#Alyra Hawthorne

[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!!!

[greypetrel]

🍩💐🍼☁️♥️ for all your babes? If that's not a ridiculous number which if it is feel free to pick and choose 😅

Ooooh that's a lot! In a very positive way, thanks Lilou!! :D

It's... quite long (I did everything, yes.)... So the rest is under the cut!

🥞 PANCAKE - what is their comfort breakfast?

Aisling: Sweets sweets sweets. She's the ultimate sweet tooth. After a while, the comfort breakfast will be cookies, scones and sandwiches with butter and jam (peaches, oranges or lemon) and cocoa in winter, fruit juice in summer, eaten on the roof with Sera.

Raina: Something warm and abundant to start the day. Eggs and bacon and beans with some coffee (in the mansion when she has the money for it). Bread and butter and plum jam. Something that tastes like home, back in Ferelden, when Malcolm tried his best to learn to cook.

Alyra: "Why should I have preferences, it's food, it's meant to keep you standing, urgh, why do I need to reply to this-" She's for savoury breakfasts. Ham, some veggies and cheese on bread. Tea for drink. The comfort would be some halla cheese on some freshly baked rye bread.

💐 BOUQUET - create a bouqet for them! what do those flowers mean? are any of the flowers their particular favourite?

@salsedine here it is, you asked it too! Bold of you to assume I know enough about flowers to form bouquets (thank you both for the misplaced trust xD)... But according to the Victorian flower language:

Aisling: Hawthorne (Hope), Forget-me-not, Rosemary (Remembrance), Periwinkle (Tender recollection), Tiger Lily (pride), Lily of the Valley (return of happiness)

Raina: Poppy (consolation, oblivion), Red Hollyhock (Ambition), White Poplar (Courage, Time), Thistle (Independence), Laurel (glory), Heliothrope (devoted attachment)

Alyra: Asphodel (Faithful until death), Magnolia (Magnificence), Pimpernel (change), Geranium (deceit), Juniper (protection), Holly (foresight)

🍼 BABY BOTTLE - what are their thoughts on children?

Aisling: Not eager to get going, but she's ok in having one or two. Later on. Post Inquisition. When things are stable. Later. (then she'll see some friend pregnant and will start to have ideas)

Raina: "No, thank you." cit.

Alyra: Ok with it, voices are she left to seek a cure not to give Anora the satisfaction of bearing the (official) firstborn and heir. She came to like Anora, but she's petty and can get territorial. She may even succeed.

☁️ CLOUD - a soft headcanon

Aisling: She has a fixed and very strict schedule for hugs to distribute around Skyhold. It's a precise table, divided in list of people who need a hug daily, every other day, twice a week. She's very thorough with it whenever she can. She'll just appear when you're not too busy, march towards you with a purpose, squeeze you for a while with not a single word and, satisfied, go on with her day. Cullen gets regularly pounced at and gets the longest hugs. Bull get an attack hug because he told her to try and take him by surprise, so she'll get some exercise as well. She managed a couple of times (it involved fade-stepping through a wall and Cole's help).

Raina: Answered here!

Alyra: She's considered to be cold and unaffective, and it's true that she rarely shows emotion, is the queen of resting bitch faces, will judge you. She's soft to her core, she still keeps Alistair's rose and always wears a necklace that Morrigan left her. Kieran is, if you ask her, 100% her son too. When you get to know her, she's very warm and caring, and the person you would want at your side to bury a corpse with.

❤️ RED HEART - their love language(s)?

Aisling: PHYSICAL TOUCH. Acts of Services. Quality time.

Raina: ACTS OF SERVICES. Quality time. Verbal affirmations.

Alyra: ACTS OF SERVICES. Gifts. Physical Touch.

[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]

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]

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]

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.

Tag list @nyctophilic0vitnir

[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.

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

[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.

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 your book characters?” 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 snapped, 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.

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.

“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 told her about 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 am 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 hunt 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 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 is 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 is real, that some power connects them, will 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 stands outside her grandfather’s office, picking at the embroidery on her sleeves.

“Come in Helaena.”

She walks in and immediately notices how distressed her grandfather looks. 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 suggested, fearing 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 forget about your dowry in exchange for your arrival within the month.”

Helaena has to sit, or she fears she’ll 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. Now that was the man who’d bought her like cattle at an auction. 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

[feyhunter78]

Poisoned Tears and Scorched Tongues (9/22)

Description: Alyra finally gets to marry the man she's loved since she was a child, but her worries still loom at the edge of her mind.

Alyra was bursting with happiness, she was to marry Aemond, and use her abilities for something other than scrapes and bruises. She’d been practicing, pouring over her grandmother’s journals late into the night. She’d healed a lame horse, a dog with a torn ear, and even been able to restore sight to a blind beggar in the Fleabottom.

 Her abilities were a gift, one born of sacrifice, her grandmother had written. Long ago, her foremother had been chased deep into the forest near their home. She had killed a nobleman who had murdered her daughter and left her strewn in the street for all to see.

Her foremother hadn’t escaped unscathed, though. Heavily bleeding and close to death, she collapsed at the base of a Hawthorne tree and begged the old gods of the forest for protection. Her anguished cries reached their ears and as she took her last breath, they imbued her with the ability to heal. She returned from the forest three days later, changed. Her husband died of mysterious circumstances, and she remarried. The children born of their union were said to be powerful and great blessings to their families.

Alyra wished her grandmother was still alive, she had so many questions, and she knew her mother could not answer them. The way the journal’s spine cracked when she opened it told her it had sat untouched for decades. Anger coursed through Alyra, maybe if her mother had been more dedicated to their family’s heritage her sister and father would still be alive. She shook her head, clearing the storm clouds in her mind, today was to be a happy one.

She closed the journal and smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles in her skirts. She obviously didn’t have her wedding dress. Decorated with the Lannister colors, it wouldn’t have fit the occasion. Instead, Rhaenyra let her borrow the very dress she’d gotten married in. Alyra protested, telling her that there was no way she could wear such an important gown, but Rhaenyra shushed her as she tightened the corset laces.

“I kept it in case I had a daughter, but so far it seems the gods are content with giving me sons.”

Alyra bowed her head, “I hope I will do you proud then, as a surrogate, until you and Lord Strong have a daughter of your own.”

Rhaenyra rested her chin on Alyra’s shoulder, and they both admired the way the dress clung to Alyra’s curves and brought out the shining amber of her eyes. “Your mother would be devastated to know she is missing your wedding.”

Alyra shook her head, “my mother will be furious that I ruined her plans.”

Rhaenyra sighed, “soon you will be a Targaryen, a princess. She will learn to be happy with that.”

Alyra turned, her bottom lip trembling. “What if she is not? What if she disowns me? What good is a princess with no family, no mother to stay by her side when she gives birth, or to help plan namedays.”

Rhaenyra’s heart broke, Alyra’s fear and grief was clear on her face, and she was shocked by how much the girl reminded her of Alicent in that moment. They shared the same crease between their eyebrows, the same rapid blinking to keep the tears at bay. Their breaths were shaky, their words breaking in the middle as a sob forced its way up their throats. Rhaenyra did what she wished she had done to her friend years ago and pulled Alyra into a tight embrace, shushing her gently. “It will be alright, if she is foolish enough to abandon you in her anger we will claim you, give you the name of House Strong to go with your Targaryen one.” She stroked Alyra’s hair and let the girl sob her heart out. “You will not be alone, Alyra; I promise you this.”

Alyra nodded, her tears staining the crown princesses’ dress. Alyra was not a short woman, at ten and seven she stood as tall as Aegon who was only a few inches shorter than his younger brother. It was something Heleana liked about her, said it made her feel protected, the way Alyra could stand in front of her and hide her from the gaze of others. But the crown princess stood taller than her, so it allowed her to hide her face in Rhaenyra’s décolletage like a child.

“And Aegon is supposed to bring Theo here and, but he has not yet arrived, what if something has happened? I cannot bear to be the reason he has been harmed, he is so little, he’s only six.” A wave of guilt washed over her, and Alyra felt Rhaenyra lift her chin.

“I will send a raven, it won’t seem suspicious, people know your mother and I are friends.”

Alyra wiped away her tears and took a deep breath, trying to expel the sadness as she breathed out slowly. “Thank you, my lady, you have done far more than required of you, I will be forever grateful.”

Rhaenyra used her sleeve to dry the remainder of Alyra’s tears and smiled softly. “Today you are my daughter, and you know I would do anything for my children.”

Alyra bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying again. “I am honored, truly.” She picked up a nearby hairbrush and ran it through her hair before she applied powder to her face to cover the redness from her crying. “Shall we go meet my betrothed then, mother?”

She linked arms with Rhaenyra, and they talked quietly as they walked to the garden. There standing next to Harwin and a septa was Aemond. He’d ditched most of his riding gear and fixed his hair, when he saw her his eye lit up. A tug on her dress stopped Alyra. Viserys handed her a dagger, before he trotted back to his father’s side.

Alyra wrapped her hand around the dagger’s handle and glanced over at Rhaenyra who just smiled and made her way to join Aemond. Harwin switched places with his wife and took Alyra’s arm.

“I know your father isn’t here, would you mind if I stood in his place?” Harwin asked her, his voice kind and soft, the same tone he used when speaking to Viserys.

Alyra linked her arm with Harwin’s. “You saved my brother and I, that’s more than any other male member of my family has done.”

The ceremony went quick, with Rhaenyra officiating the ceremony in Valyrian, her words steady as Alyra and Aemond cut each other’s lips and mixed their blood before Rhaenyra asked them to repeat after her.

“One flesh,” they say.

“One heart,” Aemond paints her temples with their blood.

“One soul,” she does the same to him.

“Now and forever,” he hands the cup off to Harwin and takes Alyra’s face in his hands, crushing his lips to hers.

Then the septa performs his prayers, has them repeat their vows under the eyes of The Seven. Alyra kisses Aemond first this time, the salty taste of their blood dances on her tongue, and she breaks away with a joyful laugh.

“No one can argue the validity of your marriage now.” Rhaenyra says, a smile on her face as she scoops Viserys up into her arms. “You’ve married in the tradition of our family and in Alicent’s, even she can’t deny The Seven.”

Alyra doesn’t even think about the queen as she looks into Aemond—her husband’s eye.

“We will not be performing the traditional bedding ceremony.” Aemond said, not taking his eye off her.

Alyra’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.

Aemond’s voice dropped to a whisper, his voice smooth and heated. “No one needs to stand outside our door, they will hear you on the other side of the island.”

Alyra’s cheeks go bright red.

“I hear you, lad; we weren’t going to insist anyways.” Harwin chuckles, taking his wife by the arm and leading her inside.

Aemond and Alyra stand in the middle of the garden, hands still connected. The septa followed Rhaenyra and Harwin inside, leaving the two alone.

“You look beautiful.” Aemond says, his thumb running gently over the cut on her lip.

Alyra’s eyes flutter shut, “I could say the same for you, husband.”

Aemond lets out a satisfied growl and scoops her into his arms. “Say it again.”

“Husband?” Alyra teases, wrapping her arms around Aemond’s neck.

Aemond groans and practically kicks the door to their chambers open when they reach it.

Alyra lets out a surprised yelp when he drops her on their bed and watches as he goes to close and lock their door before, he strides back towards her like a hunter tracking his prey.

“My sweet wife.” Aemond says reverently as he lies beside her, tracing her lips with one lithe finger.

She reaches up to brush his hair back from his face. “My courageous husband.”

Aemond catches her hand and presses a heated kiss to the inside of her wrist, his violet eye burning with desire. “Allow me to make good on my words in the garden.”

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

[feyhunter78]

Poisoned Tears and Scorched Tongues (3/22)

Description: Alyra only wants to make sure her brother is alright, but her mother and Tyrion Lannister have other subjects they'd like her to worry about.

“Let me help you to the tent, Lady Alyra.” Tyrion said, appearing unfazed by Aemond’s presence. His hand still rested on her shoulder, and he squeezed it lightly.

Alyra pried her eyes away from Aemond’s face and tried to remove her hands from his grip. “I’m sure I’ll be fine to walk there myself, I thank you both, but I’m sure you have other duties to attend to.”

Tyrion shook his head, holding out his forearm for her to lean on. “Nonsense, I was planning on speaking with your mother once the tourney was over anyways.”

Aemond caught her hands before she could pull away, and Alyra shot him a pleading look. “My prince, this commotion must have upset Princess Heleana, would you mind informing her that I will come to see her as soon as I’ve seen to my brother?”

Aemond gave a low hum and dropped her hands, turning back towards the dais.

Alyra let Tyrion lead her to the maesters’ tent, nodding politely as he described the duel he’d participated in.

Once inside, she found her brother seated in their mother’s lap, happily playing with a roll of bandages someone had given him. Lord Strong was talking quietly with Princess Rhaenyra and her mother. They looked up when Alyra was ushered in, leaning heavily on Tyrion's arm.

“Sister look!” Theo said, holding out the roll of cloth in his hands, it began to unroll and fall to the ground, causing tears to spring to his eyes.

Princess Rhaenyra collected the cloth before it could touch the dirt and handed it back to Theo, who beamed up at her.

Alyra curtsied awkwardly; her arm still linked with Tyrion's. “Lord Strong I cannot thank you enough for saving Theo and I, please if you or the crown princess ever need assistance do not hesitate to call on me. You have my never-ending gratitude.”

“I was just echoing those sentiments to the princess and her consort,” her mother said, holding Theo close to her chest, tear tracks down her cheeks.

Tyrion cleared his throat lightly and bowed to the crown princess. “I apologize, I know this is an inconvenient time, but I was wondering if I might have a word with Lady Amina in private?”

Her mother gave Alyra a confused look, who she shrugged in return.

Amina nodded and turned to excuse herself from the crown princess’ presence, but she and her husband were already halfway out the tent. “Of course, Alyra, take your brother outside, the maester says he just needs to rest.”

Alyra reached out and took her brother, balancing him on her hip, her hands smoothing out the back of his tunic. “I’ll be just outside if you need me.”

Outside the tent, a few feet away, stood Princess Rhaenyra and Lord Strong, their heads bent together.

“Lady Alyra, might I speak with you?” The crown princess called, smiling kindly at her.

Alyra held Theo closer and whispered for him to stay quiet before they joined the pair. “How may I help you, your highness?”

Princess Rhaenyra lowered her voice. “Your mother was telling us about your family’s abilities. I was wondering if you’ve ever tried to heal the king with them?”

Alyra glanced around them before pressing Theo’s head to her chest and covering his exposed ear with one hand, her voice dropping in volume as well. She’d known the king was sick, but she also knew it was not something she was supposed to know.

“I just unlocked these abilities, I could try, given the chance, but I’ve never been alone with the king, and our abilities are not very powerful. My mother wasn’t able to save my father when he fell ill, I…am not sure how much help I would be.” Alyra worried at her bottom lip, not meeting the crown princess’ intelligent violet eyes.

“If we could get you to the king, would you be willing to try?” Lord Strong asked, his gruff voice warm and patient.

Alyra looked at the man who towered over her. “I meant what I said in the maesters’ tent, my never-ending gratitude, but I do not wish to anger the queen. I know she has sent for dozens of healers, all much more skilled than I am.”

Princess Rhaenyra laughed softly, “that won’t be a problem, I will speak with my father.”

Alyra heard her mother call her name.

“Go, I will send someone to find you after I’ve spoken with the king.”

Alyra curtsied and hurried back to the tent.

Her mother was beaming and reached to take Theo from her. “Wonderful news, my darling.”

Alyra gave her mother a confused smile and handed over her brother, “do tell.”

Tyrion was still in the tent as well, a bright smile on his face.

“Lord Tyrion has asked to court you.”

Alyra’s smile faltered. “Oh…and your answer was?”

Her mother gave her an affectionate nudge. “I said yes, he was so earnest, you will make a wonderful match.”

Alyra blinked, once, twice, then a third before she turned to Tyrion who was already reaching for her. “I know our time together has been short, but I am quite fond of you Alyra, and I wish to express those feelings before the entirety of the court.”

Alyra let Tyrion take her hand. She didn’t dislike the boy, he was handsome, kind, from a good house, only a year older than her, and here he was asking to court her. She glanced at her mother who had a look of brilliant shining hope on her grief-worn face.

As angry as she was at her mother, for herself, for Theo, for her father, she couldn’t deny the toll her father’s death took on her. She remembered how her aunt had to drag her mother away from his coffin and the weeks she locked herself in their room, leaving Alyra in the care of her cousin. The sound of her mother’s screams for him as she gave birth to Theo haunted Alyra’s nightmares for months after.

She’d come to King’s Landing for the good of her family, to escape becoming a broodmare. Tyrion had plenty of siblings that would take his father’s seat before he would. Their marriage would be good for her family, good for her.

She pushed down the part of her heart that stubbornly held onto her childish affections for a certain silver-haired prince and returned his smile.

“That sounds wonderful Lord Tyrion, I must confirm with my lady first, I am duty bound to the princess.”

Tyrion's smile dropped but he quickly regained his good mood and took her by the arm, “of course, let’s go speak with her now.”

Alyra dug her heels into the dirt, “I’m afraid that is not possible, the princess is unsettled by violence, she will not be in any state for visitors. I will ask her tomorrow.”

Irritation flickered in Tyrion's blue eyes, but it quickly passed, and he nodded. “You know the princess better than I do; I will put my trust in your judgement.” Then he released her hand and gave her mother a slight nod before exiting the tent.

“Isn’t this so exciting?” Her mother said once Tyrion had left.

Alyra nodded, keeping her back to her mother, a tightness in her chest she couldn’t seem to ease.

“This is such great news, just think of what your marriage will do for our family.”

Aemond’s worried visage flashed in her mind, furrowed eyebrows, his eye filled with concern scanning her face, the way his hands held her face so gently as if she were made of porcelain. “What if I don’t marry him? What if we spend more time together and find each other repulsive?”

There was a beat of silence then she heard her mother stand, the fabric of her dress rustling. “That will not happen. You are my daughter, the flower of our family, beautiful and clever. No man will be able to resist you.”

Alyra turned to face her, bringing her hands behind her back, she dug her nails into the palm of her hand to stay calm. “What if my heart is set on someone else?”

Her mother rolled her eyes. “The second prince? Darling, you know that isn’t possible, we are a lower house, for him to marry you would be a political disaster.”

Alyra dug her nails in deeper, “I know mother, it was just a hypothetical.”

Her mother placed a hand on Alyra’s cheek, “do not waste this opportunity on childish dreams. You are not a princess; you are a Hawthorne.” Her mother’s voice was ice cold sending a shiver of fear down Alyra’s spine.  “Do you remember what that means, or has your time in the court made you turn your back on us?”

“No one leaf is more important than the other, we all sacrifice for the good of the tree.” Alyra recited the phrase she said to herself every morning, but to say it here, knowing it meant accepting she could never be truly happy, left a sour taste in her mouth.

“Good, good. Remember those words, and don’t disappoint me.” Her mother patted her cheek lightly then left Alyra standing alone in the tent.

She made her way back to Heleana’s quarters in silence, head spinning as she replayed her mother’s words over and over again. There would be no arguing, no other choice. She would be happy with the arrangement, perhaps not now, but eventually.

Heleana looked up as she entered, her twin children sitting to the side playing with carved wooden dragons. “Alyra, Aemond told me your brother is unharmed?”

Alyra nodded, her eyes drifting to the lit fireplace. “Lord Tyrion Lannister is seeking permission to court me.”

Heleana set down her embroidery turning to fully face Alyra, gathering up the skirt of her pale pink dress, to make room for her to sit. “I see.”

Alyra stood next to the couch but remained standing. “My mother gave her permission, and I agreed.”

Heleana bit her thumb nail, a habit she picked up from her mother, before she spoke. “What about Aem—”

“I have no chance, Heleana.” Alyra said, cutting her off. “I do not possess the social standing to be considered a suitable candidate, and my mother has already agreed to Lord Tyrion request. She believes it will be good for the family.”

“But will it be good for you?”

Alyra stared into the fire, her eyes conjuring patterns and dancing figures out of the flames. “No one leaf is above another.”

“Yes, but Alyra—”

Alyra pulled her eyes from the fire and bowed her head. “My apologies, princess, I’m not feeling well and would like to retreat to my room to rest.” Then she turned and fled the room, the light of the fire still burning in her eyes.

[feyhunter78]

Moonflowers (2/16)

Description: Heleana gets some news concerning her lady-in-waiting, has a vision, and Jacaerys finds himself in the right place at the right time.

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of heavy booted footsteps.

“Princess Helaena, your mother needs to speak with you, it’s of the utmost importance.”

She followed the kingsguard back to her mother’s chambers, where Aegon stood, looking utterly bored.

“Aemond has just informed me that Alyra is with child, and they wish to marry as quickly as possible.”

Helaena reeled back in shock, if Alyra was with child she would know, and if it was Aemond’s child—a dream she’d had months ago reappeared, and she nodded. “Well, then it's a happy day. I cannot imagine a better match than my dearest brother, and my dearest friend.”

Her mother looked at Aegon who shrugged. “If he wants to stick his cock in one woman for the rest of his life, that’s his decision.”

Helaena wanted to laugh, Aegon was married to her, and he shamed her constantly with his affairs and bastards. She knew Aemond would not do that to Alyra though, now with a clear mind she realized the signs she’d missed. Her younger brother was truly and completely besotted with her lady-in-waiting, and Alyra was the same.

“Aegon.” Their mother said, scandalized.

He chuckled and headed back to his chambers, snatching a bottle of wine as he did.

Alicent slumped in the nearest chair and sighed. “How will he ever become king?”

Helaena fiddled with her bracelet, “perhaps he will not.”

Alicent’s head snapped up. “Helaena that is borderline treason. Do you not wish to be queen?”

There was a skittering feeling up her spine, much like when one of her spiders would climb her, but wrong. “Queen of blood or queen of black.” She mumbled, her eyes unfocusing then refocusing on her mother’s concerned face.

“Are you feeling well, sweetling?”

Helaena brought her hand to her chest and tried to breathe deeply. “I will be, I just need to rest.”

Alicent nodded and guided her out of the room, asking a guard to escort her back. As they walked, she saw Alyra, her bright hair shining in the sun, she was talking quietly with someone Helaena couldn’t yet see. She strained her ears but was met with the dulcet tones of Alyra’s mother tongue, a language Helaena couldn’t seem to pick up no matter how hard she tried.

As they continued walking, Alyra turned at the sound of footsteps and bowed quickly. “My lady, I was just coming to find you, I must speak with you.” She was glowing, and Helaena again wondered how she missed such obvious signs.

“Of course, come, I’m headed back to my chambers, I feel a bit ill.” It wasn’t truly a lie, whenever she was plagued with visions, they always left her feeling shaky.

Alyra’s face instantly morphed into one of concern, and she rushed forward, clasping Helaena’s hand between her own. “You feel ill? You should have sent for me right away.”

A voice Helaena had become familiar with spoke up, “I’m sure that was the princess’ next course of action, Alyra.” Jacaerys stepped out from the shadows, he had changed clothes since she last saw him.

Now he wore a black tunic that clung to his abdomen in a way that had Helaena’s eyes wanting to drink him in like honeyed wine. He bowed and smiled at her before continuing to address her lady-in-waiting. “Your lady is not only beautiful, but intelligent as well, or have you forgotten?”

Alyra rolled her eyes and shot Helaena a look that she knew quite well. “Of course not, my prince, I am merely concerned for her health. There are so many new visitors to the keep, perhaps one of them brought a sickness with them and unintentionally spread it to the princess.” Her voice dripped with something Heleana couldn’t identify, but it seemed to spark something in Jacaerys.

“Let me accompany you both back to the princess’ chambers, then.” He dismissed the guard and held out his arm for Helaena to take.

Alyra said something to Jacaerys in her mother tongue, and he responded back in kind. Then she spoke to Helaena, “I must ask my lady, I know the queen spoke with you. Did you give your approval?”

Helaena always forgot Alyra was close to Rhaenyra’s family. She spoke so little of it unless pressed, seemingly preferring the company of Heleana and her family.

Both Alyra and Harwin, her half-sister’s husband, hailed from the Riverlands. Alyra had once told her that they moved there from her mother’s homeland, so her father could retake his seat, and that the Strong family had aided them when her father died. Her words were always tinged with a bitterness when she spoke of the move, but lightened when she spoke of the Strong family. Despite all that, Alyra would always assure her that her loyalty lay with her and no one else.

When Helaena didn’t respond, Jacaerys bent down his hand resting on her arm, “do you need me to carry you to your chambers, princess? I do not mind as long as you do not get sick on me.” His voice had a tinge of amusement, and she could hear Alyra begin to protest, concerned about how it might look.

As she clung to his arm, she felt that same crawling feeling, her mind filled with images of bloodshed, and then she was falling into the void. With a gasping breath, she felt her knees weaken and Jacaerys scooped her into his arms as Alyra said something about finding a maester.

Helaena rested her head against Jacaerys’ firm chest as he spoke quickly with Alyra in Denouan, who nodded and rushed off, presumably to find a maester for her.

“Alyra will bring a maester to your chambers princess, don’t worry.” Jacaerys said soothingly, the low timbre of his voice was calming, and she could feel the vibrations from her position resting against his chest.

“How did you know Denouan?” She asked as he continued his trek towards her chambers.

Jacaerys chuckled, “As future heir to the throne, it’s important to be able to speak to my people in their own tongue, to show them that I am are not unaware of their existence.” He adjusted his hold on her, his large hands gripping her legs and upper back, long fingertips almost brushing against the side of her breasts. “Also, my mother is quite fond of Alyra. Having no daughters of her own, I believe she is using her to fill that void. So, I thought it best to speak the same language as my sister.”

“That’s very sweet, I didn’t know you and Alyra were so close.” She said, butterflies fluttering in her stomach at the way his hands radiated warmth. She was often so cold, feeling out of place with her brothers and their dragonfire tempers that kept them and their grudges warm.

“We are closer now than we were as children, but I had an ulterior motive for having Alyra teach me Denouan. It isn’t as well known in the keep as Valyrian is, so it makes for a wonderful way to keep one’s words guarded.”

Helaena nodded, she liked that Valyrian was something that belonged to her family, that she could speak her secrets and only few would understand, but she could see the advantage of a third language. “Alyra tried to teach me, but I haven’t had much luck.”

Jacaerys raised an eyebrow, “you, not being able to perfect anything you put your mind to? Forgive me, but I’m having difficulties believing that.” His voice dropped low as he slipped into Denouan, the words like music to her ears.

“And what did that mean?”

Jacaerys just smiled and shrugged his shoulders, lifting her slightly as he did. “Only that perhaps you need a different tutor. Alyra can be quite scattered in her teachings.”

They finally made it to her chambers, where an anxious Alyra stood, her whole body practically vibrating with nerves. “Oh, thank the gods, the maester is inside.” She held open the door for them, and Jacaerys gently set her on a nearby chaise lounge.

The maester asked her a few questions, inspected her, then patted her head and recommended she rest before taking his leave.

Alyra immediately came to sit beside her slipping into Valyrian, “I wanted to tell you so badly Helaena, I swear, but Aemond wanted your father’s permission first. Please, tell me, was it the news that upset you so?”

Helaena squeezed Alyra’s hand, “it is not your happy news that affected my health. I am overjoyed for you and Aemond.”

Alyra visibly relaxed, and Helaena wondered why her friend seemed so scared of her reaction. Yes, she was upset that she hadn’t been told, but she wanted nothing more than happiness for those she loved.

Jacaerys coughed lightly to get their attention. “This is where I shall leave you both, Lady Alyra congratulations on her upcoming wedding, my mother will be pleased to hear of it.”

Alyra thanked him and moved to open the door for him.

Helaena began to pick at the fabric of her skirt, waiting for Jacaerys to leave. Instead, he knelt in front of her. “And princess, if you ever feel ill again do not hesitate to lean on me, I am quite strong, I could even carry you to the dragonpit if you wished.” He gave her a disarming smile, and she knew her cheeks were blooming pink.

Helaena smiled softly, “I thank you, Prince Jacaerys, I am already feeling better just from those few minutes off my feet.”

Jacaerys smiled and took her hand, pressing it against his warm lips. “That I am glad to hear.” His lips brushed against her skin with each word, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her composure. Then he left, leaving her sitting there, heart beating wildly in her chest.

[feyhunter78]

Moonflowers (8/16)

Description: A plot is hatched to rid the kingdom of Aegon

He was hiding out in a back corner of the library, far from the prying eyes of others, when Alyra set a stack of books down in front of him with a tired look on her normally cheerful face. Jacaerys knew she’d been up all night trying to find a way to separate Aegon and Helaena without Aegon’s death. He wanted to remind her that she was with child, and that sleep was of the utmost importance, but he knew she’d throw a book at his head if he did.

“Any luck?” He asked. He had his own stack of book in front of him, though they were on a differing topic, one of a more violent nature.

Alyra sat and slumped forward, resting her forehead on the table. “Surprisingly enough, there are quite a few ways for a marriage to be annulled, but the queen would protest them all.” She slid a book over to him, “we could attempt to claim that the marriage was performed under duress, but that would be difficult to prove.”

Jacaerys thumbed through the book, it was an old text of law. “Would that not render her children illegitimate?”

Alyra raised her head and nodded, “that is the other complication.” She rubbed at her eyes; it was early morning, the sun just barely peaking over the horizon. “Did you find anything in the Valyrian texts?”

Jacaerys shook his head, “there’s a reference to divorce, but it seems to be a euphemism for beheading.”

Alyra pulled one of the books from her pile and opened it, laughing tiredly. “This would be far easier if your mother was queen, then Aegon and Helaena wouldn’t be potential heirs to the throne, they would just be royals. Royals, your mother could separate.” She flipped through the book in silence before she spoke again, this time in Denouan. “Should we kill your grandsire and put your mother on the throne before the Hightowers can react?”

Jacaerys snorted, “have you always been this bloodthirsty, or is it Aemond’s doing?”

“A little of both.” She said, slipping back into the common tongue as she closed her book and buried her face in her hands. “This is hopeless, there is no peaceful solution.”

He had to agree. They’d been searching for a way to dissolve Helaena and Aegon’s marriage for over a week and found nothing that separate the two without great consequences for Helaena and her children.

“I thought I might find you two here.” His mother’s voice filled the room and Alyra shot up quickly, curtsying to her.

“Good morning, mother.” He said, standing and pulling a chair out for her.

“Good morning, Jace, Alyra.” She placed a plate of pastries before them. “You two need to eat.”

Alyra sat and grabbed a honey drizzled pastry and ate it slowly, careful not to drop any crumbs on the books she’d borrowed. “Thank you, Princess, your kindness knows no bounds.”

His mother smiled warmly at her, “you, my dear, need to eat the most, you are creating life within you.”

Alyra rested a hand on her stomach, her bump was still small but pronounced, she was no longer able to hide it with flowing fabrics. “My little one knows their mother is working on something important.”

“Ah, yes, the peaceful freeing of our sweet Helaena.” She scanned the table, “I assume your findings have not been successful?”

“We have searched diligently, and yet there is nothing that can help her.” He said, voice colored with frustration.

“Perhaps that is the will of the gods.” His mother said.

“That she remains trapped in that awful marriage?” He snapped; jaw set as he turned to face his mother.

She gave him a soothing smile, “no, that Aegon dies.”

Alyra choked, and began coughing, hitting her chest, until she regained her breath and spoke, her voice scratchy. “You would give us permission?”

His mother intertwined her fingers loosely, resting her hands on the table. “Aegon is a cruel man, a danger to every unmarried and possibly married woman in this keep. He has harmed and shamed Helaena on countless occasions and is not fit for the throne. I will not give the order, but I will support it.”

Alyra’s eyes were downcast as she fiddled with the silver ring set with sapphires Aemond had gifted her the day they married. “What will I tell Aemond? Aegon is his brother.”

“Aegon is also his tormentor, and you are his wife, and mother of his child.” His mother reminded Alyra. She leaned forward and took Alyra’s hand, her voice taking on a persuasive tone he often heard her use with his grandsire. “Do you want your child to grow up in fear of their Uncle Aegon? Do you want Helaena to continue living in misery?”

Alyra shook her head, gripping his mother’s hand tightly. “No, I want Aegon gone. I’ll talk to Aemond, I’ll make him understand.”

His mother smiled brightly at her, “you are the only one I could trust with this task, my dear girl. He will only listen to you.”

Alyra gave her a bashful smile, “he is quite in love with me, but I feel the exact same for him.”

“Then it is settled, we will rid the kingdom of Aegon.” His mother said, her words set with Valyrian steel.

Their next meeting was on an island outside of King’s Landing, his mother and father had ridden out an hour before on Syrax, he followed on Vermax an hour later. When he landed, his parents were sitting on a blanket, their heads bowed towards each other.

“Mother, father.” He called, waving to them.

They waved back, and he patted Vermax before making his way towards them. Once he reached them, he sat and noticed the sheets of parchment laid out before them.

“Do you think Alyra will come?” His father asked, eyes searching the skies.

“I have faith in our girl. Aemond has been enraptured by her since they were children, he brought her a severed head as proof of his devotion. I believe they’ll show.” His mother said, tilting her face up towards the sun.

A few minutes later the ground shook and Vhagar landed next to Vermax who opened one eye then promptly feel back asleep.

Aemond dismounted first, then helped Alyra down. They approached the blanket, a strained look on Aemond’s face.

“Aemond has agreed for the good of our child, and his sister, that Aegon must die.” Alyra said, she had one of Aemond’s hands in her own, and she pulled him down to sit with her.

“I take no pleasure in joining this plot, but I cannot deny that my brother is a thorn in the side of all that is just.” Aemond said, keeping his eye on Alyra as if it pained him to look elsewhere.

“And I promised him, he would not be the one dealing the blow, my husband will not be a kinslayer.” Alyra said, her expression like stone.

“No one will be labeled kinslayer.” His mother reassured. “What happens to Aegon will be done by an outside force.”

Alyra tilted her head, “are you speaking of witchcraft?”

His mother shook her head, “no, I’m speaking of angry women who Aegon has left battered and broken.”

“The brothel.” Aemond said suddenly.

“I always knew you were a smart lad.” His father said, sending Aemond a proud smile.

Aemond didn’t respond, but nodded in Harwin’s direction.

“You are entrusting this plan to a prostitute?” Alyra questioned, a hesitant look in her eyes.

“Prostitutes kill their abusive clients quite often, but they haven’t been able to kill Aegon for fear of repercussions from the crown.” His father explained.

Alyra tapped her nails against her leather covered thigh, connecting the pieces in her mind. “But if a member of the crown was to make it clear that there would be no repercussions, then…”

“One of them would kill Aegon.” Aemond finished, a hint of admiration in his voice.

“Exactly.” His mother said, handing them both a list of names, “do any of these sound familiar to either of you?”

Alyra shook her head, “I attempt to tune out Aegon any time he speaks of the brothels.”

Aemond took his time scanning the list. “Two of these I recognize as Aegon’s favorites, but this third name…I believe she slapped him.”

Alyra bit her lip to keep from laughing. “She slapped him?”

“Yes, Aegon left her with child and when she told him, he tried to claim it wasn’t his. Called her a liar and attempted to get her fired.”

“We should speak with her first, then?” Alyra suggested.

“I doubt Aegon will wish to go near her again after she slapped him, it’s better we choose someone he’ll trust.” Jacaerys said, pointing to the name Aemond had first identified. “Someone should pay Ruby Mathers a visit.”

“But who? You are all quite recognizable, and I do not wish to involve more people in this plot.” Alyra said, the tapping of her nails resuming. “Perhaps I should go? Aemond and I’s wedding was so small, I doubt many smallfolk know my face.”

“Absolutely not.” Aemond growled, taking Alyra’s hands in his, voice softening as he looked at her. “You are with child, my child, and you do not know how to fight. I will not let you wander the Fleabottom alone.”

“Fine, we shall go together.”

Aemond’s eyebrows raised in an expression of shock Jacaerys wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before.

“We will go and say that I wish to learn how to better please you. Once we are in, and they are no longer suspicious of us, we will speak with Ruby.”

Aemond in a surprising move turned to Rhaenyra for help. “Sister, please, tell her this plan is ridiculous. I will go in disguise and speak with Ruby.”

Rhaenyra gave him a sheepish smile, “I find myself agreeing with your wife, it will throw off suspicion.”

Aemond growled and stood, storming off towards Vhagar.

“He’ll come around, give me a moment.” Alyra darted after him and they talked for a while, Alyra’s hand on Aemond’s cheek as they did.

When they started back towards Jacaerys and his parents, his father let out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Tell us the night, and we’ll be there.” Alyra said, clinging to Aemond’s arm.

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