#aas usual i posted all of this up last night at 3am without reading it through first

[highgaarden]

a lover’s concerto; game of thrones au. written for @klaroline-events‘ kc june bingo: ROYALS.

He shouldn’t be sitting so close, really, seeing as they were only just betrothed – and Caroline really wanted him to push his chair a bit further, but she had been told that you don’t tell a Targaryen what to do, much less the Mad King himself.

“Are you always so improper? Back it up, Dragon Boy,” said Caroline, who had never liked being told what to do.

Highgarden was a madness of wine and song. Enzo was trying not to vomit across the table whilst Damon was passed out underneath it. Loras was busy regaling a very drunk Malachai about that one time he accidentally set half their gardens on fire. Margaery was giggling, leaning heavily into Bonnie, who looked like even she was enjoying all the commotion around her.

It was strange that the everyone would have so much cause for celebration considering – everything – but… there you have it. Maybe she’d enjoy the party better if she wasn’t sitting at the head of the table, so far away from her friends.

“You’re sulking, Princess,” Klaus pointed out from behind the rim of his goblet.

“I don’t sulk,” she said, sulkily.

“Would it make you feel better,” he said, “if I named one of my dragons after you?”

“It would not,” she said primly, but Klaus hardly missed the little flare of curiosity in her eyes.  

“Qeldlie, I think I’ll name her,” Klaus decided. “It means golden. After your hair.”

Caroline, who had not yet started to learn High Valyrian, had to take his word for it. “A dragon in the Reach. Who would have thought?”

“These fertile lands suit them, it would seem,” Klaus said. He tipped his goblet at her. “Here’s to us Growing Strong.”

She tipped her own goblet back at him. “With Fire and Blood.”

—

The day the Targaryens came to Highgarden was quite a thing to behold.

Niklaus the Mad came swooping in on his dragon Viserion, whilst his sister Rebekah was on Drogon, and his brother Elijah was on Rhaegal, just like the stories they always hear about.

Katherine, a good handmaiden and a very bad flirt, was fanning her cheeks. Caroline wanted to snort. Who the hell did they think they were, rolling up into her lands with their bigass envoy and their stupid sunglasses?

“It’s not that hot here,” she grumbled. “No, Elena, do not wave!”

—

William had decided that to remain in his seat as one of the most ancient houses in the Kingdom, declaring friendship wasn’t enough when Klaus, apparently bored one day, wanted to liberate Westeros.

As if being an era ahead of them in technology made Dragonstone the ballers of the Seven Kingdoms. Klaus certainly thought so.

He was in William’s audience chamber when Caroline stomped in, huffing, and Klaus had tilted his head at her.

“Princess of the Summer courts,” he greeted.

“Your Grace,” she managed as graciously as she could, and sunk into a curtsy. “What brings you here?”

Klaus didn’t answer her. Instead he turned to William. “My Lord, your daughter speaks out of turn.”

“I—” blustered her father, turning a magnificent shade of magenta.

“I like it,” Klaus said. “So, have you heard? I am in search of a wife.”

“No, Your Grace - I hadn’t heard,” William said, the cogs already turning in his head.

Caroline’s barely had time to think whether this was a good opportunity to faint before Klaus has his lips on her knuckles.

—

Rebekah took to her at once, not because she was a lady as equal in beauty and stature as herself, but because she was someone to talk to that wasn’t one of her brothers.

“You’re lucky you’re an only child,” the Princess of Dragonstone confided one afternoon whilst they were practicing their stitching. She peeked at Caroline’s work – a pull of the needle here, a little thread there, and a flower bloomed to life in her hands – and looks approving. “You wouldn’t believe it, but brothers! They take ages getting ready.”

“You don’t say,” Caroline mumbled. There was already a ring on her finger, one of promise, and apparently there were two more to come before she and Klaus were finally to marry. She was disgruntled not at the fact that he had crafted her a ring so soon but more the fact that she didn’t hate it. She’d expected a big rock, and yes, it did come with that, but it was also surprisingly tasteful.

And it suited her very much, as if the gifter had taken exceptional notice of her hands.

—

He wasn’t bad company, she supposed. Things could be worse. According to Katherine things almost had been worse – apparently her father had considered a proposal from Winterfell.

Sure, the Starks were cool and all with their Direwolves, but she still hadn’t forgotten the time in Year 10 when Tyler, having invited Caroline over during one of those tedious Royal Exchange Programmes to experience court life in the asscrack of winter, had warged into his Direwolf in an attempt to impress her and had shed all over her favourite dress.

“Do you like dragons?” Klaus asked over breakfast. It was just the two of them since everyone else was still nursing their epic hangovers from last night’s wedding announcement celebrations.

She chewed thoughtfully on her lemon cake and swallowed before answering. “I do,” she said. “But I’m not talking to you until you tell me why you chose me.”

“I fancy you,” Klaus said.

She looked at him sharply.

“Is that so hard to believe?” he asked, sipping his coffee.

“Yes.”

The look he shot her was incredulous. “I see beyond your petals, you know. That you’re beautiful is a given – that you are strong, I have no doubt, considering your House words. But you are also full of light. A maiden fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair.”

Caroline frowned down at her tea and fought down a blush.

“If we finish up quickly, I’ll take you to see Qeldlie,” he said.

Caroline blinked at him. “Did you really name a dragon after me?”

“Of course.” He ducks his head. “It is not something I do often, mind you.”

She looked at him from behind the rim of her teacup. “I know.”

“Do you now?” Klaus asked with a tilt of his lips. He hesitated for a moment. “Dragons, they’re the opposite of humans.”

“How so?”

“They’re loyal,” he said simply.

“To a point, I’ve heard,” Caroline said.

“That’s true,” Klaus conceded. “If you treat them well. With the deference they deserve – but not so much that they can sense weakness. You must command them – and I saw that in you. You would have a dragon bend its knee to you, Princess.”

Caroline didn’t quite know what to say to that. She put down her teacup, and for the first time looked him in the eye. “Take me to see her.”

—

She was a magnificent creature, creamy white with gold markings, flapping her great wings and snorting hot air onto her cheeks. She stared up at it, wide-eyed with wonder, her heart in her throat as she took in its size. When Qeldlie spread her wings it spanned almost the length of her entire private garden.

“Golden,” Klaus murmured and tugged on one of her curls. “She’s a youngin, still, but under your care she will flourish. Have your other teenage lovers ever accorded you so magnoliously?”

“This isn’t a competition, Your Grace,” Caroline rolled her eyes. Qeldlie butted his hand out of the way to nuzzle into her cheeks, startling her with its sudden proximity.

“Klaus,” he corrected. “And I know it isn’t. They couldn’t possibly compare.”

“You’re assuming I’ve been courted aplenty,” she said, reaching a tentative hand towards Qeldlie before pulling it back. “I don’t think having a profile on RoyalMatch.com counts.”

“Have a word with your team about taking that down, will you?” Klaus started to scowl, before realising she was kidding. He returned her smile slowly, like he was out of practice or something.

“Like this, Klaus,” she almost chastised. She cleared her throat once and turned to face him fully and turned on him the famed Tyrell charm, the beguiling femininity of a rose.

Klaus studied her. “I don’t care much for pretence, sweetheart. I’d much rather you show me your thorns.”

Insistently Qeldlie returned her snout to her neck, and she yelped at the sudden heat.

“ȳdra daor!” Klaus commanded in his native tongue, batting the dragon out of the way. “Keligon bona.”

She recognized those words of reprimand at least – she really should had paid more attention in class. But how was fifteen-year-old Caroline to know she’d end up marrying a Targaryen, a House so ancient they were almost myth? Ironic, innit? twenty-year-old Caroline thought.

“Qeldlie,” she said slowly, and the dragon rears back and lopes gently behind her, growling something she can’t understand yet but hopes to one day.

Wait, hold up.

Was this dragon—

Was this dragon pushing her into Klaus?

“I hope it’s true about Targaryens being immune to fire,” she muttered when it’s clear the high heat in her cheeks can’t be politely ignored. Klaus laughed and buried his nose in her hair, breathing deeply.

“I’m immune to many things, love,” he said softly. “Apparently not to you though.”

She pulled out of his embrace and made a face at him – and he shrugged, like he couldn’t help himself.