younger brother. Feeling her tense, Aemond’s small hand reached out, steadying hers, a subtle gesture that helped her remain calm.

"The love of the Seven is sacred and eternal, the source of life and unity. Here, we gather to bless and bind two souls as one,” the High Septon declared, casting a solemn gaze over the two. "Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, heed their vows. ‘I am yours, and you are mine, no matter what may come.’”

Together, Alyssan and Aemond echoed, “I am yours, and you are mine.”

The High Septon continued, tying a ribbon around their wrists. "Before gods and men, I pronounce Aemond of Targaryen and Alyssan of Targaryen as husband and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, from now until the end."

With the ceremony complete, Alyssan leaned forward to brush a kiss upon Aemond’s cheek, a customary gesture; for them, it felt appropriate to keep the formality subtle rather than share a kiss on the lips before their audience.

The reception was a smaller gathering, but it ran late into the night, with guests celebrating for hours. Aegon, as expected, drank excessively, making crude comments to the serving girls, while Helaena sat beside Alicent, and Otto discussed matters with other noblemen. Alyssan, meanwhile, kept a wary eye on Larys as he cast unsettling glances toward her mother.

Aemond leaned close to her, tugging at her sleeve. "Sister… tonight… we’re expected to… do that, aren’t we?” he whispered, his single eye looking up at her uncertainly. Tradition dictated that the groom’s kin would undress the bride and the bride’s kin the groom, all while their relatives made crude jokes as they escorted them to their chambers. Aemond wasn’t quite ready, though he sensed his sister had some sort of plan for the night.

When they have finally left alone in their room, stripped down to modest underclothes after the night’s ceremony, Alyssan nodded for Aemond to lie on the bed. She walked to the door, stuffing a cloth into the keyhole, then went to the bedpost and began shaking it rhythmically. Aemond watched in bafflement.

“Sister, what are you—”

“Just lie there, Aemond,” she instructed, pausing to listen until the sounds outside faded. Then she kicked the bedpost a little harder to keep up the ruse. “In the morning, I’ll take care of everything.”

The next morning, Alyssan and Aemond entered the dining hall, looking composed and unruffled, like any newlywed couple would. Alyssan took her seat beside her husband, quietly beginning her meal, but the peace was short-lived when Aegon, still bleary-eyed from the last night’s wine, was hauled to the table by the royal guards.

“Well, seems like your wedding night went… rather well,” Aegon slurred, grinning at Alyssan. “How’s the little prince’s… performance?”

“At least he managed to do so sober, unlike you, Aegon,” Alyssan replied, not missing a beat as she picked at her breakfast. “And yes, he did just fine—he even made the bed shake. Unlike you, who requires a fair amount of wine to manage anything, brother.”

Otto suppressed a chuckle at her response, while Aegon’s pride visibly stung, though he managed to mask it. Helaena kept her gaze lowered,

“And close your mouth, I’m far too hungry to be sparring with you this morning,” Alyssan muttered, resuming her meal. “And try not to show up to lessons with the Maester hungover next time. You are, after all, Mother and Grandfather’s great hope.”

“Alyssan—” Aegon began, only to be cut off by Alicent’s exasperated voice.

“Aegon, sit down,” she said, eyeing her children with quiet frustration, wondering why none of them ever seemed to meet her expectations. Turning to Alyssan, she spoke with a firm but restrained tone. “I trust we’ll hear some good news soon.”

Alyssan met her mother’s gaze, nodding with a calm smile. “Of course, Mother.”

Nine months later

“It’s a boy, Princess,” the Maester announced to Alyssan, who lay back exhausted from hours of labor. Relief washed over her as she took the tiny child in her arms, cradling him tenderly. The baby was safe and healthy, with a thick tuft of auburn hair and features unmistakably Hightower—though his eyes, a lilac shade, marked him as a true Targaryen.

“Arron—Arron Targaryen,” Alyssan murmured, gazing at him with a soft smile.

The door to her chamber opened, revealing Alicent and Aemond. The Queen Mother took a cautious step forward, her breath held in relief that both Alyssan and the child were well. But her gaze lingered on the baby, noting his auburn hair and familiar nose.

Alicent quickly dismissed her concerns. The Maester had assured her that Alyssan had taken moon tea after the wedding night, and the ceremony itself had proven the union had been consummated. There was no way, Alicent reminded herself, that the child in Alyssan’s arms could be anyone else’s but Aemond’s. His lilac eyes alone confirmed his Targaryen heritage.

“I’ll let you rest,” Alicent said softly, excusing herself from the room. Aemond took a seat beside his sister on the bed, his gaze flicking between Alyssan and the child with mild confusion.

“His hair is… like yours, Sister,” Aemond murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to the baby’s forehead. “What did you name him?”

“Arron… Arron Targaryen,” Alyssan replied with a soft smile, kissing the baby’s forehead in turn. “Perhaps next time, we’ll have a silver-haired babe,” she joked, her gaze lingering on the child with a longing she couldn’t suppress—a part of her wished the baby’s father were here.

“That will be in a couple of years,” Aemond replied. “By then, I’ll be old enough to be a proper father.”

“Indeed… And I won’t have to tell you how to go about it.”

Rumors soon spread throughout the court: Alyssan had chosen to raise her child without a wet nurse, preferring to keep the infant close, a cradle placed in her own room so she could tend to him day and night. Despite the sleepless nights filled with her child’s cries, she persisted. Still, whispers arose within the castle that Arron might not be Aemond’s child, given his striking auburn hair—a trait too prominent to ignore but all gossip ceased when Arron’s dragon egg hatched, and a small dragon perched upon the baby’s cradle, a sign of his undeniable Targaryen blood.

Both Alicent and Otto felt a sense of relief. They had feared Alyssan’s child might spark scandal like Princess Rhaenyra’s sons, who bore the dark hair and features of Ser Harwin Strong, their true father in the eyes of the court. Unlike her and Laenor’s pale features, her children’s dark hair had once fueled whispers until Viserys’s order silenced them.

For now, the Hightowers felt secure, confident that the next child Alyssan bore as true Targaryen to their cause. With the man who had threatened that loyalty now sent back to Oldtown and Arron’s dragon egg successfully hatched, there was no doubt: Arron Targaryen carried no trace of Gwayne Hightower.

Otto, ever ambitious, waited with bated breath for Viserys’s inevitable passing. When that day came, he and the Greens would be ready to crown Aegon king and solidify their plans.

Four years later...

Vaemond Velaryon traveled to the Red Keep to petition for the right to rule Driftmark as Lord Corlys' younger brother. Unsurprisingly, the mother of the Green faction’s children would seize the opportunity to befriend him, hoping to bring the Velaryon fleet to her side. Yet, unexpectedly, Rhaenyra arrived to stake her claim on behalf of her second son.

Alyssan cradled her infant son, Vaegon Targaryen, born of her marriage to Aemond, as they watched Aemond spar with Ser Criston. Little Arron clung to her skirts. The one-eyed prince held a wooden shield, absorbing blows from a morning star until it splintered. Yet, Aemond turned the tables, defeating his sword instructor.

“Well done, Your Highness,” Criston praised him. “Soon, you’ll be able to win any tourney.”

“I don’t have a fuck about tourneys,” Aemond muttered, pointing his sword at Jacaerys and Lucerys. “Here to train, nephews?”

Before they could respond, the doors swung open, and Vaemond Velaryon entered. The younger brother of the Sea Snake cast a scornful look at the two boys. Aemond shifted his attention to Alicent, moving to take his youngest son from her arms, with Arron looking up in quiet admiration.

"Our half-sister dared to appear here to petition," said the red-haired princess. "Everyone should believe Vaemond’s claim, right since our nephews are so... dark-haired.”

Aemond smirked, handing Vaegon back to Alyssan before kneeling to scoop up Arron. The little boy giggled, while the one-eyed prince looked at his sister-wife and whispered in her ear words that only they could hear, hinting at what he intended once the children went to sleep.

Alyssan couldn’t deny her husband’s desires, as refusal often led to forced submission—or threats that left her with no choice. Vaegon had been born after one of these instances when Aemond was only sixteen. Their intimacy was rarely tender, governed entirely by his mood.

Sometimes, Aemond sought comfort from Madam Sylvie—the courtesan rumored to be his first lover at thirteen. Alyssan knew she could never fully satisfy him; there was always something beyond her grasp, an unspoken line that lay between them.

The next morning, Alyssan dressed quickly after her maids informed her that Vaemond Velaryon would be presenting his petition. In the throne room, Otto took charge of all matters, as King Viserys was gravely ill.

"Though the council hopes Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his injuries," Otto announced, "we are gathered here for the somber purpose of determining Driftmark's succession. As Hand of the King, I shall speak for him in this matter and all others." He took his seat upon the Iron Throne and signaled for Vaemond to approach.

“Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon,” Otto announced, as Vaemond stood confidently before the throne, recounting his family’s legacy and asserting his claim over the throne of Driftmark over the so-called bastards of the would-be queen. Rhaenyra began to interject, but Alicent silenced her, urging her to wait her turn. The Greens exchanged knowing smiles, some even chuckling at Rhaenyra’s and her sons’ dismay. Otto's expression made it clear they held the upper hand. But just as Rhaenyra was about to speak, the doors creaked open.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!" Sir Harrold announced as the frail king, leaning heavily on a cane, entered the room to the astonishment of everyone present. Daemon moved to help his elder brother to the throne, placing the crown upon his head before stepping back.

"I must admit, I am... perplexed," Viserys rasped, his voice weary. "I fail to understand why this matter must be debated—when the decision was made long ago. The only person who can speak to Lord Corlys' wishes is Princess Rhaenys."

"Of course, Your Grace," Princess Rhaenys said, stepping forward. "My husband intended to pass Driftmark to Ser Leanor to his son, Lucerys Velaryon. He has not changed his mind, and I support his choice."

"Indeed," Rhaenys affirmed. "Princess Rhaenyra has recently expressed her desire to have her sons, Jace and Luke, wed Lord Corlys' granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. I wholeheartedly endorse this union."

"Then it is settled," he concluded. "I hereby reaffirm that Lucerys Velaryon shall be the heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the Lord of the Tides.”

Vaemond erupted in rage, openly insulting Rhaenyra and her children before everyone. In a swift, ruthless act, Daemon struck him down, beheading the Sea Snake's brother. While the room recoiled in shock, Aemond smiled.

"Aemond, why are you smiling? A man has died before us," Alyssan murmured after they exited the throne room.

“I was only thinking, dear Alicent,” Aemond replied, “how I’d like to test myself against my uncle someday. He’s a challenge I’m eager to overcome.”

The one-eyed prince lifted her chin. “And now, I can hardly wait to have dinner with my family.”

TBC.

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[srim01997]

The Red Princess & The Green Knight | Gwayne H. X OFC

Paring: Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Slight Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Eventual Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC)

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO)

Warning: NSFW, Underage sex, Consensual Under Sex, PIV (I age up some character for this chapter; Alyssan and Aegon 16-17 y/o, Helaena 15 y/o, Aemond 14 y/o, Daeron 13 y/o)

Writer’s note: Apologies for my English, as it is my second language. As I translate work from Thai to English, updates may be gradual. I'm Team Black but this knight stole my heart. ;)

Previous Chapter | The Red Princess & The Green Knight| Next Chapter

Chapter 4 The Tainted

"Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown,"

The guard announced, and sixteen-year-old Alyssan descended the steps swiftly. Yet she stopped short upon seeing her mother and grandfather already engaged in conversation with the red-haired knight. Steadying herself as a princess of House Targaryen should, Alyssan composed her stride, moving gracefully toward her favorite uncle, now standing before her. The green and gold embroidery of her High Tower dress accentuated her maturing form under the gown.

Gwayne offered her a small, warm smile. “My little princess has grown,” he said, taking her hand to kiss it before they walked together.

“Forgive me for not replying to your letters, Alyssan. I’ve been... rather busy.”

“You’re a knight, Uncle, I understand.” She glanced at him, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “And Daeron...how fares he?”

“He’s well and quite popular with the ladies,” Gwayne replied, earning a faint, approving smile from her. She leaned in closer, tilting her head playfully.

“The earrings you gave me, I wore them,” she murmured, showing off the delicate silver piece. Gwayne smiled, admiring how they suited her.

“Beautiful, indeed...though your neck is rather bare, don’t you think?”

“The maids tried to dress me up, but the chains were far too thick,” Alyssan replied with a laugh. “So, I left them off.”

In response, Gwayne opened a small box, revealing a fine gold necklace adorned with a deep green gemstone. He stepped behind her, gently fastening it around her neck. His fingers brushed her skin, causing her to start slightly at the unfamiliar sensation. She turned to look at him, her gaze shifting between him and the beautiful necklace he had gifted.

“Thank you, Uncle. It’s lovely.”

Alyssan glanced toward the balcony, catching sight of Larys Strong watching her with a penetrating gaze that sent a chill down her spine. Larys had always unsettled her with his strange behavior around her mother and his unnerving stares.

“Uncle Gwayne...let’s leave here, please,” she whispered, grasping his hand as they hurried away. Gwayne, surprised at her sudden urgency, simply followed her lead. Once out of sight, she took a breath, still uneasy. “I just... don’t like being stared at. Will you be joining us for dinner with mother tonight?”

He nodded. “Of course, my niece.” His hand almost settled on her waist but paused at the last second. “See you tonight, my lady.”

At that moment, they both heard Queen Alicent’s sharp reprimand echo down the hall—Aegon must have found trouble yet again. Gwayne cast her a questioning look, and Alyssan sighed.

“Aegon must have caused another mess. I wonder which maid will be dismissed this time,” she muttered. Her brother’s behavior was infamous; he often took advantage of the castle’s maids, and it fell to their mother to smooth things over, offering coin and apologies.

Alyssan noticed her maid Lyla standing nearby, looking pale. “Lyla? What’s wrong?”

“My lady, I—” The maid stammered.

“I understand, Lyla. Say no more.” Without another word, Alyssan stormed toward Aegon’s quarters, with Gwayne close behind. Finding Aegon alone in his room, she kicked him hard, sending him sprawling to the floor. She pounced, pinning him as he yelped in protest, her grip on his chin fierce.

“I should’ve strangled you with our umbilical cord, Aegon,” she hissed. “Lyla is my maid, not some tavern girl you can take liberties with whenever you please.”

Her grip tightened on his jaw as he squirmed, her voice low and cold. “You’re married to Helaena. She’s carrying your child, for God’s sake. I can’t fathom what our mother and grandfather see in you that makes them think you should be king.”

She released him, turning to find Alicent standing in the doorway, visibly aghast. Gwayne tried to calm her, but Alyssan’s expression remained steely. “Mother, he’s all yours.”

“Alyssan...why is your brother bleeding?” Alicent demanded.

“I merely reminded him to keep away from my maid. Next time, I might cut... his dick,” she said, marching away as Gwayne hurried after her.

As they reached the corridor, Gwayne took her arm gently. “Alyssan, I—”

“I know, Uncle,” she whispered, a touch of resignation in her voice. “Send Lyla back to Oldtown. She’ll be safe there; I can’t bear the thought of her staying here.”

Gwayne nodded a quiet promise in his eyes. She glanced back at him, her face softening. “Sometimes I wish I could return to Oldtown myself. I was happier there. If it weren’t for my betrothal, I’d be gone already.”

“Betrothed? To whom?” Gwayne asked, his brow furrowing.

“To Aemond,” she replied. “My previous betrothed married another... after he got a lady with child. I suppose the match was never meant to be.”

Gwayne laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, his expression pained. Sometimes he wondered why Alyssan, more than any of her siblings, seemed burdened by the twists of fate. She hugged him quickly before running off to her room, leaving him to shake his head, unaware of the quiet gaze watching from the shadows.

Later, Alyssan found herself reading on her balcony, overlooking the training grounds where her maids giggled and gossiped about the knights below. Alyssan’s eyes, however, lingered on Gwayne, his red hair catching the sunlight as he trained with another knight. His linen shirt clung to his form, his chest visible through the open collar, where a chain dangled a ring that she knew belonged to her grandmother.

The red-haired girl bit her lip, lost in watching Gwayne from afar for too long. When he glanced her way, she quickly held up her book to hide the blush rising on her cheeks.

“Is he looking at me, Anna?” she whispered to her maid, who was about her age.

“No, my lady,” Anna replied, stifling a laugh. She had noticed Ser Gwayne walking directly toward them. “I... I’ll go prepare your bath.”

“What’s the rush, Anna—Uncle, aren’t you going back to your training?” Alyssan asked, flustered, as she saw the tall, familiar figure standing right before her. She quickly used her book as a shield, afraid that if she stared at his open collar and broad chest any longer, she might blurt out something embarrassing. Trying to feign annoyance, she turned to leave. “Stop teasing me!”

Gwayne called after her with a chuckle. “I didn’t say a word, Alyssan!”

That evening, dinner with the Targaryen-Hightower family was tense after the day's earlier events. Alyssan and Aegon exchanged glares from across the table, while Helaena sat entranced with a beetle in her hand, muttering softly to herself. Otto Hightower listened to her murmurs, while Aemond ate in silence, seemingly detached. Alicent guided King Viserys to his seat with the assistance of Maester Orwyle, whose gentle touch helped the frail king.

Gwayne joined them, taking the seat beside Aegon, which placed him directly across from Alyssan. His green eyes occasionally flicked toward his eldest niece, especially noticing the pendant resting at the hollow of her collarbone, just slightly visible.

"Gwayne, is the food not to your liking?” Alicent asked, observing the unusual look on her brother’s face.

“The food is fine, sister,” he replied, quickly taking a bite. Meanwhile, he could hear Alyssan and Aegon trading sharp remarks across the table, and he silently hoped they’d get through the meal without any real fighting. Over to his right, he heard Helaena mumble softly.

“The green knight and the red princess dance in darkness.”

Gwayne paid little mind to Helaena’s cryptic words, thinking them merely musings from his quiet niece. The dinner concluded peacefully, and everyone dispersed to their chambers. Yet, the tall green knight found himself wandering the dim halls of the castle, unable to sleep. As he passed Alyssan’s room, he paused, hearing faint sounds from within. Unsure what it might be, he decided to knock gently on her door.

"Alyssan, are you okay?"

"N—nothing, uncle."

"Don't let me—"

The young princess opens the door with a pretty face that indicates that he is trying to hide something to escape the guilt. Gwayne shook her head and walked into her room. He closed the door and looked at his niece with a look of smug.

"I heard something, Alyssan."

"I—I.....," Alyssan looked at her uncle. The girl bit her mouth and spoke out. "I'm just thinking about what it will be like and that I'm going to marry Aemond soon, I don't want the first wedding night between him and me..."

The red-haired princess remembered that when Aemond turned thirteen, Aegon took him to a brothel under the pretext of taking him to open up the experience, so her second brother ran to comfort her in the early morning. In the morning after that, Aegon and her fought, so it was not strange to worry that the wedding night would be a fourteen-year-old's nightmare.

She approached Gwayne before speaking. "You must have some experience, right, Uncle?" she asked without hesitation, as she suspected that the man in front of her, having traveled to another town, had encountered some girls.

The Green Knight was even stunned by her courage to say that. He didn't know what to do, or how to answer the question in front of him, because the person in front of him was his niece, but in another whisper, it said that the Targaryen could still marry a family member. Why can't he do that?

“I thinking about you...” Alyssan murmured to Gwayne, “I thinking about how was I feel when your fingers inside—”

Gwayne didn’t let her finish because his lust clouding his mind already, the copper-haired man kissing her deeply while carrying her to the bed without their lips separating. His hands massaged her bulging breasts under her nightdress until she softly moaned.

Alyssan's slender hands prop up his nape and move down low to feel his muscular mass. She pulled off the linen shirt he was wearing, and her slender face turned red when she saw his beautiful figure as if she was dreaming. She felt his thick fingers thrusting inside her cunt.

His thick fingers made Alyssan tremble with an increased desire that caused her to arch her waist from the bed, his other hand teasing her nipple until it was hardening. Gwayne could feel his cock became harden under his breeches as she made a wantonly sound underneath him.

He couldn’t wait anymore; he took off his breeches. His hardening cock shows up, his green eyes noticed something in his niece’s eyes and said,

“What’s it, Alyssan?”

“I—It’s too big, I think it’s not fit me...”

Her thin lips bit her lips until Gwayne couldn't control himself anymore. The young knight bowed and whispered in her ear soothingly. “Relax, Alyssan. Your nectar was enough for me to slip in.” His hands raised her nightdress until it was above her hip and spread her legs wide, he started slowly thrusting his fat cock inside her.

Alyssan tried to hold her moan down when Gwayne slowly thrust inside hers until reach the hilt, her hands gripped his back while her cunt adjust his fat cock’s size. He started moving harder when she gave a sign to go on until they squirmed with pleasure.

Gwayne raised her legs, put on his shoulders, and start moving harder, he smirked when he saw the face that she made, her wantonly moaning and her wall gripped on his cock tightly like a cocksleeve.

His hand placed on her bulging belly caused her to startle, and he kissed her teary cheek in comfort.  

“I’m so full, uncle”

“Can you stop calling me uncle?" said Gwayne, "When do you call me my name, my little princess?”

“Gwayne....Harder, please?”

When the little princess called him with his name, he started to move harder until the headboard hit the wall hard. His hard movement caused her nails to grip his back hard until made thin red lines. They have nearly reached the climax now, Gwayne whispered in her.

“Let’s cum together, Alyssan.”

The red-haired princess bit on his shoulder hard as she reached the climax and his hot seed released in her womb to the brim, the young princess felt her position change with her body on top of his with their bodies still connected.

"I haven't taught you all yet, Alyssan..." His hands were placed on her hip.

Gwayne watched his little niece who was in deep sleep as they finished many rounds until she was worn out, he didn’t forget to wipe the mess on her body off, put the nightdress, and put the blanket on before walking from her room quietly. The young Hightower hurried to his room, only to find Otto already standing inside. Before the young knight could say a word, his father threw a punch that knocked him to the ground. The father's gaze rested on his son, filled with disappointment.

“What do you do, Gwayne? You sullied your niece!! What the seven hells are you thinking!?!”

The red-haired young knight gazed silently at his father. He had never managed to win his father's approval, as he was not the favored child-like Alicent. His eyes drifted to the King's hand before he spoke.

“Then go and ask King Viserys to arrange my marriage to Princess Alyssan," Gwayne said. "Let her marry me and become the lady of Old Town.”

Otto grabbed his son's collar and said, "You should be modest. You are not worthy of her. Tomorrow, she will marry Prince Amond, not a knight like you."

Gwen packed his things and left King's Landing as Otto ordered. He didn't say goodbye to his favorite niece. He looked at the window of Alyssan's room and saw Alicent enter. Her voice told how much she was furious about her daughter sleeping with her uncle.

Alyssan was deeply asleep after many rounds that she had done with her uncle—Gwayne but disturbed by her mother. Alicent's face was twisted with anger, and her slender hands pulled off the blanket. Her dark eyes saw blood stains that indicated that her brother had taken away his niece's virginity. Along her daughter's throat, there were all kinds of bite marks.

The queen’s hand slapped her face before pointing at her, "Tomorrow you will marry Aemond, I will ask Maester to bring you a moon tea!! You've disappointed me a lot, Alyssan."

The red-haired princess gazed at her mother and said, "I'm not the Aegon you expect me to be; he's more disappointing than I am."

"?!" Alicent tried to calm down from slapping her daughter in the face again. She could only clench her fists before continuing, "Tomorrow you will marry Aemond, don't refuse, or run away, or ask me to give you up to Sir Gwayne, or I'll send you as a silent sister!!"

Alyssan bit her lip as she watched her mother walk out of the room, and three minutes later, maester brought her moon tea. He walked away as soon as he saw his lilac eyes staring at him. The slender hand grabbed the moon tea glass and paused as if there was some thought about it.

Lilac-colored eyes looked out the window before .....

TBC.

[srim01997]

The Red Princess & The Green Knight | Gwayne H. x OFC

Paring: Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Slight Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Eventual Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC)

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO)

Warning: Slight Angst, Violence and Blood mentioned, House of the Dragon Season 1 Ep. 7 Spoiler

Writer’s note: Apologies for my English, as it is my second language. As I translate work from Thai to English, updates may be gradual. I'm Team Black but this knight stole my heart. ;) Previous Chapter | The Red Princess & The Green Knight Masterlist | Next Chapter

Chapter 3 The Lonely

Lonely...

Alyssan felt a deep sense of loneliness as she stepped back into King’s Landing after many years. She could feel the many eyes on her, scrutinizing her as the Targaryen princess with a hair color different from that of her siblings. The lords and ladies whispered and made jokes about her being adopted by the king and queen.

The young princess held her hands tight when she heard but someone held her hand—Aemond. The eye prince dragged her to those lords and ladies, he said in a cold tone to them.

“What are you gossiping about my sister? Just say it straight,” said Amond. His good purple eyes stared at them. “I see you both are not busy, so you are gossiping about my sister.”

The lords and ladies were stunned and quickly left the hallways. The one-eyed prince shook his head before turning to his sister. He had just discovered that Aegon had female twins, but he hadn’t considered that one of them could have the status of Aegon's twin sister.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t talk much with you in Driftmark, sister,” said Aemond. “I’m just shocked that I have an older sister and...”

“I have a different hair color than yours?”

"No, you look beautiful," the boy's cheeks faded, "I'm sorry for Aegon for saying that to you—"

"It's okay. He's not with me, so, normally he's not close to me," Alyssan said, nervously picking at her nails. She felt distant from her siblings because she had lived in Old Town for many years. It was understandable for them to look surprised when they learned they had a sister with copper hair. "I—I'm used to being alone."

Aemond shook his head before grabbing her hand. "I'll be your friend!" He didn't want to see the familiar, docile expression of his eldest sister, who had worn the same look since he returned. He wanted Alyssan to smile—just like she had when she smiled at Uncle Gwayne—before the little prince could say anything to his newfound sister. Just then, Alicent walked in.

"Aemond, you should go to sword lessons with Sir Criston," The Green Queen said, gently pushing him. "Don't forget to take Aegon with you."

"Mother... can I train with them—"

"No!" she suddenly shouted, forgetting that Alyssan was her real daughter. Alicent's hand slowly moved to rest on her daughter's shoulder. "Sword training is not suitable for a woman. You must study with Helaena starting tomorrow, and—"

"Mother, I’d like to return to my room now," the red-haired girl said softly, slipping away quickly back to her quarters. Once inside, she threw herself onto the bed and let out a sigh, reminded once more that she was in the Red Keep, not Oldtown, where she’d spent so many years. Her lilac eyes took in the neatly arranged belongings set out by the maids. Some items had been brought from Oldtown and sent by her beloved uncle Gwayne, who had ordered them to be carefully packed for her.

She jumped off the bed to check that everything was in place, pausing when she noticed a small engraved box marked with the Hightower family crest. Inside, she found a pair of silver earrings set with green gemstones, accompanied by a letter from her favorite uncle.

Alyssan placed the box on her vanity table and walked to the window to read, letting time slip by as she waited for the evening meal with her family, hoping it would go smoothly.

As the evening approached, a familiar maid entered her room to help her with her hair and attire before escorting the young princess to the dining hall. Around the table sat King Viserys, Queen Alicent, Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond. Alyssan did not expect her father to greet her, knowing well that she was not his favored daughter like Rhaenyra, her half-sister, who now lived at Dragonstone and had recently married their uncle Daemon not long after her own husband’s untimely death. Still, a small part of her hoped he would ask her about her life in Oldtown, though she knew he would not.

The king’s distant, sorrowful gaze made it clear his mind was elsewhere, perhaps longing for a life he no longer had. The children around him, including Alyssan, could feel the sting of his indifference. She thought bitterly of the night Aemond lost his eye, imagining how differently he would have reacted if it had been Lucerys who had been injured that night. If Lucerys had lost an eye, she was sure her father would have demanded a harsher price.

“Alyssan~~” Aegon called out, grinning as he addressed her. "I’ve heard the boys in Oldtown are quite handsome. Is it true? Surely there must be someone who caught your eye enough to bring him home—"

“Handsome and more mannered than you, brother,” Alyssan replied sharply. "They may be only lords and knights, but they have the decency to refrain from discussing personal matters at the dinner table—unlike a certain prince who spends his days drowning in drink and women."

“Alyssan—" Alicent began.

“Please, Mother," Alyssan interrupted. "He should learn table manners as a prince. You ought to teach him—unless you’ve been too lenient, coddling him instead of teaching him proper decorum—"

Smack.

Alyssan froze, stunned as her mother’s hand connected with her cheek, right there at the dinner table, in full view of everyone. Alicent looked horrified at her action, her hand trembling. Aegon, who had been laughing just a moment ago, sat with his mouth agape. Helaena flinched at the sudden sound, while Aemond looked on in shock at the scene unfolding before them. As for Viserys, he sat motionless, seemingly oblivious, or perhaps indifferent to the situation, trapped in his failing body or lost in his thoughts.

Fighting back tears, Alyssan rose from her seat, her voice barely wavering. “I spoke the truth, but it seems you cannot bear to hear it.”

“Alyssan, I—"

“I’m finished. Excuse me,” she said, turning and leaving the dining hall, breaking into a run as soon as she was out of sight. In her room, she buried her face in her pillow, muffling her quiet sobs. She couldn’t understand why her parents turned away from her so easily, why they could ignore her pain. She was their child, a Targaryen like her siblings, even if she didn’t share their hair color.

She longed to return to Oldtown, where she could ride horses, study philosophy, or play chess with her uncles, especially Uncle Gwayne. But she knew that was impossible; her mother had decreed that she should stay in the Red Keep while sending her youngest brother Daeron in her place.

It wasn’t fair.

The next morning, Alyssan joined Helaena for lessons with the septa. Her eyes were puffy from crying the night before. She tried to stay composed, but the septa criticized her for being slow to understand. Finally, Alyssan responded sharply, using what she had learned in Oldtown.

I wish I could learn with the maesters instead.

By afternoon, her grandfather Otto brought more unsettling news: her betrothed, Ser Tyrell, had broken off their engagement. He had gotten a lady from another noble house pregnant, forcing him to take responsibility. With a mix of frustration and embarrassment, Alyssan found herself seeking solace under the heart tree, trying to read but growing angrier by the moment. Eventually, she decided to head to the training yard.

From the top of the stairs, her lilac eyes caught sight of Aegon and Aemond sparring with Ser Criston, whose presence made her uncomfortable for reasons she couldn’t quite place. She descended the steps and called out to him.

“Ser Criston, may I join my brothers in training?”

“It would be improper for a princess to—”

“Go back to your embroidery, sister,” Aegon sneered, clashing swords with Aemond. “Act like a lady for once, Alyssan.”

In response, Alyssan grabbed a wooden sword and pointed it at him. “Why don’t we put that to the test, little brother?”

Nobles in the courtyard turned to watch, curious about the commotion in the training yard. They were surprised to see the princess and prince sparring, each refusing to back down. Soon, it became clear that Alyssan had the upper hand over Aegon.

Aegon, now on the ground, looked up at his twin, and in that instant, he realized that she could truly see him as an adversary. Alyssan tilted her head, a small smirk playing on her lips.

“Lucky this isn’t a real sword, brother, or I might’ve scarred that pretty face of yours,” she taunted, lifting his chin with the tip of her wooden sword. “Now, who’s the one who should be at the embroidery hoop?”

“Alyssan!!” Queen Alicent’s voice rang out as she stormed toward them, her gaze fixed on her eldest daughter. “That’s your twin brother!”

Alyssan didn’t flinch. “Does he ever treat me like a sister, Mother? No, he doesn’t.” Her purple eyes met her mother’s green ones for a defiant moment before she handed the wooden sword to Aemond and left the yard. She returned to her chamber and threw herself onto her bed, hiding from her mother’s inevitable wrath.

“Alyssan! Get up and speak with me right now!” Alicent’s voice filled the room as she yanked away the blankets. “You cannot treat your twin that way. Aegon is our future king!”

“Does he ever act like my twin?” Alyssan sat up, her tone defiant. “He mocks me in front of you and Father, and you never scold him. And besides… if he is to be king, then Westeros is surely doomed.”

Alicent, taken aback by her daughter’s boldness, raised her hand but stopped short. Without another word, she turned and left, declaring Alyssan would be confined to her chambers until morning. Alyssan didn’t care—she was used to bearing the brunt of her family’s scolding while Aegon remained untouched.

“A fool for a king? What is my mother thinking?” she muttered to herself, lying down as her stomach growled. She wondered if her confinement included being denied supper, but she resolved to endure the hunger rather than engage in another argument with her mother.

Stay strong, Alyssan. You will get through this.

“Our mother wants us to married, sister”

Alyssan choked on her cake when he heard that She never anticipated that her mother would arrange a marriage between her and her younger brother—a boy considerably her junior. The idea unsettled her deeply, especially knowing she would have to wait until he turned fourteen before the consummate wedding.

“Isn't your mother against Targaryen marriage?" The red-haired girl said, “When out mother already made Aegon and Helaena married, why she need us married?”

She truly couldn't understand her grandfather—what more did he want? She had done everything to support Aegon’s claim to the throne, though privately she doubted if a wine-soaked fool like him could handle kingship.

As she sat reading, she glanced over at her younger brother. “And you, Aemond? What do you think of all this?” Alyssan asked, her gaze steady.

Aemond, sitting beside her, met her eyes with his one good one, his expression unwavering. “If it’s my duty to the realm, then I’ll do it.” A slight smile played at the corner of his mouth as he continued,

“Do you have someone in mind, sister? Or is there a reason you’re asking?”

“I—” Her pretty face turned red a bit when she thought about her uncle knight—Gwayne Hightower.

“Or do you have a man in your heart, as Aegon suspects?” Aemond teased.

“What a man? Certainly not,” Alyssan replied with a roll of her eyes.

The one-eyed prince nodded thoughtfully before glancing at her with sudden resolve. “If it’s for the sake of the realm, I could marry you,” he said, looking at her with a seriousness that belied his age. “I may be young, but I’m prepared to fulfill my duty as your husband.”

“Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you, little brother?” she said, turning back to the book in her hands. “You’d likely find me more troublesome than Helaena—trust me, Aemond. I’m far more prone to tempers than Aegon ever was.”

Aemond murmured to himself, “I think I could manage that, sister.” His young face betrayed a mix of pride and anxiety as he looked at her again, secretly hoping that nothing would disrupt the quiet balance between them before such a future could come to pass.

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Four years later, the wedding between Princess Alyssan Targaryen and Prince Aemond Targaryen took place due to a reason that prompted Queen Alicent Hightower to rush the event.

TBC.

[srim01997]

Chapters: 8/? Fandom: House of the Dragon (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage Relationships: Gwayne Hightower/Original Female Character(s), Slight Aemond Targaryen/Original Female Character(s), Alicent Hightower & Otto Hightower, Alicent Hightower & Aegon II Targaryen, Alicent Hightower & Helaena Targaryen Characters: Gwayne Hightower, Original Female Character(s), Alicent Hightower, Otto Hightower, Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, Helaena Targaryen, Daeron Targaryen (Son of Viserys I) Additional Tags: Uncle/Niece Incest, Incest, Targcest | Targaryen Incest (A Song of Ice and Fire), Bad Parent Alicent Hightower, Domestic Violence, Cheating, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Underage Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen Being an Asshole, Protective Gwayne Hightower, Unplanned Pregnancy, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Child Death, Child Neglect, Older Man/Younger Woman, Age Difference, Porn With Plot, Fluff and Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence Series: Part 3 of The Red Princess and The Green Knight Summary:

Rumors say that a servant girl saw Sir Gwayne Hightower go in and out of the room of his eldest niece, Princess Alyssan Targaryen. Princess Alyssan is the eldest daughter of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. She has a twin brother, Prince Aegon, and is the older sister of Princess Helaena, Prince Aemond, and Prince Daeron.

Some people believe that Princess Alyssan would never betray her Targaryen husband, Prince Aemond. Others think she might be having an affair with her uncle to mock Alyssan’s husband, who often disappears from Madame Sylvie’s brothel. There are also claims that he is involved with Alys River, the witch of Harrenhal, who says she is pregnant with his child.

Additionally, some believe that Princess Alyssan is cursed by another Targaryen with a different hair color. They say this curse means she will have a worse fate than her siblings or other family members. However, only the three people involved truly know what is happening.

[srim01997]

The Red Princess & The Green Knight | Gwayne H. x OFC

Paring: Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Slight Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Eventual Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC)

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO)

Warning: Slight Angst, Violence and Blood mentioned, House of the Dragon Season 1 Ep. 7 Spoiler

Writer’s note: Apologies for my English, as it is my second language. As I translate work from Thai to English, updates may be gradual. I'm Team Black but this knight stole my heart. ;)

Previous Chapter |The Red Princess & The Green Knight Masterlist | Next Chapter

Chapter 2 The Estranged

For the dragon rider, the journey to Driftmark felt extremely long. Alyssan could see her dragon's siblings alongside unfamiliar dragons gathered around the beach and cliffs. She also noticed the royal families and other guests on the cliff. As she scanned the scene, Alyssan observed her younger siblings growing up; they initially gazed at her with confused expressions, seeing her as a stranger until Alicent identified her. Alyssan touched her copper hair and understood their reaction.

Her copper hair made her look different from Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron, who all had Targaryen features. She shared her mother's copper hair but still had lilac eyes like the other Targaryens.

Laena Velaryon's funeral was a somber occasion. However, Alyssan felt detached, especially in response to Vaemond's foolish remarks. She thought that if she were to die, she would hope no one would speak like that at her funeral.

Her lilac eyes fell on the boys with dark hair who clung to their mother's hip. They stared at her with curiosity. She turned to her uncle and asked, “Who are they, Uncle?”

“That's your half-sister... and those are her children," Ser Gwayne whispered beside her. "Though... it's said they aren't truly Ser Laenor's sons."

Alyssan nodded thoughtfully. "Do you think anyone suspects that I might also—”

“You are Queen Alicent’s daughter,” Gwayne interjected, squeezing her small shoulder reassuringly. “I was there when you and Aegon were born. You’re a Targaryen, even if your hair is different from that of your siblings.”

The red-haired girl clung to her uncle's strong hand, listening to Vaemond speak until a sudden laugh broke through the quiet, drawing everyone's attention to the source. The funeral ended with Laena’s stone coffin descending into the sea in the Velaryon tradition, after which the guests gathered quietly around Driftmark Castle.

Alyssan sat by herself on a stone bench, head lowered as small clusters of conversation formed around her. She noticed a pair of shoes stop in front of her and looked up, meeting the gaze of a dark-haired boy wearing the sigil of House Tyrell.

“Hello, Princess,” He greeted awkwardly. “I— I’m your betrothed.”

She could feel his eyes studying her hair with a look she didn’t care for, hoping he wouldn’t bring up her appearance being different from her siblings. Her small hands fidgeted nervously, feeling tense about the encounter.

“You don’t look much like your siblings,” He observed.

“I must take after my mother,” Alyssan replied, a hint of defiance in her voice. “That’s why my hair is auburn… but I do have a dragon-like my siblings.” She swung her feet slightly, feeling a bit more confident, though the boy’s next words quickly dashed her mood.

“You’re sure you’re not… some stray child they took in?” He murmured with a smirk.

“Alyssan, what are you doing out here alone?” Gwayne’s voice interrupted just in time. His turquoise-green eyes glanced at his niece before turning a steely gaze on her betrothed, who had been prying at her insecurities. Gwayne ruffled her hair gently. “Go on, join your siblings.”

She nodded and went off to find her mother and siblings at the other side of the castle, smiling as she looked at the spider in Helaena’s hand before turning to Alicent, who called her over. They exchanged a few quiet words as the evening waned, and soon, everyone was preparing to rest for the journey back to King’s Landing the next day.

Meanwhile, Gwayne leaned close to the young Tyrell, whispering something that left him pale and stumbling back toward his parents. With a faint shake of his head, Gwayne watched his niece laugh with her siblings, relieved that her spirits had lifted, if only for now.

The young girl with copper hair sat on the bed, staring out of the window with a heavy heart. She felt estranged from her siblings, even though she had a dragon. Her twin brother teased her about how she should be siblings with those strong boys. She brushed her copper hair back and sighed. As she prepared to sleep, she could hear Vhaegar’s roar, sounding as if someone was bothering the old dragon—no, she reminded herself, she had a new rider now.

The small body jumped out from the bed and opening before saw the hallway was empty because no king guards. She walked until she reached her uncle’s temporary chamber, she knocked and said,

“Uncle Gwayne, where is the guard? No one guard my room” She said while her uncle opened the door. Her uncle’s copper hair was messing and he dressed in white linen shirt and a long breech. “Am I disturbing you?”

“Alyssie?” Gwayne always Alyssan as Alyssie in sometimes, he glared at his niece who stood in front his room with bare feet. “You should be sleep right now.”

“But no one was guarding my door,” the red-haired girl said, looking up at her uncle with wide eyes. “And I heard Vhagar’s roar—”

A scream suddenly cut through the air, and Gwayne quickly pushed his niece back into her room to keep her safe as he went to see what was happening. But the small girl managed to sneak out, her violet eyes widening as she saw a guard carrying Aemond, his face bloodied. The hall quickly filled as everyone rushed to the scene, and the Maester tried to tend to her younger brother’s wounds. Her mother helped her limping father, who leaned heavily on his cane. The Targaryen king cast a furious look at the guards standing still.

“How did you let this happen? I want answers,” he demanded.

Ser Harrold stepped forward. “Your Majesty, the prince was supposed to be in bed.”

“Who was on watch?”

“The young prince was assaulted by his cousins, Your Grace.”

Viserys hobbled slowly around the hall, eyeing Ser Harrold and Ser Criston with anger. “You swore to protect my blood.”

“My deepest apologies, Your Grace,” Harrold replied.

Criston added coldly, “The Kings guard aren’t usually tasked with protecting princes from each other.”

“That is no answer!” Viserys snapped.

“They should be stripped of their titles for allowing this to happen,” Alyssan muttered to Gwayne beside her.

Queen Alicent’s gaze darkened with worry as she saw her son’s wound. She questioned the Maester, who assured her that while the young prince would survive, he would lose his eye. Alicent then turned furiously toward Aegon, who seemed dazed from a hangover.

“Where were you?!” she shouted.

“Me? I—” Her answer was a slap that left Aegon stunned, looking at his mother in shock. “Why did you hit me?”

“Your brother endured cruelty while you were off drinking, you fool!” she hissed.

Alyssan flinched at her mother’s anger, stepping back to hide behind her uncle. Lord Corlys descended the stairs with Rhaenys, hurrying to his trembling granddaughters. The doors opened as Rhaenyra rushed in to check on her sons, cradling their small faces.

“Who did this to him?”

“They attacked me.”

“He struck Baela.”

“He broke Luke’s nose.”

“He stole my mother’s dragon!”

“That’s enough!” Viserys bellowed, but the children’s accusations continued, each louder than the last.

“He tried to kill Jace!”

“Perhaps we should hear from my son,” Alicent pressed.

“He called us—” one of them began, but was cut short.

“Silence!” The king’s shout brought quiet to the hall. Luke whispered to Rhaenyra, mentioning the slur they’d been called, which prompted Viserys to question his second son directly.

“Aemond, tell me the truth of what happened.” His voice hardened as he continued. “Now!”

Gwayne gently patted Alyssan’s head to calm her, while Alicent demanded justice for her son’s now-blinded eye.

“Your son has been permanently scarred at the hands of her children!” she cried.

“It was a tragic accident,”  Viserys said.

“An accident?” Alicent’s voice quivered with rage. “Prince Lucerys wielded a dagger with intent to harm! He meant to kill my son!”

“My son was attacked first,” Rhaenyra countered. “He had no choice but to defend himself. They were slandered and insulted.”

Viserys narrowed his gaze. “Insulted? What insult?”

“The legitimacy of my sons’ birthright was challenged openly,” Rhaenyra said.

“What?”

“He called us bastards,”

She confirmed, adding, “My sons are in the line of succession, Your Grace. Such slander is treason of the highest order.”

“Prince Aemond will be questioned thoroughly to learn where he heard such lies,” Viserys declared.

“For slander?” Alicent retorted. “My son has lost an eye!”

Viserys turned to Aemond once more, his voice deadly calm. “Tell me. Where did you hear this lie?”

“It was just boys’ talk in the training yard,” Aemond hedged.

“Aemond, I asked you a question.”

“Where is Ser Laenor, the father of those boys? Perhaps he has something to say,” Viserys muttered.

“Where is Ser Laenor indeed,”

Rhaenyra answered, a touch of sadness in her voice. “I don’t know, Your Grace. I couldn’t sleep, so I went walking.”

“He’s likely off with one of his paramours,”

“Look at me, Aemond,” Viserys commanded, his voice stern. “Your king demands an answer.”

“Aegon told me,” Aemond confessed, casting blame on his elder brother.

“Me?” Aegon stammered.

“And you?” Viserys stepped closer to Aegon. “Where did you hear such vile rumors? Aegon! Speak truthfully.”

“We all know, Father… everyone knows,” Aegon mumbled, fear edging his voice. “Just look at them.”

The hall fell silent at the king’s furious glare. “This endless bickering within our family must cease! You are one blood, one family. Apologize to each other and show kindness as your king commands.”

“That isn’t enough,” Alicent seethed, her voice shaking with the anger of a wounded mother. “Aemond is permanently maimed! Kind words cannot restore him.”

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

“Indeed, because it’s gone.”

“What would you have me do?”

“There is a debt to be repaid! I want one of her sons’ eyes as payment,” Alicent demanded, but Viserys cautioned her.

“My dear wife—”

“That’s your son, Viserys! Your blood!”

“Don’t let anger cloud your judgment,” He warned.

“If the king will not provide justice, the queen will take it herself.” Alicent looked at Ser Criston. “Ser Criston, bring me Lucerys Velaryon’s eye.”

“Mother!”

“Choose which eye to keep, though my son was not given that choice.”

Rhaenyra immediately shielded her son. “You cannot do this!”

“You will not touch him!”

“No, you swore an oath to me!”

“As a sworn protector,” Criston argued, but Viserys interrupted.

“Alicent, the matter is settled! And let it be known to all: anyone who questions the legitimacy of Princess Rhaenyra’s sons will lose their tongue.”

“Thank you, Father,” Rhaenyra said, her voice firm.

Alyssan was about to speak up, but Gwayne held her back, knowing she might face punishment if she defied Viserys openly. The tension in the hall mounted as Alicent, overcome with fury, lunged for Viserys’s dagger, moving swiftly toward Lucerys. Rhaenyra intercepted her, gripping her former friend’s wrist as others rushed in to separate them.

Daemon blocked Ser Criston as Gwayne pulled Alyssan away from the fray. He could see only the two women locked in a fierce struggle, ending with a cut on the heir’s arm. That night ended with everyone returning to their quarters, the air thick with anger that Alyssan could sense.

The following morning, the red-haired girl was preparing to mount her dragon when Ser Gwayne called her back. She slid off the saddle and approached him.

“What is it, Uncle?”

“Your mother… she wants you back in King’s Landing, not Oldtown,” he said, ruffling her hair. “Daeron will be in Oldtown with my family. I’ll have your belongging sent to King’s Landing.”

The girl’s violet eyes widened. “Why? Why do my parents want me now? Will it be safe for me?”

She’d grown used to life in Oldtown over the years. Wrapping her arms around her uncle, she whispered, “Can’t I stay with you?”

“You’ll get to know your siblings better, Alyssan. You’ll be safe there because your parents won’t let any harm come to you,” Gwayne assured her, though he knew well enough the king’s bias. “Besides, you have your dragon—you can visit Oldtown whenever you wish.”

She nodded reluctantly, climbing onto her dragon and instructing it to fly her to King’s Landing to join her siblings. Looking down, she watched the Hightower ship sail away, feeling a pang of homesickness for someone onboard.

TBC.

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The Red Princess & The Green Knight | Gwayne H. x OFC

Paring: Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Slight Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Eventual Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC)

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO) Warning: Slight Angst, Child Neclet, Viserys I Targaryen and Alicent Hightower are bad parents

Writer’s note: Apologies for my English, as it is my second language. As I translate work from Thai to English, updates may be gradual. I'm Team Black but this knight stole my heart. ;)

The Red Princess & The Green Knight Masterlist| Chapter 2

Chapter 1 The Young Knight & The Little Princess

Rumors say that a servant girl saw Sir Gwayne Hightower go in and out of the room of his eldest niece, Princess Alyssan Targaryen. Princess Alyssan is the eldest daughter of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. She has a twin brother, Prince Aegon, and is the older sister of Princess Helaena, Prince Aemond, and Prince Daeron.

Some people believe that Princess Alyssan would never betray her Targaryen husband, Prince Aemond. Others think she might be having an affair with her uncle to mock Alyssan’s husband, who often disappears from Madame Sylvie’s brothel. There are also claims that he is involved with Alys River, the witch of Harrenhal, who says she is pregnant with his child.

Additionally, some believe that Princess Alyssan is cursed by another Targaryen with a different hair color. They say this curse means she will have a worse fate than her siblings or other family members. However, only the three people involved truly know what is happening.

But what is really happened to Princess Alyssan Targaryen?

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Alyssan Targaryen was born on the same day as Prince Aegon Targaryen, but she was born first and had a different hair color than the other Targaryens—she had a Hightower’s hair color, so it was not surprising that her father, Viserys, was more interested in her twin brother, who had the characteristics of a true Targaryen, than hers. The red-haired little girl was still crying while his mother and wet nurse were busy taking care of Agon.

"Alyssan, right?" The reddish-haired young man who was carrying her and swaying back and forth with his thick fingertips poking her small nose back and forth. "This is your uncle, Uncle Gwayne."

The little purple-eyed babe looked at the person holding her with twinkling eyes, her little hand clenched his fingertips tightly before laughing. Gwayne smiled broadly when he saw the little boy in his arms. The Green Knight smiled before kissing the baby's small forehead in his arms.

"You're like my sister when she was a babe, Alyssan." The young Hightower said before seeing Otto enter the room. The father shook his head before he could speak.

"Why would you bother the princess?"

As the older Hightower picked up the child, she cried again, leaving the other person confused about why she was still upset. Gwayne shook his head at the indifference of those around him. He cared more about the little prince than the little princess, who was also the queen's child. Why not care for both equally?

“Let me hold her,” said the red-brown man as he took the baby in his arms. Alyssan quickly calmed down and fell asleep in her uncle's embrace. Otto noticed his eldest son looking at his granddaughter but did not say anything, thinking his son was just following the old ways.

Two years later

Viserys celebrated his twins' birthday by organizing a royal hunting party for the elusive white stag. However, to Gwayne, it seemed like all the nobles’ attention was focused solely on Aegon rather than the young Alyssan, who was being carried by one of the children’s wet nurse. Meanwhile, the Green Queen was visibly pregnant with her third child with Viserys, leading the green queen’s older brother to wonder just how many children the Dragon King would be content to have.

He watched as Princess Rhaenyra stormed out of the royal pavilion after a heated argument with the king over her marriage. A member of the Kings guard trailed her, riding close behind. Gwayne’s gaze then fell upon his father, deep in conversation with Viserys, attempting to arrange a marriage between the young princess and two-year-old Aegon.

Gwayne couldn't help but think his father had lost his mind…

Thankfully, the king didn't agree, sparing the kingdom the absurdity of a toddler wedding to Princess Rhaenyra. The knight's attention returned to his little niece. Alyssan’s hair, now revealing the characteristic Hightower hues, was yet tinged with Valyrian blood, evident in her lilac-colored eyes.

With a calm, measured step, Ser Gwayne approached the child, finding her seated alone, playing with a small wooden dragon, while the caretakers seemed occupied with the young prince.

He strode up to them, his voice cold and even. "I truly wonder," he began, "What will you say if Princess Alyssan goes missing because you are too busy caring for Prince Aegon and forget that there is another royal child?”

Handing the little princess back to the wet nurse, Ser Gwayne gave them a lingering, watchful glance. He then moved aside, yet stayed close enough to ensure his niece remained safely in their care, his green eyes keen and vigilant.

As exhaustion settled over the camp after an unfruitful day searching for the white stag in honor of Alyssan and Aegon’s second birthday, everyone retired for the night, planning to resume the hunt the next day. The young Hightower made a quick check on the little ones sleeping soundly in their cradles before returning to his family’s tent on the other side of the grounds, readying himself for tomorrow’s pursuit alongside the king — though he had a feeling they'd return with a brown deer instead of the fabled white.

Just then, the heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, appeared, accompanied by Ser Criston Cole, dragging the carcass of a wild boar behind them. The princess herself was smeared in blood, a vivid, fierce sight that seemed to trouble no one much, especially with everyone already set to journey back to King’s Landing in the morning. Gwayne himself was relieved; he hardly wanted his niece to spend too many days outside the safety of the Red Keep. Just two days in the wilderness had been tiring enough.

One evening, Otto summoned Gwayne for a private discussion, bringing up his intention to place young Alyssan under the care of Hobert Hightower, Otto’s elder brother, in Oldtown. There, she would be taught the essentials of a princess’s education — all the manners, knowledge, and poise Otto had in mind for her future. Gwayne understood; his father had certain plans for the little princess. Early at dawn, they departed, with Ser Gwayne and a guard of Hightower soldiers flanking the carriage that held the young Alyssan and her nursemaid.

Like any young child, Alyssan was blissfully unaware of the true purpose of the journey until they reached Oldtown. It was only then, in the quiet of the night, that she began to grasp the distance between herself and her parents. The comforting voice that soothed her in the dark wasn’t that of her mother, Alicent, but rather her nursemaid. Still, a few familiar faces stopped by to see her on occasion, cousins she barely knew, offering her some solace. Yet it was the Hand’s eldest son who would come by when his duties allowed, becoming a steady presence in her new life away from the Red Keep.

Many Years Later

Alyssan adapted quickly to life within the walls of Oldtown. Lord Hobert ensured she was educated by the finest maesters, who taught her to read and write, imparted the history of Oldtown and Westeros, and instructed her in High Valyrian, philosophy, and the proper etiquette of a noble lady. Otto wanted to ensure his niece was prepared for whatever the future held.

Yet those close to her knew that the young Targaryen princess was no innocent as she might appear to outsiders. Beneath the surface, she was sharp, often unpredictable, and possessed an innate understanding of who was worth befriending and who was best kept at a distance — a trait unusual in a child but one that served her well. On more than one occasion, she’d even come to blows with boys larger than herself, always managing to escape trouble unscathed, thanks to her cunning and the leniency of Lord Hobert and Ser Gwayne. Even so, the steward, Lynesse, occasionally found herself exasperated by Alyssan’s antics.

“Grandfather Hobert,” thirteen-year-old Alyssan asked one day, “I’d like to visit King’s Landing. The septa mentioned I have a new sibling. Is it a little brother or sister?”

Hobert simply smiled, reaching out to tousle her dust-streaked hair. “A baby brother. Queen Alicent named him Daeron,” he replied gently. “But first, you should go wash up, young lady, before your wet nurse gives you a scolding.”

After washing up, Alyssan was dressed in a green gown embroidered with golden thread. She sat quietly at the dining table, only to spot a familiar tall figure leaning against her chair. Without a second thought, she leaped up, throwing her small arms around his waist.

“Uncle Gwayne!”

“You’re becoming a young lady now. It’s not proper to embrace a man, even if he’s your relative,” Gwayne teased with a smile. “But tell me, why the gloomy face, little princess?”

“I’m not a little girl anymore!” Alyssan scowled at the term. “I’m just… hurt that my mother hasn’t written to me or asked me back to King’s Landing. I’m their daughter too, after all. But it’s fine… I’ve always been on my own, Uncle.”

Gwayne understood her feelings. He, too, had felt overlooked when his sister Alicent was born, convinced that she was their father’s favored child. Not wanting his niece to feel the same pain, he gently patted her head.

“I’m sure your parents think of you,” He said, searching for the right words to soothe her. “It’s just… King’s Landing can be a chaotic place, and they might not have had the time to send a letter.”

“Even my siblings?” Alyssan’s lilac eyes looked up at him, wide with longing. “I’ve heard I have a little brother and sister now. I’d like to meet them too! My dragon’s big enough to carry both of us, you know.”

“That won’t be necessary, my dear niece,” Gwayne chuckled. “I doubt it would take a liking to me.”

“Then I’ll make sure it does one day!” she replied with a mischievous smile, returning to her seat as the other Hightower family members began to arrive for dinner. Hobert regarded his niece with a steady gaze and announced, “Princess, a message from King’s Landing has arrived. You’re invited to attend Lady Laena Velaryon’s funeral at Driftmark — and to meet your betrothed.”

The mention of a betrothed caught her ear, and her gaze sharpened.

“Betrothed? To whom?” she asked.

“One of Lord Tyrell’s sons,” Hobert replied calmly.

The clatter of a knife dropping onto a plate drew all eyes toward the red-haired knight, who looked visibly taken aback. Gwayne knew Targaryens often arranged marriages within their own family but hadn’t anticipated that Alyssan, at only thirteen, would be matched so soon. While Alyssan’s expression remained calm, her next words took him by surprise.

“If it’s my duty to the realm,” she said quietly, “then I’ll do it.”

TBC.

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It's my 2 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

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Look like I have to post here too. LOLOLO

I'm still active on AO3, but I'm curious if there's interest in reading my fic here as well, considering some may not have an AO3 account.

[srim01997]

I'm still active on AO3, but I'm curious if there's interest in reading my fic here as well, considering some may not have an AO3 account.

[srim01997]

Chapters: 7/? Fandom: House of the Dragon (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage Relationships: Gwayne Hightower/Original Female Character(s), Slight Aemond Targaryen/Original Female Character(s), Alicent Hightower & Otto Hightower, Alicent Hightower & Aegon II Targaryen, Alicent Hightower & Helaena Targaryen Characters: Gwayne Hightower, Original Female Character(s), Alicent Hightower, Otto Hightower, Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, Helaena Targaryen, Daeron Targaryen (Son of Viserys I) Additional Tags: Uncle/Niece Incest, Incest, Targcest | Targaryen Incest (A Song of Ice and Fire), Bad Parent Alicent Hightower, Domestic Violence, Cheating, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Underage Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen Being an Asshole, Protective Gwayne Hightower, Unplanned Pregnancy, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Child Death, Child Neglect, Older Man/Younger Woman, Age Difference, Porn With Plot, Fluff and Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence Series: Part 3 of The Red Princess and The Green Knight Summary:

Rumors say that a servant girl saw Sir Gwayne Hightower go in and out of the room of his eldest niece, Princess Alyssan Targaryen. Princess Alyssan is the eldest daughter of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. She has a twin brother, Prince Aegon, and is the older sister of Princess Helaena, Prince Aemond, and Prince Daeron.

Some people believe that Princess Alyssan would never betray her Targaryen husband, Prince Aemond. Others think she might be having an affair with her uncle to mock Alyssan’s husband, who often disappears from Madame Sylvie’s brothel. There are also claims that he is involved with Alys River, the witch of Harrenhal, who says she is pregnant with his child.

Additionally, some believe that Princess Alyssan is cursed by another Targaryen with a different hair color. They say this curse means she will have a worse fate than her siblings or other family members. However, only the three people involved truly know what is happening.

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[Masterlist] The Red Princess & The Green Knight (Gwayne H. x OFC)

Paring: Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Slight Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Alyssan Targaryen (OC), Eventual Gwayne Hightower x Alyssan Targaryen (OC) Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO) Warning: Age-gap, Uncle-Niece Incest, Domestic Violence, Cheating, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Underage Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen Being an Asshole, Protective Gwayne Hightower, Unplanned Pregnancy, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Child Death, Child Neglect, Older Man/Younger Woman, Age Difference, Porn With Plot, Fluff and Angst, Bittersweet Ending

Writer’s note: Apologies for my English, as it is my second language. As I am translating work from Thai to English, updates may be gradual. Available on AO3 (Might be updated on Tumblr soon cause I'm not sure about my work be gonna steal to train AI if I upload here)

Rumors say that a servant girl saw Sir Gwayne Hightower go in and out of the room of his eldest niece, Princess Alyssan Targaryen. Princess Alyssan is the eldest daughter of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. She has a twin brother, Prince Aegon, and is the older sister of Princess Helaena, Prince Aemond, and Prince Daeron. Some people believe that Princess Alyssan would never betray her Targaryen husband, Prince Aemond. Others think she might be having an affair with her uncle to mock Alyssan’s husband, who often disappears from Madame Sylvie’s brothel. There are also claims that he is involved with Alys River, the witch of Harrenhal, who says she is pregnant with his child. Additionally, some believe that Princess Alyssan is cursed by another Targaryen with a different hair color. They say this curse means she will have a worse fate than her siblings or other family members. However, only the three people involved truly know what is happening.

[Playlist]

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6