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THE PINK DREAD - CH. 30 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: Rhaenyra and the rest of her brood return to King's Landing for the first time in years. Aegon has a heart-to-heart with his least favourate person in the world. Word Count: 4976 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Fluff, angst, mentions of bullying. Very little Valeana in this chapter, sry sry. But Aegon 👀

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT BOTTOM OF CHAPTER. Additionally, I'm not super proud of like 50% of this chapter. This is where my muse started to slip for me, so it's not my best work, and the next few chapters as well. I'm hoping to correct that by proof reading them, but mostly, the next 5 chapters are really me trying to move along the plot.

T H E P A S T

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“Ohhh, I am going to miss these chubby cheeks,” Rhaenyra cooed in a high-pitched voice as she yanked little Valeana Celtigar and pulled her onto her lap. Nearly four years old, the girl was plump as she was adorable, filling Rhaenyra with an almost maternal level of cute aggression. Luke had just been born, another boy, where she yearned for a daughter. Valeana would fill that void until the Mother could grant her wish.

“May I just have a bite? A wee nibble?” Rhaenyra mimicked a bite at the child’s cheeks, earning her a shriek of mirth.

“Princess Nyra, no!!” Valeana giggled and wiggled in her grasp.

The woman mock pouted, “But I won’t see you for weeks. What will I do without my little Valeana? Whose cheeks will I nibble now?”

The little girl stuck her tongue out between her teeth, mischievous green eyes moving over the large man in the corner, his gold cloak making him stand out even more. “Ser Harwin’s.”

Rhaenyra looked up at her sworn sword, who’s smile brightened, “Ser Harwin’s? But they are hidden under all that hair. It would taste awful.”

The knight chuckled, shaking his head.

Valeana covered her face with her small hands, eyes peeking through her fingers, “But you can’t bite my cheeks, Nyra! I need’em!”

“Oh, is that right? What for, my dear?”

The little girl’s face turned pink from hairline to chin, her eyes tightly closed as she buried her face into Rhaenyra’s soft belly. “Prince Aemond.”

“Prince Aemond?” Rhaenyra repeated, eyebrows turned upward.

“He-he gives me kisses on’em, before we go to bed.”

Rhaenyra shared a look with Harwin, before looking down at the squirming girl on her lap, a fond smile pulled at her lips. “He does, does he?”

Valeana nodded shyly, “I like Prince Aemond. He’s pretty, like you!”

“Oh!” Rhaenyra laughed, looking back at Harwin again, a broad entertained grin in place. The man simply chuckled louder, placing his hand over his mouth. “And have you told Aemond this?”

She shook her head, moving her face back into the shield of Rhaenyra’s belly once again, “Noooo… Prince Aegon will make fun of me.”

With a pout, the princess tried to move the girl so she could see her face, “And why on earth would he do that?”

Valeana’s mouth was pulled into a frown, her green eyes wandering around the room while she tried to control the wobble of her lip, “He doesn’t like me. It’s ‘cause I’m not pretty, like you, or Aemond, or Helaena, or him, or Jacaerys or–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rhaenyra pulled her up so she was sitting properly in the cradle of her lap, and took her face between both of her hands. “I will have none of that. You are just as pretty, Valeana.”

Though the little girl did not seem convinced. Her large eyes marbled into two glistening peridot gems, “A-Aegon says I’m too f-f-fat to be pretty, ‘n–’n only pretty girls muh-marry princes, and become prin-princess-esses.”

Rhaenyra pulled her into her chest, scoffing at her brother’s cruelty, “My brother is a fool. A blind fool, my darling. Do not listen to a thing he says… You are beautiful, just like your mother, Lysa.”

“R-really?” Valeana hiccuped.

The princess nodded earnestly, “Of course. You are her very image, just ask Ser Harwin.”

Valeana craned her neck to look up at the knight, eyes puffy and watery, cheeks pink and tear stained, “Am-am I pre-pretty, Ser Harwin?”

The large man sauntered over before bending to his knee next to Rhaenyra, so he could level his eyes with the child. “You are so very pretty, Lady Valeana. Just like Lady Lysa, just like Princess Rhaenyra.”

Valeana blushed heavily, scrunching up her nose and putting her small hands to cover her face, trying to lean away, suddenly very bashful. Alas, Rhaenyra had a grip on her, and at her darling little display of embarrassment, the princess laughed.

“It’s those cheeks! They’re just like apples, wouldn’t you say, Ser Harwin?”

“Oh, the juiciest of apples!”

“Care to take a nibble with me?”

“Of course!”

Valeana squealed as she tried to pull away, but it was too late. The princess and the knight planted their lips on both of her cheeks at the same time, squishing her face. When Harwin pulled away with a chortle, Rhaenyra just kept on kissing the girl’s cheeks, pinching and taking mock bites out of them, all the while Valeana giggled, screamed, and tried to scramble out of her grasp.

Not long after, Lord Bartimos Celtigar had sauntered onto the terrace, his face stretching out in a fond smile at the sight of his daughter in the arms of the crown princess.

“Oh, I’d hate to put an end to this lovely display of affection, but alas, Princess Rhaenyra, we are about to leave for the Isle. Ursula is about to give birth any day now.”

The princes sighed disappointingly, “Of course, of course.” With Valeana still in her arms, she stood up and walked over to the Master of Coin, but before she handed her over, she turned to the little one in her arms and said firmly. “Now, remember what I told you.”

Valeana nodded, rubbing her chubby fist along her reddened cheeks.

“And if anyone says otherwise, I will send them to Syrax, then they’ll be nothing but toast.”

The girl giggled mischievously, “Prince Egg-on-Toast.”

It had only been a day, and yet that was too long. The night he had spent with Valeana was seared into his memory, like a dream he could not stop thinking about. That night, after he released his spend all over her hand, they had cleaned up and laid back in the pillows. She curled up at his side, head laying on his chest as they both looked up at the stars in blissful silence. He didn’t want the night to end, but it eventually did when the sky started to pink along the horizon, and Valeana jolted awake at the realization of how long they had been there.

In silence he escorted her back to her room, thanking the gods that Floris had not woken up with the looming dawn. At the entrance, he thanked her for an amazing night, and she responded by placing a kiss on his cheek, thanking him in return.

Aegon spent the better part of that day in bed, fingers tracing the spot where she had kissed him, eyes closed as he reimagined her tits, her face, her hand around his cock. A smirk crawled upon his face then, when he recalled the moment he returned to his bedchambers, peeled off his clothes and noticed the dark stain on his breeches. Blood.

That was why she did not want to go further. Aegon could have had her that night, had it not been for the Mother’s curse. The fact alone made him hard again, giving him no choice but to summon Hildy so early that morning. Her services aren’t quite done after all… at least for the next 3-5 days.

Aegon was aware that Valeana would be with his nephew that afternoon, the thought of which drove him to near madness. He needed to see her again, to do it again, but he swallowed down his impatience, and instead went into the pavilions to distract himself. There he reunited with the Redwyne brothers and as a result, found himself in Catelyn’s company.

He leaned into her ear, and whispered, “Your idea worked like a charm.”

This elated her, turning to him with a bright smile that was infectious, “It did?! Tell me everything.”

Aegon rocked on the balls of his feet innocently, hands clasped behind his back as he started to walk through the pavilions, forcing her to trail next to him. He hummed, a smile curling his lips, “I do not kiss and tell.”

She gasped, “You ki—” Cat cut herself off and cleared her throat, looking around the area to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. People were already watching them curiously, what with Aegon being a Prince, and Catelyn being not his usual company. “You kissed?” She repeated in a whisper.

Well, no, Aegon realized. They hadn’t… He kissed other parts of her, and her own chaste one on his cheek still made the area warm and tingly. But the realization bothered him more than he thought it would. It was a fact he wished to rectify.

In the end, he did not tell Catelyn exactly what happened, other than they had a lovely midnight snack and chat, where he made his heartfelt confessions, and she gifted him with a chance.

One drink became several, as usually was the case, and his jovial time in the pavilions became a pleasant blur. By the time he got back to the Red Keep, it was already too late in the evening to call for Valeana. Besides, he was far too drunk to make any sort of good impression on her father. Aegon was aware that Bartimos already had a sour impression of him, and if he was going to marry Valeana, then he would have to – somehow – get on ol’ Barty’s good side.

Aegon barely had his tunic off when his mother entered into his chambers, completely unannounced. She had a tendency to do that, particularly when she was contrite with him over something he wasn’t even aware that he had done.

“Mother,” he threw his head back, too tired and too inebriated to coherently greet her properly. His hands rubbed his eyes before he regarded her through his exhaustion, “One of these days, your intrusions will be awarded by the unseemly sight of your son rutting into—”

“Enough!” Her face reddened, from anger or embarrassment over the mental image he had just painted, or likely both. “I had come to you this morning, but your guard told me you were occupied.”

Aegon smiled slyly, “Very.”

The queen scoffed at her son, turning sharply away as she rubbed her fingers to her temples. She paced around the room like that, only aggravating Aegon, who longed to be nude and in his bed.

“Would you please just berate me already? It’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

His mother finally stopped her pacing, moving her hands from her head to her hips, “What are your intentions with Lady Valeana?”

The bluntness and the seriousness of her tone was enough to sober him. Aegon wobbled back, as if a blow was made at him. To steady himself, he placed his forearm on the post of his bed, and leaned against it.

“Did we not already have this conversation?” He peered at her in confusion. “You told me to stop pursuing her, threatened to chain me to my rooms, and I completely ignored you?”

“Aegon,” her tone was a force in its steadiness. Alicent strode over to him, and despite being shorter, it still felt like he was under her. Like he was still a child. “Tell me the truth, for once in your bloody life. What. Are. Your. Intentions?”

Aegon’s mouth fell into a pout, his red rimmed eyes stared back at her like a reprimanded puppy. Alicent never swore, he would remember if she did. His mother had a knack for making polite words sound as lethal as a Valyrian steel blade.

“To cour–” She did not allow him to finish. Alicent’s hand grabbed his face firmly under his jaw.

“I said I want the truth of it! That girl is under the impression you are fond of her, but I know my son! She is the daughter of a noble house, not some common maid that you can use to exercise your depravities with!”

Aegon wretched his face away from her hand, his brows pulled downward in a twisted look of annoyance and outrage. The logical part in his brain does not blame his mother for reaching to the conclusion that he had ill intent, but what hurt the most was that she could not simply imagine Aegon actually being soft on a girl. That the very idea was improbable on every plain of existence, because Aegon simply could not feel with anything other than his dick.

“I am fond of her!” He shouted, backing away from his mother. His frustration mixing with the alcohol in his veins created a boiling point; he was so fucking tired of his mother thinking so little of him. “And my intentions with Valeana Celtigar are pure. Why is that so fucking hard to believe?”

Alicent momentarily looked taken back by the intense sincerity of his voice, which cracked with emotion and exhaustion. The Queen shook her head, “You cannot attach yourself to that girl, Aegon. You know you are intended to marry your sister–”

Aegon scoffed loudly, throwing his head back, “Mother! Stop this! Father does not wish for me to marry Helaena, and we do not wish for it either! For once in your life can you just be happy for me?”

The question had rendered Alicent speechless, if only for a prolonged moment. His mother’s eyes, wide, dark, glistened with unshed tears (of guilt or aggravation, he could not tell) as they darted between his desperate violet ones.

“I cannot help but conclude,” she began to speak, her voice lower than before, almost delicate and methodical as if she was trying to soften a blow. “That you only fancy the girl because she belonged to your brother, and you know he wants her back. How can I be happy for one son, when it is at the expense of another?”

Aegon’s anger was quickly boiling over, evident by the reddening of his face and the trembling of his fingers. He longed to grab something and throw it at her, but instead he settled for taking a forceful step in his mother’s direction, and angrily pointed in the direction of Aemond’s quarters, “AEMOND DOES NOT DESERVE HER! He does not deserve the happiness that she brings. He pushed her, mother, broke her fucking leg clean off, and then treats her like the scum of the earth, and yet you stand here and tell me that his happiness is more deserving than mine?!”

“Aegon, that is not–”

“I will not hear it, mother! I will hear no more of it! I will not marry Helaena, and I will not be your fucking king! You and grandsire’s selfish ambition will ruin my life no longer. I will marry who I chose, and as soon as Valeana Celtigar is my wife, we will fly to the Free Cities, away from this bleeding place. Away from father, from Rhaenyra, from Aemond, from grandsire. Away from you!”

With people from all four corners of Westeros collecting around King’s Landing, there was always a very audible chorus of gasps, claps, and some screams whenever dragons flew over the city. Even if it became somewhat of a common occurrence, with nearly all dragonlords in attendance for the Royal Conclave, and the looming presence of the Cannibal that had to be deterred every two to three days, the sight never got old for spectators. However, there was a particularly louder reaction the morning that Princess Rhaenyra arrived.

Gone for many years, the heir to the Throne’s return was heavily anticipated. None knew if she was going to come at all after the tragedy of her daughter’s untimely death. But the Conclave was not the only thing that drove Rhaenyra back home; her duty to her sons was paramount, their marriages needed to be secured to good houses, and not only that… Vaemond Velaryon was going to petition to be the Heir of Driftmark, robbing Lucerys’ inheritance. The very inheritance that his grandfather wanted for him. But alas, the Sea Snake was not conscious, and he continued to toe the line between life and death.

The golden Syrax glided over the ramparts and roofs of King’s Landing, followed by the smaller Moondancer, and lastly the large Meleys, the Red Queen. While they descended onto Rhaenys’ Hill and into the Dragonpit, ships bearing the black banners of Rhaenyra Targaryen, and the turquoise colours of House Velaryon docked into the bay.

The princess’ return was met with a grand reception on her way to the Keep. In the wheelhouse, the Princess sat with Rhaenys, Baela, Rhaena, Joffrey, Aegon the Younger, and her little Viserys on her lap. Joffrey, at three and ten, had spent most of his formable years at Dragonstone, so his return to King’s Landing felt more like the first time. He peered through the carved peepholes that windowed the corners of the wheelhouse, marvelling at the people who showered them with flower petals, and waved black and red flags. There were some that were not so joyous, however. For every ten, there was one brave, mad man or woman who shouted ‘dragon whore’ through cupped hands, which Joffrey chose to ignore with a stiff swallow.

Rhaenys was watching her cousin’s daughter closely throughout the ride. For years, she had strongly suspected that Rhaenyra and Daemon had a hand in Leanor’s murder. However, prior to their departure to the capitol, in Nyra’s desire for Rhaenys’ presence in King’s Landing, the younger princess had gifted her not only the truth, but an offer of betrothal between Rhaena and Lucerys. There was some doubt in Rhaenys’ mind that perhaps Nyra was simply placating her heart into believing her son was alive and happy somewhere across the narrow sea, because she needed the woman to advocate for her. Vaemond’s shadow loomed in the harbour, preparing himself for the petition for the inheritance of Driftmark, which would take place sometime past midday. Hardly enough time for a proper reunion amongst family and friends.

Despite her doubts, however small or large, Rhaenys felt compelled to put her trust in her cousin’s hands. Her granddaughters were her blood, and she would much rather see one of them as Lady of Driftmark than her husband’s nephew. Though that alone isn’t all that steered her, but also the knowledge that Rhaenyra and Rhaenys walked the same path. They just ended up in different destinations. Rhaenys saw herself in the younger princess, had she been the Queen That Ever Was.

When they arrived at the Keep, it was not in the Throne Room, but rather in the intimate Small Hall, which was vacant of even courtiers for the reunion. As soon as the crow princess entered, she immediately saw the new masonry, the new frescos, the new tapestries, where they once depicted dragons and scenes of Old Valyria and the Conqueror’s victories, now showed images of the Seven. She shared a look with Daemon as he approached her along with her two eldest.

The princess swallowed her displeasure over the change of her home, but instead smiled when she reached her sons, placing a hand on each of their cheeks.

“Have you two been behaving?”

Luke grinned mischievously, “Better than most.”

Rhaenyra pinched his cheek for his sass, and then looked over at Jace, maternal seriousness now taking over.

“And have you done what I’ve asked?”

Jace nodded, sucking in his bottom lip, “I have, mother. Though I wish to converse with you. There has been a…” He casted a look over at his brother, and then his step father. “Development.”

Rhaenyra opened her mouth to inquire further, but it was at this time that King Viserys, Alicent, and her half siblings entered the room. Immediately, her spine went ram-rod straight, but her face was soft when she came into her father’s awaiting arms.

While her conversation with her father was not forgotten, it was the moments of tenderness she spent with Alicent during her short visit to Dragonstone that also plagued Rhaenyra’s mind. Her mind was so heavy, and yet she still had the burden of mourning on her shoulders, as was evidenced by her black gown and the veil she had pinned to her braids.

The dual kisses she shared with Alicent upon their cheeks was brief, polite, but full of unspoken emotion. Alicent looked at her with sympathy, seeing a mother still grieving, and a friend she had lost. Rhaenyra’s own eyes held longing for their youth, their past, and empathetic sadness for a betrayal that Alicent was not aware happened.

Her four half siblings were met with almost forced pleasantness. With Helaena, it was genuine, even going as far as thanking her for her attendance at Visenya’s funeral. With Aegon and Aemond, it was stiff. Despite Aegon being her first sibling, and therefore he had been in her life the longest, there was little to no sisterly devotion. He would always be a symbol of Alicent’s treachery to their friendship. But, still, she at least attempted.

“My,” Rhaenyra placed her hands in front of her, “The last I saw of you two, you were boys, barely on the cusp of manhood. Now here you are, taller than your eldest sister.”

Aegon smiled sardonically, his eyes glancing down at her wrist, “Glad to see your arm healed nicely, sister.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, twisting her lip before she looked up at Aemond, her tongue tied now that the elephant in the room was acknowledged. The last time she saw them was the day Aemond lost his eye, at the hands of her son.

“Aemond,” her shoulders straightened as she looked up at him. His eye not afraid to hold her gaze, and she didn’t expect otherwise. He was the one made of stronger meddle, never allowing his emotions to breach his armour. Even when the accident happened, he stood strong for his mother, who had cracked so brilliantly under her grief. “It pleases me that you are doing well. I have heard you’ve been taking great care of Vhagar; she has chosen her rider well, it seems.”

She knew her words would wound her more fragile step-daughter, but it was the truth, and Rhaenyra sought to seek out peace with the brother she wronged the most. She loved Rhaena dearly, but she lacked the disposition for a beast like Vhagar. She might be the splitting image of her mother, Leana, but she did not have the same ferocity that it took to be a rider of Visenya Targaryen’s war-seasoned she-dragon.

There was a ghost of a crooked smile on Aemond’s lip, though it was barely there to be noticeable by anyone else. He gave a nod of his head, and simply replied with: “Thank you, sister.”

Then there was the final brother, the one who she hadn’t met, who was, by all accounts, an actual stranger. And yet it was Daeron who greeted her with a smile wide and inviting, an infectious one that Rhaenyra reciprocated.

“And who is this handsome young man before me?” She tilted her chin up at him, tall and gangly as he was. Daeron was toned and handsome, but still had yet to shed the softness of boyhood.

“Sister!” Daeron all but launched himself into her arms, taking her off guard. Her hands hovered over his back, her eyes wide in her surprise. Aside from Helaena, Daeron was the second sibling she had ever hugged, and that thought brought up a sadness she had not realized she harboured. Her arms gently folded over his back, palm slowly moving up and down. “It is such a great pleasure to finally meet you at last, Rhaenyra.”

When she pulled away, she could now see the resemblance she shared with him; their smile was similar, their eyes the same shade of violet. “It is a joy to see you too, Daeron. The last time I saw you, you were new to the world.”

Daeron bowed his head, and moved his hands to hold hers, “I wanted to give you my deepest condolences on your loss, sister. I cannot imagine your pain, but I have been praying to the Seven for you, hoping you may find peace.”

Rhaenyra gave him a sad smile, moving her hand to his cheek, “Thank you, my brother. I appreciate your warmth and kindness.”

While her sons greeted their step sisters warmly, the reception the girls and Joffrey gave their uncles and Queen was stiff, not unlike her own. Daeron, however, was pleasant, either oblivious to the tension or decided to rise above it. Either way, it was enough to ease the strain, at least with everyone other than Aegon and Aemond. Her two eldest brothers lingered on the fringes of the crowd, eyeing their estranged family warrily, only speaking when spoken to through tight smiles that didn’t meet their eyes, or curt nods. Rhaenyra was also painfully aware that they did not even look at each other, and whenever Alicent seemed to make a move towards Aegon, he would shoulder his way through the bodies to find someone or something to distract himself with.

Rhaenyra trailed over to her husband, standing at his shoulder, “Do you mind enlightening me about what is going on here?” Her question was directed to the obvious thick atmosphere.

Daemon opened his mouth, but at that moment the doors opened and a Kingsguard announced the arrival of Lord Bartimos Celtigar, and his family. Instead he smiled broadly and turned to his wife, “I believe that should answer your question.”

And just like that, Rhaenyra noticed the sudden shift in the room. She watched her brothers’ visible change in demeanor as the doors opened, and the Celtigars marched through in a line, eldest to youngest. Aemond’s back went ramrod straight, but his face seemed to soften, his lips the only thing moving with a slight twitch at the ends of his mouth. He was trying to contain himself, unlike Aegon who had moved away from the crowd so he could be on the front lines, grin uncontained, unashamed.

Then Rhaenyra saw why, walking behind the tall, willowy Floris Grafton. The little figure of Valeana Celtigar appeared, wearing her family’s colours of red and white. Cheeks still soft and pink, hair impossibly long and white, but she was now older and womanly, and very distinctively Valyrian.

Targaryen.

The princess shared a look with Daemon, who was nothing but amused, “You’ve come just in time to witness a war of hearts between kin.”

Her only response was a tilt of her head, because before she could question more, Bartimos was in front of her, bowing his head. Another round of greetings were met, some a second time since Dragonstone, some for the very first time. Rhaenyra took special attention at the familiarity she saw between Daeron and Shyla, but when Aegon crowded Valeana the moment she separated from her family, Rhaenyra’s eyes were glued onto them. He whispered something in her ear, she smiled bashfully, but then her eyes flickered over to Aemond, who was watching her with his hands clasped behind his back, an unreadable emotion simmering behind his single eye.

Rhaenyra migrated over to Jacaerys, mind still lingering on the interaction between her two eldest brothers and Valeana, who now was meeting Rhaena and Beala for the first time in many years.

“Is this the development you speak of?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

Jace smirked, shaking his head, “Part of it, but no. Lady Valeana and I spoke at length yesterday… Once we get a moment, I wish to speak to you and Daemon about it. But suffice to say, mother, I do not believe she and I are compatible.”

“Hm,” Rhaenyra pursed her lips before giving a small nod. “At least I know it has nothing to do with her appearance.”

Jace scoffed in good humour, “No, not in the least.”

The princess stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Instead she moved through the crowd of Valyrians to finally meet Valeana for the first time in a decade. When Baela spotted her step-mother’s presence, she stopped talking mid sentence, which made Valeana turn around after sensing her silent interruption.

“Princess Rhaenyra,” she curtseyed with a polite smile, though the edges twitched at her attempt to contain a grin. It was clear that little Val still remembered the memories she shared with her, and for that, Rhaenyra was grateful, now more than ever.

“Lady Valeana,” her hands reached out to hold onto the young woman’s, her smile full of fondness, though her eyes were pensive as she searched Valeana’s face, trying to find traces of herself, of her father. It was impossible to tell, Valeana looked like Lysa Lannister with silver hair and soft curves. Still, there could be a chance… A possibility that the girl in front of her was her sister. Rhaenyra swallowed at the thought.

“You have blossomed into such a beautiful young woman.” her hands moved to the sides of her face, her thumbs gently rubbing her cheeks, “And perhaps a princess, by the end of this season.”

Valeana blushed deeply, her eyes flickering over Rhaenyra’s shoulder, to someone behind her, and then looked down shyly, “You flatter me, my Princess. Though I am not so sure if the title suits me as much as it does you, or Helaena.”

Rhaenyra briefly recalled the conversion she had when the girl was barely older than babe, wiggling around in her arms, trying to get away from the princess’s affection. She turned around, spotting the faces of her brothers, both of whom quickly looked away from her when she made eye contact. Then she moved her eyes to her father, who caught it immediately, conveying many words with just the simple gesture.

Sighing, she turned back to Valeana, her hands now moving to the flow of her wavy white-gold hair, “It fits you more than you realize.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE SNEAK PEAK Narrowing her eyes, she decided to press further, a little more boldly, “Are there any more whispers about me?” At their collective confusion, she added, “Only because you two seem quieter than usual, and I’m starting to wonder if you’ve learned something unsavoury that I should be concerned about.” Ellyn’s cheeks went pink, her eyes darting from Wylla, to the grass she was picking and peeling. They both shook their heads and cleared their throats.

Notes: *IMPORTANT NOTE FOR NEXT WEEK* So, because next week is Christmas, there won't be an update next Saturday, because I'm going to be quite busy with family obligations, and I'm not gonna even have time/energy to proof read. So this is the last chapter of the year, and the next one will be out January 4th! But, I'll still be around, and hopefully by the next two weeks, I'll have pumped out a couple of chapters to get a head of my schedule so I can work on that sad Aegon One-Shot. In the mean time, I hope everyone has a happy, safe holiday and new year!!

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel, @t0biasparabatai

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Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

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sugutoad · 1 day ago

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I WAS not expecting Aegon to die! I’m not necessarily sad at all especially when reading Rhaella’s POV. I love how in different funeral scenes for different characters, you make me feel a different way each time with how you make each character’s personality and thought process so different. Maegor and her conversations was so empowering too. They finally got a moment alone after facing everyone’s lies and let themselves be honest with one another.

My Heart, My Ruin (Chapter 6/?)

Dragonstone

36 ac

Rhaellas pov

We all stand in front of the funeral pyre where Grandsire lays dead. He passed in his sleep with a smile on his face, Father says it's because he's with Rhaenys again.

It's a lovely thought, and probably true, but I know Aunt Visenya won't like it. She never did like how close Rhaenys and Grandsire were, but she accepted it.

I try not to move much, I started my moonsblood just the night before and all I have to say is I'm glad I'm wearing black.

I remember the first time I woke up with my moonsblood. It was a moon after Maegor's wife passed, I woke up in excruciating pain in my lower abdomen. When I lifted my covers to call for a maester I saw blood, so much blood from my core. I don't care how many lessons a girl has about their moonsblood, she will never be ready for that sight.

So here I stand as a Valyrian Septon chants as blood leaks from my core and feeling like a knife is twisting in my belly.

I was a sobbing mess when I heard Grandsire passed, but none was as broken as Father or Aunt Visenya. For his Father has left him, he has no one to guide him besides courtiers. And Visenya has lost her final sibling, the only other person who understood what she felt when they conquered Westeros. They both lost someone dear, but I only lost a Grandsire who barely spoke to me if he didn't have to.

He always preferred Aegon and Viserys over me and Rhaena. From what Mother says he was trying to convince Father to marry another seeing as Mother had two pregnancies and failed to give him a son. Thank the gods Father ignored him.

I breathe in the cold salty air that always has a darker edge that you can only find here. I've always loved the smell here, Mother and Aegon prefer the scent Driftmark brings with it's spices and overwhelming saltiness that seems to stick to your skin.

Rhaena grips my arm as Vhagar moves forward to light the pyre. She was hit the hardest out of me and my siblings. She always wanted his attention, wanted to feel his love that he always gave Aegon and Visery. But no matter how hard she tried, he probably wouldn't be able to tell us apart.

“Just a bit longer Rhaena, then you never have to feel his disappointment again.” I whisper to her as she glares at the pyre.

With one look at her I saw the rage and fire in her violet eyes. I knew her sobs weren't because she lost Grandsire, it was because she would never be able to show him, he was wrong about our worth. To prove we are more than just broad mares that only need to be wed off.

“We're more than he ever thought of us, we are the riders of Dreamfyre and Meraxes. We don't need him to be breathing to prove him wrong. Because there are more like him, and we'll show them, we'll show them why they bent their knees to Grandsire. Not because of him, but because of his sisters.” I swear and Rhaena nods as she stands straighter watching as Vhagar lights the late King's pyre turning him into worthless ash in the wind.

I watch as courtiers who never even spoke to my Grandsire sob and talk about how wonderful he was. I have to fight a scoff each time someone stops me saying how sorry they are and how he was a good man.

You would think he didn't burn their homes to the ground if they didn't bend the knee. I think as I roll my eyes as a drunk lord I know never even saw my Grandsire talk about how amazing he was.

I finally find the person I was dying to speak to since the news had reached my ears. I waste no time making my way over to the balcony he is leaning against.

I already know what he is looking at before I even reach him. “He is now riderless, a dragon without a rider is a cruel joke.” I say as I watch Balerion sleep where we had just burned his rider.

Maegor shakes his head with a sigh. “No, it is too soon.”

This peaks my interest as I turn to look up at him. His jaw is set in a tense line, his eyes are set on the dragon and with one glance I can see the embers of an inferno burning within them. I know he may say it it is too soon, but I also know he doesn't care anymore.

“And who made the rules on when you can claim a dragon? What is it he used to say, ‘you claim or you die? And a Targaryen without a dragon isn't a Targaryen at all’?” I say knowing the quote will hit close to home for him, for it always did for me until I claimed my Meraxes.

He only hums as he looks down at me. I fight the blush that threatens to rise to cheeks as he pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “Tell me, what does it feel like when you claim a dragon?”

I think about his question as he turns back to stare at the Black Dread. “It feels like your soul is complete. It feels like home, like the world could burn but as long as you have that beast you could make it.”

He hums and looks down at me again before turning back to the dragon we both know he will claim in the coming days, if not tonight.

I take this as a sign that the conversation has ended, but I have one final thing to say. “I don’t know if he loved you, I hope he did but Grandsire never was good at showing you his affection. But I want to know, you don’t need him, you have proven yourself beyond what anyone could imagine already. And you much farther to go, you don’t need him, never did, and neither did I.”

And with that I turn on my heals leaving him to his brooding and thoughts. If only we knew of the darkness on the horizons, maybe my brothers would still be here, maybe it would be Rhaena as Queen instead of me. But of course these are just maybes, and there is nothing we could have done. For how are you to defend yourself from a threat you didn’t know was coming?

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @mmogurl @sachaa-ff @athzhowakar @thelastemzy @themoonlitquill

#My Alicent Hightower [ 🥀 ]

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