#Alyra Hawthorne

[feyhunter78]

The Dowager Queen (9/?)

Description: Helaena is called to the queen's chambers to discuss her dreams, then finds herself with a lady-in-waiting.

Helaena dreamed, often. Sometimes they would be kind, full of soft light and gentle music, other times they would be cruel, filled with raging fires and the laments of the dead. She prayed constantly when she was younger, begging the gods to take these vile visions from her, the ones that no one seemed to understand, or wished to hear about.

She was so used to being dismissed, her words brushed off like crumbs from a table, like leaves drifting across water, until Jacaerys.

He was ten and one to her ten and two years, both still children, but he never treated her words as mere childish fantasies. He listened intently, asked questions, and a few times, if they were studying together, had written down the tumbling, twisted fragments that fell unprompted from her lips.

She supposed that was why she was here, seated in front of her sis—aunt, who lay on a plush chaise lounge pressed against a large window, Aemma now two weeks old latched to her breast.

“Helaena, Jace has told me that you often have unique dreams, ones that many times he has witnessed come to life.”

Helaena nodded, fiddling with the charms on her bracelet. They made a soft, pleasant sound when they jingled together, the silver smooth to the touch.

“My father had a dream, a vision that I will one day share with Jacaerys, but it seems to me that your dreams are more than something to be passed from heir to heir.” Rhaenyra said, her voice soft, like the light in her good dreams.

“I do not understand them until they have come to pass.” Helaena admitted, watching as the sunlight streaming in from Rhaenyra’s window played off the butterfly charm.

“You have heard of Daenys the Dreamer? She who saved our family?” She asked carefully.

Helaena nodded once more. Jacaerys had brought a heavy tome to her, pointing out the silver-haired woman who foresaw the destruction of their ancestral home.

“After hearing of your dreams from Jace, and your mother, I believe you may be a rarity, a Dragon Dreamer, blessed with the gift of prophecy.”

“But I do not feel blessed.” Helaena said, the words harsher than she meant them to be.

Rhaenyra’s hand appeared beside her own, not touching but hovering close enough that if Helaena extended her pinky, it would brush against Rhaenyra’s hand. “May I admit something to you, dear niece?”

Helaena looked up at her. It felt right to be addressed as niece. As if her mother had escaped the gruesome fate thrust upon her, and instead of fearing Helaena and her brothers would be a threat to her, Rhaenyra could look upon them with adoration and fondness. “Yes.”

Rhaenyra gave her a small smile, shifting Aemma once the babe had unlatched and fallen asleep. “When your mother was carrying you, I asked after her. Even with the anger we both felt, I could never, would never, cut out the love I held for her.”

Helaena’s eyes drifted to the sleeping Aemma, she had Jacaerys’ nose, a Strong nose.

“The Maesters told me that she had been stricken with terrible dreams, ones of blood and battle, but once you were born the dreams ceased.” She said, her voice tainted with grief.

Helaena was a child, an odd one, as many said, but in her oddity, she was often silent, which meant she went unnoticed. She had been an unintended witness to the pain the rift between her mother and Rhaenyra had caused both women numerous times.

They believed themselves subtle, but Helaena spent most of her time observing the habits and movements of insects. Every flickering glance between them, a flicker of wings, each word unsaid, a crack in a cocoon. And every biting, half poisoned, half pleading word, simply another futile struggle of a fly caught in a spiderweb.

“I dreamed of blood and fire, of death and the unspooling of black and green, then the King died, and now…”

“The dreams have quieted?” Rhaenyra said softly, voice quiet as to not wake Aemma.

Helaena worried at the shield charm, something she found herself doing whenever she was anxious. She wished Jacaerys was here, everything was less scary when he was by her side. “Yes.”

“I loved my father very much, but I have come to realize that he…”

“Did not care for me or my brothers.”

Rhaenyra sighed heavily. “I could place blame on your grandsire, or the others of the small council, but my father was a man of his own mind. His decisions were his own, and I am sorry that I did not intervene when it was clear how you, Aegon, and Aemond were suffering.”

Helaena turned her words over in her mind before she spoke. “Why did he not care for us? He wished for a male heir and mother gave him one, surely at least Aegon should have received his love.”

Rhaenyra looked down at Aemma. “I…”

“Rhaenyra, have you seen Helaena, I have searched the entire Keep and—” Her mother’s voice filled the room, Rhaenyra fell silent, standing with Aemma in her arms.

“Apologizes Alicent, I commandeered her so that we may talk about her dreams.”

Her mother nodded. “Can she revisit this conversation? Some of the noble houses have sent their daughters in hope a few may become her new ladies-in-waiting.”

Helaena shot her aunt a pleading look. She did not want new ladies-in-waiting, she enjoyed the maids who had attended her since she was a babe. They thought her odd, but at least they knew not to touch her without warning or move her things.

“Oh, how wonderful, there is nothing so dear as the friendships of your girlhood.” Rhaenyra said, either not seeing or blatantly ignoring her silent plea.

Helaena resigned herself to her fate and followed her mother to the throne room.

There were only a few girls, much better than last time when there had been nearly twenty and Helaena had emerged so drained, that Aemond feared she was falling ill.

Her mother bid the girls to start, and Helaena braced herself.

So far, she had met a Lady Corbray, Mallister, Mormont, and Greyjoy. All who smiled prettily, and curtsied politely, telling her of their travels and interests. They were all so graceful, so poised, and Helaena felt a curdle of insecurity begin to form within her chest.

“Where is—girls were there not five of you before I returned with Princess Helaena?” Her mother asked, brow furrowed.

Lady Mallister, Daina if she remembered correctly, cast her eyes to the floor. “I believe the poor girl has been frightened off. Please, Lady Hand, do not fret, it is for the best.”

“For the best?” Helaena asked, the sickly-sweet tone in Daina’s voice setting her on edge.

Daina was three years her senior and looked on the verge of laughter as she turned to her. “The Haw—Lady Hawthorne comes from a very small house; she would not be able to keep up with the pressures of the royal court.”

“Apologies, apologies, I truly did not mean to steal away one of the guests.” Seraphine’s voice rang through the room, and Helaena sent a silent prayer of thanks to the gods.

Helaena turned towards the hurrying redhead, who dragged behind her a girl that seemed to be around Jacaerys’ age, with hair the color of ashen wheat and amber eyes.

“I found her stooped down attempting to collect flowers that had been strewn about, poor dear.” Seraphine continued, placing the girl at the end of the line nearest to Helaena.

There was a defiant set to Seraphine’s shoulders, Helaena recognized from all the times Seraphine had defended her from gossips.

The girl dropped into a curtsy. “Apologies for my tardiness, Princess, I am Alyra Hawthorne.” She held out a small bunch of flowers, they looked trampled, petals were missing, stems broken, and Helaena could see faint tear tracks on Alyra’s cheeks.

“Lady Hawthorne brought these for you, Hela, they are meant to represent friendship.” Seraphine said, uncaring of the way the other girls flinched at her casual way of addressing her.

Helaena took the flowers from Alyra’s outstretched hand and examined them. They were quite pretty, pink, and yellow with streaks of red within like streaks of dying sunlight as day turned to night.

“They are called Alstroemerias, Princess, meant to encourage strong bonds of friendship, my family is quite proficient in the language of flowers.” Alyra said softly, her cheeks tinted red as the other girls snickered.

Her mother went to speak, but in a rush of bravery she took Alyra’s hand. “Thank you, they are very beautiful.”

Alyra smiled at her, a wide, earnest smile that for a moment reminded her of Jacaerys. It comforted her, and she turned to her mother. “Lady Hawthorne shall assist me; the others may go.”

Her mother took a deep, strained breath but smiled and nodded. “Of course, sweetling.”

Helaena let Seraphine drag her and Alyra away, listening as Alyra began to recount the details of her journey and how grateful she was to them both. Swearing up and down she would be the best lady-in-waiting, Helaena had ever seen.

“Seraphine, there you are.” Aegon ran right into them as they rounded the corner.

He always brightened in her presence, his hands reaching for her at all times, seeking comfort in her nearness.

“I was on my way to you, but I had to save this poor girl from those horrid brats in the throne room.”

Aegon cocked his head in confusion, then seemed to suddenly notice her and Alyra’s presence. “Oh, Helaena, your servant finding event was today, was it not?”

Seraphine elbowed him in the side. “Lady-in-waiting.”

“Yes, yes. Lady-in-waiting finding event.” Aegon said, giving Seraphine a look of mock hurt.

“I have chosen Lady Hawthorne.” Helaena said, realizing she had not yet let go of Alyra’s hand. It did not bother her, though, and she found joy in that. Perhaps this boded well for their friendship?

“The flower house? Aemond was going through the list with mother and Aunt Rhaenyra, talked my ear off about each house.”

“Yes, My Prince, and I am honored that my house garnered the attention of not one but two princes of the realm.” Alyra said, curtsying to Aegon.

He scrunched his nose, waving his hand dismissively. “No need to bow, if you are able to handle my sister, then I shall bow to you.”

Seraphine’s lips thinned into a hard line, and she linked her arm with Aegon’s. “Shall we go and visit Sunfyre? It is a beautiful day to fly.”

Aegon jumped at the chance to fly and pulled Seraphine down the hall without a word of goodbye.

“He is…a bit mean. Are you alright, Princess?” Alyra asked quietly, eyes on Helaena.

Helaena nodded. “He is merely jesting; Seraphine will set him straight.”

Alyra nodded as well. “I will take your word for it.”

Taglist: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool, @jennifer0305

[feyhunter78]

Vervain and Wolfsbane - Vamp AU

Description: Running from tragedy, Jacaerys and Alyra accept a job at Hightower Manor. The home is filled with shadows, riddles, and the strangely beautiful members of the Hightower family. With secrets weighing heavily on their shoulders, and rumors clouding the air, they fight not only to keep their sanity, but their secrets from being thrust into the cold, pale moonlight.

Aemond didn’t understand why his mother wished to hire a human governess. If Daeron was in such desperate need for an education, then surely a vampiric governess would be a more prudent choice. Especially for a fledgling as spirited as his youngest brother.

The bodies of his previous governesses had been quietly removed from the manor’s grounds and buried. Letters written in their own hands sent to their families explaining they had found a wealthy husband and left with him to start a new life. The charade was never ending, and Aemond simply didn’t understand his mother’s decision to continue it.

Then he saw her, the newest governess. He had watched from his window, ears trained to hear the words she spoke before they were whisked away by the howling wind.

She was a young woman from a small sun soaked city, a fair distance from Oldtown. Her correspondence came with glowing letters of recommendation and proof of her time spent studying education and medicine. Each letter praised her kindness and patience, proclaiming her the perfect governess for any child under the sun.

Pity for her, Daeron was unable to even be in the sun.

If Aemond used his enhanced speed to join his mother at the door before she opened it to greet the governess, then that was his own prerogative. There were no rules against using it in the house, and it did not mean he was intrigued by this new arrival.

She ducked out of the carriage, her hood falling back as she observed the manor with an air of polite interest. With golden hair and honey colored eyes, she glowed amidst the shadows and mist, a single shard of sunlight cutting through the gloom.

She introduced herself as Alyra Hawthorne with a radiant smile and an apology for the frigidity of her hands, citing the long trek made in the middle of the night as the culprit.

He hadn’t even noticed that her hands were chilled, too enraptured by the thrum of her pulse, the sweet scent that wafted off her. Jasmine, something uniquely human that tugged at his senses, fine-tuning them to her every movement, and a third scent, one he didn’t quite recognize.

“A pleasure to meet you Lady Hawthorne, I do hope you will find our home to your liking.” He said, taking her hand in his and pressing to his lips.

Her face tinted beautifully, and he had the urge to steal her away right then and there.

“Thank you, Lord…?” Her eyes gave away no hint of disgust or curiosity over his eyepatch, her smile staying firmly pleasant.

“Aemond, Aemond Hightower, your charge is my younger brother.” He said, keeping her hand within his grasp until his mother cleared her throat pointedly.

“Alyra, please, follow me to your room, then I will take you to meet Daeron.” His mother said, stepping between them gracefully.

“What about Jacaerys? He is still getting our luggage from the carriage.” Alyra said, worry creasing her brow.

Jacaerys? Who was this Jacaerys? He wondered, a sense of possessiveness prickling at his mind as he felt his fangs poke at his gums, longing to slide into place and tear out the throat of whoever this Jacaerys was.

“Ah, yes, my apologies. It has been so long since the manor has had a proper groundskeeper, I had almost forgotten he was arriving today as well.” His mother said, giving Alyra an apologetic smile.

Their last groundskeeper had been attacked and drained by a drunken Aegon, a year ago.

“Alyra, some help perhaps?” A male voice called from the half-opened doors.

This was Jacaerys. The third scent was clear now, pungently male, reeking of attachment.

Alyra hurried to the door and took her bag from the brown-haired stranger. “Apologies, Jace, I was speaking with our employer.”

It took all Aemond had to walk calmly over to her and gently take her bag.

Their hands brushed against each other as she looked up at him in surprise. “Oh, Lord Hightower, thank you.”

“It is my pleasure.” He assured her.

His mother clapped her hands together, and the sound echoed off the stone walls of the entryway. “Now, to your rooms.”

Alyra was unpacking her things when a knock came at her door. “Come in.” She called.

“Are you all unpacked?” Jacaerys asked, shutting the door quietly behind him.

“Nearly finished, am I correct in assuming you have finished your unpacking, and your tour of the grounds?”

He nodded and glanced around the room before he stepped closer. “I saw something odd in the garden.”

“Odd? How so?”

“There was a woman, with hair like moonlight, she was darting between the trees, and when I asked Sir Cole, the caretaker, about her, he acted as if he had not seen her.”

Alyra finished folding her last pair of stockings and tucked them in the drawer before closing it quickly. “Perhaps it is the new environment, making you see things.”

Jacaerys rubbed the back of his neck. “Perhaps.”

She patted his shoulder. “Get some rest, cousin, I must meet my newest charge.”

Lady Alicent had asked her to meet her in the foyer, and Alyra made her way down the winding staircase, admiring the art that lined the walls. Portraits, landscapes, and tapestries all beautifully crafted, and in pristine condition.

“Lady Alyra.” Lady Alicent said, a small brown-haired boy with large dark-brown eyes looked up at her from behind his mother’s skirts. “This is Daeron.”

Alyra knelt down and held her hand out to Daeron. “Good evening, Daeron, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Daeron took her hand and held it shyly. “Good evening, Lady Alyra.”

“You may call me Alyra.” She said, smiling brightly at him. “After all, we are to be good friends, yes?”

Daeron nodded and hid his face in his mother’s skirts once more.

“He is quite shy around strangers, I apologize.”

Alyra shook her head, standing back up. “No need to apologize, it is only natural for him to be wary.”

Alicent leaned forward ever so slightly and lowered her voice. “And his affliction that I mentioned in the letter, there will be no issue, I trust?”

Lady Alicent’s letter had detailed Daeron’s strange reaction to the sun, it burned his skin quite fiercely, prompting the family to live a nocturnal lifestyle. At first, Alyra had found it odd, but the pay was beyond generous, and Lady Alicent had agreed to hire Jacaerys as well, so she was more than willing to make the sacrifice of time spent in the sun.

“Not at all, I have always been more of a night owl myself, so I should have no problem adjusting.”

“Hear that sweetling? No need to fret.” Lady Alicent said to Daeron, carding her fingers through his hair.

Daeron nodded, then tugged at his mother’s skirts and whispered something in her ear when she bent down.

She smiled politely at Alyra. “You must excuse us, Daeron is positively famished, and he does not like to eat in front of strangers.”

Alyra nodded and waved goodbye to Daeron as they walked away. It was not the worst first impression she’d had with a charge, nor was it the best. Daeron was clearly a shy child who would need time to warm up to her, something Alyra had no issue with. As she had told the Lady Alicent, most children were that way with strangers.

Helaena was crouched on the ground whispering to a firefly when she heard the sound of footsteps crunching in the gravel.

“Pardon the intrusion, my lady.” A male voice, low and steady with a pleasant warmth to it, filled her ears.

She stood and turned, releasing the firefly and watching it flutter off into the night. “Yes?”

“I merely wished to introduce myself. Lord Jacaerys Hawthorne, I will be the manor’s groundskeeper.”

“A lord and a groundskeeper?” Helaena asked, examining the tall, broad-shouldered man before her.

His face tinted pink. “My family held a small title, but my sister Alyra and I are the only ones left. We have not been able to live the lifestyle of our ancestors, unfortunately.”

“I did not mean to offend, I was merely curious, my apologies.” She said softly, brushing the dirt from her gown.

“May I have your name?” He asked, his eyes a curious shade of brown in the moonlight almost rimmed with silver, they were beautiful, and she found herself ensnared by his gaze.

“Helaena Hightower, Lady Helaena, if you wish.” She said, not even flinching when he took her hand in his, pressing it to his lips, the warmth of his skin like a bonfire against the icy chill of her own.

“A pleasure, Lady Helaena, if I might be so bold? I was quite sure the moon could never be outshone, but your radiance surely turns her green with envy.”

Helaena felt a rapid flutter in her chest like those of a butterfly’s wings, and she couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at her lips. “I thank you; your kind words are most welcome this night.”

His brow furrowed in concern, and she was struck by the ease in which she could read his face. “Is something troubling you, my lady?”

“I have spent a great deal of time cultivating a sanctuary for my insect friends, and now I fear it will be destroyed.” She explained, motioning to the surrounding garden.

“Ah, well, if you wished, I could attempt to section out a portion of the garden for your personal use?”

“Would you?” She asked, still entangled within his gaze even as it swept over the section she guarded.

“Of course, the beauty in gardening is that it allows for freedom and variety within one place. It would be cruel of me to deprive anyone of the manor from enjoying such natural pursuits.” He said, rolling up his sleeves and surveying the grounds.

Helaena’s eyes were drawn to the prominent veins of his forearm, the steady heartbeat that pumped that sanguine substance throughout Jacaerys’ strong form. It almost startled her, how quickly her fangs slid into place, how desperately she wanted to sink them into Jacaerys’ muscled forearms and drink her fill.

“Lady Helaena?” Jacaerys’ voice pulled her back from within the recesses of her mind.

“Yes?” She was careful to hide her fangs until they retracted.

“Do you wish for me to escort you inside? You seem unwell.” Again, his brow was furrowed, concern sprawled across his face.

“Yes, please, I am quite famished.” She took his offered arm, and listened intently as he told her of his journey here, the thrum of his pulse fading as she found herself laughing along to his stories.

Tag list: Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool

[feyhunter78]

Turn of the Tide, Call of the Sea (9/?)

Description: Helaena adjusts to life on the ship, while Aemond laments his current situation

Series masterlist

Helaena adjusted to life quickly on the ship. She’s awoken each morning by Jacaerys’ lips ghosting over her eyelids as he regretfully parts from her, torn away by his duties as captain. Then she sleeps a while longer, rising when she pleased, and making her way to the Sick Bay to assist Alyra with whatever she might need help with, as she eats her breakfast. Once that is finished, she ventures up to the deck and climbs up into the Crow’s Nest with Lucerys.

Lucerys is a kind boy, merely ten and nine to her twenty-three. He spends his time helping her learn the names of the crew, and ways of detecting when a storm is brewing. He, like her, has a hard time going from land to ship. So, they bond over tips and tricks to stave off the nausea so that they don’t spend all day following Alyra around and begging her to ease their suffering.

Her dreams are different now, when she’s not with Jacaerys, they are filled with churning waves, haunting voices, and a shimmering blue glow. She hasn’t worked up the nerves to bring these new revelations to Jacaerys or Alyra, but she knows she must. Especially when the voices bleed over from her dreams and into the waking world.

She leans on the railing, watching the ship cut through the water with ease, the white spray filling the air, the cry of seagulls above her.

Helaena.

She startled, glancing around, but no one was looking at her.

My daughter, my Helaena. The voice is beautiful, soft, and enthralling.

Helaena leans further over the railing, something in the water catching her eye.

There’s something shimmering just below the surface of the waves, she feels a pull, a desperate need to discover what it is, to follow that voice. The world around her goes quiet, and the rocking of the ship fades away as she focused on the shimmering, darting figure.

She had to see it, had to know what lingered beneath the water. She stretched her hand out, leaning further and—

“Helaena!” Alyra’s sharp voice cut through the quiet, and suddenly she’s wrenched from the railing.

She looked at Alyra. Her grip is tight on her, almost bruising Helaena’s upper arms, her eyes frantic. “What the hells are you doing? You could’ve fallen overboard.”

“I thought I…” She glanced back at the water, and a dolphin breached the surface before diving back down.

“You thought?” Alyra prompted, her fingers digging into Helaena’s arms.

Helaena shook her head, clearing the lingering fog from her mind. “I thought I saw something; it was a dolphin.”

Alyra’s grip loosened and she smiled. “Oh, alright, well be more cautious next time. Jace would end me if you fell into the drink.”

Helaena nodded. “Of course, I’m so sorry to worry you.”

Alyra shook her head, guiding Helaena away from the railing and into the Great Cabin, where Jacaerys was bent over a map. “It’s your husband that worries much more than I.”

Jacaerys raised an eyebrow. “Are you speaking poison into the ear of my wife?”

Alyra rolled her eyes and sat in a nearby chair with an amused huff. “Yes, Jace, I am actively trying to turn Helaena against you.”

He crossed his arms. “I knew it, traitor.”

Alyra snorted, and Jacaerys burst into jovial laughter.

Helaena stood by the table, unsure of the reason for her being brought here, fiddling with the embroidery on her sleeves. Watching Alyra and Jacaerys made her long for Aemond. She missed her brother dearly.

“My flower, please, sit. We have something to show you.” Jacaerys said, pulling out a chair for her.

She sat gracefully and eyed the map. “A map? I appreciate your willingness to include me in your endeavors, husband, but I have seen a map before.”

“It’s no ordinary map, see these markings?” He pointed to a scattering of symbols. “It’s a code.”

She leaned forward, eyes following his finger as it followed the trail of scribbled symbols. A code? Were they after buried treasure?

“He’s being vague for the purpose of dramatics, the island is rumored to hold untold treasures, but also said to be deeply cursed.” Alyra said, pointing to the sprawling writing along the edge of the map.

“Sail west until you hear the laments of the lover, then offer your tithes and follow the guide through the moon.” Helaena read aloud, brow furrowing in confusion.

She caught the glance Alyra and Jacaerys shared as she looked to them for an explanation. “Laments of the lovers? Follow the guide through the moon? This sounds quite like a fairy tale.”

Alyra traced the looping handwriting with her finger. “Unfortunately, it’s not.”

“I was under the impression that the Targaryen and Strong family were quite wealthy, why are you searching for cursed treasure?”

Jacaerys’ eyes flickered to Alyra, whose hand went flat on the table. “It must be done.” She whispered, so quietly, Helaena wondered if Alyra was aware the words had slipped past her lips.

“Curses don’t frighten us, not when we have you and Alyra. A healer and a seer, no curse would dare take root within us.” Jacaerys said, rounding the table so that he could take Helaena’s hand. “Now, are you hungry, my flower?”

Mutiny, a barbaric custom. One that he had fallen victim to. Aemond sat in a rundown tavern, centered in a lawless city, drinking slowly as he observed the scene around him. His brother would jump at the chance to be in such a depravity filled place such as this. Rum and ale flowed freely, men and women intertwined themselves in vulgar displays on every street corner, and pirates seemed to come and go without a word from the law.

The law. Bumbling idiots passed out underneath tavern tables or holed up in their barracks, their pockets lined with blood money.

Fingers trailed down his arm, a flash of golden hair and for a moment his heart leapt, his back straightening.

“Good evening handsome, care for some company?”

He slumped back down and waved the woman off. That was not Lady Alyra, his sweet-voiced nightingale, she was merely some common streetwalker.

Aemond drained the last of his drink, throwing a few coins onto the table and departing, avoiding the drunks that lumbered through the streets as he returned to his pitiful excuse of a room.

He shed his boots and cloak, making sure the door and window were locked before he removed his eye patch. The sapphire within was a gift from Helaena, his dear sister. His head was throbbing terribly, and the rum hadn’t alleviated the pain as promised. He laid down on the thin straw mattress and massaged the areas around his eye, the scar tissue still prominent underneath his fingertips.

With his eyes closed, he attempted to pretend it was Alyra’s fingers instead of his own. Her cool skin brushing over the scars, gentle but firm pressure on the skin as her other hand carded through his hair, sending pleasurable shivers throughout his body.

She would press a soft kiss to the area, whispering his name and any pleasant thoughts of hers as she eased the pain in his head.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out her glove, pressing it to his nose and inhaling deeply. Honeysuckle and lavender, overwhelmed his senses, bringing to mind the desperate look in her eyes, how she had gripped his face with such intensity, her lips moving against his with such passion. It felt traitorous to even speak, to let the taste of her wash away for even a moment, and yet he had to. He had to in order to be with her once more.

“Alyra.” He breathed, offering her name to the night, praying they would bring her back to him, if only in his dreams. He slipped her glove back into his pocket and blew out the lone candle, perhaps he would awaken to find himself home, Alyra beside him, clinging to him in the soft morning light. Perhaps this was all a terrible dream. Gods, he hoped so.

Since these chapters are coming out slower, I'll start putting my tag list in again!

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool

[feyhunter78]

Turn of the Tide, Call of the Sea (6/?)

Description: Helaena and Alyra bond, Alyra worries about the call, and Aemond makes his appearance upon the seas.

Series masterlist

“And then I set the building ablaze, dove off the dock, and swam all the way back to the ship with three bags of gold coins attached to my waist. My arms were as heavy as cannonballs the next day.” Alyra groaned, smiling as she entertained Helaena with stories of her exploits with Jacaerys.

Helaena had come to her in the morning after they’d been introduced, her face green and a hand over her mouth.

“How did you survive the swim? Gold is heavy.” Helaena asked, her legs swinging as she sat on the table Alyra had commandeered for examinations.

Alyra pursed her lips as she held a hand over Helaena’s stomach. There was something off, an imbalance within her. “Are you consuming Heart Berries on a regular basis?”

“Heart Berries? What is that?” Helaena asked, fiddling with the embroidery on her skirt.

“A fertility herb.” Alyra said, rummaging through her cabinets. She really didn’t want to have a talk with Jacaerys about natural fertility and the damage Heart Berries could potentially cause to a woman’s cycle.

“Am I with child? I wasn’t aware it could take so quickly.” Helaena’s voice was tinged with panic.

Alyra turned, finally finding the medicine she was looking for. “No, no, I can just sense the herb affecting your internal balance.” She pulled out the bottle of white pills. “I can heal you, but you’re not truly seasick.”

“All I’ve taken is the seasickness medicine Tobias’ doctor gave me.” She fished the bottle out and handed it to Alyra, who held it up to the torchlight.

“These are Heart Berry pills. Your intended must have wanted you to be prepared once you arrived.” Anger surged through her.

How many times would male physicians harm their female patients on the whims of other men? He didn’t even know if she would have even worse side effects than the nausea, and yet he gave them to Helaena.

“These can greatly affect your cycle, and often times prevent pregnancies, only the male and uninformed give them out.”

Helaena blanched, her arms wrapping around her stomach.

“That is why I don’t trust male doctors.” She placed the bottle in her cabinet and pressed the white pills into Helaena’s hand. “I will heal you, but if you find yourself sick again, take one of these. If it doesn’t work, come back and see me.”

Helaena stood and thanked her, heading towards the door. “Oh, Alyra, you never told me how you survived the swim?”

Alyra had her back to Helaena and continued to crush the eucalyptus leaves as she’d been doing before Helaena arrived. Her stomach churned uncomfortably, her shoulders fighting to tense. “My mother was an excellent swimmer, she taught me everything she knew.”

“I can swim, but perhaps you teach me your ways?” Helaena asked, her lilting voice tinged with innocent excitement.

Alyra turned and gave her a smile. “Once we reach Dragonstone, I would be more than happy to help you improve upon your skills.”

She waited until the door had swung shut behind Helaena to let the smile slip from her face. It had been rash to tell that story, Helaena was not a fool, of course she would have questions.

Alyra turned back to the table, to the porthole, lightning flashing as she did. It was harder than normal to resist the call. She would find herself dreaming of the waves, of pools of deep water and natural rock. And that glow, that vein of blue slithering through the seafloor, leading…somewhere, she didn’t know where though, she’d always wake before she reached its end.

Grinding the leaves into a paste took her mind off the storm. Instead, she thought on what Helaena had said, of her prophetic dreams. Her mother had told her stories of those who saw through the veil, who touched the core of the arcane and returned with bits of knowledge, bizarre and undecipherable visions that left the dreamer forever altered.

Rain battered the window the sound like rapid knocks, a begging to be let in, and the ship swayed, leaving her gripping the table edge to steady herself.

She needed to lock herself in the cargo bay.

Aemond stood at the bow of the ship, squinting against the storm.

In his fondness for his sister, he had visited her room and found a drawing of the man from her dreams that had fallen beneath her bed. It bore a striking resemblance to the pirate Jacaerys, and when he heard her ship had been destroyed by a Targaryen ship, he knew what had occurred.

He set out at once, commandeering the fastest ship his grandfather would give him, and used the information Aegon had collected to plot a course.

The cowardly captain of this ship warned him of sailing through the storm, but Aemond would not leave his precious sister in the hands of pirates.

His mind wandered back to Lady Alyra as he stared into the raging sea. He had difficulty keeping his mind from wandering to her, especially as he investigated her family’s tragedy.

Amina Hawthorne married Marcell Laurent, they had three children, Allora, Alyra, and Theo. Allora died when she was eighteen, killed by her husband. Alyra and her mother were presumed missing, while Theo at the age of 8 perished in the flames with his father.

There were rumors about Amina Hawthorne, she came from a distant fishing village, and seemed to have charmed Marcell overnight. The couple was well liked in their social circle, but all agreed there was a strangeness to Amina, her eyes were too bright, her words too fluid. She charmed all who met her, but her touch was cold.

“Those with seawater in their veins will leave you without breath.” Helaena had said to him once, during one of her strange fits.

He’d dismissed her words, but now he pondered them once more, had Alyra done something to him, perhaps she was a witch and cast a spell upon him?

He remembered her warmth though, how her hands had fit perfectly in his, how she laughed and aided his scheme to avoid Cassandra.

Perhaps her mother was a witch and had cursed her daughter, or she’d been stolen by the Targaryen pirates and forced to steal for them. That sounded more reasonable to him. A true lady, one pure of heart as Lady Alyra was, could never willingly commit such horrid crimes.

“Lord Aemond, please come inside, the waves are growing higher, and the captain will not continue our course until you are out of the storm.” One of the crew called to him.

He pushed away from the railing and followed the man inside, daydreaming about how happy Helaena and Alyra would be when he came to rescue them.

So this chapter marks where we deviate from the original plot!

[feyhunter78]

Turn of the Tide, Call of the Sea (5/?)

Description: Alyra reminisces on her time with her mother, Helaena reveals her abilities to Jacaerys, and they get married.

Series masterlist

Alyra watched as Jacaerys entered the galley, looking well rested, with red marks peeking out from the collar of his shirt.

“Captain.” She called, waving him over.

Jacaerys sat across from her, two plates in his hands. “First Mate?” He said questioningly.

She only called him captain when they were on land, or when they had guests. The crew knew they were family, so no one cared that they addressed each other by their first names.

“How fares our guest?” She asked, eyes picking out the love bites that decorated his skin. She was going to tease him mercilessly about that later, for sure.

There it was. To him Helaena wasn’t a guest, she was his wife, but Alyra didn’t know that yet. “Helaena, is still resting, I thought it would be best for her to eat then introduce her to the crew.”

“If she’s as marked up as you, I fear she’ll be quite embarrassed.” She took a bite out of the apple she was holding, as Jacaerys glanced down at his skin.

“Ah, well, I was more careful than she was.”

“That’s good, I would hate for my future good-sister to suffer a bad first impression.”

The storm still raged outside, and they’d laid anchor to wait it out. Alyra contented herself with hiding down in the cargo hold, organizing Helaena’s possessions. The woman had many beautiful gowns and interesting books, she was eager to strike up a conversation with her.

“She will not. Now I must leave you and return to my bride.” Jacaerys said, standing and heading back towards his quarters.

Alyra took another bite of her apple, the juice exploding on her tongue. It was a rarity for them to have apples, but Helaena’s ship had them on board, so now they belonged to Vermax’s crew.

Alyra. Someone called her name, she jolted and looked around, but everyone else was busy with their own conversations. She shook her head and returned her plate to Benny, Vermax’s cook. He nodded at her, and she left, still clutching the apple.

Jacaerys carefully opened the door to his quarters and smiled when he saw Helaena up and about inspecting his room. “Lady of my heart, I have returned.”

Helaena turned and smiled back at him, taking one of the plates and setting it on the small round table he’d pushed against the wall. “Thank you, I am famished.”

They both sat, and she dug in, spreading jam on the thick slices of bread he’d procured for her.

“I can understand why, you were quite enthusiastic this morning.” He smirked, peeling an orange and holding a portion out to her.

Her delicate features flushed with a soft pink, and he resisted the urge to lavish her face with kisses, wanting to turn that pink into a raging red. “I did not hear any complaints at the time.”

He shook his head and took her hand in his. “You will never hear me complain of your desire for me.”

Helaena ducked her head. “I must admit, I echo your sentiments.”

His thumb caressed the skin of her hand as he poured water into her cup. “I must ask you, the nights when we don’t meet, what do you dream of?”

She bit her lip and let out a shaky breath. “You will think I am a witch.”

A witch? If she could perform magic as Alyra could, he would be ecstatic. “I would never, even if you struck me down with a curse, I would still think of you as a goddess.”

Helaena remained silent; her bottom lip still trapped by her teeth.

He reached forward and gently freed it with his thumb. “Helaena, believe me. I will not think badly of you, no matter what you reveal to me.”

“I have dreams, prophetic dreams. Sometimes they come to pass, other times they do not. I cannot control it, and there are times they come to me while I am awake.”

Jacaerys nodded. “My grandsire was rumored to have a similar ability. When my mother was born, he dreamt she would rule the seas with a man of strength beside her. Then years later she met my father, Harwin Strong. They rule the seas still to this day.”

All the fear and tension seemed to leave her body, and she raised her head. “I am relieved to hear that I am not the only one, and that your family has some experience with these visions.”

“Even if they did not, Alyra is a healer, and she’s been with us for many years now.”

Helaena cocked her head, the woman who pistol whipped her brother was a healer? “She studies medicine?”

“No, she’s blessed by the gods, she can heal you with a touch of her hand.” Jacaerys lifted his shirt to show her a small scar. “I got stabbed three years ago and Alyra healed it. All that was left behind is this tiny mark.”

“That is…quite impressive.”

He dropped his shirt. “Alyra will be pleased to hear she’s not the only one on the ship with magic. She was already overjoyed to simply have another woman to talk to.”

Helaena nodded. “Then perhaps her and I should meet, sooner rather than later.”

“Of course, I planned to introduce you to the entire crew after breakfast.” He motioned for her to eat as he tucked into his own food.

Alyra stood on the deck underneath the overhanging of the helm, watching the storm. Lightning arched across the sky, and thunder rolled through the air. Waves crashed against the hull, and she stuck her hand out, letting the warm rain fall upon her hand.

She remembered the way her mother would wander down to the shore whenever it rained. She would stand just inches from the tide, unmoving and unblinking, until her father would bring her back inside the house.

Alyra had joined her once, when she was ten and four, two years before the fire. She was sitting beside mother as she stared off into the distance.

“Alyra.” Her mother said, holding out her hand for her to take.

“Mother?” She took her mother’s hand and stood.

“Your father will never understand.” She said, turning to look at her, her golden eyes dim like wheat trampled underfoot.

“Understand what?” Her father was kind, and doted on his family, Alyra loved him very much.

“What we must do.” Her mother tightened her grip on her hand and began walking into the sea.

Alyra followed, confused but eager. She was an excellent swimmer, and the storm was not a heavy one.

Her mother kept walking, then bid her to swim after her once they could no longer stand. She swam deeper and deeper, Alyra following after her. They swam past the rocks that acted as a boundary, and her mother’s eyes seemed to glow in the low light.

Finally, she came to a stop.

“Wait here.” Her mother said, then she dove under the waves.

Alyra waited, treading water as she did. Moments passed, and her mother did not return. She began to worry and ducked her head underwater. The golden hair of her mother was nowhere to be seen. Panic filled her veins, and she dove as well.

It was quiet underwater. The storm was muffled, and whenever lightning flashed above her, half a moment later hundreds of tiny fish and organisms glowed as if returning its call. It was beautiful and frightening. She searched for her mother, staying near the surface as not to disturb the coral.

She resurfaced for air then dove back down, swimming further, eyes straining to see in the low light. A glowing vein of blue ran along the ocean floor, and she followed it. If it had caught her attention, it was certain to catch her mother’s.

She swam further and further until she spotted the source of the glow. A cave filled with glowing plants that swayed with the current. Coming up for air once more, she scanned the surface, no sign of her mother.

Alyra, come, a voice sang.

Alyra ducked underwater once more and swam down towards the cave. She’d heard of creatures that rode upon storm waves and attempted to lure mortals to their death. She would hold her breath till the waves passed over her.

The cave was beautiful, and she grabbed onto the wall to keep from floating upwards. The feathery plants swayed towards her, and she was mesmerized by their beauty. Reaching out, she gently trailed her fingers along one. Its glow left and moved to her fingers, it tickled, and she stopped herself from laughing and letting air escape her.

The song was softer now, and she ventured further in, the plants brushing against her as she swam.

Alyra, our Alyra. The song grew louder, and she panicked, turning as fast as she could, pushing through the plants as she swam out of the cave, breaking through the surface of the water only to come face to face with her mother.

“Alyra? I thought I told you to wait?” She said, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“There was this voice, I tried to hide but—”

“Has your father been scaring you with tales again?” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “He doesn’t know the sea as we do, don’t let him frighten you.”

Alyra glanced back at where the cave was. “Mother, there’s a cave—”

“We must return, the storm grows.” Her mother said, swimming back towards the shore. Alyra followed, ignoring the faint song she heard in her head.

“First Mate.” Jacaerys’ voice broke through her memories, and she shook her head to clear the cobwebs. It did her no good to dwell on the strange things her mother had done before her disappearance.

“Captain?”

“Meet Lady Helaena, my soon-to-be wife.” He stepped aside and Alyra’s gaze fell upon the silver-haired girl. She was beautiful and possessed an otherworldly quality that her brother shared as well. Her violet eyes were wide and framed by thick lashes.

“Pleasure to meet you, Lady Helaena, welcome aboard the Vermax.”

Helaena gave her a soft smile. “Jacaerys says you are to marry us, I thank you.”

“Did he now?” Alyra said, staring pointedly at Jacaerys.

“You are the only other who knows the rites besides I, and I cannot perform our wedding rites.” His eyes were pleading, and she relented.

She’d wanted to officiate a wedding since her Aunt Rhaenyra had passed the words onto her. “I will do it, collect what is needed and meet me in the Great Cabin.”

Alyra lit the candles and laid out the dragonglass dagger and golden goblet.

“Stand across from one another, heads held high, this is an ancient tradition, one of power, and it must be given the respect it deserves.” She cautioned, picking up the dagger and handing it to Jacaerys.

The High Valyrian words flowed like water as she spoke.

Jacaerys cut his lip then Helaena’s gently, apologizing when she winced. He kissed her gently, then pulled back looking at Alyra who nodded. He cut his palm then Helaena’s clasping their hands together to mix their blood.

 They used the blood to draw traditional symbols on each other’s foreheads and once they’d both drank from the golden goblet, Alyra said the final words and lowered her hands.

“It is done, you are now one flesh, one heart, and one soul. Through fire and blood, you are bound for all eternity, never to be parted.” She said, smiling as Jacaerys wrapped his arms around Helaena and dipped her, kissing her with a passion she’d only seen him apply to his swordsmanship.

“Calm yourself, cousin, you have all of time to spend with your bride.” She reminded him, scrunching her nose, at the display of affection.

Jacaerys broke the kiss and pulled Helaena up and into his embrace. “You’re right, besides, I should let our resident arcane wielders get acquainted.”

Again not putting the tag list since these are going out one after the other XD

[feyhunter78]

Traveling with her cousin Jacaerys, Alyra tries to keep her emotions and secrets buried deep beneath the surface as she finds herself pulled further and further into the Hightower household

[feyhunter78]

Are we getting any Turn of the Tide, Call of the Sea or Vervain and Wolfsbane updates?? They’re my faves 🥺🫶🏻

I can definitely give you a Vervain and Wolfsbane update!!! I know I've been all focused on Pink Pastels, and some of y'all did not originally sign up for that 😂

Vervain and Wolfsbane Ch 2

Description: Alyra struggles to sleep while her charge is gone and has a brief encounter with Aemond.

It’s odd how silent a house can seem during the day when only two of its occupants are awake. The strangeness of it is only aided by the lack of wildlife that surrounds the manor. There was no singing of birds, no skittering of deer or lumbering of bears. The grounds seemed to only come alive at night, which she found both intriguing and puzzling.

Alyra tossed and turned, the thick curtains made of heavy velvet shrouded the room in darkness, a small candle set upon her vanity the only point of light in the room. She watched as it flickered, its reflection dancing in the mirror.

She and Jacaerys had been at the manor for two months now, throwing themselves into their duties with vigor, attempting to bury any lingering memories under the weight of their work. It had lessened the burden, to pretend it no longer existed or that it never had. That they were merely brother and sister who had set out to make their way in the world, and not cousins hiding under her last name. Acting as if they did not share scars that would never fade from their skin or their minds.

She heaved a sigh and rubbed at her eyes, exhaling slowly, attempting to push all energy out of her body and into the air, hoping the dying embers of the fireplace would exchange her desire to be awake in the sun with their sleepy surrender into dark nothingness. Sleep had not come easy this particular week. Lady Alicent had taken Daeron to visit his grandfather, leaving Alyra to hole up in the library, creating lesson plan after lesson plan for the young boy in hopes of alleviating her boredom. Normally she would spend her time with Jacaerys, but he was too engrossed in the overgrown grounds of the manor and bid her to leave him to his gardening.

The grandfather clock in the corner of her room tolled the third hour that had passed while she relentlessly chased after that ever-elusive specter named sleep, and she threw off the silken eiderdown quilt and donned her robe, tying it tightly around her nightshift. Perhaps she would take a short walk and it would tire her out. Though, she often chased after Daeron while they played games, and she still would not feel dreadfully tired.

Slipping out of her bedroom, Alyra began to wander the halls. The halls of the west wing, where she and Jacaerys were housed, were decorated tastefully, symbols of The Faith of the Seven lining the walls. Alyra herself still followed the Old Gods in secret, still clung to their mystic ways, drawing strength from the tales and rituals. But outwardly she followed the Faith, and if she ever stumbled in her words, it had gone unnoticed by Daeron who merely continued dragging her along telling some fantastical story about scorpions and dragons.

The main wings of the manor were a modest blend of the styles of Lady Alicent and Sir Cole, who Alyra had quickly learned was not only the caretaker of the manor but of the Hightower family themselves. The Dornish man was Lady Alicent’s steadfast shadow, and the cousins liked to speculate amongst themselves how the highborn lady and humble soldier came to be.

“Lady Hawthorne?” Aemond called out to her, his calm voice floating through the open library doors.

Aemond was lounging on a settee, a thick, leather-bound book in one hand, a half-empty wine glass in the other. He placed both down on a nearby end table when Alyra stepped across the library’s threshold.

“Lord Hightower, good morn—hello.” She still had difficulties navigating the correct pleasantries for a nocturnal lifestyle, but Aemond was endlessly patient, always giving her a small smile when she stumbled over her words.

“Struggling to sleep?” He asked, his silver hair spilling over his shoulders as he sat up and motioned for her to join him.

Alyra smiled thankfully but declined, remaining in the doorway, one hand resting on the outside wall. There was something about Aemond that always made her feel the slightest bit uneasy. He had never been anything but perfectly gentlemanly and kind, but it was his eyes. Piercing violet, filled with unbridled intelligence, and an indescribable ability to seek her out in every room no matter how silently she believed she moved.

“It seems I miss my charge’s spirited ways more than I believed I would.” She said, her voice soft, always mindful of the others in the manor who did not share her struggle.

“Daeron’s boundless energy is quite handy when one is attempting to tire themselves out.” Aemond jested lightly, as he leaned back into the plush cushions of the settee, his legs spread ever so slightly, drawing Alyra’s eyes to his thick thighs for a moment.

It was a mere moment, her eyes barely flickered, and yet she felt as if Aemond had caught her with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar. A slow smile spread across his face, and he took a deep drink from his wineglass. The thick crimson liquid disappearing past his perfectly formed lips, the pale skin of his throat exposed to the candlelight as he tilted his head back, finishing the glass off.

“Yes, it is. Do you know when they will return?” She asked, tearing her eyes from Aemond, and instead landing on the book he had been reading.

The Tarnishing of the Maiden, it read, and she felt heat bloom in her cheeks. Such a book was all but banned for its lewd contents. She had only been able to read small sections when she was younger, before it had been burned by her and Jacaerys’ local priest.

She tore her eyes away, once more scandalized by his blatant consumption of such an erotic piece of literature.

Aemond chuckled, the sound low and warm, sliding down her spine. “I believe mother wrote saying they would return in a few days time.”

“Wonderful, I look forward to their return, goodnight.” Alyra said, turning quickly and retreating back to her bedroom, burying her face in her pillow as she tried to rid herself of the image of Aemond and his amatory book.

As often as Aemond unnerved her, he flustered her as well. He was handsome, devastatingly so, all the members of the Hightower family were, but Aemond was beyond the others. Aemond was aware of it as well; she was certain of it. He walked about with such confidence and charm, lavishing her with compliments one moment, then acting as if she never existed the next. It was a tumultuous journey he subjected her heart to on a near weekly basis, but nothing quite like that which Helaena took Jacaerys on.

The only daughter of Lady Alicent seemed intent on driving Jacaerys mad with her brazen flirtation, followed by coy confusion and earnest insistence of building an amicable friendship with him.

If Helaena wasn’t the kindest woman Alyra had ever known, she would consider her a horrid temptress set on ruining her cousin’s sanity. But often times it seemed Helaena was left as confounded by her own actions as Jacaerys was. So, Alyra left Jacaerys and Helaena to their oddly timed dance and attempted to focus on what she had been hired for, but…

Aemond, everything always seemed to draw back to Aemond. The only one who did not ask her to call him by his name, keeping her at a respectable, but maddening distance. Truly she wondered if he had cast a spell on her and began drinking a tincture to guard against witchcraft but to no avail. The silver haired man remained a persistent figure that plagued her mind. Perhaps when Lady Alicent and Daeron returned, she would be able to banish him from her thoughts? At least she prayed she’d be able to.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool, @jennifer0305

[feyhunter78]

Turn of the Tide, Call of the Sea (2/?)

Description: Aemond and Helaena reflect on the party, and their newly developing feelings for the mysterious strangers from the sea.

Previous chapter

Aemond was furious, he was confused, he was insulted, and he was enamored. Truly and completely enamored.

Alyra Hawthorne had not only managed to win his heart in a matter of hours, but she also robbed, and knocked him out cold. He had to have her, no one but that—temptress, that sweet voiced, golden eyed woman who stole his heart with a single line of flattery, would he accept at his side.

His sister wasn’t fairing much better, she sat at her window, and sighed, drawing the portrait of a man over and over again.

“Do you know this man, or is he one of the characters from your novels?” He asked, leaning over to see what she was drawing.

Helaena snapped her sketchbook closed. “That is none of your business, brother, have you made any progress on finding your future bride?”

Aemond sat beside her with a groan. “The Hawthorne family owned a small perfumery, that went up in flames seven years ago, consuming their family home. Her father and brother died in the flames, but Lady Alyra and her mother were declared missing. No one has heard from either of them since the fire.”

“Incorrect.” Came their grandfather’s voice, followed by the heavy thud of papers landing.

Aemond pulled the top sheet. “Jacaerys Targaryen, wanted for piracy, theft, arson, murder, bootlegging, and a long list of other crimes. What does this have to do with Lady Alyra?”

Otto cleared his throat and pointed to the next wanted poster.

There staring back at Aemond sketched in black ink was Alyra. The artist gave her a roguish smile, her eyes gazing out at him, and her crimes were listed out the same as Jacaerys’.

“You desire to marry a criminal, a filthy pirate.” Otto growled, tapping Alyra’s picture harshly.

Helaena had the poster for Jacaerys in her hands, and the light left her eyes as she scanned it.

“Clearly, I had no knowledge of her crimes until now.” Aemond said, his eye tracing her features, lingering on her lips. They were so soft against his, and the scent of her, honeysuckle, and lavender, overwhelmed his senses. He’d been able to hang onto one of her gloves and kept it tucked away in his desk drawer.

She was a pirate? His sweet girl, who danced with him, who kissed him with such passion? The woman who stole his signet ring, obviously issuing a challenge to him. To come and find her, to claim her as his own.

Helaena took the poster up to her room and sat on her bed, staring at it. This was her love, the man in her dreams. Could she have seen his portrait before? No, he’d aged as she had, unless…

She hated when she had her visions, they left her weak and unsteady, but her mother thought that perhaps they were signs of greater power. To her, they were a curse, a storm cloud that hung over her head, ruining any chance of living in blissful ignorance.

She pulled out her sketchbook and compared the drawings, a perfect match. Except that she had added the freckles across his nose, and the way the corners of his lips would quirk up whenever he saw her. She traced his features with her fingertips, at least she had a name for him, the dreams were odd like that, whenever he tried to tell her his name the sound would be muffled as if he were underwater.

“Jacaerys Targaryen, scourge of the seas.” She whispered, trying to imagine the kind man she’d come to know as a cold-blooded killer. Her mind couldn’t do it, instead she was reminded of all the times he held her as she cried or spent hours entertaining her with stories of his family.

She tucked the poster into her sketchbook and began to get ready for bed.

She was on a beach, a secluded one, tucked into a cove he’d told her. He sat waiting for her in their normal spot, under the shade of the palm trees.

“My flower.” He called to her, standing, and brushing the sand from his pants, and starting towards her.

“You’re a pirate.” She said, remaining firmly in place even as he reached for her.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why do you say that?”

“My grandfather brought your wanted poster in, along with Lady Alyra’s.”

Jacaerys gave her a sheepish smile. “My apologies for Alyra’s behavior, but she’s not going to give your brother’s ring back.”

Helaena shook her head. “How could you keep such a secret from me? How could you not tell me you were real?”

“My sweet flower, I never denied being flesh and bone, you refused to believe me.” He took her hands in his and pressed quick kisses to her knuckles. “I did not tell you that I was a pirate because I didn’t believe it mattered, I enjoyed being able to be your love. Not Captain Jacaerys, the heir, the scourge of the seas.”

Helaena melted as his lips brushed over her skin, bringing to mind their passionate embrace only a week ago. “How will we ever meet now? My family will never let me meet with a pirate.”

Jacaerys lead her over to their spot. “I’m currently working on a way to see you. It will have to wait though, my ship left Oldtown a week ago, and we’re headed to the eastern coast to pick up a shipment.” His voice was apologetic, and she let him pull her into his arms. “I’m sorry Helaena, if I had known you were in Oldtown that night I would have come and stolen you away.”

Helaena turned her head, so he couldn’t see the pink tinting her cheeks. “My brothers would’ve hunted you down.”

Jacaerys laughed. “I’d like to see them try and catch me. The Vermax is the fastest ship on the narrow sea.”

Names and information flowed easier between them now that their names had been revealed in the waking world. It was nice, she enjoyed hearing the way his tongue curled around her name, practically caressing each syllable.

“My brother intends to marry your Lady Alyra, or well he did, I’m not sure how he feels now. He truly detests pirates.”

“I shouldn’t hold a place for him on my crew, then?” He teased, nuzzling his nose against hers.

She giggled, and shook her head, the image of Aemond on a pirate ship was a wildly humorous one. “I do not believe he’d be very happy to even hear of that offer.”

Jacaerys’ back was against the tree, and she sat sideways in his lap, head resting against his chest. He brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “A pity. Luckily for me, I have his sister as a consolation prize.”

“Ah, but you do not have me, not yet.”

“I beg of you, don’t remind me; it’s torture to wake up each morning without you in my arms.”

“I feel the same, I am so cold when I wake, and you are not beside me.” She lamented, intertwining their fingers. Now, knowing that he was real, that some power connected them, would make waking up each morning much harder.

“Hold out hope, Helaena, soon we shall be together.” He promised, holding their joined hands to his heart.

She's shaken awake by her mother, whose warm brown eyes are filled with regret. “Your grandfather wishes to speak with you.”

Helaena stood outside her grandfather’s office, picking at the embroidery on her sleeves.

“Come in Helaena.”

She walked in and immediately noticed how distressed her grandfather looked. His eyes are sunken, his desk is disorganized, and a bottle of whiskey sits on the floor beside his desk.

“Is something amiss?”

“That Targaryen bitch has raided another one of our ships, someone must marry and boost our coffers.”

“Aegon, is of marrying age.” She reminded him, fearful of her grandfather’s next words.

“I’ve already decided. You will marry Lord Tobias Hawkings. He’s wealthy, his wife passed two years ago, and he has no children. He has even agreed to forgo your dowry in exchange for your arrival within the month.”

Helaena had to sit, or she feared she’d faint. “I wish to stay here. I beg of you, do not send me away.” Tears ran down her face as she begged her grandfather not to ship her off, sending her even further away from Jacaerys.

“He is paying good money for you, Helaena; I will not have your childish emotions prevent our family from thriving.” He snapped, turning his back to her.

“I will marry the Lannister boy, I swear, I will cause no trouble, just please do not make me marry that lecher.”

She’d met Tobias Hawkings once before; he was callous and leered in a way that caused even Aegon to step in between them. She shouldn’t be surprised, he’s the man who’d bought her like cattle at an auction. But no, she would marry the Lannister’s son, they’d made the suggestion to Helaena’s mother the night of the party, surely it wasn’t too late now.

“It’s too late to change your mind, Helaena, they’ve already withdrawn their offer.”

She buried her face in her hands. “Please, if you have ever loved me, do not do this.”

Her grandfather stood and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It is because I love you and the rest of our family that I must do this.”

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool

[feyhunter78]

Poisoned Tears and Scorched Tongues (1/22)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character, Jacaerys x Heleana, Rhaenyra x Harwin

Description: At eight years old, Alyra Hawthorne, the daughter of a small house with its own secrets, finds herself at the side of Princess Helaena. As time passes, Alyra finds herself entangled deeper and deeper into the web that is the Targaryen family drama. Tired of fighting to keep her heart, her place at court, and occasionally her life, Alyra wonders if she's on the wrong side of the war.

It must have been intoxicating to be loved like that, with such depths and devotion, to be worshiped like a god without making the necessary sacrifices. How could she be angry? How could she begrudge him everything he desired when she herself had once been part of that desire? A dragon guarding his hoard, he dragged her in with a claw and a smile sharpened by years of diplomacy. Meet me in the garden, I promise no one will catch us. Keep the guards distracted until I return. Stay with me, keep me company as I read. I found this book for you.

That was years ago, when they were both children, her still reeling from the death of her father, him the loss of his eye. She’d never been afraid of him, not his scars, his snarl, or his sword.

Her arrival at King’s Landing lacked fanfare, she wasn’t a Stark, or a Lannister, her name did not carry the weight of armies, or vast lands. All she carried was a lingering grief, and the knowledge that her options were to travel here, to this crowded, chaotic place, or be sold off like a broodmare. She had been so young, too young. She chose the chaos, fighting for her life like hundreds of Hawthorne women before her.

Shepherded around by a distant uncle who already lived in the capital, Alyra kept her fingers entwined, her eyes down, and her lips shut. No one would find fault with her, she would not cause trouble, there would be no reason to send her off into the waiting arms of some old lecher that would leave her bruised and broken.

When he brought her before the queen, she paid her proper respects, admiring the queen’s beauty as Queen Alicent spoke with her uncle.

“This, my queen, is my niece Alyra Hawthorne, the only blossom to survive a family of thorns.” His voice was gracious, and he ran a hand down her flaxen hair in what she assumed he meant as an affectionate gesture. To Alyra it felt as if he was petting her like a dog.

Alyra kept her head bowed her grip tightening at her uncle’s words, it was true that her family was unpleasant, but there was kindness her uncle refused to see after the death of his brother, her father.

“She doesn’t carry her father’s name?” The queen asked, her voice curious. Alyra could hear shuffling from beside the queen, but she kept her eyes on the floor.

Her uncle’s voice lost its polite tone and one of venom took its place. “Her mother claims it was my brother’s dying wish. That his children be returned into the folds of his dear wife’s family. Luckily, I was able to convince my good sister that the capital would be the best place for Alyra.” He pushed her forward with a whisper of “look up” as he continued speaking. “My darling niece is only two years younger than your daughter; she is bright, kind, and loyal. She would make a wonderful lady-in-waiting for the young princess.”

Alyra’s eyes flickered from the queen to the girl her uncle was motioning to. The girl was a bit taller than her, with long white hair, and beautiful violet eyes. She was cradling some kind of creature in her hands.

Alyra’s view of the princess was broken when Queen Alicent suddenly bent down and smiled softly at her. “You are as old as my son Aemond, and I think he is quite responsible.” Her smile faded, and her expression grew serious. “Your uncle says you are loyal, can I trust you to be loyal to the princess?”

Alyra nodded, “yes, my queen, I look forward to befriending and protecting the princess.” Her voice shook with nerves, but she met the queen’s eyes.

Queen Alicent stood and smoothed down Alyra’s hair in a motherly way that sent a pang of homesickness through her. “Heleana, come meet Alyra.”

Heleana descended the steps with a dreamy gracefulness, her eyes meeting Alyra’s. “Golden eyes see through silver.” She said, staring at Alyra.

“Beg pardon?” Alyra replied, looking to her uncle for guidance.

“It is lovely to meet you, Lady Alyra, I hope we will become great friends.” Heleana said as if it was the first time she’d spoken.

Alyra bowed her head, “I hope that as well, princess.”

Heleana was kind, soft, she carried beetles in her hands, and sang quietly under her breath as her brothers traded insults across the breakfast table.

“Maybe if you’d ever bedded a woman, you wouldn’t be such a bore.” Aegon drawled, punctuating his statement with a large swig of his wine before he turned his gaze onto Alyra.

She was currently gathering up Heleana’s embroidery as food was being brought out and set before the royal children. Queen Alicent had been called to attend her husband, leaving the children to eat alone.

“Lady Alyra, don’t you find my brother a bore? You must be tired of him trailing after you like a lovesick mutt.”

Alyra nearly dropped Heleana’s embroidery hoop, but caught it quickly, holding it against her chest as she faced the prince. Aegon wasn’t her favorite of the siblings, his hands wandered, and his words stung. Her eyes flickered to Aemond who was glaring down at his plate, angrily cutting into the sausage before him.

“I think Prince Aemond is very intelligent, and it is an honor to receive any attention from the royal family.” She said carefully, keeping her eyes away from Aemond. He was always kind to her, and Aegon liked to tease him about that kindness.

“Of course, but you cannot deny my brother pays you more attention than is proper?”

Alyra flinched as the sound of metal scraping against porcelain that came from Aemond’s seat. Heleana looked up, her delicate features scrunched into an expression of discomfort.

“I believe you have cut your breakfast enough, Aemond.” Aegon said, a satisfied smile on his face, joyous at once again being able to get under his brother’s skin.

“Alyra, would you mind asking the kitchen to bring some honey for the rolls, please?” Heleana asked, giving Alyra her chance to escape before Aegon turned his sights on her again.

They’d both turned ten and three that year, her and Aemond, him a few months before her. She remembered the way he shied away from her touch when she saw him later that night. She had wanted to wish him a happy name day, her arms open wide for the embraces he only accepted from her, Heleana, or his mother. Instead, he pulled back his violet eye cold.

“You are a lady of the court, nearing marrying age, it is no longer acceptable for you to fling yourself at me like a child.” He said, his voice as sharp as Vhagar’s claws.

Alyra froze, letting her arms drop to her side. “I understand, my prince.” She turned and picked up a roughly bound book from the table behind her and held it out to him. “At least allow me to give you this gift.” Once he took the book, Alyra bowed her head and swiftly left the room, hurrying towards Heleana’s chambers, tears blurring her vision.

“I’m sure Aemond meant nothing by it.” Heleana reassured her, running her fingers through Alyra’s hair as Alyra attempted to compose herself.

“He said he no longer wishes for me to fling myself at him. I’m unsure of how he could mean anything else.” Alyra sniffled, turning towards the princess and leaning her forehead against her shoulder. “Have I been inappropriate with your brother? Please Heleana let me know if I have overstepped my bounds.”

Heleana shook her head, “I don’t believe you have; I think Aemond should be grateful to have found such a friend in you, just as I am grateful.”

Alyra raised her head and wrapped her arms around Heleana. “It is I, who is grateful to have been blessed with the opportunity to be your friend.”

Aemond stood in the doorway to his sister’s receiving room, the book Alyra gave him clutched in his hands. His eye watching his sister and her lady-in-waiting hold each other tightly before releasing each other with a short squeeze.

“Sister, Lady Alyra.” He called, suddenly feeling his confidence waver for the first time since Aegon had taken him to that dreadful place hours before.

“Aemond.” Heleana said brightly, her words echoed by Alyra’s own, “my prince.”

Aemond stepped forward and reached for Alyra’s hand. “I wanted to thank you for your gift. I was cruel towards you earlier; you did not deserve that.”

Alyra took his hand and squeezed it gently before letting it go. “You were right, my prince; I should observe the manners of the court better. There is no need to potentially cast suspicion upon my reputation or yours.”

Aemond’s hand remained in the air, fingers still outstretched, reaching for her.

Chapter Two here!!!

[feyhunter78]

Poisoned Tears and Scorched Tongues (8/22)

Description: Aemond and Alyra know what they want and are willing to abandon everything for it. Even if it means a flight to Dragonstone and what may be an uncomfortable reunion.

Aemond’s heart beat against his chest like the wings of Vhagar beating against storm winds. She’d said yes, agreed to run away with him, to marry him. Her back was pressed against his chest as they soared through the air, leading King’s Landing behind them. She’d collected a few things from her room, and he’d secured them tightly to Vhagar’s saddle. She showed no fear, no hesitance when he wrapped his cloak around her and grabbed her chin pressing a searing kiss to her soft lips, then gave the command for Vhagar to fly.

As they flew in silence, he rested his chin on Alyra’s shoulder, turning to press an open mouth kiss to her neck, the tip of his tongue darting out to taste the sweetness of her skin. Now that she was his, he found it harder and harder to control his desire to consume her.

She shivered, drawing his cloak tighter around her, and tilted her head back to look up at him. “Are you sure this is what you wish to do? I will not hold it against you if you change your mind, I know how important your family is to you.”

He couldn’t fathom turning around now, going back now would guarantee they would be separated forever, and he’d burn down the keep before that happened. “I have wanted this since I first laid eyes on you.”

Alyra’s cheeks grew bright red and all she could utter was a bashful “oh,” before she collected herself and pressed a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw. “As have I.”

Dragonstone came into view, and Alyra gasped, leaning forward to view the castle better. In all her time serving Heleana she’d never been allowed to visit the breathtaking island. Jutting out from the stone cliffs, it cut an intimidating figure against the horizon, and the sudden sound of dragon calls made Alyra shrink back into Aemond.

“Do not fear, I will explain everything to my half-sister, she will be understanding.” He said, after Vhagar let out a ground-shaking roar in response.

Alyra bunched her hands in his cloak. “Will she though? Your mother is actively trying to shore up allies to back Aegon’s claim to the throne.”

Aemond laughed, “she is a romantic, look at her choice of husband. Far below her station, no army to back her claim, and yet she would not consider any other man.”

Alyra’s voice was tinged with apprehension. “Aemond, I know she is a romantic, I have spent time with them both, they are very close to my mother, but that does not mean she will put aside her anger.”

“Do not worry, Ñuha dōna, she will help us.”

If she does not, someone else will. He thought. He’d already made a list of others he would fly them to if Rhaenyra would not agree to marry them.

Aemond directed Vhagar towards a large enough spot for her to land and slid down her scales, boots hitting the ground just as Dragonstone’s large doors swung open.

Alyra called after him, suddenly nervous, as she hastily slid down before he could turn and offer his hand. “Aemond, there’s something I should tell you before—”

“Our healer.” The crown princess beat her to it.

Aemond looked from his half-sister to Alyra, then back. “I believe your sons called me ‘one-eye or snake’ but I will accept this new title.”

Alyra cringed and brushed past him to greet the crown princess, who stood a few feet away. “Your highness, it is a pleasure to see you again.” She accepted Rhaenyra’s embrace and whispered, “I haven’t told him.”

Rhaenyra pulled back and brushed Alyra’s cheek with her knuckles, her voice taking on a motherly tone, “and why not?”

Alyra looked down at the ground. “I have made progress. I found my grandmother’s journals; they were buried underneath a mountain of dresses in my mother’s chambers. I found them the last time she visited, and I believe I have unlocked something, but I don’t know what.”

 Aemond watched as his betrothed stood in the embrace of his half-sister, his hand still resting on Vhagar’s leg. He had no fear of being turned away. If what Cassandra said was true, his beautiful girl has captured more than just his heart.

Rhaenyra nodded, “we will speak of this later.”

 Vhagar shifted, and he stepped forward as she took off into the skies. He watched her go before joining Alyra.

Rhaenyra’s eyes flickered to him, then she tsked and smoothed down Alyra’s windswept hair. “Aemond should learn to fly that dragon of his more carefully, look at what they’ve done to your hair.”

“She is the largest dragon in the world, ruffled hair is the least of her effects.” He snarked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Prince Aemond.” Rhaenyra said, releasing Alyra and standing tall.

“Sister.” He replied, wrapping an arm around Alyra’s waist, and tucking her into his side. “We wish to marry; will you be our witness?”

Rhaenyra stared at him for a long moment until her eyes shot to Alyra as if seeking confirmation, that yes, she did want to marry him.

“It would be such an honor, my lady, if you would be the one to bind us.” Alyra said, fighting to keep the giddiness out of her voice in order to remain respectful.

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow and leaned to look behind them. “Is this a ploy of your mother’s? Or will she show up on my doorstep enraged and backed by the Lannister army if I do this?”

Alyra wilted, and a flare of anger shot through him as he stepped closer to his half-sister. “This is no ploy of my mother’s, and I cannot tell you if she will come after us, but we came to you, because I believed you would do right by me.”

Rhaenyra scoffed, “do right by you?”

Aemond removed his leather eye patch, revealing the shining sapphire that replaced his stolen eye. “Your son took my eye, and now I ask for your cooperation in return.”

“Please, my lady, this is no trick. We fled King’s Landing, telling no one but Aegon of our plan.” Alyra reached to grab Rhaenyra’s hand between her own, her voice soft and earnest.

It angered him to see her beg, she was his love, his life. She should never have to debase herself in such a way. But at the same time, there was a small part of his ego that preened under the fact that she was so willing to beg for them—for him.

“You told Aegon?” Rhaenyra laughed, shaking her head as she covered Alyra’s hands with her free hand. “Oh, my darling girl, you two must be truly desperate to marry.”

Aemond pulled Alyra’s hands from Rhaenyra’s grip. “If you will not marry us, perhaps, I shall fly us to Driftmark and see if Princess Rhaenys will.”

Rhaenyra eyed her half-brother warily. “And why would she do that.”

Aemond already began looking to the skies for Vhagar. “In return, I will back her claim to the throne.”

Alyra went rigid beside him, and he could feel her frantic eyes on him.

Rhaenyra only laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “You have grown much, brother, I admire your dedication to my darling Alyra.”

Alyra relaxed, letting out a quiet breath and spoked quietly to him in her native tongue, “we did not discuss the Princess Rhaenys, I will not go against every member of the royal family. Let us fly to the nearest unaffiliated septa and have them marry us. I do not wish to anger the crown princess.”

Aemond cupped her face and kissed her with a slow languid motion, her smell of honeysuckle mixed with the scent of dragon, intoxicated him, and he hummed contently against her.

Alyra stood frozen for a moment then leaned into his touch, her hands on his chest, fingers bunching into his tunic, his warm lips banishing any thought in her mind.

“Am I interrupting something?” The deep voice of Harwin Strong sent Alyra reeling back and falling into a hasty curtsy.

“Lord Strong, my—our apologies. We have come to ask Princess Rhaenyra to marry us.”

Harwin held out his hand towards Alyra who rushed forward and let the well-built man embrace her.

Aemond grumbled under his breath, but the three others ignored him as Alyra filled the crown princess’s consort in.

Harwin chuckled and slung an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “You should stop teasing them, Nyra, you know you want to do the ceremony.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly, “he’s Alicent’s favorite son, this’ll really piss her off.”

Aemond rolled his eye, the Strong man obviously was only pretending to try and keep him from hearing his words.

“My mother has no favorite.” He said, stepping forward to reclaim Alyra.

Alyra’s lips parted, but then she closed them and took his hand, smiling placatingly up at him.

Rhaenyra and Harwin looked at each other before bursting into laughter that ran on for a few minutes, leaving Aemond and Alyra standing there silently.

Aemond heard a stifled giggle, and he looked down at Alyra who was hiding her smile behind his cloak.

“The queen does show her love for her children in different ways, and different amounts, you cannot deny that my love.” She said carefully, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Aemond hummed dismissively and turned his head. Of course, he knew that his mother valued him over Aegon, perhaps even Heleana, but he was the one she could depend on, no matter the task. He felt a pang of guilt at the stress his mother would be under once she realized they’d fled.

Alyra noticed his shift and reached up to cup his cheek. “I love you.” She whispered, looking up at him with such adoration, he felt his breath catch in his throat.

“And I you, Ñuha dōna.” He whispered back, careful not to let his half-sister hear his words.

Rhaenyra coughed to get their attention. “Harwin is right. I do wish to perform the ceremony for you both.”

Alyra’s smile could outshine the sun, and Aemond wished he could bottle the light she radiated and keep it with him for whenever she left his sight.

“But I do require something from you.”

He knew what was coming and fell to one knee, the words of loyalty slipping easily through his lips. On the trip to Dragonstone, he’d made up his mind. If Rhaenyra asked for his support when the time came in return for harboring them, he would give it.

Alyra’s hand rested on his shoulder and once he’d finished, he took it and pressed it against his lips.

Rhaenyra smiled at him; her eyes crinkled with mirth. “Truthfully, I was speaking to Alyra, but your loyalty was going to be a request if I was to bring validity to your marriage.”

Alyra laughed nervously, watching him for any signs of anger. He kept calm, nothing had changed, he was always prepared to support his half-sister if it meant he could have Alyra.

“My lady, that was a bit cruel,” Alyra protested, leaving her hand in his grip.

Aemond’s heart sang, his sweet Alyra, standing up for him to the woman whom she was so devoted to? A fire raged in him not of anger, but of pride tinged with something akin to lust.

Rhaenyra smiled softly at Alyra and then at him, the kindness in her eyes surprised him. He’d expected his half-sister to set obstacle after obstacle in his path, but instead she simply held her hands out to them. “All I ask from you, Alyra, is that you stay here and attend me until our newest child is two years of age.”

Alyra pulled her hand from his and flung her arms around his half-sister. “You are with child again? Oh the gods have blessed this day, I would be more than happy to attend you.” Her voice was lighter than Aemond had heard it in months, and he felt another twinge of guilt for his previous inaction.

“Well then, now that’s settled, shall we get you two married?”

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper

[feyhunter78]

Poisoned Tears and Scorched Tongues (4/22)

Description: A feast, betrothals, jealousy, Alyra has to decide what’s more important, her heart or her family.

It was officially Jaehaerys and Jaehaera’s name day, the weeklong festivities would come to an end after the feast, and then Alyra hoped the queen’s matchmaking would stop. All week she’d watched the queen parade woman after woman in front of Aemond hoping her son would choose one to court.

Aemond, ever the dutiful son, would take the women by the hand, talk with them in the garden, in the halls, and kiss their hands before he left them.

Each time she felt a surge of jealousy, Alyra would take hold of the pendant Tyrion had gifted her. A golden lion’s head hanging from a delicate golden chain, its eyes made from flecks of ruby. A beautiful gift, one that spoke of their courting without Tyrion having to say a word. It had become such a habit that she felt her fingers itch to take hold of it any time Aemond even stood next to another woman.

She’d be on her way to fetch more thread for Helaena and catch him speaking quietly with a noblewoman, and she’d have to force her feet to continue moving forward, ignoring Aemond’s stare as she desperately clutched at the pendent.

She knew Helaena wanted to ask her about it. She would try to venture near the topic, or give her sympathetic looks, but Alyra brushed them aside, focusing on getting her and the children ready for the feast. It’d been months since Tyrion Lannister had asked for her hand, months since he’d had to return home, and their courtship progressed mainly through letters.

As she brushed and braided Helaena’s hair, she caught the woman’s lilac eyes in the mirror.

“Have you heard from Lord Tyrion lately?” She asked lightly, holding Alyra’s gaze.

Alyra nodded, “He’s doing well, his father has been keeping him quite busy, so he will not be able to attend the children’s name day feast.”

“Oh, that’s a pity, I’m sure you were looking forward to seeing him again.”

Alyra hummed in agreement and finished Helaena’s braid before stepping back to let the princess admire her work.

“No pity, I am glad that I will be unoccupied in case you or the children need me.” Alyra smoothed down her dress, it was a robin’s egg blue with silver embroidery that caught the candlelight as she moved.

The neckline was low, but not scandalously so. Now that she was spoken for, she found it easier to dress as she wanted without worrying that others might stare. Her pendent rested against the exposed skin of her décolletage, the gold glinting in the light.

Helaena herself looked radiant in a deep forest green gown, her gold jewelry brought added warmth to her fair skin, and when she smiled it was as if all the light in the room was drawn to her.

She linked arms with Alyra. “I want you to enjoy yourself, please promise me you’ll dance. I know how much you love to dance.”

Alyra gave her a knowing smile, “I promise I will, if you promise to dance as well, maybe with Prince Jacaerys?”

Helaena’s face bloomed with color, “I am a married woman, it would be inappropriate.”

“Didn’t King Aegon have two wives? Why can’t you have two husbands?” Alyra teased, turning her head to make sure a nursemaid had collected the twins.

Helaena let out a mock scandalized gasp that dissolved into laughter.

“Might I inquire what’s so funny?” Aemond’s voice had Alyra’s head whipping forward, only for her heart to sink at the sight of Cassandra Baratheon on his arm.

Helaena said nothing, only looking at Alyra who scrambled for an answer. “I was telling her of something Lord Tyrion said in his last letter to me, it is…not appropriate for another man to hear.”

Aemond seemed to stiffen at the mention of Tyrion. “If it’s so sensitive, perhaps you should not share it with my sister, Lady Hawthorne.”

Alyra bristled at the distant way he addressed her, a frown tugging at her lips. Aemond’s eye went to the slight movement and his expression softened, his hand twitching as if he wished to reach for her.

Cassandra spoke up, surprising Alyra, “Oh come now, my lord, she is excited, it’s only natural to share excitement with a friend.” She let go of Aemond’s arm to step closer to Alyra, “especially if one has no sisters to share it with.”

Alyra braced herself for Cassandra’s next words.

“You have a sister don’t you Lady Alyra?” Her words were innocent but the gleam in her eyes was anything but. “Oh, wait, I remember she had an unfortunate accident in the forest that borders—”

“Lady Cassandra.” Aemond’s voice was like steel, cutting Cassandra off before she could finish.

Cassandra turned towards him with an obviously fake expression of confusion on her face. “Wasn’t she killed by a wild beast?”

Alyra clenched her fist, digging her nails into her palm so hard she feared she’d draw blood. “My lady we should join your mother at the feast, she will wonder where you are.” Alyra managed to say, her entire body tense.

Helaena grabbed Alyra’s free hand and began to walk away, not granting her brother and Cassandra the dignity of a goodbye.

Alyra leaned against the kitchen wall sipping a spiced wine from Dorne she’d snagged from a serving maid’s tray.

“I heard it’ll be Lady Cassandra.”

“No, I heard it’ll be the Stark girl.”

“It’ll be the Baratheon girl; I heard the queen talking with her father.”

Alyra’s grip tightened on the goblet. She shouldn’t be upset, she was going to be a Lannister, one of the great houses, nearly a princess in her own right. She shouldn’t care who Aemond married, and she definitely shouldn’t have let Cassandra’s words get to her.

As she stared at her reflection in the crimson liquid, the memory of her sister’s face rose, and for a moment she could have sworn her sister stared back up at her from within the wine’s intoxicating depths.

She had been ten and two that summer and sent home. Helaena was quite sick and didn’t wish for Alyra to fall ill as well. Days turned to weeks to months until Alyra had a slight fear she’d never be called back.

Her sister Allora was her only confidante, Theo was too small, their mother too busy. Allora had married well, not as well as a Lannister, but she lived comfortably. At eighteen, she was a well renowned beauty, a talented singer, and a skilled seamstress.

Alyra worshipped her sister, followed her everywhere, copied her every move, until one day it’d gone wrong. She tried to block it out of her memory, the shock on her sister’s face, the rage on her husband’s and the way her lover ran away like a coward. The sound of her sister’s pleading cut short by her husband’s blade was enough to send Alyra running home and sending raven after raven, begging Helaena to send for her.

Alyra shook her head and set down the goblet unable to stomach another sip. A tug on her gown caught her attention. A little boy with brown curls and vivid purple eyes looked up at her. He had to be no more than three years of age, and his face was streaked with tears.

“Hello, little one, are you lost?” She cooed, banishing her morbid thoughts.

The boy said nothing just held his arms up, the universal child sign for “hold me.”

Alyra bent down and picked the boy up. “Where is your maid, or your mother?”

“Dance.” The boy said his sweet voice reminded her of Theo, and she felt a sudden pang in her chest.

“They’re dancing? Why don’t we go find them then?” She had a strong suspicion this was the son of Crown Princess Rhaenyra and Lord Harwin.

A wave of nervousness washed over her. She hadn’t seen the crown princess and her consort since she’d failed to heal the king. They both said it wasn’t her fault, and that they bore no ill will towards her, but she could tell they were disappointed.

The boy rested his head against her chest and nodded sleepily.

“I’m Alyra, what’s your name?”

“Viserys.” He mumbled, his tiny hand clinging to the slanted neckline of her gown.

“Your mother is Rhaenyra?”

Viserys nodded again.

“Well, she’s very important so it shouldn’t be too hard to find her.” She said softly, placing one hand on his back as she exited the kitchen.

Maneuvering through the crowd with a sleeping child was harder than she expected, with his head down no one noticed the child in her arms was the young prince. To all the highborn lords she was just another lowborn woman with her equally lowborn child.

“Alyra, why do you have a child?” Aemond’s eyebrows were raised in surprise, and he stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her when a passing lord jolted her forward.

“Prince Aemond.” She curtsied as best she could with the sleeping Viserys in her arms.

Aemond frowned at the use of his title.

“Prince Viserys got lost and found me in the kitchen, I intend to return him to his mother.”

Aemond’s expression softened, and his grip tightened on her waist. “Let me accompany you, unless Lord Tyrion is waiting in the wings to steal you away?”

Alyra felt her cheeks tint pink. “Tyrion will not be in attendance tonight, he’s busy.”

“Too busy to spend the night dancing with someone as beautiful as you? I hope the Seven take me before I ever become that busy.”

She knew her cheeks were burning, and she knew Aemond could see it. Nothing ever slipped his piercing gaze.

“Do you know where the crown princess is?” She asked, desperate to change the subject.

Aemond’s gaze drifted over the crowd until it landed on the shiny blonde hair of his half-sister. “No, I haven’t seen her since father made his speech.”

Alyra let out a huff of disappointment, and shifted Viserys in her arms. “I was hoping to dance, but I guess that will have to wait.”

Aemond hummed lowly and loosened his grip allowing her to move to a more appropriate distance.

“Shall we make our rounds then?”

Aemond nodded, his hands clasped behind his back letting her lead the way.

As they walked Alyra broke the silence. “The Lady Baratheon quite beautiful, and I’ve heard she’s very intelligent, I’m sure you two will be a wonderful match.”

Aemond hummed in response, not sparing her a glance.

“Her family is strong as well, how nice is it that we both might honor our families through such advantageous marriages.”

“Advantageous is a word you could use to describe our predicaments.”

Alyra turned her head to look at him slowing her steps. “Are you not happy with your betrothed? I heard that the queen spoke with Lord Baratheon already, if you would prefer the Lady Stark, you should tell your mother now.”

Aemond stopped completely, causing Alyra to pause her steps as well. “And you, my lady?” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Are you happy with your betrothed? The roaring lion club who likes to roam these halls as if he owns them.” He spat out the comparison as if it was a rotten piece of meat.

She couldn’t stop the shock from appearing on her face. “How did you find out, no one is supposed to know we’re betro—" She took a step back attempting to escape his burning gaze but instead bumped into a sturdy chest.

“My beautiful Alyra, I was just looking for you.”

Alyra froze her mind registering the voice behind her. Large hands settled on her waist and spun her around. “Tyrion, I thought your father asked you to stay behind?” She managed to say, plastering an excited smile on her face.

Tyrion smiled brightly, his eyes the brilliant blue of ocean waves were solely focused on her. “I wished to surprise you, I know you were looking forward to the feast, so I convinced father to let me attend.”

Tyrion’s kindness made her uncomfortably aware of how close Aemond was now hovering behind her.

“I am honored that you thought of me, and that made the journey, you really did not need to.”

Tyrion shook his head, “nonsense, how could I pass up the chance to see my beautiful betrothed?”

Alyra glanced around and motioned for Tyrion to lower his voice. “This is to celebrate the children; our news can wait until after.” Suddenly feeling the growing tension between Aemond and Tyrion she took a step sideways. “I must return the prince to his mother; I will meet you at your father’s table?” She directed the question towards Tyrion who nodded before she all but bolted into the crowd.

Having returned Viseyrs to his grateful parents Alyra snagged a drink and downed it behind a pillar before greeting her soon-to-be family. As she spoke with the Lannisters she tried to ignore the pit in her stomach. They were a boisterous bunch, and they welcomed her warmly, making Alyra’s desire to bolt seem selfish.

She danced with Tyrion, his brother, his father, her uncle, and then finally Prince Aegon took her hand.

“A Lannister. I must admit I would not have pegged you as a lion tamer.” He snorted.

“I am grateful that the Lannister’s have been so kind to me, it is truly a gift from the Seven.” She replied, using the same distant tone she always used when speaking with Aegon.

He rolled his eyes and began to lead her to the edge of the crowd. “Must you always do that?”

“Do what, my prince?”

“That, the bowing and scraping. I’ve seen you berate a guard till he was nearly in tears. At least give me the dignity of seeing through your mask, if only for this conversation.” He handed her a goblet before downing his.

She sighed and took the offered drink. The dancing couples blocked them from view of both the Lannister and Targaryen tables. “As you wish, my prince.”

Aegon studied her a thoughtful look on his face. “My brother is stubborn, annoyingly righteous, and at times an utter asshole.”

Alyra raised an eyebrow as she sipped her drink.

“But he is still my brother. So, if you intend to drag him along while you pursue the Lannister boy, I must ask you to stop before you bring ruin down upon us.” Aegon’s voice was quiet, his expression open and vulnerable. “Because he will not stop until he has what he wants, and you, dear Alyra, are what he wants.”

Alyra dropped her gaze to the ground and swallowed hard. “I have no intention of hurting Prince Aemond, I can assure you of that. If anything, it will be him who hurts me.”

Aegon clicked his tongue and set his empty goblet down with a heavy thud before grabbing and draining another. “Lovesick fools, the both of you.”

Alyra shook her head, “you don’t understand, my feelings for Aemond don’t matter, he will marry Lady Baratheon, or Lady Stark, it will be a good match.”

“A great match,” Aegon murmured, his tone sarcastic and cynical.

“Exactly, and I will marry Tyrion Lannister, I’ll bring my family security and wealth, then I’ll disappear, never to bother Aemond again.”

“And you believe he will allow that? That Heleana would allow that? You are not just a Hawthorne, you are a member of this court, of our house, you will not be allowed to just simply disappear.”

“Aw do you care for me Aegon?” Alyra teased, attempting to switch the subject. This heart-to-heart conversation with Aegon was the most serious she’d seen him be in years.

“I care for my family, and they care for you. That is enough for me, let it be enough for you.” He clinked his empty goblet against hers and walked away, leaving her standing there, goblet in hand as she wrestled her emotions back into their proper places.

It was there Aemond found her, still standing, staring at the floor.

“What did he do?” He snarled, ready to go on the warpath and decimate his brother.

“Nothing, Aegon did nothing, we talked about my betrothal and—"

“Enough.” Aemond dragged her into a side hallway walking until he found a spot he deemed private enough. “Enough about your betrothal, about the Lannister boy, I don’t want to hear his name leave your lips ever again.”

“How do you expect me to do that Aemond? Should I call him “the boy” when I marry him? Would you be happy if I asked you to never say Lady Cassandra’s name again?”

Aemond leaned forward caging her in with his arms, his head ducked low so only she could hear his words. “I would never be in her presence again if you asked it of me.”

Alyra was sure he could hear her heart pounding, and she thanked the gods for the shadows that hid her blushes.

He ducked his head lower, his hair sliding forward shielding them from any potential onlookers. “Ask me to never see her again, tell me you hate her, that you want her gone. She insulted your sister, that’s reason enough to hate her.”

Alyra closed her eyes and shook her head, hands balling into fists as she tried to keep herself calm.

“Ask me to send her away, Ñuha dōna, you know I would do it gladly. I will send her away, I will send the boy away, we can be together.”

Alyra kept her eyes closed, feeling hot tears prick at her eyelids. “Tyrion is a good man, a wealthy man. Through him I will be able to return my family to our original seat of power, it’s the only option.”

Aemond cupped her face, his hands warm against her skin. She never knew how cold she was until she met him. “Alyra, please, ask me.”

She shook her head again and felt her tears slip past her eyelashes and down her cheeks. “I can’t, Aemond I can’t ask you that. You have to marry better than me.” She opened her eyes, but couldn’t meet his, instead focusing on his lips which were pulled into a heart-breaking frown. “Maybe our children can marry. Mine will be Lannisters, they’ll be worthy of your name.”

Aemond wiped away her tears with his thumbs, his eye tracking each as they fell. “Your name is worthy, you are worthy, it is I who is not worthy of you.”

Alyra tilted her head in confusion.

“I should have asked for your hand years ago; I was a coward and now I must pay for my inaction.” He brushed his lips over her forehead, the touch gentle and fleeting.

Her heart seemed to stutter, and a broken sob escaped her lips, as he released her face and stepped away. The air between them felt so cold, and she longed to reach for him, but she kept her hands bunched in her skirts as he walked away, her sobs echoing off the stone walls.

Tag List: @nyctophilic0vitnir

[feyhunter78]

Poisoned Tears and Scorched Tongues (2/22)

Description: Tourneys, the event where knights show off their prowess, young ladies husband hunt, and Alyra is reunited with her family for the week-long festivities. She's ten and five, the sky is clear, the weather cool, and no one is quarreling. This tourney should be an eventful one, though Alyra isn't sure if the events will bring joy or pain.

The clang of metal, the stench of horses, and the excited chatter of the crowd filled Alyra’s senses as she walked beside Heleana. The tourney was in full swing, and the sand was stained with blood.

“Where is your family sitting?” Heleana asked, keeping her eyes away from the violence.

Alyra pointed towards the far end of the stands, “they should be sitting over there, but I don’t see them, maybe they got lost? My mother hasn’t been here since she last visited with Theo, I should go look for her.”

Heleana nodded and drifted towards the dais where her mother and father sat watching the knights duel.

Alyra hurried through the crowds searching for her family, breathing a sigh of relief when her mother’s graceful figure came into view. “Mama!” She cried, rushing up to her and wrapping her arms around her.

“My darling, we were just looking for you.” Her mother said, leaning her head against Theo’s smaller one, a bright smile on her face. Theo, her baby brother, was looking between their mother and her before he held one tiny hand out towards Alyra.

Alyra smiled back and held her hand out for her brother to take. “Hello, little one, are you enjoying the festivities?” She cooed, moving her hair out of the way before he could grab it with his other hand.

“Sister, sister.” Theo babbled in their mother tongue of Denouan, his light blonde hair brushed his shoulders and his golden eyes shined brightly in the midafternoon sun.

“Lady Hawthorne, might I have a moment—oh my apologies, I didn’t realize you were otherwise occupied.” A steady but melodic voice made the mother and daughter turn.

Alyra dropped into a curtsy, “Princess Rhaenyra.”

The crown princess just smiled, and turned her head slightly, motioned a broad-shouldered man forward. “Husband, this is the healer I was telling you about. Lady Amina Hawthorne, her son Theo, and I believe this young woman is her daughter Alyra?”

Alyra nodded, cheeks tinting pink at the idea that the crown princess knew her name. A small part of her whispered that she should hate the woman. Her son took Aemond’s eye, and she stole Aegon’s chance at the throne in the same terrible night, but she radiated a certain gentleness that made Alyra feel at ease in her presence.

“That is correct my princess. My daughter Alyra is Princess Heleana’s closest companion, and she seems to have caught the eye of a Lannister boy, she has made our family quite proud.”

Alyra opened her mouth to return her mother’s compliment when two dark haired boys came barreling into the circle the four of them had made.

“Father tell Lucerys that he cannot enter the tourney, he’s too young.”

“Am not! I can fight just as well as a knight, tell him, father.”

The broad-shouldered man caught his sons by their arms and turned them to face Alyra and her mother. “Now, boys, is that any way to act in front of these fine ladies?”

The one who came running up shook his head and elbowed the one Alyra assumed was Lucerys.

“Beg pardon, let me introduce myself,” he inclined his head towards her mother than her. “I am Prince Jacaerys, and this is my brother Lucerys.”

“My ladies,” Lucerys said, his voice still a bit high-pitched and childlike.

“No harm done, my princes; I can assure you.” Alyra replied, before introducing herself and her family.

Jacaerys takes her hand and presses it against his lips, his warm brown eyes never leaving hers. She feels butterflies flutter in her stomach, Jacaerys' gaze is steady, and for a moment she feels as if he sees right through her, and finds her without flaw. Her breath catches in her throat, then she feels an arm wrap around her waist and pull her backwards into a sturdy chest.

“Dōna, my sister is looking for you.” Aemond’s voice is loud, louder than is necessary for the close proximity that exists between the crown princesses’ family and him.

Princess Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow but says nothing, turning back towards Alyra’s mother.

Alyra gently removes Aemond’s arm and turns to face him. “Did the princess say what she needed? I was hoping I could spend the rest of the tournament with my family.” There's a tinge of sadness in her voice as her lips pulled down into a pout.

Aemond’s eye flickered to her lips before they landed on her mother and brother. “I suppose I can handle her for the remainder of today's events.” He leaned down, his voice dropping to a whisper. “As long as you promise to keep your distance from the Strongs.”

Alyra shivered as his warm breath brushed her ear, and she took a moment to collect herself. Ever since his ten and third name day, she’d tried to conceal her growing affection for the silver haired prince, but he seemed insistent on sabotaging her every attempt. “Thank you, my prince, I’ll be right in the stands if you need me.”

Aemond let out a low hum before brushing her hair back from her shoulders, catching a strand between his fingers and pressing it to his lips. “And I will be on the dais if you need me.” Then he left, leaving Alyra staring at his back as she tried to calm her frantic heartbeat.

The tournament was starting to drag on until her uncle took to the ring. Dressed in the black and purple of her father’s house, he slung his sword over his shoulder as he waited for his opponent to enter. Theo squirmed impatiently in her mother’s lap, and she let him down with an aggravated sigh, turning her amber eyes back to the match.

The sounds of battle rang through the air and Alyra found herself leaning forward cheering for her uncle. As she leaned forward further, the wooden wall separating the stands from the ring pressing into her ribcage, she became aware of a head of blond hair waddling towards her uncle. Panic seized her, and she pushed off from the wall, Theo’s name on her lips.

Pushing through the crowd, she yelled his name again, as she fumbled towards the opening closest to her. Her uncle’s grunts of exertion could be heard over the confused murmurs of the crowd as Alyra’s feet hit the packed sand. Theo stood barely a foot away from the dueling men, who had yet to notice the toddler. She darted forward, a scream dying in her throat as her uncle quickly dodged his opponent's attack, his sword swinging back and catching Theo before the boy could move.

He hit the ground and Alyra’s heart stopped. Amid the screams of the crowd, she vaguely registered her mother’s voice. Moving forward she stumbled to the ground trying to pull Theo to her, the swish of a sword made her turn her head, but before it could hit her an armored arm stopped the blow. Alyra looked up to see the husband of Princess Rhaenyra, Lord Harwin Strong, standing above her.

She couldn’t move, the only sound she could focus on was the ragged breathing of her four-year-old brother. He was so small, so fragile, the last piece of her father she had left, she would not lose him. Gathering him in her arms, she attempted to stop the flow of blood, softly whispering words of comfort to him in their mother tongue.

He has to live, please, I cannot lose him. She prayed, blinking away her tears as she fought to keep a comforting smile on her face. Her mother hit the ground beside them, distraught, reaching for Theo. Alyra pulled him closer to her chest. “This is your fault, you should have been watching him, you never pay attention, and we all have to suffer the consequences.” She spat, venom dripping from her words. This is how she broke her arm, how her father got sick. And now she would lose her brother, all because her mother couldn’t be bothered to worry about them when there was always someone or something else more interesting.

“Let me heal him, Alyra.” Her mother responded, brushing her daughter’s anger off like an insignificant insect.

Alyra’s hands shook as she went to hand Theo over.

“He’s unharmed.” Her mother said, the surprise knocking her back into the common tongue.

“What?” Alyra surged forward, grabbing her brother and inspecting his abdomen, his tunic torn where the blade had cut through. His fair skin was unblemished and uncut. “How is that possible?”

Her mother smiled and pulled her into a tight embrace. “You have awoken your gift. This is a happy day.”

Theo protested the embrace and wiggled out, running towards his uncle, who sat with his head in his hands. Lord Strong caught the boy and hoisted him up, walking him towards the maesters, her mother trailing closely behind.

“Lady Alyra, are you alright?” The even toned voice of Tyrion Lannister was accompanied by his hand held out to help her up.

She took it and stood on unsteady feet. “I—” Her knees buckled, and Tyrion caught her, an understanding smile on his handsome face.

“Perhaps you should take a seat, My Lady.” He led her over to a nearby bench. “Your brother is safe; Lord Strong is the most trustworthy man I know.”

Alyra pressed her hands to her chest, willing her heartrate to slow. “I must thank him, he saved us.”

Tyrion shook his head, “you have done enough today, Lady Alyra, not many would rush into an active duel to retrieve their sibling, most would let the guards handle it.”

Alyra played with the ends of her hair, her eyes darting to the maester’s tent. “Truthfully, I don’t know what came over me.”

Hurried footsteps stopped Tyrion from speaking, and Alyra was pulled to her feet, her face cupped between two hands she knew quite well. “Ñuha dōna, are you hurt?”

She rested her hands on Aemond’s shoulders, her legs still weak. “I am unharmed, Lord Strong stopped the blade before it could touch me.”

Tyrion placed a hand on her shoulder, looking the prince in the eye. “My prince, Lady Alyra should be resting, she has had quite a shock.”

Aemond looked Tyrion up and down then nodded, his hands sliding from her face, and down her arms as if checking for injuries until they intertwined with her own hands. “Let me take you to the maester, then we will collect your brother.”

[feyhunter78]

Look of Love

So the wonderful @zenka69 asked if I would do #2 for my loves Alyra and Aemond, or "2A" as my readers have dubbed them on AO3, and I could not pass up the chance to write some cute fluff about my favs!!!! I will be taking #2 off for Aemond bc, I just loved this one so much idk if I could come up with a different idea for him XD

Aemond sat in the chair nearest the fireplace as Alyra unwrapped his arm, wincing in sympathy at the gash on his forearm.

“I thought you were faster than Sir Criston’s Morningstar?” She said, discarding the dirtied bandages, and hovering her hand over the wound, her other hand holding his arm steady.

“I am, but today there was a distraction.” He grumbled, closing his eye and relaxing as the warm tingling he’d come to associate with her healing abilities spread across the gash, his skin knitting itself back together.

“A distraction?” She asked, and he could hear the confusion in her voice. “It is not like you to be easily distracted, unless I am involved of course, but I was not in the training yard so, so it could not be me that distracted you.”

Aemond let out a low hum and stretched his arm once her touch disappeared. “No, it was not you Ñuha dōna, though you know I always welcome your distractions, especially those that involve your other talents.”

Alyra blushed and turned her face towards the fire, grabbing another wrap for his arm. He loved the way her cheeks tinted pink, even after years of marriage.

“You must keep this wrapped for another day or so, that way the maesters do not come and scold me once more.” She laughed a little. “They truly believe I intend to drive them from the Keep.

Aemond chuckled but kept still as she expertly rewrapped his arm. “If I were able, I would never allow a maester to touch me again, only my lovely wife should lay her hands upon me.”

“Yes, but then I would have to clean away the blood, and I do not wish to do that.” She jested, patting his healed arm then sitting in his lap before he even needed to ask.

He pulled her closer, breathing in her sweet scent of jasmine. “Then I shall allow the maester to clean only. Everything else will rest on your capable shoulders.

She kissed him gently, then pulled back, an inquisitive look in her golden eyes. “What was it that distracted you?”

“Rhaenyra and her brood are back, including that wretched eye thief. He and Jacaerys were fooling around the yard and nearly ran into me. They are lucky I was not more seriously injured.”

Alyra nodded and began running her fingers through his silken hair. “I will talk to them, perhaps they were simply excited, but that is no excuse for recklessness.”

He hummed in contentment, his long fingers stroking up and down her side. “What would I do without you?”

“Die most likely.” She said, brushing her lips across his, smiling playfully as she did.

“And you would live, most likely married off to that Lannister, and not having to trouble yourself over petty family squabbles.” He said, a tinge of insecurity coloring his voice.

Alyra tilted his chin up. “No, I would die without you. Even if you did not exist, I would know there was something missing from my life, and I would not be whole without you. I would sooner fling myself from the tower than live without you.”

Aemond stared up at her, violet eye scanning her features, drinking them in. Her words were said so easily, with no hesitation, or restraint. To think he would be loved in such a way, by such a beautiful woman? He wished he could go back to when he was a child and inform his young self just how wonderful their life would become with Alyra by their side.

She gave him a confused look. “Do I have something on my face?”

He shook his head, his hand cupping her cheek. He thought these words often, and they fell from his lips easily, without preparation or thought. “No. I merely love looking at you. I cannot believe you are real.”

She smiled brightly; her cheeks flushed with color. “Aemond.” She whined, both embarrassed and pleased, as she leaned forward and buried her face in the crook of his neck. “You cannot say such sweet things without warning.”

He laughed, and raised her head, kissing her cheek, her nose, her forehead, and then finally her lips, content and happy.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda

[feyhunter78]

Poisoned Tears and Scorched Tongues (7/22)

Description: Alyra can no longer hide from Aemond or from her feelings, Aemond has decided to act upon his.

Alyra sat next to Helaena during the tourney, she’d admittedly become clingy, never leaving the woman’s side unless absolutely necessary, or when Aemond appeared. That had been the hardest part, she longed to speak with him, to comfort him when she saw the hurt in his eye every time, she left the room as soon as he entered. But her uncle watched her like a hawk, so she didn’t speak to anyone but Helaena and the children.

“Jace is up next.” Helaena said excitedly, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the brown-haired man. He stood next to his grandsire, sword at his hip, as they watched the duelers. As if sensing her gaze, Jace looked towards Helaena and tossed her a quick smile.

“Jace? I didn’t know you and the prince were so comfortable.” Alyra teased, leaning into Helaena as she spoke.

Heleana looked down at her lap. “We are family after all.”

“Yes, but only through the crown princess, so it’s not as bad as a direct relation.” Alyra crinkled her nose. She knew intermarriage was a Targaryen tradition, but she was not raised to see her siblings as anything but siblings.

“Oh hush.” Helaena said, swatting Alyra’s hand as Jacaerys came closer, his lance pointed towards Helaena.

“Princess, if I may request your favor?”

Helaena nodded and wrapped her embroidered ribbon around his weapon. “I wish you luck.”

“With this, I don’t need luck, princess, your beauty and kindness shall see me through.”

Alyra bit back a smile as Helaena let out a barely audible squeal.

“He’s very charming, is he not?” Alyra commented, watching her friend’s face fade from bright pink back to its normal porcelain.

“A few words of flattery and you two are giggling like children.” Aemond sat beside Alyra nodding to her and his sister.

Alyra could almost feel her uncle’s gaze burning into her, and she gathered her skirts. “I’m afraid I may have left a candle burning in my chambers, I must go check, please excuse me.” She rose quickly and headed back towards the castle, ignoring Helaena and Aemond’s calls.

Safe inside the castle’s walls, Alyra found a shadowed alcove and slumped onto the cool stone bench before burying her face in her hands. She couldn’t keep this up. Her wedding was still two months away, she couldn’t avoid Aemond for much longer, and her excuses were getting worse and worse.

“I thought I might find you here.” Aemond’s voice startled her, and her shoulders sunk lower, there was nowhere to run.

“Please don’t.” She whispered, not daring to look at his face and see the pain she caused.

“Helaena told me what Tyrion said, the terms of your agreement.”

Alyra heard the rustle of fabric, and she let out a small whimper. “I’m embarrassed, please leave.”

“He should never have spoken to you like that; his arrogance knows no bounds.”

Alyra dropped her hands to her lap and met Aemond’s gaze. His eye was fixed on her, that brilliant purple that in the darkened alcove almost looked gray. Gray as the ocean a moment before the dawn’s first rays strike the waves, just as fathomless as the sea. She could get lost, drown in the depths of his gaze.

“He is a fool, Alyra, an utter fool.” He was kneeling in front of her, wiping away the stray tears with his thumbs, as he cradled her face in his large hands.

“I’m so scared.” She admitted, closing her eyes and letting the tears slip from her eyes. “I try so hard, I know how important this betrothal is, but I—” She let out a shaky breath, her lips trembling. “I don’t know if I can do what they ask, I can’t imagine being happy on the sidelines. Seven knows I’ve tried; my brother’s safety is on the line. But there’s this part of me that still yearns for more, for something different.” Her eyes flutter open, tears collecting on her lashes as she searches Aemond’s face for…something, anything.

“You deserve everything, the very world should be placed at your feet, the idea that he does not see that—” Aemond cuts himself off. His right hand twitches against her skin as he seemed to wrap his hands around the chains holding back his emotions and pull, keeping them from breaking loose and running rampant.

Alyra placed her hands on Aemond’s not to remove them but just to rest there and feel the warmth of his skin against her palms. The memory of his hand in hers as they stood in the Dragonpit the first time she met Vhagar came to her mind unbidden. She’d been so sacred, practically terrified of the ancient dragon, but Aemond had held her hand, never once letting go even as they flew into the air. “I don’t want to speak of him, not now.”

Aemond nodded, his eye flickering to her lips and then back to her eyes as he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I don’t either.”

“You would never do that, would you? Take a lover? You are an honorable man, you put value in your vows. I can’t imagine you ever breaking someone heart in such a way.”

Aemond looked off to the side for a moment before his intense gaze returned to her. “I would never break your heart; it is most precious to me.”

“It is not me you are marrying though, we have discussed this many times, my prince.” She chuckled softly, sadly, her laugh coming out watery from her tears.

“Not for my own lack of trying, I can assure you. It brings me no pleasure to see you become the puppet of your uncle. If I could, I would kill him and the Lannister boy, if only to cut your strings and free you.” His voice was gentle as he continued, his thumb had ceased its movements, resting near the corner of her lips.

Alyra’s eyes drifted to Aemond’s lips as he spoke, each word dripped from his lips like honey, and she found herself yearning for a taste.

“I also would never be stupid enough to assume you would not be enough—no more than enough for an entire lifetime.” Aemond smirked, one hand leaving her face and skimming down her neck before returning to his side.

“Oh?” Alyra asked, leaning forward, her hand going to steady itself on his shoulder.

“Only a fool would do that.” He says, taking her hand in his and placing a kiss to her palm. “And I am no fool.”

His heated gaze, his lips on her skin, Alyra shifted in her seat, feeling heat begin to flood her system.

“I would have you for as many lifetimes as you’d allow me.” He continued, his voice earnest.

“And I would allow you as many as you wanted.” She said, the hand that was previously resting on his shoulder slid to the back of his neck, her fingers spreading into his thick hair.

“Alyra, you deserve someone who knows you, mind, body, and soul. Someone who will worship you like the goddess you are.” Aemond whispers, his eyes fluttering closed as she begins to lightly run her nails along the parts of his scalp she can reach.

“I want that, I want you.” She whispers back, as his hand drops her own and fists itself in the skirt of her dress, trying to contain himself.

“You don’t know what you’re asking; what I’d give—”

“Please?” She’s clinging to his black tunic with one hand and when he opens his eye to look at her, his pupil dilated, she tightens her grip.

The chains release and Aemond closes the gap between them. She feels alive for the first time in months. His lips are warm against her own, and he releases her dress to pull her up and into his lap as he settles onto the bench, gripping her tightly.

“Anything, I’d give anything for the chance to be with you.” He breathed, resting his forehead against hers.

“I don’t want anything except you.” She confessed, finally allowing herself to admit her desires instead of always catering to everyone else’s, her chest rising and falling as she kept her eyes closed too afraid it was a dream.

Aemond chuckled softly, happily, one hand on her waist the other on the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair. His hands hold her as if she’s made of spun sugar, one breath away from shattering. “I want everything that has to do with you. Anything you’re willing to give me, I would be grateful for.” His words are hushed, awe filled, as if he was speaking them in a temple; worshiping at the altar of her.

Alyra lets herself imagine a life with Aemond, traveling back and forth between his home and hers on Vhagar, laying in bed together reading books and nudging the other when they come upon something interesting. Spending dinners with his family. She’d be happy, she’d have a family with someone she loved. But she was betrothed, and so was he. Their fates had already been sealed.

She feels her lip begin to tremble again, and she moves her hands to his face, pulling his lips back to hers with a desperate need. If this was the last time, she ever got to feel him, she was going to make it count. She pushed all her passion, desire, longing, and grief into the kiss, letting his skilled lips take her under as he pulled her impossibly closer.

He returned the kiss fully, and she had no doubt he was descended from the gods, heat flooded her veins making her head feel wonderfully dizzy, his grip tightened sending a thrill through her as he whispered, “my sweet Alyra, my wife, the light of my world,” against her lips in High Valyrian.

“Aemond, my love, my heart. ” She whispered back in Denouan, trying to keep the tears from tainting her voice.

Aemond ever observant heard them and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before pulling back to look at her.

“I love you.” She whispered. Her eyes no longer radiated a glimmering gold, but now the deep dull yellow of wheat trampled underfoot. The feeling of being trampled and ground into the dirt is one she feared she’d carry with her for the rest of her life. “But my family is depending on me.”

Aemond nodded, his hand still tangled in her hair, his chest heaving. “And I will spend the rest of my life in agonizing and eternally painful love with you, knowing that you are a dragon’s ride away, and yet I will never be able to have you.”

Alyra shakes her head, a rouge tear slipping down her cheek. “I don’t want you to be in pain.”

Aemond wipes away the tear and presses her hand against his chest so that she can feel his heart beating. “Every moment away from you is a dagger to my heart, but I will learn to live with the pain because it is a reminder of you.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head, determination building. Something wild had taken over her, be it love, bravery, or frustration with her situation. “No, I won’t accept this, there has to be another way.”

Aemond thinks for a moment then speaks, “I could steal you away, whisk you onto Vhagar and marry you at Dragonstone.”

“Every action has consequences, what would be ours?” She asked, hand clutching his tunic as nerves began to smother her spark of determination.

“The loss of the Lannisters and Baratheon as allies?” Aemond seems unbothered by the prospect.

She chewed on her bottom lip, eyes cast downwards. “I cannot be the reason our families lose allies.”

“I’d lose a hundred allies if it meant having you by my side.” Aemond said, gently freeing her bottom lip with his thumb.

Alyra focuses on the steady beating of his heart and lets out a slow breath. “Promise me as soon as it’s done, we will go and collect my brother.”

“I’ll do you one better. I’ll fly and get him for you.” Aegon’s voice had them jolting apart, and Alyra holds a hand over her heart.

“Aegon, I nearly died of fright.”

Aegon shrugged and held his wine jug in the air. “I consider this a success, you two get married and cause a scandal, while I save a child from danger, which makes me a hero.”

Alyra watched Aemond’s eye flit from her to his brother. “Go now, take your dragon and collect my wife’s brother, then bring him to Dragonstone. Tell no one of your plan.”

“She’s not even your wife yet.” Aegon grumbled as he headed towards the Dragonpits.

Alyra looked at Aemond a smile brightening her face. “Are we leaving now?”

Aemond took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “That we are, my sweet.”

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96 Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

[feyhunter78]

Poisoned Tears and Scorched Tongues (5/22)

Description: Aemond isn't too fond of his betrothed or Alyra's and looking back on their lives together he realizes he doesn't care too much for what others think, he knows what he wants.

He stares forward as Cassandra drones on, ever since their betrothal was announced she’s decided that they should spend as much time together as possible, much to Aemond’s annoyance. Usually, he would spend this time in the library, or in the gardens with his sister and her children, and of course Alyra would be there as well, but that wasn’t the only reason he visited. At least that’s what he told his mother.

“What do you think my prince?” Cassandra was looking up at him expectantly and all he could see was Alyra’s tearful face as she bared her soul to him.

He gave Cassandra a small smile and pushed Alyra’s image out of his mind. “My apologies dear one, I must have gotten lost in thought. What did you ask?”

Cassandra tilted her head towards two approaching figures. “I asked if you knew how your brother and Alyra—”

“Lady Alyra.” He corrected her on reflex, used to making sure Alyra was given the respect she deserved by others of the court.

“How your brother and Lady Alyra have become so close?”

His eye darted over to where Aegon and Alyra were walking, she seemed in good spirits, and his brother didn’t look as if he wanted to throw himself out the nearest window. “She is my sister’s closest companion, and he my sister’s husband, I can’t find it too difficult to believe that over the years they’ve grown close.”

“Is she not betrothed to a Lannister?”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, and he pulled his eye away from the shyly smiling Alyra to look at Cassandra. “And what exactly are you implying?” His tone was frigid. The only thing keeping him from ending this ridiculous charade was Alyra’s insistence that marrying Tyrion was the best option for her family.

Cassandra took note of his shift in demeanor and shook her head. “I don’t mean to imply anything, I was simply inquiring after her marital status, I do have brothers after all.”

“Your father would marry off one of his sons to a Hawthorne?”

Cassandra pursed her lips then nodded. “The crown princess speaks highly of Lady Alyra; her words have sparked some interest in the Hawthorne name.”

“Interesting.” Aemond said, his eye drifting back to Alyra who was bent over to pick a small pink flower.

When Alyra first arrived, he strived to feel nothing. Fresh from losing his eye, he was insecure and annoyed by his older brother’s teasing. Then Helaena had returned from the throne room with Alyra in tow, and all his anger went flying out the window. She was radiant. Shy and sweet, with soft hands and a kind smile. She never flinched at his scars or his angry words, she sat beside him and helped him through his darker days. He had fallen in love with her before he knew what love truly was.

He felt sick on his ten and third birthday, Aegon had taken him to a brothel, told him it was “time to get it wet.” He wasn’t a saint, he’d had dreams, thoughts, fantasies, but this was nothing like that. It was rough, cold, and left him feeling hollow.

When he returned hoping to slink away to his chambers and hide from the world, she caught him. She, like always, was all smiles, open arms and a book he’d been searching forever for. He wanted to throw himself on his sword when he saw the way she ran from his room.

Then years later at the tourney he was forced to stand in the presence of his half-sister and pretend he didn’t have the urge to snatch Alyra away, to hide her from the rest of the world. Aemond had to swallow his anger as he rested his head on her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her hair, honeysuckle and lavender. When she turned in his arms, lower lip stuck out in a pout, he knew he would give her anything she asked for. Even if it meant leaving her in the company of the Strongs.

 Then she ran into the ring chasing after her brother and he felt his heart stop, ignoring his mother’s calls he pushed through the crowd nearly falling on his knees in front of her, but he kept his composure and pulled her from the ground in a rush unable to stop himself from taking hold of her. Propriety and manners of the court be dammed. It took all the strength he had to leave her with the Lannister boy and then again, all the strength he had when he found out the boy had asked for Alyra’s hand.

His Alyra, his dōna, the only woman he’d ever considered marrying, the one he wished was there in the brothel bed with him instead of the coarse older woman he laid under. Not that he would ever drag her to that horrid place, that he would ever dishonor her in such a way. She was too sweet, too pure, she could never know of the ways she crept into his dreams and left him gasping and hungry.

Cassandra pulled him from his reminiscing, and he let her lead him back inside. As they entered, he spotted the Lannister boy. Tyrion was talking animatedly with a visiting noblewoman, his loud laugh filling the air. Was he having an affair? Was this something he could use against the preening lion cub?

“Are we setting a date for the wedding soon?” Cassandra asked, her intelligent eyes tracked his gaze to Tyrion. “My father wants us married before the Lannister wedding; he doesn’t want to compete.”

Aemond nodded, “I’ll speak with my mother.”

Cassandra sighed and attempted to lay her head on his shoulder, but he moved quickly already calling out to Tyrion.

The golden-haired man’s smile faltered for a moment and he removed his hand from the arm of the woman in front of him. “Prince Aemond, how are you this fine afternoon?”

Aemond examined the pair, Tyrion seemed calm, his hands steady, his eyes meeting Aemond’s. The woman on the other hand seemed flustered, unable to meet anyones gaze she looked like a deer waiting for its moment to flee.

“Quite well, and you?”

“I couldn’t ask for a better day,” he motioned towards the woman, “my beloved childhood friend and I have just been reunited.”

“I am Lady Elisa of the Riverlands, your highness, it’s an honor to be here in your beautiful home.” Elisa had soft features and brilliant red hair, that reminded Aemond of dragon fire.

Aemond nodded, “have you introduced her to your betrothed?”

“I believe she’s with Prince Aegon in the garden.” Cassandra quickly said, linking her arm with his as if staking her claim.

Tyrion nodded, “Alyra and Elisa get along very well. I introduced them this morning, and they’ve already made plans to go into town to visit the markets.”

“Lady Alyra is so kind, she asked me to help her look at fabrics for her wedding dress.” Elisa added. “She said that since Tyrion and I have been friends for so long, I would be a great help in finding something he would like.”

Aemond hummed lowly and turned pulling Cassandra along with him as he stalked down the hallway. Visions of Alyra a wedding gown, her hands joined with Tyrion's taunted him and he unlatched himself from Cassandra.

“I must go visit my dragon; I will send for you later.”

Cassandra took a step back then stopped. “Might I come with you? If we’re to be married I imagine I’ll meet your dragon, why not now?”

Aemond restrained himself from scoffing aloud.

The only woman who would ride Vhagar with him would be Alyra. He’d seen it in his dreams, discussed it over and over again with Vhagar before he’d finally worked up the courage to ask her when they were ten and four.

She’d pushed herself so far into his chest as they climbed into the clouds, and he couldn’t help but be glad she could not see the smile on his face as he wrapped his arms tighter around her. Her joyous laughter and screams as they dived towards the sea before pulling up sharply rang in his ears for the rest of that day.

“She isn’t in the mood for visitors today.”

Cassandra took a deep breath and linked her hands in front of her. “My prince, I know this marriage is one arranged by our parents, but you do us both a disservice by pushing me aside.”

Aemond cocked one eyebrow.

“People have begun to talk.”

“About?”

“Lady Alyra.”

Aemond felt rage seize his mind, “who dares to speak ill of her? She is an invaluable member of the royal family and comes from a respectable house. She has done nothing to upset anyone, those gossips need to watch their tongues before I take them.”

Cassandra fixed him with a look. “One might think she was your betrothed the way you defend her.”

Aemond remembered his mother’s pleas for him to try and woo Cassandra. He stepped forward and brushed a lock of her dark hair behind her ear letting his fingers gently graze her cheek. “I would defend you with twice the vigor, but you, my dear, do not need defending.”

“But I do, you must defend me with your actions. You alone can put a stop to the rumors.”

 Aemond hummed thoughtfully, his mind already wandering to the last time he rode Vhagar with Alyra. The way she kept a cloak wrapped around herself, feeling too exposed in her riding leathers, the curve of her legs and hips wrapped in leather only to be seen once they were high enough in the air. How she would pull his arms tighter around her when Vhagar took a turn too fast for her liking. Perhaps he would steal her away from his siblings and convince her to ride with him once more.

“Promise me you will stay away from Lady Alyra, if only in the public eye. I know she is bound to your sister; you will not be able to avoid her completely.” Cassandra’s tone was firm, her mouth set in a grim line.

Aemond let out a laugh, a sharp disbelieving sound, that made Cassandra frown.

“Aemond, I’m serious. I will not be made a fool, not by court gossips, nor by your infatuation with a serving girl.”

At that Aemond stepped back his face an unfeeling mask. “Goodbye Lady Baratheon.” He left her standing in the hall and made his way to the Dragonpit.

As he stood atop the pit, he heard Vhagar’s wings and felt the ground shake as she landed, close behind her landed his sister’s dragon Dreamfyre, her pale blue scales glimmered in the sunlight. Helaena quickly slid off her dragon, then reached a hand out for someone he could not see.

“Sister,” he called out raising one hand on greeting.

Another pair of booted feet hit the ground and Alyra joined his sister in rushing forward.

“Wonderful timing, I was looking to borrow Lady Alyra.”

Helaena tilted her head in confusion, but a small smile played at her lips. “Well, I am supposed to meet mother, I was going to give Alyra some time to herself, but if you require her help?”

Alyra moved forward, her cloak still billowing around her. “My lady, I would be more than happy to stay with you, if you need me.”

Helaena shook her head, “dragons and lions are impatient, they break trees in their haste.”

Aemond’s ears perked up, he learned long ago to heed his sister’s cryptic words. Storing her words away he made a mental note to write them down when he returned to his quarters.

Alyra seemed to be doing the same thing and he felt a sliver of pride. That’s his girl, his wife, the court just didn’t know it yet.

“Lady Alyra, your particular skill set is needed, I’m afraid I must insist.”

Alyra glanced between him and his sister, biting her bottom lip before releasing it slowly and nodding. “If it’s alright with my lady, then I’d be more than happy to assist you, Prince Aemond.”

He fought back the urge to correct her, he hated when she used his title, preferring she call him my prince, or my lord. He almost shivered at the memory of the way she said his name the night of the feast. His name sounded so perfect, like honey from her lips even though the words that followed it greatly upset them both.

Helaena nodded and began to drift away, her head in the clouds.

Alyra waited until they were alone before she spoke. “What was it that you needed, my prince?”

Aemond cocked his head towards Vhagar. “I want you to fly with me.”

Alyra seemed on the verge of laughter and tears. “Beg pardon?”

Aemond stepped closer and tilted her chin up with two fingers. “You know you never have to beg me for anything.”

Alyra’s pretty face bloomed pink and her golden eyes flitted down to his lips before they pointedly stared at the space beside his head. “I don’t see how any of my skills would assist you, I am not a dragon rider, nor am I an expert in dragons themselves.”

He found himself wanting to say something ridiculous like you’re an expert in this dragon, but he knew better, she would laugh and brush him aside assuming he was joking with her. Or worse she would pull away and run farther than before. He couldn’t have that.

“You seem to have wrangled my brother quite well.”

Alyra gave a hesitant laugh, “Prince Aegon can be quite insightful, he just needs a more understanding outlet.”

Aemond wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him the hand holding her chin moving to draw lazy circles on the exposed skin of her collarbone. “I thought you were mine? My sweet, understanding girl.”

Alyra swallowed hard and her chest brushed his as she took a deep breath. “I am bonded to your sister so it’s more as if I’m on loan.”

He hummed lowly, his hand pausing its ministrations to capture a lock of her hair. “Well then you are a loan I shall never pay back.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works my prince.” Alyra giggled, her eyes finally meeting his.

“Come fly with me, Vhagar misses you.”

As if to affirm his statement, Vhagar rustled her wings.

Alyra tapped her lips with one finger playfully as if thinking over his offer. “I mean if I will be helpful how can I refu—”

“Alyra Hawthorne.” Her uncle’s voice rang through the open air and Alyra jumped away from Aemond.

“Uncle, how wonderful to see you.” She said, rushing past Aemond and stopping in front of her uncle.

Aemond turned and watched Alyra’s uncle bow his head and speak quietly to her, he saw her body stiffen then wilt as she nodded and whispered frantically, her hands flying wildly as she spoke.

Her uncle took her by the forearm and forcefully guided her back down to the Dragonpit’s entrance leaving him standing there.

A messenger arrived with a summons from his mother, and his heart sunk.

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[feyhunter78]

Poisoned Tears and Scorched Tongues (6/22)

Description: Aemond and Alyra have different consequences for their actions, but Alyra arguably suffer more when Tyrion shows his true colors.

“I asked you for one thing, one thing, Aemond.”

“I know mother.”

“Woo the Baratheon girl, we need her father’s support if your brother is to be king.”

“Aegon doesn’t even want—”

“I’m not finished.” His mother was furious, but attempting to calm herself. “I understand wanting something different, wanting to make your own choices, but you are a prince.” She stopped her pacing to face him. “You cannot just run around with your sister’s lady-in-waiting while you are betrothed, especially since she is also betrothed.”

Aemond stood and crossed the room, grabbing his mother’s hands. “I love her, mother, I want to marry her.”

Queen Alicent gave him a look of both disappointment and exasperation before she held his hands tightly. “You think you love her.”

Aemond shook his head, holding her hands tighter. “I know I do. I have loved her since the moment I saw her.”

His mother let go of his hands and slumped into a nearby chair. “Aegon is supposed to be the one that gives me trouble, not you. But now I hear he’s attending his lessons, while you are off attempting to sneak the Lannister’s betrothed onto your dragon.”

Aemond knelt in front of his mother, looking up at her like he did as a child. “Please, mother, have I ever asked you for anything else?”

A sad smile graced her tired face, and she cupped his cheek with one gentle hand. “I am sorry, my love, but there is nothing I can do.”

Aemond’s shoulders dropped, and he nodded before he stood and pressed a kiss to his mother’s forehead. “I understand, I will do my duty.”

“Are you a complete idiot?”

Alyra ducked as another plate went flying towards her, the ceramic shattered against the wall and her uncle’s face was bright red with rage.

“No, Uncle, I just—”

“Just what? Just want to ruin your reputation, your chance at marriage? Want to end up dead in the dirt like your whore of a sister?”

Alyra bit the inside of her cheek, trying to focus on the pain instead of the tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Another crash, her uncle had smashed the glass against the table before he threw it. “You’re sorry? You should be begging at Tyrion Lannister’s feet, praying that he hasn’t heard the rumors and decided to call the wedding off.”

Alyra flinched as the glass sailed by her, biting her cheek even harder when she felt the warm blood drip down her cheek. “I’ll go to him now, I promise.”

Her uncle sighed heavily, “your face is a mess, clean yourself up before you see him.” He turned to leave but stopped, his voice deadly calm. “And I don’t want to see you near the second prince again.”

“I am his sister’s—”

“Find a way, Alyra, or your brother will pay the price.”

Alyra fell silent and nodded, staring at the floor until the door to her chambers closed. Once she heard the resounding click, she collapsed sobbing onto the floor, hoping the rug would muffle her cries. She knew her uncle well enough to know he did not make threats lightly.

She thought of her brother, his bright smile and golden curls, he was such a happy boy, soft and sheltered from the world. Digging her fingers into the fabric, she pushed herself off the floor and wiped her tears away, feeling the telltale tingle of her magic working to close the open wound on her face.

She’d gotten better at controlling her ability to heal, it stayed small, cuts, scrapes, and bruises, nothing too drastic. She’d kept it quiet, too. On the advice of the crown princess, and her mother, who had kept her own abilities secret from Alyra’s father.

Once she felt steady enough to stand, she smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt and made her way to the chambers Tyrion and his family were staying in.

“I wanted to apologize for any discomfort or confusion I may have caused you, and I wanted to assure you that my heart belongs to you, and no one else.” The lies slipped off her tongue like water, but tasted as bitter as venom.

Tyrion looked completely unfazed by the rumors, reassuring her that he was not threatened by a childhood friendship. His father seemed less assured, but when she began to tear up and beg for his family’s forgiveness, the older man crumbled. Giving her his own handkerchief to dry her tears with, curling her fingers around it when she tried to give it back.

“No child, keep it, think of it as the first wedding gift from your dearest father-in-law.”

Alyra held the cloth close to her chest, relieved that the Lannister’s were still excited about the wedding.

“Why don’t I walk you back to your chambers, beautiful one?” Tyrion asked, holding out his arm for her to take. His smile was kind, and he let her lean on him the way she did at the tourney.

“Thank you, Tyrion, I would love that.” She smiled tearfully at him and let him lead her back to her chambers.

“I truly meant what I said. I will not stray from you, not now, not ever.” She said once they’d been walking for a while.

Tyrion stopped and pulled her into a tight embrace. “I would not fault you if you did, I know a lifetime can be a long time with one person.”

Alyra looked up at him confused, “but that is marriage, and I want to spend my entire life with you.”

Tyrion stroked her hair, a pacifying smile on his face. “It is times like this I am charmed by your innocence.”

She pulled back, putting space between them. “My innocence?”

He rubbed the back of his neck with a slight laugh, “I assumed that in all your time around Prince Aegon you would have learned the true workings of a successful marriage.”

“Prince Aegon’s actions are not condoned by his wife.”

Tyrion gave her a teasing smile, “but they would be condoned by you, wouldn’t they? I mean, my family is doing your family a great service through this marriage.”

Alyra stared at him, her mind trying to fit all the pieces together. “You wish to step outside our vows?”

He smiled brightly and clapped her on the shoulder. “Now you’re getting it.”

“And am I allowed to do the same?” She asked hesitantly, clasping her hands behind her back.

“Gods no, what would people say?”

She tilted her head slightly, “would they not say the same as if it was you who had a lover?” She knew the answer, of course it wouldn’t be the same, she’d heard the whispers. The stories of how women had fallen from grace for one misstep while their husbands fathered bastard after bastard.

“Why would they?”

Alyra felt as if Tyrion had reached inside her ribs and taken hold of her lungs, squeezing them until she could no longer breathe. She told herself that at least she would be loved if she couldn’t have Aem—a choice, then at least Tyrion would love her, and that would be enough.

 But now? She would give up everything to be set up on a shelf and forgotten? She’d spent her entire life as an object, a pawn to be traded around, to be used to get to the queen, to her children, to the crown princess. Each time she resisted, she would be knocked off the board and have to start again, fighting to be seen as more than an empty-headed girl from a small house.

“Now, now, don’t cry, it ruins your beauty.” Tyrion cooed, taking his father’s handkerchief from her balled up fist and wiping away her tears.

Alyra caught his hand. “I misunderstood the terms of our arrangement, but I am aware of them now, I will see you when you return from Casterly Rock.”

Taking the handkerchief back, she turned and walked in silence until she reached her chambers. No one had entered since she left, glass littered the floor, her rug was bunched from where she’d held it as she cried. Closing the door behind her, she dug her nails into her palms until she felt the skin break. She watched as the scarlet bloomed onto the white cloth, then let it flutter to the floor.

She would make the best of her situation, she had to, there was no other choice.

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