#🌼ㅤ┊ㅤ𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ˳ ㅤ ��ㅤ ꯭ ꯭ ̶ ̶꯭۫ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ 𔓕ㅤ 𓈒ㅤ֗

[br0kenangel]

𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐘: 𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.

The Red Keep was a place of beauty, grandeur, and luxury—a place where everything was meant to be perfect, from the tapestries on the walls to the gowns worn by the ladies of the court. It was a place where you, the embodiment of elegance and grace, thrived. You were known as the beauty, a title you wore like a crown, and you made sure that your appearance reflected nothing less than perfection.

But as of late, there had been something—or rather, someone—who had been disturbing that sense of perfection. That someone was your little brother, Aegon, a child who, in your eyes, was the complete opposite of everything you held dear.

It wasn’t just that he was a child—though that was annoying enough on its own. No, what truly disturbed you was the state he always seemed to be in. His hair was a mess of tangled silver curls, his clothes always dirty, wrinkled, and utterly soulless. You couldn’t understand how anyone could allow a prince—your future husband—to look so… disgusting.

The thought made your skin crawl.

You had tried to ignore it, hoping that someone—anyone—would take the initiative to correct the problem. But no one did. And so, after seeing him one too many times running around the gardens, covered in dirt and wearing those horrid little tunics, you decided you had had enough.

You stormed through the halls of the Red Keep, your gown billowing behind you as you made your way to Queen Alicent’s chambers. When you arrived, you didn’t even bother to wait for the guards to announce you. You pushed open the door and stepped inside, your expression a mixture of determination and disgust.

Alicent looked up from her embroidery, startled by your sudden entrance. “Y/N,” she said, a hint of surprise in her voice. “Is something the matter?”

You didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Yes, there is,” you replied, your tone sharp. “It’s about Aegon.”

Alicent’s brow furrowed. “Is he alright?”

“Physically, yes,” you answered, your words clipped. “But his appearance is another matter entirely. He’s always dirty, his clothes are atrocious, and his hair looks like it hasn’t seen a brush in days. Frankly, it’s an embarrassment. He’s a prince, not some common street urchin.”

“He’s just a child,” she said gently. “Children get dirty; they play, they explore—”

“I don’t care,” you cut her off, your voice firm. “If I am to be his wife, then I refuse to be associated with someone who looks like that. If you cannot ensure that he is properly taken care of, then I will do it myself.”

The queen looked taken aback by your words, but after a moment, she sighed and nodded. “Very well,” she said quietly. “If that is what you wish, then I won’t stand in your way.”

You didn’t respond to that. Instead, you gave a curt nod and turned on your heel, leaving the chamber as swiftly as you had entered. Your mind was already working on the changes you would make—starting with getting rid of every single one of those dreadful tunics he wore.

You found Aegon in the gardens, as expected. He was playing in the dirt again, his little hands caked with mud as he babbled happily to himself. The sight made you grimace in disgust. How could anyone let a prince get so filthy?

“Aegon!” you called sharply, making him look up in surprise.

He beamed when he saw you, his face lighting up with that innocent joy that only a child could muster. “Y/N!” he exclaimed, starting to run toward you, his arms outstretched.

“Stop right there,” you ordered, holding up a hand to halt him in his tracks. “Don’t touch me with those dirty hands.”

Aegon’s face fell, his little smile fading as he looked down at his mud-covered fingers. He seemed confused, hurt even, but you didn’t let it sway you. You had a job to do.

“Come with me,” you commanded, your tone leaving no room for argument. “We’re going to get you cleaned up.”

Aegon followed you obediently, though he kept a small distance, as if he was unsure whether he was in trouble or not. You led him back inside, where you summoned a group of maids and ordered them to take him away for a proper bath.

“Make sure he’s thoroughly cleaned,” you instructed them, your tone cold and precise. “I want him spotless.”

The maids nodded and took Aegon away, leaving you alone to begin your next task. You made your way to his chambers, where you ordered all of his old clothes to be removed and replaced with the finest silks and velvets. You personally oversaw the selection, choosing only the best fabrics, the richest colors, and the most elegant designs.

By the time Aegon was brought to you, freshly bathed and dressed in a simple but luxurious robe, you were ready for the next step. You had already laid out a few options for his new wardrobe and were just finishing your final selections when the maids brought him into the room.

Aegon looked at you with wide, curious eyes, his freshly washed hair falling in soft curls around his face. He looked much better already, but there was still work to be done.

“Come here,” you said, gesturing for him to sit on the stool in front of you.

He hesitated for a moment, but then obeyed, climbing up onto the stool and sitting as still as he could. You picked up a brush and began to work on his hair, frowning as you encountered knot after knot. Aegon winced, letting out small whimpers of pain as the brush tugged at his tangled curls.

“Stay still,” you ordered, your voice firm but not unkind. “A prince must be strong and brave. He cannot cry over something as simple as having his hair brushed.”

Aegon bit his lip, trying his best to remain silent as you continued to work on his hair. It took longer than you anticipated, but eventually, his curls were smooth and glossy, falling neatly around his face.

You set the brush aside and took a step back, admiring your work. He looked much better now—clean, well-dressed, and presentable. A proper little prince.

“There,” you said, satisfied. “That’s much better.”

Aegon looked up at you with wide eyes, still unsure of what to make of all this. “Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice small, “you mad at Aegon?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “No, Aegon,” you replied, your tone softening slightly. “I’m not mad. I just want you to look your best. You’re going to be my husband one day, and I can’t have you running around looking like… like that.” You gestured vaguely to the memory of his earlier state.

Aegon stared at you for a moment, then suddenly reached out and hugged you, his little arms wrapping around your waist. “love you, wifey,” he mumbled against your gown, his voice muffled but sincere.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat at his words. “I-I told you not to call me that.” you stammered, your usual composure slipping for a moment.

“Wifey,” Aegon repeated, looking up at you with those big violet eyes, full of trust and affection.

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Part of you wanted to correct him, to tell him that he shouldn’t call you that until you were actually married. But another part of you—one you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge—found it oddly endearing.

Instead of saying anything, you let out a small sigh and gently lifted him into your arms, carrying him over to the bed. “Alright,” you said softly, trying to keep the affection out of your voice. “It’s time for bed.”

You dressed him in a pair of soft, silky nightclothes that you had selected earlier, making sure they were comfortable and warm. Then you tucked him into the bed, pulling the covers up to his chin.

Aegon reached out for you as you moved to leave, his small hand grabbing onto your sleeve. “Wifey, stay with Aegon,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. “Please?”

You hesitated for a moment, then sighed and climbed into the bed beside him. You let him snuggle close, his little body warm against yours as he rested his head on your shoulder.

As you lay there, listening to his soft, even breaths, you found yourself humming a lullaby, the tune soft and soothing in the quiet of the room. Aegon’s grip on your sleeve relaxed as he drifted off to sleep, his face peaceful and content.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to simply enjoy the quiet, the warmth of his small body curled up against yours. It wasn’t something you had ever imagined doing—caring for a child, even if that child was your future husband—but as you watched him sleep, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of contentment.

“I just want the best for you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you brushed a strand of silver hair from his forehead.

Aegon mumbled something in his sleep, his little hand grasping for yours. You hesitated before allowing your fingers to gently intertwine with his. The softness of his small hand in yours was surprisingly comforting, though you would never admit it aloud.

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ♡ Part 3 ♡ Part 4 ♡ Part 6

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[br0kenangel]

𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑: 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.

The gardens of the Red Keep were a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you could escape the drudgery of court life. Today was one of those rare, perfectly still afternoons—where the sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the cobblestone paths, and the air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers. It was an ideal day for a stroll, a brief escape from the duties and annoyances of the royal court.

You walked slowly, savoring the quiet, the rustling of your gown the only sound accompanying you. The garden was your domain, a place where you could admire the perfection of nature without interruption. Or so you thought.

You had barely turned the corner around a hedge when you heard the soft patter of little feet behind you, followed by the unmistakable voice of Aegon. He was calling your name in that innocent, eager way he always did, as if you were the most important person in the world. You sighed, rolling your eyes. It seemed even the gardens weren’t immune to his constant need for attention.

"Y/N!" he called, his voice high and full of excitement.

You ignored him, quickening your pace slightly in the hope that he’d lose interest and go back to his mother. But the sound of his footsteps didn’t fade. If anything, they grew louder as he stumbled to keep up with you, his little legs working hard to match your stride.

Eventually, you slowed down, knowing he’d only start crying if you didn’t. You let him catch up, but didn’t bother to turn around, instead continuing your walk as if he wasn’t there. Let him follow if he wanted—maybe he’d get bored soon.

Aegon, however, was nothing if not persistent. He toddled after you, determined to keep up. When you reached a particularly beautiful section of the garden, where the roses bloomed in vibrant reds and pinks, he suddenly stopped. Something had caught his eye.

You kept walking, unaware of his distraction until you heard a sudden, sharp cry. You stopped in your tracks, your annoyance flaring up instantly. Of course, he’d found some way to get into trouble. You turned around, ready to give him a piece of your mind, only to find him sitting on the ground, cradling his tiny hand to his chest, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"What now?" you muttered under your breath, your irritation clear as you walked back to him. When you reached him, you saw the reason for his distress—his hand was pricked by a thorn, a small bead of blood welling up on his pale skin.

Aegon looked up at you with tear-filled eyes, his lip quivering. "Y/N…" he whimpered, his voice thick with sobs. "Aegon… Aegon want to pick y/n a pwetty flowa…"

You stared at him, momentarily taken aback. He had hurt himself trying to pick a rose for you? Of all the things he could have done, you hadn’t expected that. Something stirred in your chest—a feeling you quickly tamped down. You couldn’t afford to be soft, not now, not ever.

You sighed and dropped to one knee beside him, pulling the silk wrap from around your shoulders. "Aegon," you said, your voice calm but firm as you gently took his hand in yours, "a prince should not cry, especially not one who’s going to be my husband someday. You need to be strong."

He sniffled, trying to blink back his tears as you carefully wrapped the silk around his tiny hand, making sure it wasn’t too tight. Despite your usual aloofness, your touch was gentle, the way you handled his small injury almost tender. You kept your expression neutral, not letting on that his gesture had affected you more than you wanted to admit.

Aegon, for his part, looked up at you with wide eyes, his tears beginning to dry as he focused on your words. He nodded slowly, doing his best to stop crying as you finished tying the silk around his hand.

"Good," you said, your tone softening just a fraction. "There’s no need to cry over something so small."

He nodded again, his little face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to be brave for you. You looked at him for a moment longer, then turned your attention to the rose he had been trying to pick. Carefully, you plucked it from the bush, mindful of the thorns, and brought it to your nose.

The scent was sweet, delicate, just like the moment you had shared with him. You allowed yourself a small smile as you inhaled the fragrance, then lowered the flower and looked back at Aegon.

"Thank you," you said simply, meeting his wide, violet eyes. You didn’t offer him a smile, but there was a warmth in your gaze that hadn’t been there before.

Aegon’s face lit up at your words, his earlier pain forgotten as he beamed up at you. He looked so proud, so happy to have pleased you, that it almost made you forget how annoyed you had been just moments before.

Almost.

Without another word, you rose to your feet, tucking the rose into the folds of your gown as you turned to leave. Aegon tried to follow you again, but you held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"Stay here," you commanded, your tone leaving no room for argument. "I’ll see you later, Aegon."

He watched you go, his little face a mix of admiration and determination as he stood where you left him, cradling his bandaged hand. You didn’t look back as you walked away, though you could feel his gaze on you the entire time.

When you finally returned to your chambers, you found yourself pulling the rose from your gown and placing it on your bedside table, where it could catch the light.

Part 1 ♡ Part 3 ♡ Part 4 ♡ Part 5 ♡ Part 6

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[br0kenangel]

𝐌𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄: 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵.

It had been a perfectly calm afternoon in the Red Keep, the kind of day where you could indulge in a bit of self-care—perhaps a soak in a hot bath or trying on your latest set of gowns. You were just deciding which of your many luxuries to indulge in when you heard the unmistakable sound of tiny feet running through the hall.

You sighed, already knowing what was coming. But nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greeted you when Aegon burst into your chambers.

Covered head to toe in mud, the little prince looked more like a creature of the earth than the first born son of the king. His golden hair was plastered to his head with muck, his face smeared with dirt, and his clothes—once fine, expensive garments—were unrecognizable under the layers of filth. He was grinning from ear to ear, completely oblivious to the horror on your face.

"Y/N! Y/N!" he called out excitedly, holding his arms out to you as if expecting a warm embrace.

You froze in place, your eyes widening in disbelief. "Seven Hells, Aegon!" you shrieked, taking a step back. "What in the name of the gods happened to you?"

Aegon, still smiling, just giggled and pointed to the gardens. "Aegon was playing, Y/N! In the mud!"

You stared at him, utterly horrified. The idea of him rolling around in the dirt like a common child was bad enough, but the thought of that filth getting anywhere near you was enough to make you feel faint. You took a deep breath, trying to control your rising panic.

"Stay right there," you commanded, your voice sharp and no-nonsense. "Don’t move."

Aegon’s grin faltered slightly as he noticed your tone, but he stayed obediently where he was, though you could see him shifting from foot to foot, as if eager to come closer.

You called for your maids, your voice clipped as you ordered them to prepare a bath immediately. They hurried off, casting sympathetic glances at you as they went. Meanwhile, you turned your attention back to Aegon, who was now looking up at you with a mix of confusion and worry.

"You can’t go around getting this dirty, Aegon," you scolded, shaking your head. "Look at you! You’re filthy! A prince should not be seen like this."

He pouted, his lower lip trembling slightly. "But it was fun…" he mumbled, looking down at the muddy floor beneath him.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation. "It doesn’t matter if it was fun. You need to look presentable. You’re going to be my husband one day, and you can’t go around looking like some peasant child."

The maids returned, informing you that the bath was ready. You nodded curtly and led Aegon to the adjoining chamber, where the tub was already filled with steaming water.

Aegon eyed the bath warily, but you were in no mood for his protests. "In you go," you said, your tone brokering no argument. You helped him out of his soiled clothes, holding them as far from your body as possible, and then all but dunked him into the water.

He let out a small yelp as he hit the water, but soon settled, looking up at you with those wide, innocent eyes. You huffed, rolling up your sleeves before picking up a cloth to begin scrubbing away the layers of mud.

Aegon squirmed as you washed him, his playful nature quickly returning. Before you knew it, he was splashing water everywhere, giggling as he soaked you in the process. Water splashed onto your gown, your face, and even your perfectly styled hair.

"Aegon!" you snapped, your patience wearing thin as you gritted your teeth, struggling to keep your composure. "Stop that right now!"

He paused, blinking up at you with wide eyes before breaking into a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Y/N…" he mumbled, though the mischief in his eyes suggested he wasn’t all that sorry.

You sighed heavily, forcing yourself to remain calm as you resumed washing him. He wiggled and giggled throughout, but you managed to finish the task without losing your temper—though it was a near thing.

Finally, the last of the mud was rinsed away, and Aegon’s fair skin and silver hair were once again visible. You were just about to lift him out of the tub when he suddenly reached up and threw his tiny arms around your neck, pulling you into a damp hug.

"Thank you, wifey!" he exclaimed happily, his voice full of affection. "Aegon is happy you’re here!"

You froze, utterly stunned by his words. Wifey? Where had he even learned that word? Your face must have shown your shock, because Aegon pulled back slightly to look at you, his face the picture of innocence.

"Wifey?" you repeated, your voice tinged with disbelief. "Aegon, I’m not your—" You stopped yourself, realizing that trying to explain would likely only confuse him further. Besides, you weren’t quite sure what to say. The idea of being called "wifey" by your muddy little brother was… unsettling, to say the least.

Aegon just smiled at you, oblivious to your inner turmoil. He leaned in closer, resting his head against your shoulder as he snuggled into your arms, clearly pleased with himself.

You sighed again, feeling more exasperated than ever, but you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away. Instead, you gently patted his back, trying to ignore the warm, unfamiliar feeling in your chest.

"Alright, that’s enough," you muttered, carefully lifting him out of the tub and wrapping him in a soft towel. You made quick work of drying him off and dressing him in a fresh set of clothes that one of the maids had brought. All the while, Aegon remained close, clinging to you like a small, wet shadow.

When he was finally clean and dressed, you set him down and stood back, smoothing out your own rumpled, wet gown as best as you could. Aegon looked up at you with a wide smile, clearly happy and content.

"Wifey," he said again, his voice full of simple, innocent joy.

You closed your eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. "You need to stop calling me that, Aegon," you said, though your tone lacked the harshness you usually used when addressing him.

"But you’re gonna be Aegon wife, right?" he asked, tilting his head to the side as he looked up at you with those big, trusting eyes.

"Yes," you replied, unable to meet his gaze. "One day. But that doesn’t mean you get to call me ‘wifey.’"

He seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding, though you could tell he hadn’t really grasped what you were saying. "Okay, Y/N!" he chirped, as cheerful as ever.

You sighed, turning toward the door. "Now go play, Aegon," you said, waving him off. "And stay out of the mud this time."

Aegon beamed at you, then scurried off, his earlier misadventure seemingly forgotten. You watched him go, shaking your head in disbelief.

As you made your way back to your chambers, you couldn’t help but wonder how on earth you’d ended up in this strange, unexpected role. You had never been one to care for children, let alone bathe and comfort them. Yet somehow, here you were, taking care of your muddy little brother who seemed to adore you more than anything in the world.

"Seven Hells," you muttered under your breath, finally allowing yourself a small, reluctant smile.

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ♡ Part 3 ♡ Part 5 ♡ Part 6

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[br0kenangel]

𝐔𝐆𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘳𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵.

The sun was bright and merciless as it shone over King’s Landing, illuminating the grand corridors of the Red Keep. Y/N was in her chambers, meticulously inspecting herself in an ornate mirror. Her silver hair was a masterpiece, styled in elaborate braids that framed her face like a crown. Her gown, a deep crimson with intricate black embroidery, clung to her figure in all the right ways, emphasizing her undeniable beauty. Jewelry adorned her neck and wrists, glittering with every movement, adding to the aura of perfection she worked so hard to maintain.

She tilted her head slightly, scrutinizing her reflection. "Absolutely perfect," she purred, a smirk playing on her lips. "As usual."

A knock on the door interrupted her self-admiration, and she sighed dramatically, already irritated by the intrusion. "What is it now?" she called out, her voice dripping with annoyance.

Ser Harrold stepped into the room and bowed. "Princess Y/N, His Grace requests your presence."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Let me guess—it's about that little crying evil again?"

"His Grace insists, my lady." Ser Harrold replied, his tone polite but firm.

Y/N sighed, flipping her hair over her shoulder with an air of exasperation. "Fine, fine. Let's get this over with, then. I have better things to do than cater to a toddler."

As they made their way through the grand halls of the Red Keep, Y/N’s heels clicked sharply against the stone floors. Servants bowed low as she passed, but she barely spared them a glance.

When they reached the nursery, Y/N paused just outside the door, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don’t see why I must suffer this," she grumbled. "He’s just an annoying little demon, constantly crying and demanding attention."

"Princess," Ser Harrold said gently, "he is your betrothed."

"Betrothed," Y/N repeated with a sneer. "To a child who still soils himself. How utterly delightful."

The door opened, revealing Viserys cradling a squirming, red-faced Aegon in his arms. The toddler was in the middle of a tantrum, his cries echoing off the walls.

"Y/N, my beautiful daughter," Viserys said, relief evident in his tone. "Aegon has been fussy all morning, and I thought perhaps seeing you might calm him."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Wonderful. I suppose I’m to be a nursemaid now."

The nursemaid approached cautiously, holding out the still-crying Aegon. The child’s face was blotchy with tears, his little arms flailing in distress.

"I do not want to hold that little—" Y/N began, her tone full of disdain, but before she could finish, Aegon’s cries abruptly stopped. He looked up at her, his violet eyes wide with curiosity, and suddenly, his tiny arms reached out, making grabby motions toward her.

Y/N stared at him, unimpressed. "What does he want?"

"He wants you to hold him, my lady," the nursemaid said, a hopeful smile on her face.

Y/N sighed dramatically, clearly annoyed, but reached out anyway. Instead of cradling Aegon gently, she lifted him by his armpits, holding him at arm’s length like he was some dirty rag. "You look disgusting," she informed him flatly.

Aegon’s lower lip trembled, his eyes welling up with fresh tears. Y/N groaned, rolling her eyes. "Oh, Seven Hells—fine!" she snapped, pulling him closer to avoid another tantrum.

As soon as he was within reach, Aegon’s tiny hands reached out and cupped her face, his chubby fingers patting her cheeks with surprising gentleness. Y/N stiffened, but before she could pull away, Aegon babbled in a soft, sweet voice, "Pwetty! Pwetty!"

Y/N’s scowl faltered for just a moment as she stared at him in disbelief. "Annoying and loud, but at least you’ve got good taste, I suppose," she muttered, begrudgingly impressed.

Aegon giggled, his entire face lighting up with pure joy. His small hands moved to her hair, tangling in the silver strands, his laughter bubbling up like the sweetest music. Y/N wanted to push him away, to demand he stop, but there was something disarming about the way he looked at her, his eyes wide with admiration and awe.

"Pwetty!" he repeated, his voice full of innocent delight as he continued to play with her hair.

"Yes, yes, I know," Y/N said with a sigh, though she couldn’t help the small, almost reluctant smile that tugged at her lips. She sat down on a nearby chair, placing Aegon on her lap. He immediately began to tug at the ribbons on her gown, his little fingers fascinated by the shiny fabric.

"I’m not a toy for you to play with," she remarked, her tone sharp, though she made no move to stop him. His small fingers played with her jewelry, his eyes wide with wonder as he babbled softly to himself.

Y/N glanced down at the boy, who was now contentedly settled on her lap, still cooing and playing with her dress. She couldn’t help but let out a small, reluctant chuckle. "You’re lucky you’re not that hideous," she said, more to herself than to him. "But don’t think for a second that this means I like you."

Aegon responded with a bubbly laugh, his chubby cheeks dimpling as he grinned up at her. He rested his head against her chest, snuggling into her as if he belonged there. Y/N rolled her eyes, but her hand instinctively moved to rest on his back, patting him gently as she muttered under her breath about how this was a complete waste of her time.

"Don’t get used to this," she warned him, her tone firm. "I’m not here to coddle you."

As she looked down at Aegon, who was now happily playing with the rings on her fingers, she couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of something close to affection, though she quickly smothered it. Aegon looked up at her, his eyes wide with adoration, and babbled once more, "Pwetty!"

Y/N smirked, shaking her head. "Yes, yes, I’m pretty. But you," she said, her tone returning to its usual sharpness, "you’re just an ugly little thing."

Aegon blinked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, clearly not understanding her words but somehow sensing her tone. His little face crumpled as if he might cry again, and Y/N sighed heavily, rolling her eyes to the heavens. "Oh, don’t start that again," she snapped, but before she could say more, Aegon reached up and patted her cheek again, this time leaning in to give her a slobbery, baby kiss.

Y/N stiffened, utterly horrified. "Did you just—" she began, but Aegon giggled, clearly proud of himself, and nestled back against her, his little arms wrapping around her neck.

She stared at him, utterly exasperated. "You are the most annoying little creature in all of Westeros," she muttered, but when Aegon looked up at her with that wide-eyed, adoring expression, she couldn’t bring herself to push him away.

"Fine," she grumbled, letting out a dramatic sigh. "You can stay for now. But just this one time, and don’t you dare think this means you’ve won me over."

Aegon simply giggled, resting his head against her chest as he snuggled into her even more, utterly content. Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes, but a small, almost fond smile played at the corners of her lips despite herself.

"Ugly little thing," she muttered again, though her tone was softer now, her fingers gently stroking his hair as he dozed off on her lap.

Part 2 ♡ Part 3 ♡ Part 4 ♡ Part 5 ♡ Part 6

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[br0kenangel]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐘: 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥.

You stood on a balcony overlooking the scene, a small, satisfied smile on your lips as you watched Ser Criston Cole train shirtless. His muscles rippled with every swing of his sword, his body a perfect specimen of strength and grace. You admired his form openly, your gaze unapologetic as it lingered on his well-defined abs and strong arms.

A small tug at your gown broke your focus. You glanced down to see little Aegon, looking up at you with wide, curious eyes. "Y/N," he said in his tiny voice, "what you lookin' at?"

Without taking your eyes off Ser Criston, you responded, "Just admiring a very beautiful man, Aegon. What a beautiful body he has, don't you think?"

Aegon’s little face scrunched up in confusion. He turned his gaze to where yours was fixed and saw Ser Criston. The knight was tall, strong, and everything a warrior should be. Aegon’s tiny hands patted his own round tummy, soft and pudgy as any toddler’s would be. He frowned, clearly not understanding why you found Ser Criston so fascinating.

You barely noticed as Aegon wandered off, your attention still fully on the training knight. But Aegon’s little mind was already working hard, trying to figure out why you liked looking at Ser Criston so much.

The next day, Ser Criston was back in the yard, training as usual. Aegon waddled up to him, his little face set with determination. Tugging on Ser Criston’s trousers, he looked up and said, "Ser Cwistun, take off shirt!"

Criston looked down at the tiny prince, startled by the unusual request. "Why, my prince?"

Aegon repeated himself, his voice insistent. "Take off shirt! Please!"

With a bemused smile, Criston removed his shirt, revealing his muscular torso. Aegon’s eyes widened in awe, his tiny mouth forming a small “o” as he stared at the knight’s body. He reached out with one tiny finger and poked Criston’s abs, feeling the hard muscle beneath his skin.

Then, with a serious expression, Aegon patted his own round belly. He looked up at Criston, his big eyes filled with concern. "How Aegon be like you?" he asked, his voice small and worried.

Criston crouched down to Aegon’s level, a gentle smile on his face. "Why would you want that, little prince?"

Aegon’s lower lip trembled as he confessed, "So Aegon be beautiful for Y/N."

Criston’s heart softened at the little prince’s innocent wish. He placed a comforting hand on Aegon’s shoulder. "You don’t need to worry about that, my prince. You’re perfect just the way you are."

"But…" Aegon’s voice wavered, tears starting to well up in his eyes. "Y/N said you beautiful. And Aegon not."

Criston quickly scooped Aegon into his arms, holding him close. "You are beautiful, my prince. In your own special way. And Y/N loves you because you’re you, not because of how you look."

Aegon sniffled, his tiny fists rubbing at his eyes. "Really?"

"Really," Criston assured him, gently patting his back. "And besides, you have a baby tummy. That’s exactly how it’s supposed to be."

Aegon looked up at Criston with wide eyes, his tears forgotten as he processed this information. "Baby tummy?"

Criston nodded, chuckling softly. "Yes, a baby tummy. And it’s perfect for a little prince like you."

Aegon’s tears finally stopped, and a small smile spread across his face. "Okay," he said, nodding to himself as if confirming that everything was alright.

Criston set Aegon down on the ground and ruffled his hair. "Now, how about we go find Y/N? I’m sure she’ll want to see you."

Aegon nodded eagerly, already forgetting his worries. He took Criston’s hand, toddling beside him as they made their way back to the Keep. Though he was still small and soft, Aegon felt a little better knowing that he was just right the way he was.

But even as they walked, Aegon couldn’t help but glance back at Criston’s muscles, a mix of awe and determination in his innocent eyes. He was going to grow up strong, just like Ser Criston, and maybe one day, Y/N would look at him the way she looked at the knight. At least, that’s what he hoped.

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ♡ Part 4 ♡ Part 5 ♡ Part 6

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[br0kenangel]

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

You were seated on a plush couch, your legs tucked beneath you, flipping through the pages of a book. The air was still, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth.

Ser Criston stood nearby, his eyes trained on you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered. And to him, you were.

You could feel his gaze on you, the way it lingered on every movement you made, how it followed the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, the way he studied the curve of your neck, the delicate line of your collarbone exposed by the low cut of your dress. You knew what he wanted, what he craved more than anything. You had always known.

And you reveled in it.

You looked up from your book, catching his eye with a sly smile. "Ser Criston," you called, your voice a soft purr that never failed to make him tense with anticipation. "Come here."

He hesitated for the briefest of moments before obeying, stepping forward with that measured, disciplined grace. He stopped in front of you, towering above where you sat, his expression as controlled as ever, but you could see the tension in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched as he waited for your next move.

You closed the book and set it aside, slowly uncurling your legs and rising your feet. You stood so close that you could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his body practically thrummed with unspoken desire.

"Ser Criston," you murmured, reaching out to trace a finger down the center of his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his tunic. "Tell me... what is it that you desire the most?"

His breath hitched, and you could see the conflict in his eyes-the war between his duty and the all-consuming need that you stirred in him. "You, my lady" he said, his voice low and strained. "I desire you."

You smiled at his answer, the same one he always gave, and yet it never failed to thrill you. "Is that so?" you asked, your tone light and teasing as your fingers danced lower, grazing the edge of his belt. "And what would you do if l gave you what you desire?"

He swallowed hard, his hands twitching at his sides as if fighting the urge to reach out and pull you closer. "Anything." he whispered, his voice rough with desperation. "I would do anything."

You leaned in closer, so close that your lips brushed against his ear as you spoke. "Anything?" you repeated, your breath hot against his skin.

He shuddered, his control slipping just enough for you to see the raw hunger in his eyes. "Anything," he rasped, his voice thick with need.

You let out a soft, almost mocking laugh, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "You poor, loyal hound" you purred, your hand sliding up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his lips. "So devoted, so willing to please... but do you ever wonder if l'm just playing with you?"

His breath came faster, his eyes darkening with desire. "I don't care," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't care if you are."

You smiled at that, a dark, knowing smile, and leaned in, pressing your lips against his in a kiss that was both tender and cruel. He responded immediately, his hands coming up to grip your waist, pulling you flush against him deepened the kiss, pouring all of his pent-up longing into it.

But just as quickly as it began, you broke the kiss, pulling back with a soft, breathless laugh as he let out a low, frustrated groan. "Easy, Criston," you teased, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "You wouldn't want to lose control, would you?"

He was breathing hard now, his eyes wild and filled with a desperate, almost maddening need. "Please," he whispered, his voice cracking with the weight of his desire. "Please, my lady... let me have you. Just this once."

You tilted your head, studying him with a look that was equal parts amusement and pity. "Oh, Criston," you sighed, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair, your touch gentle but laced with cruelty. "You know that can never happen. You're my sworn shield, my obedient dog. You're meant to serve, not to take."

His grip on your waist tightened, his knuckles white with the effort of holding himself back. "But I love you," he confessed, his voice raw and desperate. "I've loved you for so long..."

You felt a flicker of something deep inside一something close to pity, or perhaps guilt-but you quickly pushed it aside, focusing instead on the power you held over him. "I know' you whispered, leaning in to brush your lips against his again, just enough to drive him mad with longing. "And that's why you always stay right here, at my feet, ready to obey my every command."

He let out a low, anguished groan, his hands trembling as they gripped your waist, but he didn't push you away. He couldn't. He was trapped by his own devotion, his own obsession, and you knew that no matter how much you tormented him, no matter how much you dangled what he wanted just out of reach, he would never leave.

Because in the end, he was yours- completely, utterly yours.

You pulled back, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips as you looked up at him, your fingers still tangled in his hair. "Good boy" you purred, your voice dripping with mock affection. "Now, be a dear and fetch me some more wine."

His expression was a mix of anguish and resignation, but he obeyed, stepping back and bowing his head before turning to do as you commanded. You watched him go, a dark satisfaction settling over you as you reclaimed your seat by the fire.

And as the night wore on, you knew that

And as the night wore on, you knew that no matter how much you toyed with him, no matter how cruelly you twisted the knife in his heart, Ser Criston would always come back. Because for all his strength, all his honor and duty, he was hopelessly, irrevocably bound to you.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.