#[ abrogail / interactions ]

[clutchofmuses]

continued [finally!!] from here!

Toes scrape across the floor where her feet swing in the chair beside her brother's bed. Harwin's been asleep for days, and the Maester swears that he is alright, that as long as he continues to cough up the thick, sticky black, it means that he will heal and not choke on it.

Abrogail is not so sure.

Ravens have been sent. To Larys. To the small council. She does not know if they've heard back yet - the Maester tells her, when she asks in her very best Lady's voice - that a raven to king's landing takes time to get there and return, but he promises to inform her as soon as they hear back.

Uncle Simon approves of her help, giving her things to do when she does not sit with Harwin. She sends a raven to the Princess Rhaenyra on her own with the Maester's help. Harwin is fond of her, her sworn shield, or at least, he once was. Even if the Queen does not like her very much, and they all say mean things about one another.

The raven has not returned from Dragonstone either.

They found Papa the day before. Uncle Simon did not let her see, but held her when she cried. Still, Harwin slept, and they said they'd wait to send him on the boat because it was Harwin's duty to launch the arrow for the funeral, she insisted, coughing up her own black stickiness but it was not nearly as bad.

So now she sits, still by her brother's bed, praying to the Old Gods and the Seven to please let him wake up. Wake up and be her brother, and to not leave too. To not let the fire claim him. When he jerks upon the bed, gasping and coughing as he looks around, Abrogail jerks out of her own chair, reaching for his arm before stopping herself. She was not to touch - his arms were bandaged as he was inured.

"Harwin?" she asks, in a shaky voice that carries, for she hears Uncle Simon out in the hall, ordering the guards to retrieve the maester. She clears her throat, remembers that she must be the Lady now, and be calm, even when she just wants to throw herself back in his arms. "You're alright now, they're getting the Maester. They said you breathed in too much smoke and hurt yourself."

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy Rating: Explicit Chapters: 20 (give or take) Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong, Aemond Targaryen x Helaena Targaryen, Eventual Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Read on AO3

CHAPTER FOUR- Solace In Being Heard

Her fingers tugged at the loose braid, curls and frizz coming out of it like the frills along Dreamfyre’s neck. Now that her dragon was settled with her clutch, Helaena's restlessness over the previous week had eased. She felt more in the present than pulled elsewhere, as it always was when these things happened; it was as if a haze went over everything, and Helaena felt wrapped in cotton wool, her senses focused on the smell of brimstone and the low glow of the dark nests inside the dragon pit. Of the need to protect, of the need to be in herself, but not herself. Helaena could only describe it as if she leant Dreamfyre her strength during these times. Like she could lend her senses to her soulmate to ensure she felt safe when giving birth. She’d never spoken a word of it to Aegon in their years together, for Sunfyre did not lay eggs or roost with any other dragon in such a way, and Vhagar didn’t seem to lay eggs either. Helaena supposed she could ask Aemond about it, for he had read far more about dragons than she, but Helaena didn’t. There were some things that could not be learned from books. There were things one instinctively knew and Helaena knew, somewhere, that her dragon’s strength was her own, and her own was her dragon’s.

Reblogs add one health bar for the writer! Even if you’re not able to read, reblogs go a long way!

Interaction is how we build a community and how I know you're liking this story! Please give this a reblog to spread it around so new people can discover this story, and if you read and enjoy this fic, please leave a comment! I have no idea if people are reading this story as we progress if I don't hear from you! And I love your insights and commentary!

Tag List Behind the Cut!

@fyeahgotocs, @fyeahhotdocs, @ocappreciation, @stannisfactions, @fragilestorm, @starcrossedjedis, @darkwolf76, @arrthurpendragon, @dopedaegus, @hiddenqveendom, @mantillon, @lightofthearrow, @songsonacliffside, @acrossthesestars, @insabecs, @bagginsends, @prosemoireia, @dragonsbone, @corporalicent, @jadore-andor, @selfproclaimedunicorn, @vulpinespectacle, @gwenllian-in-the-abbey, @notbloodraven

[somewhere-in-the-dungeon]

That... basically did happen without a single trope getting invoked at any point, as near as Keltham can figure it.  He's relieved, honestly.  There aren't even any signs of subversion or deconstruction, the whole thing happened with basically no complications or plot conflicts or unanswered questions or open plot arcs left at the end, unless you count the actual Carissa-Abrogail interaction which the viewpoint character doesn't get to see anyways.

-Mad Investor Chaos and the Woman of Asmodeus

Okay who else is reading along with this because I want to share my exclamations of laugher with someone

[clutchofmuses]

🎲 ( from aemond, to abby! ) - @hamcrtia

43. a bloody kiss

salt and iron filled abrogail's mouth, teeth sharp and gnashing, and she felt the fragile skin of her mouth break between aemond's touch. she didn't care, she never cared. her own teeth tugged and bit into his own, and she could feel his growl vibrate through him, and her own answering mewl.

"aemond," she gasped, pulling at his hair, his eyepatch discarded away somewhere forgotten. her head tilts back, and the red streaked across their mouths is visceral, feral. blue eyes search his own lavender, and she bumps her nose against his in something soft compared to the needy violence of the kiss.

[clutchofmuses]

🎲 from aegon to abby - @dragynfire

38. a kiss while one party is carried

a feast fit for a king's coronation. a celebration fit for a wedding. there was no opportunity for a bedding ceremony, for aegon swept her into his arms as soon as possible, hoisting her over his shoulder like the spoils of war and glaring at any of the men who had dare think to approach her.

her hair was a mess of undone curls, shining copper in the torchlight as he took them to their chambers. not the king's chambers - not yet, for he was tearing those apart - but other chambers - decadent holdings better for the king.

with only a slight grunt, aegon shifted her and cradled her against his chest, regarding the doors before them as the guards hastened to open them and swept her in. as soon as he kicked the door shut behind them, her fingers were in his hair, and aegon's mouth was on hers as if they hadn't seen each other in years. decades. the hunger, the relief, the utter incandescent satisfaction of having all they wanted now.

[clutchofmuses]

🩸 (Larys and Abrogail) @asoulunbound

The creak of the door opening startled Abrogail. The young woman gasped, hair flickering copper and flame in the firelight as she looked up at Larys. It was not usual for her to be in their apartments. Her duties kept her in Helaena's rooms more often than not.

The white linen pressed to her palm was soaking red and she swallowed. "I'm so sorry, I... I picked something up and it cut me... I don't feel very well."

[clutchofmuses]

From here @helbroth

She ached. She'd ached since they brought him broken and screaming from Rook's Rest. She'd tended at his bedside, comforted him as Sunfyre's presence waned, as his legs struggled to heal, exhausting him. As the war tore through her own heart, chipping away at all she loved and held dear. All the more, she knew, to hold tighter to Aegon, to what they still had.

"To ask me not to look at you is to have me blinded," she told him softly, her hand gentle, pressed against his heart beat as if she could reach in and soothe the ache. Abrogail shook her head, her molten curls a mess about her head, falling from the braid that held them back. Her skin was pale, her eyes circled from her own pains, her own injuries laying beneath the skin and only with Aegon did they ease at all. "Do not take yourself away from me too, not after all of this. I know you did not lose all your sense." There is a gentle bite to her tone, a look of warning that she would not be pushed away to leave him in his misery, but that he was not the only one to feel such pain.

[clutchofmuses]

There were passages that ran the whole of Maegor's Holdfast, and over time they had discovered many of them. The one Abrogail Strong used that night to creep into Prince Aegon's bedroom was the one that went behind the statue outside of Aemond's bedroom.

She shivered with anticipation, with nervous energy, with the arousal that coursed through her with each hammering thud of her heart and every footstep closer to Aegon's bedroom.

It had been weeks of them dancing around one another. It had been weeks of lingering glances and touches, weeks... weeks...

It had been years of wanting. Years of yearning. Years of restlessly tossing in her little bed wishing that things had been different.

Her hair was a glow of molten copper down her back, the soft waves of her hair falling to her waist. The nightgown was thin in the way southern gowns were, and she'd left behind her dressing gown. She was a girl on a mission, and the less between her and her quarry, the better.

The door to Aegon's bedroom was behind a tapestry of Sunfyre and quietly she undid the door, wincing as the hinges whined in the quiet. The fire was the sole illumination in the Prince's chambers, the bed a haphazard wreck as the rest of the room was. Goblets littered the surfaces, parchment scattered about, other things that Abby didn't know what they were. None of them mattered. Aegon was sprawled across his bed facing the fireplace and she could only make out the line of his back.

She exhaled, setting her little candle on the side table and approached the bed.

He was so good with her. He was patient, and kind, and refused to take more even when she thought she made clear that he could take what she was giving him. And instead, Aegon pulled away, an agony in his red rimmed, lilac eyes.

Tonight, she would show him exactly what she meant. She knew that he wanted this too, and it was something she wanted to give him.

Her nipples ached from the cold, from arousal, from want and need, the linen of her nightgown as light as moth wings leaving little to the imagination. It was so exposed, so indecent, but she was beyond caring. She had no experience in seduction, but she knew Aegon, and she knew what she wanted.

"Aegon," she said, her voice low, the slightest tremble of nerves in the lilt of her Riverlands accent. She crawled up on the bed, bracing a hand down as she climbed up. Her hair glowed like Sunfyre's flame in the firelight, her eyes, blue as the sky, shone at him, pupils blown, heart shaped mouth plump and red from how she'd bitten it on her way to the room. Abby sat back on her heels, the gown gathered around her thighs, and with a more bossy tone, said, "Aegon, I want you. Desperately. And I'm going mad with it and I would like you to make it better. Please."

@helbroth

[clutchofmuses]

💭 ( for Abby )

Abby watches him from across the deck of the ship, where he laughs with the bosun - an older, grizzled looking man with a jagged and ropey scar along his right cheek. Maron’s eyes crinkle with mirth, the flash of his sharp teeth, all signs of his genuine amusement. The bosun leaves and Abby continued to watch him, his features relaxing and for a moment, she wonders, Does he know how sad he is in the inbetween? Is that where it hides? In the space between heartbeats?

She crosses to him, only stumbling a little with the roll of the ship and he smiles at her when he catches her gaze. Abby says nothing, but wraps her arms around his waist, tucking beneath his arm and resting her head against him.

I’ve got you.

[clutchofmuses]

🎲 ( from aegon, to abby! ) - @hamcrtia

26. A kiss while one or both parties are crying

"i have to, you have to let me go," she whispered, fat tears rolling down her cheeks, aegon's own large and as shining as hers. the carriage was waiting, the cart of belongings already set off ahead. "You will get through this without me. this whole driftmark situation is nothing more than plays between those who do not concern us." the bigger issue was that Rhaenyra and her family would come, and she was being sent away to harrenhal. out of the way, for aegon to be the dutiful husband, the doting son.

her little hands reached to cup his face and she drew him close, slanting her soft little mouth, trembling from her tears, to slide against his. A hope and promise that she would see him again. That they would be back in each other's arms soon.

[clutchofmuses]

The children were asleep, piled onto the pillows in a patch of sun in the sitting room more like puppies than a clutch of dragons. The shafts of light had turn Alyssa and Aenar's silver heads a warm, strawberry gold, while Harwin's dark curls glimmered with hints of red. The young queen smiled at her children, and hoped that her belly would quicken once more now that the twins were nearing their second nameday.

"I should only ever tell the king what he ought to do, not what he could do," @withouthonor said from his chair. He had come to read to the children only to find them asleep but it was no matter. Tea and small finger foods sat on the table between them and Abrogail looked at her uncle with a raised brow.

"He is not his father," she reminded him, defensive of her Aegon even though her tone was easy. "And he sees far more than him as well. He should know what he can do, so that he may more optimally weigh the stakes."

Worry tugged low in her gut but she could not pinpoint the reason as to why. Not that it was difficult - not since Luke's death, not since Rhaenyra and Daemon moved into the Riverlands, and the fleet sought to blockade the Blackwater.

[clutchofmuses]

"Everyday, I ask myself why someone like you would choose to stay with someone like me. And everyday, I come up empty." @azmenka's hands are covered in engine grease as he comes up from the hatch of The Kingfisher, arms crossed along the edge with his chin resting on his equally grease streaked arms. Blue eyes, deep and vibrant as the ocean, stare back at her looking almost unnatural with how dark his tan has gotten.

Abby's sitting next to the toolbox with a wrench in hand that she was preparing to hand down to him when his lovely head came popping back up. It's chilly, and she's snuggled in one of his old hoodies, the cuffs of the soft, grey material frayed and stained from use. Copper curls are bundled back in a messy bun on the top of her head, and she's quite happy to nuzzle her nose along the collar and catch the scent of him and the laundry soap that clings to the fabric.

The water is calm that day, and he graciously allowed her to poke her nose into the maintenance that his vessel - his home, truly -- needed. She'd wanted to learn, and understand, to love it from bolts and bilge to the sails as he did because this is important to you, and you're important to me as if the answer had been obvious. It was obvious, to Abby anyway.

She cared about Maron, more than she thought she could. People only ever fell this fast, this hard, in movies or books. The connection between them was undeniable since that moment he'd whispered in her ear and laughed in delight at the felt kraken she'd bought him.

"You sound like you might be complaining," she smiles at him, only teasing him a little and reaches out to brush some of the stray hair off his forehead, tracing her finger down the bridge of his nose before leaning down the short distance to kiss the tip of it. "I'm sorry that the answers are so difficult when they're so easy for me." He raises a challenging eyebrow at her and she slides down so she's reclined on her side, to properly meet his eyes.

Abby's the sappy one, but Maron's romantic heart lurks beneath the sharp, ever present grin that she adores so much. "You treat me like I'm capable. You make me laugh. Your tongue pokes out between your teeth when you're trying not to giggle like a little kid. Hmmm..."

She taps his nose twice as she thinks. "I love how readily you take my hand when I'm feeling too shy sometimes to do it myself. You're not afraid of looking dumb or silly when you're trying to cheer me up - I've noticed that foolishness of yours and it's quite a good act. Let's see... The way you take me under your arm and hold me against your chest and point out the stars and how to navigate by them. The way you let me hang the Kraken up on your rear view mirror even though I know Rodrik ended up teasing you about it. You make me breakfast in bed even when my brains haven't been thoroughly fucked out." A smirk this time as she pauses in her list. "Would you like me to keep going?" she asks, voice in that soft, far away sort of tone she gets when she's thinking about kissing him.

[clutchofmuses]

"Oh, I am one of the monsters," @azmenka said, almost sweet, the grin on his face sharp as it revealed those pearly white cuspids. A dangerous monster indeed. Abrogail's fingers continued to trace the lines of thick and thin dark ink along his tanned skin, revealed by his delicious lack of shirt. "But that just means I can keep all the other monsters from ever hurting you again."

She hummed softly, sky blue eyes large in her face, looking up at him beneath thick, dark lashes. The position was compromising to say the least: the pair of them crammed into her small bed in the tower room a floor a floor above Sansa's own cell. The nearly sheer ivory silk of her nightgown did little to protect her own propriety, her curls a tangled mess over a bare shoulder and gleaming as copper as the mermaid on the bow of The Kingfisher.

The bruise along the right side of her face was a large blemish - mottled purple and blue from where Cersei had her struck. It had been bound to happen sooner or later. She tilted her face back to nuzzle her nose against his, the motion as sweet as his promise and reassurances.

"To be protected by the fearsome Greyjoy is not something I'd thought of when thinking about handsome men sweeping me off my feet," she teased him with whispered amusement.

The syrupy heat filled her belly and she shifted into him more, sliding her leg over his hip to force him more onto his back so it could be her turn to loom over him. "Tell me how monstrous you'll be?" Her voice had turned hushed, blue eyes no longer as heavy lidded while she looked down on him. Her soft, tracing fingers moved to his chin, her thumb pressing on the fullness of his lower lip. She was sweet as honey cakes, but the world around her was a violent one. She could not deny that there was something about the idea of the protective possessiveness that had grown between them so quickly.

[emilykaldwen]

Will we see what Criston thinks about Abrogail?

Ooooh you know what? I hadn't even thought about it. I guess my first thought is that it really wouldn't come up until Arc 3, since there would be a reason for them to interact.

But as for what he thinks? Well, he's known her since she was a wee child and overall I think he sees her as fine. The children love her, she's good with Helaena. Aegon tries harder in the training yard if she's watching *LOL* But at the end of the day, he doesn't really care? She's not his priority. Alicent is his priority. The TargTower kids are his priority. I don't even think it's a relation to Harwin issue either. He's just pretty ambivalent about her. She's polite. She doesn't cause trouble.

IT does give me some repercussions to think about down the line though, so thank you! you got the wheels turning!