#alicent hightower bashing

[lilacstarryskies]

The Green Queen And A Greener Future

chapter 3

ao3 edition

Alicent carried Aegon on her side, avoiding the significant bump on her front, gazing into his lavender eyes with love. Her baby boy was back and was just a joyful, innocent child, unaware of the underlying tension in Kingslanding.

The Hightower Queen looked aside to her husband, Viserys, rambling on about plans for the upcoming celebrations for Aegon’s second nameday, causing Alicent to smile. Inwardly the conniving beauty was conjuring up ideas, believing that she could continue to build her political presence, gaining additional allies to the Green-side, all in order to save her children from the evil wrath they faced by Rhaenyra’s hubristic arrogance and her Rogue Prince’s disgusting brutality.

Already from the day Alicent Hightower had joined the Royal Family, she had begun consolidating her political power, employing potential allies into her household as Ladies-In-Waiting, and gaining friendship with Small Council members such as Tyland Lannister. With Rose Tyrell, one of her numerous ladies-in-waiting, and now a close friend of hers, once she removed the bitterness she felt regarding the might of House Hightower.

Viserys continued his mindless chatter, Alicent indulging him idly until she heard the man mutter, “Little Aegon’s nameday shall be extravagant, our boy may grow up be a great knight in the future, hunting just as I am to do in his celebration.”

Alicent portrays a joyous face, happy in indulging in conversing about her beautiful baby, while also in actuality intending to innocently bring up the succession crisis, “Viserys, Aegon will be a great knight, our Aegon The Conqueror Reborn!”

The Targaryen Monarch’s face then hardened with rapid anger, inwardly questioning whether Alicent was an innocent girl praising her son or if she was conniving, bent on undermining his choice to keep Rhaenyra as heir. “Alicent, what do you mean by this?”

“Rhaenyra is my heir. And she will be a great ruler, just like Aegon The Conqueror!” He speaks, wanting the discussion of succession to cease, angered extremely as the Small Council and nobility have made numerous mentions regarding Aegon as heir to be an inevitable action, feeling as though they’re intent on undermining his authority as king.

Alicent then raise her eyebrows in false shock, disappointed in Viserys’ continuous defence of his choice, “Of course! I love Rhaenyra,” She states, stammering onwards, “But I just imagined that as you have a firstborn son you would make him heir, after all wasn’t precious little Baelon named heir, ahead of her?”

“Well yes, but..”, He murmurs, before being interrupted.

“And,” She continues, ceasing Viserys’ justifications and presenting genuine articulate retorts to his hypocrisy, “After all, weren’t you picked as heir to the Old King Jaehaerys because Prince Aemon hadn’t had a male heir? Some nobles may then believe that keeping Rhaenyra as heir then illegitimises your reign and makes you a hypocrite to the Realm’s eyes, since it can be said you took Princess Rhaenys’ right.”

With coherent explanations going against his succession Viserys didn’t know what to say, blubbering and stumbling in how to retort back in respons. After all, Alicent had given comprehensive counters to his choice, but regardless of that, guilt lingered in his heart. He couldn’t dare strip Rhaenyra as heir after he mindlessly butchered her mother in pursuit of a son, a son he now has with Alicent. A son who was in the image of his prophetic vision, a powerful, Targaryen-looking King.

“Well enough of this succession business, I’m tired of discussing serious topics, let’s focus on Aegon’s nameday.” King Viserys spoke, clearly sick of dealing with his duties, tired of listening to chatter about succession and also due to the impulsive actions of Daemon and Lord Corlys who have been the unfortunate highlight of most Small Council meetings.

———————————

Tired of having to confront responsibilities, preferring to mindlessly celebrate and indulge himself with feasts.

The Hightower Queen was idly walking through the Royal Gardens, mindlessly in thought, until she noticed Rhaenyra sitting by the Godswood. The place that they both spent their girlhood together, where their bond grew strongest and where they had also destroyed that same bond. Alicent subsequently recalled the numerous arguments which arisen in the area as she had become Queen, with Rhaenyra confronting Alicent regarding Viserys’ shocking engagement with her, and in contrast, Alicent accosting Rhaenyra about her scandalous incident with that rogue of a man, Daemon Targaryen.

She then heard Rhaenyra order the singing bard beside her to repeat the tune he was performing again, showing that she preferred to sequester herself alone with music rather than celebrate her brother’s nameday.

Alicent Hightower stumbled forward, difficulty in her steps due to her swollen stomach, as she finally spoke, “Rhaenyra.”

“The King wishes for you to join us.”

Rhaenyra replied solemnly, “The King has much to celebrate.”

“He does not need me.” Her sad and resentful nature causing Alicent’s guilt to fester, after all Rhaenyra at this point in time was just a young girl, feeling as though her mother and herself had been replaced by Viserys in his pursuit for an son, and she was not the figure Alicent remembered. She wasn’t the maniacal cruel women who wanted to kill Alicent’s family. Yet the Hightower women knew she couldn’t ever allow Rhaenyra to gain the political foothold she had previously, in the case that she grow to be the person Alicent recalled.

“He wants for us all to be together.” Alicent responded, in attempt to get Rhaenyra to reconcile with her, yet knowing deep inside that this wouldn’t work as it didn’t in her previous life. But also aware that this situation could potentially be the turning point, where Rhaenyra would cease any positive interactions with her, and that Alicent could then manipulate these events for the sake of her children.

Stuttering onwards, Alicent continued further, “And perhaps the hunt could be ….. fun.”

“Is that the King’s command?” Rhaenyra snidely retorted, intent on ignoring her duties as Princess of The Realm and simultaneously her family members, her blood.

“Yes, but..” Alicent replied before being interrupted midway.

Princess Rhaenyra snapped harshly, slamming her book and rushing upwards, “Then at once, Your Grace.”

“But it needn’t be, none of it needs be this way. If not for both mine and your father’s sake, then for your brother, your blood.” Falsely pleading, attempting even further to reconcile with the Princess and venturing to drive a wedge of guilt inside Rhaenyra for neglecting Aegon, an innocent infant with no faults of his own at this time.

“Forsake us, I understand.”

“But Aegon is just a babe who has done nothing to offend you!” Speaking harshly, intent on placing a sense of self-repentance inside Rhaenyra, who was ignoring her and hastily running away, whilst also speaking the truth she couldn’t dare utter in the past. As a young girl forced into marrying her friend’s father, wondering why her old friend could not even try to form a familial bond with her own siblings, even if she hated the treacherous circumstances.

Yet it was too late.

Rhaenyra was gone, hastening towards the Royal Carriages, never to give an explanation for the blatant alienation she feels toward her half-siblings.

———————————

The carriage jerked, rumbling back and forth as it strolled forward over the rocky pathway onward to the Royal Hunting Tents for Aegon’s second nameday.

Silence lingered in the carriage, only occasionally interrupted by babbling from Aegon and Viserys’ incessant attempts at conjuring reconciliation between Rhaenyra and Alicent.

“Should you be travelling in this condition?”, Rhaenyra spoke finally, upon witnessing Alicent’s uncomfortable shift as the carriage shook.

Rubbing her stomach in a consoling gesture, The Queen replied, “The Maester said that travelling out in nature would do me and the babe well. Perhaps you’ll understand when you have a babe.”

“You should hold your brother, to gain some motherly experience. And you can strengthen your sibling bond.” Alicent suggested, a falsified pleading tone in her voice as Rhaenyra grew angry, face hardening at being told to finally interact with the brother she resented, as Alicent instructed the maid holding Aegon to pass him over to Rhaenyra.

“Exactly. Rhaenyra, you will be with your own child sooner than late, and make me a proud grandsire! You should hold little Aegon!”, Viserys spoke jubilantly, unaware of the growing pain his daughter has in facing her childbirthing duties.

“No!”

“Why I should I care for my half-brother?” Rhaenyra screams in a loud retort, resulting in the maids within to side-eye each other, looking at the Princess in a perturbed mood, as she pushed away Aegon’s hand while the maid carrying him rushed back down to her fellow co-worker.

“Rhaenyra! He’s your blood, cease these complaints! Why can’t you care for your brother?” Viserys roared, anger shocking everyone inside the carriage.

Rhaenyra replies with a softened tone, unable to articulate her anger outwardly due to shock in her father’s unexpected eruption, “I find it discomforting. To deal with children and hunting today is too excessive for me.”

“You are the Crown Princess, you have duties. You cannot be avoiding your responsibilities if you are truly to be Queen!” King Viserys bellowed.

“As I am ceaselessly reminded.” She retorts quietly under her breath.

“Im sorry?” Viserys spoke, unable to hear her snide retort.

“As I am ceaselessly reminded!” She responded harshly in tone.

“You wouldn’t need to be reminded if you ever attended to them.”

“No ones here for me.” She spoke quietly, partly ashamed that she’s speaking aloud her personal thoughts of abandonment and her feeling of resentment regarding Aegon.

The King countered her words, viewing them to be selfish, “Rhaenyra, you have everyday. Today is Aegon’s celebration.”

“If this was Baelon’s day, you wouldn’t complain, you just hate my child!” Alicent finally spoke, interrupting the father-daughter argument to speak her mind.

The carriage stopped, as silence echoed inside.

They had arrived to the Royal celebratory tents.

Shame erupted in both Rhaenyra and Viserys. The Princess ashamed at the blatant proclamation of her prejudice between her full-siblings compared to the living half-brother she has. Viserys saddened and guilt-filled just from the mention of his “Heir of a day.” that he butchered his beloved wife for.

As the Royal family and their servants exited outside onto the grass excluding Rhaenyra, bows in respect following their footsteps, loudly heard was the declarative words of Lord Hobert Hightower, “Hail, hail Aegon, the Conqueror-Babe, Second of His Name!”

“Here’s to His Grace on his second name day!”

Alicent silently smirking, as her uncle essentially proclaimed in front of the numerous important Lords and Ladies, that Aegon deserved to be heir.

Standing in the extravagant tents, Alicent tempered herself, preparing to gain allies to her side.

Her Aegon’s side.

All in the name of her children, the Hightower women knew that she had to consolidate power for herself and gain allies, that of which she did not previously have, and also to strengthen the bond the Greens had previously acquired.

Looking forward, she noticed her Ladies-In-Waiting have arrived, both her cousins Margarey and Delena Redwyne, and Rose Tyrell, her closest friend as of late. Yet she knew that obtaining more influential Ladies to join would be essential to forward Aegon’s succession to King.

She walked forward to them, carrying Aegon by her side, as they bowed in admiration and greeted her warmly. Happiness arose in Alicent’s figure, having true friends that were not only allies gave her much joy in life.

After listening to their idle chit-chat, Alicent spotted her older brother Ser Gwayne Hightower and glanced over to him, discreetly instructing the copper-haired Knight to come over and join his sister, along with her Ladies.

“Gwayne it’s been so long! Aegon’s grown so big while you’ve been away!” Alicent joyously spoke, while recalling how her brother arrived from Oldtown six moons or so ago, upon wanting to meet his young nephew and see how Alicent was faring in the beginning of her second pregnancy. During this time Alicent had also instructed her older brother to befriend Ser Criston Cole while partaking in his knightly duties, and sword-practice.

As she and Gwayne had greeted each other, Alicent had noticed a certain Lady-In-Waiting of hers blushing and staying particularly quiet, in shyness. intent on avoiding the Hightower knight’s gaze.

“Ah, Gwayne I haven’t introduced you to my Ladies.”

Continuing in her introduction, Alicent resumed, “Of course you know our cousins, Delena and Margarey, but there is also my dear friend, the Lady Rose Tyrell.”

“I know of her. We have met during my time in Highgarden when I was en-route to Oldtown.” The Hightower man replied, causing Alicent to grin inside, intent on matchmaking her beloved brother with her friend, who was also the daughter of their Liege Lord, Mathis Tyrell.

“My Queen, your brother is too humble. He saved both myself and my entourage from bandits!”, Rose Tyrell spoke hastily in response, admiration heavy in her tone.

Alicent upon sensing the potential of romance between two people she cared for heavily, was intent on giving them the chance to have a beautiful love, unlike the troublesome dynamic of a marriage that Alicent currently is stuck in with King Viserys.

However, the Green Queen also had plans for Gwayne during this hunt, and could not let this momentous occasion slip away from her hands.

Breaking the idle discussion between this gathering of Ladies and Lord, Alicent interrupted with a falsified shock, “Oh Gwayne! I had just recalled, our father needs to speak to you and I.”

The Queen then instructed her Ladies-In-Waiting calmly, yet in an authoritative tone that she had to leave them for a moment.

As the siblings then sequestered away from the multitude of gatherings within the Royal Tents, Alicent abruptly spoke to Gwayne, “I need you to follow Ser Criston and the Princess, brother.”

Replying in a confused manner, the Hightower knight spoke, “Why?”

“I have reason to believe that Rhaenyra will run away from her duties and yet be confronted by the infamous White Hart everybody is searching for.” Alicent softly said, knowing that her insider information would seem nonsensical to anybody unaware of her awareness of events occuring in her past-future. However she was also aware that as her beloved brother, she had trust in that he would follow her instructions, believing she had worthy cause to do so.

As he answered in response, “Alright Alicent, I understand.”

“However, we must make haste and converse with nobles now before the hunt begins, so we can gain allies, defending us against Viserys’ nonsensical choice in keeping Rhaenyra as heir.”

The sibling partnership then returned into the area congregated with nobles full of political discussion, and contrastingly, mindless discussion regarding feasts and celebrations.

The Hightower Queen, while idly conversing with Eleanor Baratheon and Lady Tully, she then noticed the infamous “Bronze Bitch” Lady Rhea Royce, lingering away with Jeyne Aryyn, Rhea of whom she was hellbent on allying with, and saving from the murderous clutches of Daemon Targaryen.

Walking onwards to Lady Rhea, she greeted her warmly, knowing that dealing with Daemon, whose heinous tastes were more suited to children with white hair, was a task that demanded great respect.

Conversing with her about the hunt, Alicent was hopeful in a companion to her political side, as they both suffered under the hands of selfish Targaryens.

As they continued, the Queen then cordially remarked that perhaps Rhea Royce should join her party during the midday hunting, as an attempt to get acquainted with her further.

Alicent dawdled for a while as she left the Ladies, stewing in contentment, believing she had perhaps gained more allies onto her side than ever before.

As she entered the grand royal tent, filled with the best political colleagues for her to gain, Alicent was filled with emotions encompassing her mind. This was the perfect time to acquire allies, more than what the Greens had gathered during Alicent’s past life.

Immediately she was bombarded by a young girl bowing at her and greeting her in bold admiration,” My Queen! It’s ever so wonderful to meet you.”

“And you as well, Lady..?” Alicent spoke kindly, yet intent in uncovering who this girl was exactly, as Alicent clearly didn’t remember her, thus she must not have been a politically-minded woman in the future.

“Lady Bethany Bracken, I am. And..oh! I was wondering whether I could be a lady-in-waiting of yours?”, The maiden retorted, daring and audacious in her forward action of confronting her Queen.

The Hightower Queen, reminded of her old friend Rhaenyra’s temperament, responded softly with a melancholic smile,“Well, I admire your courage. You seem like a great girl, thus I will grant you your wish, if you ask your lord father.”

As the willful girl ran off joyously in pursuit of his father, Alicent decided to seat herself in the presence of the gathering surrounding her sharp-tongued yet lovable grandmother, Lady Redwyne.

Upon greeting her grandmother, ladies-in-waiting, and the other ladies present, Alicent then subsequently noticed the young Lady Baratheon, anxious and forlorn as she stood nearby yet unwilling to take the initiative to interact.

“Lady Baratheon! How wonderful it is to see you once more!” The Queen bellowed, intent on bringing joy to this girl, essentially stuck in the same situation of hers. Birthing heirs for a neglectful, disgusting man.

Alicent continued speaking further, wanting to further a bond with the future Lady of House Baratheon, upon Lord Boremund Baratheon’s passing,“I heard you just birthed a girl. So lucky,

I’m hoping my next babe will be a girl, perhaps our children will grow to be friends!”

As Lady Eleanor Baratheon responded, the idle chitchat developed into discussions regarding the fate of poor Lady Johanna Swann.

Rhaenyra, swift on her feet, abandoned the mindless blabber of Jason Lannister, stumbling forward onwards to the large assembly of her Lady Stepmother’s group of nobility.

As she converged closer, words spoken by Lady Redwyne put her in a difficult position.

“Perhaps the Princess.. can give us some insight.”

Alicent smugly remembering inside her mind how Rhaenyra snarkily answered, acting unbefitting of an heiress, all in defence of her troublesome, lecherous uncle.

As Princess Rhaenyra rebutted incessantly back and forth with Alicent’s lady grandmother, she idky watched on. Needing to do nothing, as Rhaenyra was ruining her reputation, portraying herself as an impulsive undutiful heir, without Alicent’s input necessary.

Silence echoed in the room for a moment, as the Targaryen girl blatantly insulted Lady Redwyne with a spiteful remark regarding cake, then storming off as her impulsive emotions got the better of her.

The Hightower Queen then falsely tried to placate the group, “Forgive my step-daughter. She’s still mourning her mother, unable to do her duties but she’s grieving.

The false pleading fooled her cousins, as Margarey Redwyne retorted sharply, “Alicent, I know you love her because of your childhood bond, but I think you’re being too kind. After all you performed your duties and Lady Helene had sadly passed just a moon before Queen Aemma had.”

Continuing further with snide yet truthful insults toward the Crown Princess, Margarey sharply spoke, “Beside, it’s been years, and she hasn’t grown at all! While you have married and have a babe, with another on the way.”

As Lady Margarey spoke, the ladies present, including Lady Jeyne Arryn, were looking incredibly disappointed in the pathetic trajectory of Rhaenyra’s growth or rather, lack thereof, as she hadn’t accepted her duties as heir, or duties as a women of Westeros.

Yet Alicent knew this wouldn’t change.

Rhaenyra would only get worse, becoming a scandalous harlot, akin to Saera Targaryen.

Birthing bastards and sequestering them as true heirs.

Arrogant in her father’s wishes, yet never attempting to gain any allies, choosing to insult the Lords that she is to depend on.

[thomas-jefferson-miku-binder]

The Dyana-Alicent scene in EP7S1 of House of the Dragon lives rent free in my head, because the first time you watch it as someone who's never read A Song of Ice and Fire before, you are like "Is Alicent... is she gonna kill her?". Which no, it's not a thing the Alicent we know would do, but the first time-skip we get also left us with a completely different character than that which was previously estabilished.

It is so much worse when you realize she sees herself in the girl. That, yes, she is worried about the consequences Dyana talking about it might have on the already flimsy reputation Aegon has. She is thinking about political damage reduction but also about the girl in front of her. We see Alicent comfort Dyana more than we see her comfort any of her children by that point in the show. Alicent was a child bride married off to a much older man, and that in itself already constitutes it as conjugal rape, even if the society they live in doesn't considerate it as such.

Alicent has been a terrible parent to Aegon her entire life because he is the constant reminder she isn't perfect. That yes, she has upheld "law, family and kingdom", but that that isn't enough to raise children. It bothers me so much how people don't seem to... talk about the rape scene. Like, at all. Aegon is always a poor boy in fanfiction and fanart and fandom discussions. And yeah, but suffering has never excused anyone from also causing it.

Aegon is incredibly mysoginistic and doesn't view women as humans but rather objects for his use. We see that in the way he treats every single female character he interacts with... save for Alicent, and the way his mother treats him directly correlates to how much he hates women. He can never stand up to Alicent, so he does it to the cloest replacement he finds.

[raylina]

"But...but what they've done to my girl..."

Your grandson was viciously murdered as he was still alive. His head was cut off and placed in a bag in front of your daughter and granddaughters eyes.

Jaehaerys suffered. He was scared. He called for mother as they cut his head off.

Your firstborn son has lost his son, because you put him on the throne, and you can't even acknowledge his pain and the pain that the child has suffered.

He lived, he probably loved Alicent and his grandmother sold all her family to his killer's wife.

The script is a joke.

[theothergal]

Another "let women be feminine" discourse on Twitter (not X) hotd. We cannot go for one week without this bullshit, am I right?

This time, it's because and artist made a (very very cool) fanart of Alicent and Rhaenyra as Romeo and Juliet and Rhaenyra has *gasp* short hair and an armor.

[silver-dragonborn]

I'll do you one better. The hate Alicent Stans will harbor for Aemond for DARING to question his mother's loyalty will morph into multi-chapter fanfic of Alicent waking up back in time, abandoning her "ungrateful ass" silver-haired spawn that she SUFFERED to bring into this world to run away from Westeros and live a life of luxury in Essos with some random male oc who was specifically created to cater to Alicent's every whim and has a Henry Cavill Witcher face claim because of course she needs to pop out more silver-haired babies that are far more prettier and perfect than her ungrateful ass kids who were so MEAN to her. Tags will include "Alicent gets her groove back," "Alicent says fuck it and leaves Westeros," "Alicent leaves her toxic ass children and husband to be with her boy toy in Essos," "Rhaenyra Bashing," "Daemon Bashing," "Team Black Bashing," "Some bashing for Aemond because he's so UNGRATEFUL," "Alicent Gone Girls herself," "Alicent is Sansa Stark's ancestor," "Alicent hatches dragon eggs," "Alicent is the Mother of Dragons," "TEAM GREEN SYMPATHIZER!!!!"

[maomao92]

I'm just going to say it since no one else will, Otto was the one who wanted rhaenyra off the throne because she was a woman not the rest of team green as we've constantly seen alicent defend her to her own father. The rest of team green want rhaenyra off the throne because of how she and her family always lie and get away with things that even the heir would be punished for and before anyone brings up aemond, I would very much act that way if my bastard nephews decided that it would be a good idea to torment me my whole childhood and then take my eye for claiming a dragon after they made me feel like shit for not having one.

[a0random0gal]

Criston calls the woman who coerced him into sex a cunt ONCE and hes a raging misogynist... he said no 😭😭 i finished the series on the weekend and got into the fandom just a little AND THE BULLSHIT I HAVE SEEN, to an extent i understand, theres an inherent distrust of men who clearly dont like a woman and express that (butttt i mean people are actually shipping blonde bitch with her blonde bitch uncle or stanning him and he's... actually sexist and awful but... wtf(not to say you cant like shit characters, its just the hypocrisy), and the show is very clearly on blonde womans side of things so i get that some fans are just gonna follow that and not think about it. BUT IF YOU DO think about it it dont make sense

also why did alicent marry her kids together, ive heard that in the books old king man did it and that its kinda against alice's religion? could have misheard head that and maybe i missed the explanation but that never made sense to me.

Oh how I get you anon, when I first entered the fandom I too was bombarded with these posts hating on Criston, Alicent and the greens and was left speechless. And yes, on one hand it can be excused (to a certain extent) but on the other it highlights their hypocrisy.

Hating on the kingsguard who was coerced into sex? That's completely excusable how dare he insult our kween!

Insinuating that their little malewife is actually a horrible misogynist who calls every woman he dislikes a whore/bitch and literally CHOKES his wife for not wanting to immediately go to war ( after also not consoling following a stillbirth)?

You just don't get his character, he's our little meow meow!

These Daemon fangirls aren't older than fifteen in my opinion lmao.

Regarding Aegon and Helaena's marriage, yes in the show Ali betrothes them but in the books Viserys is the one to do it, and there are various reasons as to why:

It removes the risk of alliances. If the green kids had all been married to powerful noble houses like the Baratheons, Tyrells etc... The risk that during the dance they would have sided with the greens was quite high, and Viserys wanted to defend Rhaenyra's claim.

Helaena was Ali's only daughter, and since she was to be married this young it made sense that the queen wanted to keep her close to her.

Aegon is a better alternative than Jace, Viserys probably told her that he wanted to marry Helaena to either Aegon or Jace, and Ali would have never accepted a marriage with a bastard.

It simply follows the Targaryen tradition of "keeping the blood pure"

This one is fucked up but, it was thought to be a solution to Aegon's drinking problem and sex addiction, it wasn't.

Regarding Alicent's faith... I imagine seeing her kids marrying each other was super freaky, but she always knew that Targaryens married within the family and her marriage with Viserys was an exeption. Also the faith of the seven by that time had already decided to tolerate Targcest.

[lawolfe]

The Rise of The Bronze Queen: Chapter 1 Birth and Early Life

(note: there will be slight timeline and story changes.)

[lilacstarryskies]

The Dreamer Queen Of Vengeance PT1

A young, free-spirited girl awakens from a deep slumber in fearful shock. Envisioning a future promising pain and destruction.

Rhaenyra had fallen into a deep slumber.

The Princess Of Westeros had suddenly gone into a sudden fainting spell, causing alarm within the nobility of Kingslanding. Maesters from all across Westeros, ordered by a disgruntled Viserys and his melancholy Queen, scurried in her chambers over the long period of five moons, unable to discover the cause for The Realm’s Delight’s unexpected comatose state.

Alicent Hightower, the young Princess’ closest companion, stayed close to her in a tearful manner, mournful of her dear friend, her only comfort in Kingslanding.

The brunette girl sat dejectedly, in denial, unwilling to accept that this could be a permanent state for her beloved companion. Maester Mellos, her father and chattering nobles alike in their firm belief that Princess Rhaenyra would stay in this neverending slumber.

Yet this near-universal assumption would be proven wrong.

The Princess awoke with a strong gasp, subconsciously tightening her clasp of Alicent’s blistering hand.

“What?” She spoke softly.

“What happened to me?” Rhaenyra then switched tone, speaking rashly in confusion, unable to conjure what she was facing.

Which was the face of her enemy.

Yet it also wasn’t.

This was Alicent Hightower, The Green Queen, without the permanent burrowed wrinkles on her face. No snide expression slapped onto her once-innocently youthful face.

The figure sitting beside her, worried beckoned on her face, was innocent. This wasn’t the spiteful women that slithered into her father’s bedchambers, that raised her obnoxious children to hate and usurp Rhaenyra from her rightful status as Queen of Westeros.

Alicent then responded softly, “Rhaenyra, you’ve been in a slumber for a near three moons. The King has been bespoke with worry.”

The Targaryen maiden was unsure how to act. Surely, what she had witnessed, ever so vividly, had truly occured. She was unable to accept that the incredulous actions, things she could never dare presume would occur in her fairly-peaceful life. Her mother dying, only to be replaced with Rhaenyra’s Lady-In-Waiting, birthing children of clear bastard descent and turning into a paranoid monstrous Queen was inconceivable to her mind.

“And your mother has been too stressed, hiding herself in her rooms, tormented over both her pregnancy and your health. I must call for the Maester and King Viserys immediately.” Alicent then rapidly arose from the chair across Rhaenyra, rushing outwards toward the rooms door.

The Hightower girl then paused suddenly, holding the door at it’s hinges, creaking in awaitance of Alicent’s words.

“Rhaenyra, I’ve longed for your companionship dearly as Kingslanding has been so uneventful without your joy beside me. I’m so glad you’re well.” The girl then turned out, leaving Rhaenyra to awkwardly fester in the truthful words spoken by Alicent.

Rhaenyra felt bewildered.

Confusion lingering in her mind, unsure how to conclude a conclusion to what exactly she had envisioned during her comatose state.

Clear memories of Alicent’s betrayal freshly lingered in her mind, yet it also included Rhaenyra partaking in her own impulsive and incredulously stupid actions.

Why would any iteration of herself lose her maidenhead to an unimportant knight, dare to bore numerous bastard children and partake in scandalous activities with Daemon in a brothel of all places?

Rhaenyra then realised that to prove whether this series of dreams were indeed no mere regular visions was to observe the future events and pray that her mother’s death was a falsified dream, and that her dear companion Alicent stayed a trusted lady-in-waiting.

But upon witnessing the dastardly acts in her visions, the Targaryen Princess knew that if she had to prepare herself, unwilling to even accept any possibility of causing a war of mass destruction within Westeros.

Starting with gaining a presence in the Small Council. Rhaenyra Targaryen, The Future Queen could not dare be a meagre cup bearer, after all.

Yet this had to be done through her father Viserys.

Before betraying Rhaenyra - brutally gutting her beloved mother and marrying her only companion - King Viserys was a cowardly, spineless yet loveable father.

Slightly neglectful in his want of a son, unwilling to allow Rhaenyra to prover herself as more than a women set to breed more Targaryens for the Throne.

He was the next step to Rhaenyra’s plan in consolidating a power-base before the treacherous nobility could exploit her indulgent father, giving her time to prove to the Seven Realms that Rhaenyra was a competent heiress fit for the throne.

[talesofthepinktape]

I truly don't get people who dislike young Alicent. Like, adult Alicent has some questionable moments and isn't squeaky clean. But young Alicent is so clearly a victim of her father manipulating her and pimping her out???? Like??? How do you hate young Alicent???

[kamykan]

Can i request Alicent Hightower x Rhaenyra daughter reader where reader finds Alicent crying and upset and comforts her and they end up fucking, viserys lives longer in this story so reader is of age

☆Alicent Hightower x Reader 🏰⋆｡°✩

Alicent Hightower x Fem!Rhaenyra’s Daughter Reader

Request: Yes

Warnings: Smut, pseudo-incest

Word Count: 2359

An: I made the reader bastardphobic so she and Alicent would have something in common + slight Viserys bashing cause he’s an easy target. Also I fear this isn't my best work but I wanted to get it done before I got on this plane I'm so sorry anon. And no title cause I couldn’t come up with one :<

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The halls of the Red Keep were suffocating. The stone walls that once held warmth now pressed in like a cage, trapping you in a place that had never felt like home. Not truly.

You had grown up watching your mother fight for a crown that should have been hers by right, but you had never been one for politics. If anything, you hated the crown for how it affected you. As the third eldest, between Lucerys and Joffrey, you were never in the running for the throne. Because of this, you had watched your brothers be doted upon by your grandsire while you were met with indifference. Viserys had always claimed to love his family, yet his love was selective—reserved for Rhaenyra when it suited him, for her sons—not your brothers. It was obvious that those three bastards weren’t fully your kin; they lacked the Velaryon look, which made you even more bitter.

You were an afterthought.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Dinner had been a disaster.

It had begun with good intentions. A rare gathering between the two sides of the royal family, with Viserys at the head of the table, sick but determined to keep the peace. Your mother sat to one side of him, her sons(you refused to call them your brothers) at her side, while Queen Alicent and her children sat on the other. And you? You had been placed awkwardly between them, the unacknowledged daughter, a silent observer.

At first, Viserys made an effort to speak to everyone, offering smiles and words of affection. But as the evening wore on, it became painfully obvious where his heart lay.

He toasted about your mother first, calling her his “beloved daughter” with a voice thick with emotion. He praised her strength, her wisdom. Then he turned to Jace, to Luke, even to little Joffrey, his eyes bright with pride. He called them the future of the realm, their mother’s legacy. You grinded your teeth

But when it came time to acknowledge Alicent’s children—his flesh and blood—he hesitated. Aegon received a passing remark, Aemond was barely acknowledged, and Helaena was forgotten altogether.

And you? You were not even worth a glance.

You had expected it. But Alicent had not.

You could see the way her fingers curled against the tablecloth, knuckles white with tension. The way her lips pressed together, there was a flicker of pain in her eyes. But the look disappeared as quickly as it had come, replaced by a carefully schooled expression.

Viserys did not love her children the way he loved Rhaenyra’s. The same way he did not care for you as he did those bastards.

By the time the meal had ended, Alicent excused herself, her composure was barely intact. No one else seemed to notice—no one except you.

Which was how you found yourself here now, in the dim lighting of the sept, watching as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms sat hunched before the altar, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

You maybe should have left her alone. Instead, you stepped forward, your voice low.

“He doesn’t see you either, does he?”

Alicent sucked in a sharp breath and turned, her eyes red-rimmed.

“Princess,” she said, her voice raw. “You should not be here at this hour.”

“I could say the same to you.”

She looked away, fingers clutching at the folds of her dress. “It is not seemly for a queen to cry.”

“Perhaps,” you agreed, stepping closer. “But it is not kingly for a husband to shun his wife and children either”

Her breath hitched.

Without asking, you sat beside her, just as you had before. The silence stretched between you, heavy and unspoken. You let it.

When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I have done everything for him. I have given him sons, ruled in his absence, and upheld his peace. And still, he…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

“He loves my mother more.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

Alicent exhaled sharply as if struck. “Yes,” she admitted, closing her eyes. “I expected it, yes, but I did not know that he would make it so… apparent.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, carefully, you reached for her Gran hand. It was cold beneath your touch, tense with grief.

“I understand how you feel,” you murmured. “He ignores me for my mother's sons.”

“Your mother's sons,” Alicent said “Your brothers?”

“No, her sons” you corrected

Alicent nodded, the weight of it unspoken but understood.

You bumped your shoulder against hers in a quiet gesture of comfort. “He’s a fool for ignoring you. I think you’re quite the catch.”

“Do not call your grandfather a fool,” Alicent chided, but her tone was lighter than before, and there was the faintest smile on her lips.

Perhaps, for the first time in both your lives, neither of you were alone.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

After that night in the sept, something seemed to shift.

It was subtle—fleeting glances across the dining hall, hushed conversations in the gardens where no one could overhear. You began spending more time with your step-grandmother than with your own mother. You told yourself it was all to spite Viserys. If he would not be there for either of you, then you would be there for each other. You began to favor your uncles and aunt over your supposed ‘brothers’

Every lingering look, every quiet moment spent in Alicent’s company was just another way to claim what Viserys never gave you. He did not notice, of course. And neither did Rhaenyra, too busy with preserving her image in a realm that did not want her on the throne.

But that excuse grew harder to believe with each passing day.

The Queen had always been a picture of restraint, bound by her duties and devotion. But with you, she was something else—unguarded and sometimes even tender.

It was late one evening when she was the one to seek you out. Usually, it was the other way around.

You were seated by the fire, staring at the flames, when she slipped inside your chambers without a word. The door shut with a soft click.

You turned to her, unsurprised by her entrance. “Another difficult night?” you asked, watching as she hesitated by the threshold.

She exhaled, nodding. “Aegon went out into the city again. Aemond is…being Aemond. And Helaena” She sighed, rubbing her temple. “She isn’t speaking again. And the King doesn’t care about any of it.”

Your lips curled into something bitter. “As expected.”

A silence settled between you, thick with tension.

“Maybe you should not be too harsh on him,” you said “After all his old age is getting the best of him, soon he will forget about my mother and her bastards too” You were trying to get her to smile but she didn’t 

Then, slowly, Alicent stepped closer. “You are not like your brothers,” she murmured, almost to herself. 

You snorted “Of course not I have my Valyrian hair and they have Ser Strong’s features”

She shook her head. “Yes, but you are sharper. You see things they do not.”

You grew silent, watching her carefully. “And what is it that you see, my Queen?”

For a moment, she said nothing. Then, in a move so hesitant yet deliberate, she reached out, brushing her fingers along your wrist. It was such a small thing, a ghost of a touch, yet it sent something molten curling in your gut.

She should not be here.

You should not want her to stay.

But neither of you moved away. It was inevitable, really.

Instead, you reached up, your fingers tracing the soft skin of her wrist, feeling the rapid pulse beneath. “This is a dangerous thing ,” you murmured.

“Yes,” she whispered, but she did not pull away.

You could have ended it then. You could have laughed, let go, pretended none of this had ever happened.

But instead, you lifted her hand to your lips, pressing the faintest kiss to her fingertips.

Alicent inhaled sharply. “This is madness,” she said, but her voice was trembling, her body swaying ever so slightly toward yours.

Your lips curled. “Then tell me to stop.”

She opened her mouth, but no words came.

And that was answer enough.

When you pressed your lips against hers, she didn’t pull away, but she was awfully stiff, so you pulled back.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“No, no,” Alicent cut you off. “It’s just that…” She sighed and trailed off. How was she supposed to explain that, as a 30-year-old woman who had been married for 15 years, she had little experience with kissing or lovemaking beyond simply lying there and taking it?

“It’s okay,” you said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll go slow.”

You kissed again, and you led her toward your bed. Despite your promise to take things slow, you couldn’t help but slip your tongue into her mouth when she moaned. As she fell back onto the bed, her fingers dug into your shoulders, pulling you down with her.

You took your time, pressing kisses along her jaw, neck, and shoulders. The low neckline of her dress granted easy access. Your fingers traced the intricate designs of her bodice before reaching for the lace at the back, the delicate ties holding it all together. You paused, looking up at her for confirmation.

“Yes.”

That was all you needed. You tugged at the laces, and the dress fell apart surprisingly easily. More of her skin was revealed, and you eagerly returned to kissing her skin. You pulled her dress off leaving her in her shift but you discarded that as well.

You had to keep yourself from letting out an embarrassing moan as her body was revealed to you. Alicent's breasts were full and round, she had slight weight to her due to her multiple pregnancies, and her thighs were thick and shapely but you couldn’t keep your eyes from the auburn bush in between her legs, she was exquisite.

Your mouth latched onto her breast sucking and teething on them as if you were a babe. Hands flew to your hair as you did so “Ah—” Alicent tugged on your hair but that only encouraged you. As you sucked on one breast you fondled the other, you switched back and forth between sucking and fondling her breast never staying on one for too long.

You looked up at Alicent to see that her head was tilted back, her eyes were closed, and she was red in the face. She tugged on your hair again to get you to continue. “Please…” you obeyed.

You dragged your tongue down Alicent’s stomach which caused her to shiver “You seemed quite experienced in these sorts of things princess” she said in an almost accusatory tone

You chuckled, slightly nervous. You may or may not have snuck out into the slimier side of the city a few times, sometimes with Aegon. “I assure you, grandmother, I am untouched and my maidenhead is still intact. But do you have any right to judge, considering our current situation?”

Alicent pushed your head down, her face was even more red “Do not call me that while we are like this…please”

You smiled as you kissed your way down her stomach, licking at a stretch mark on the way before reaching where Alicent really needed you.

You gave her cunt an experimental lick, she tasted salty and a bit tangy but you liked it. You gave a few more catlicks before diving in completely. You found the hard point of Alicent’s clit and began to lap at it with the flat of your tongue.

“Oh—oh” Alicent whined “Oh gods!”

That spurred you on, the pious Alicent Hightower calling out the Lord's name in vain because of you? You kept going, swirling your tongue and sucking on her cilt. Alicent’s hips bucked but you kept them down forcing her to take it. The queen’s legs clamped around your head, you could barely breathe but you would be happy to die like this

It didn't take much longer, after you gave her a hard suck on her clit Alicent came apart with loud noises. You were afraid a guard would hear and enter the room, so when you pulled away, you quickly kissed her to silence her.

As Alicent trembled beneath you, her breath coming in soft, uneven gasps, you traced your fingers along her flushed skin, grounding her back to reality. You had expected her to push you away now that the haze of pleasure had cleared, but instead, she clung to you, her hands fisting the fabric of your nightgown as though afraid you might vanish.

“I should not have done that,” she murmured against your lips, but she did not move away.

You smiled, brushing a damp strand of auburn hair from her flushed face. “And yet, here we are.”

She swallowed hard, her green eyes dark with something unreadable. Guilt, perhaps. Longing. 

“Will you regret it?” you asked, voice softer now. “Come morning, will you pretend this never happened?” Will you ignore me like the king does now?

Alicent exhaled shakily, her fingers tracing the bare skin of your arm in absent patterns. “I do not know,” she admitted. “I have spent my life doing what is right, what is expected. But with you, I…” She trailed off, eyes searching yours.

You did not press her for more. Instead, you kissed her—soft and slow, without urgency. A promise rather than a demand.

“You do not have to decide tonight,” you whispered against her lips. “But when you do, know that I will not let you go so easily.”

A shiver ran through her, though not from cold.

As the embers in the hearth started to die down, you held her close, the weight of duty and consequence momentarily forgotten in the quiet safety of your chambers. Whatever tomorrow brought—whether she chose to embrace this or push you away—you would not regret this night.

And judging by the way Alicent’s fingers remained laced with yours, neither would she

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An: I still think I’m pretty awful at writing smut but I’ll never get better unless a try!

[justmymindandstuff]

Love doomed to fail - Jacaerys Velaryon x TargtowerReader (you)

summary: The divide between the blacks and the greens is deep. A final attempt to overcome the hostilities is the betrothal between Rhaenyra´s eldest son Jacaerys and Alicent's younger daughter. A constellation that is cursed from the start. Especially if your heart belongs to someone else. Or maybe not?

words: 14.427

relationships: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader // Aegon Targaryen x Reader (previously; implied)// Jacaery Valaryon x Baela Targaryen (previously; briefly mentioned)

warnings/ tropes: enemies to almost lovers to enemies, slow burn , arranged marriage, angst, swearing, insults, violence, bastard bashing, rape threats (brief), adult themes, sexual themes (not explicit), jealousy, Jace has angerissues, incest (obvious)

a/n: trying a new writing style with this// English is not my first language// no use of Y/N // not proofread // first time writing Jacaerys // AO3 //

this turned out a lot longer than I originally thought. And to be honest, I'm a little proud of it🙈. I had a lot more fun writing Jace than I thought I would. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.🧡

Have fun and be kind to eachother and yourself 🧡.

requests are open// main masterlist// hotd masterlist

Cold wind blows in Jacaerys face causing a teasing burn on his skin. His hands grip Vermax's reins tightly. The sun has barely risen on the horizon. Beneath him, on the restless sea, the ships of the Velaryon fleet are tossed back and forth in the waves.

The battle with the Trirachy is already in full swing. His little brother is on one of these ships. He has to save him. He has to destroy the enemy fleet to save his brother. The plan was to get Aegon and Viserys to safety. It had been his plan. He failed.

Now he has to win this battle. He must destroy the fleet to protect his brother. To win the war for his mother. The blockade must hold. He gives the command, Vermax turns towards the enemy fleet. Below him, the men caught up in the fight shouting orders.

Jacaerys's attention is drawn by a dark shadow above him. In the next moment, Vermithor breaks through the clouds. In that moment Jace knows he will die today.

Jace tugs at his shirt. The black silk is soft against his skin, yet he would rather tear the fabric apart. He feels uncomfortable. He doesn't want to be here. He wishes the black stones of Dragonstone would open up beneath his feet and he would disappear. But nothing like this happens. Instead, he stands next to his mother and watches as you walk up towards Dragonstone. Your ship is already turning in the harbor to sail back to King's Landing.

You only brought a few servants and maids. Your confidants. Jace knows that each of them is now under strict observation. His mother doesn't trust you at all.

Nevertheless, she smiles as you stand before them and sink into a perfect curtsy.

He recognizes the contemptuous look of your mother,Alicent Hightower, on your face. Your smile is perfect and false.

"Thank you for taking me into your home, dear sister." your voice is gentle, your words are kind. But it's all a lie. Everyone knows that's a lie. He heard the whispering. When your mother Alicent told you that you were to be sent to Dragonstone, its said that you have cursed and screamed. People said you had cried for two days and refused to leave your chambers. Jace wonders for a moment if the guards had to drag you to your ship.

Nevertheless, you stand here now. With a false smile and genuine pride. Your back straight. Dressed in the finest silk, green silk. Your long blonde hair in intricate braids. Gold jewelry in your strands that jingle with every step you take. Your purple eyes sparkle in the morning sun. You are the personified Targaryen beauty.

Jace can't help but admire your beauty. He allows it for exactly three heartbeats then he tries to raise his walls again. He swore to himself that he would never feel affection for you. But when you set your gaze on him and slightly lower your head in front of him, he doubts his vow to himself for a moment.

Jace really tried to be open to this betrothal. Since you two were little kids, you were engaged. You never accepted it for even a second. You hadn't even outgrown your nurserycambers when you loudly proclaimed in the courtyard that you would never marry a bastard. That you will never marry him.

Nevertheless here you are now. Send away from your family to marry him. Jace had negotiated a deal with his mother so he still has a little time before he has to marry you.

It's only fair. There was a different arrangement. Jace actually should have had two more years before the journey to the Red Keep for his funeral wedding. But things have changed. And that's your fault.

They were outsmarted. The enemy fleet has split up. Attack them from the north and south.

And they are accompanied by you on Vermithor.

None of them expected that. Spies and reconnaissance have reported that you are staying in the Red Keep with your sister Helaena to help her with her grief.

Jace should have never believed that. He knows you too well. He should have known that you wouldn't stay away from battle. He should have known that you would interfere. He failed again.

Jacaerys yanks Vermax around, out of the path of the Bronze Fury. His Dragon is too small to defeat Vermithor. He can´t do it alone.

But Jace still has a small glimmer of hope. He knows that Ulf and Addam are on their way.

Would the united strength of Vermax, Seasmoke, and Silverwing be enough to defeat you and your dragon? It has to be enough.

Jace is sneaking around outside the door to your chambers. Outside the keep he hears his brothers and stepsisters laughing. He wished he were with them now.

But his mother sent him to you. With a reminder of how important this marriage is for the family. So now he's lingering around your chambers, trying to muster the courage to knock on your door.

He sighs. That doesn't help at all.

He is a prince! The heir of his mother. One day he would be king and you will be his queen. He has to pull himself together. So he knocks on your door.

"Enter." your voice is gentle. You don't know that it's him standing at your door.

Jace enters your chambers and takes a quick look around. Nothing indicates that you have been living here for over a week. Nothing personal is lying around. Everything is tidy and seems unused. As if you were just here for a short visit and it wouldn't be worth unpacking your things. Presumably you hope that this is the case.

You sit at the desk and look at him with a cold gaze. You don't even show the respect to stand up for him. Letters lie before you.

Since you arrived, the ravens of Dragonstone have been busier than ever. Every day you send letters to your siblings and your mother. Daily, ravens arrive with answers.

Jace knows that each one of them is read by the Measter and his mother. So far, there doesn't seem to be anything unusual.

Do you know it too? Do you know that his mother is intruding so much into your privacy?

"What do you want?" you say with an annoyed voice. Jace gathers himself briefly before raising his voice.

"I wanted to inquire about your well-being. And ask if you have settled in well?" It sounds memorized and not serious. It's not meant seriously. He doesn't care whether you've settled in well. He doesn't want you here at all.

You snort disdainfully, not very princess like. "No, I haven't settled in." you say and turn back to your letters.

Frustration and anger rise within him. His hands clench into fists and he has to pause for a moment before he can speak again.

"I could show you the Keep a little. Maybe it will be easier for you to see it as your home then."

It's his mother's idea. Jace doesn't want to spend time with you. He wants to go to his siblings and fly over the surroundings on dragonback.

You jump up from your chair. Your dress is made of green silk, at always. The sun shines through the window behind you, making your skin glow warmly as you walk towards him. Jace becomes aware again of how beautiful you actually are. But he immediately pushes the thought aside. No! He doesn´t allow himself to think of you like that.

"This place." you make an expansive gesture with your hand. "Will never be my home! The Red Keep is my home." your voice is cold and full of hate. Hatred for him. And Jace can somehow understand it. He is the reason you are separated from your family. Although it's not entirely his fault, you also have your part in it. He refuses to take all the blame on himself. He forces himself to stay calm.

"I hope you change your mind. Dragonstone is not the Red Keep, but it has its advantages too. If you want, I can...

You interrupt him. "It's terrible here. I will never change my mind. I don´t want to be here, I don´t want to live here."

"It's your own fault that you have to be here already." he blurts out.

You pause, clench your jaw, and your eyes sparkle with such hatred towards him that Jace briefly fears you might claw his eyes out right here and now.

"I don't know what you mean." you lift your chin slightly. Liar. He wants to scream it in your face: Liar, liar, liar!

The rumors have reached Dragonstone. Rumors about the inappropriate relationship between you and your brother Aegon. Just the thought that his uncle has take his fiancée makes his skin crawl. It would suit both of you. You are unrestrained and rotten to the core. Just like all of Alicent's children. You take what you want. Whenever you wanted it. Best example is your brother Aemond, who stole Vhagar from Rhaena.

His gaze shifts to your necklace. The golden sun pendant lies on the pale skin of your décolleté. In Jace the urge to rip this necklace off your neck rises. He doesn't even need to ask you who you got this necklace from. Aegon is all over you. In your jewelry, on your clothes, green and gold is everywhere. You even have Sunfyre embroidered on a few of your dresses. Aegon has already claimed you as his. Although you rightfully belong to Jace. You are his fiancée! It makes Jace terribly angry.

He suppresses the urge to tear off your necklace and meets your hate-filled gaze with his own. "Then rot in your chambers. I don't care."

Vermax's frantic wingbeats makes Jacaerys nervous. He tries to calm his dragon, but he is also afraid. Vermax turns behind the fleet. Facing their enemys again. Jace lets his gaze glide over the battling ships. He searches for the lysian ship where his brother is supposed to be. If he manages to land Vermax onto it, he would be able to save his brother.

An arrow shoots past him just beside his head. The enemy ships have targeted him. He immediately makes Vermax climb higher into the sky, out of the line of fire.

Jace sees the large body of Vermithor flying over the Velaryon fleet below him. Two ships burst into flames beneath him.

You sit in the saddle, your long blonde hair blowing in the wind behind you. You turn your head and look up at him. You are too far away for Jace to see your face clearly. He expects you to summon Vermithor to attack him. To kill him. Instead, you make another round over the ships and set a few more on fire. The arrows from the scorpions, which have been set up on the ships of their fleet, don't seem to bother you. What is your plan? Why don't you attack him?

Are you so arrogant that you don't see him as a threat?

Can he use this arrogance to his advantage?

The stern look from his mother makes Jace shift his weight restlessly from one foot to the other. She is holding one of your letters in her hand.

"She begs Alicent to let her come home." Jace can hardly bear the disappointment in his mother's voice. "I asked you to make sure she feels comfortable here." It's an accusation. "Jace. You know how important this betrothal is. This marriage will reunite our separate houses into one. House Targaryen is only strong when it is united."

He has to suppress an annoyed groan. How many times has he heard that already?

"She doesn't want to feel comfortable here at all. She is unbearable."

Rhaenyra furrows her eyebrows. "Jace. You need this marriage. It is important for our house."

Jace knows exactly why the marriage to the Hightower daughter is important. It legitimizes him. It is supposed to cover up the rumors about his father. Jace knows that, you know that, his mother knows that. Even if she will never admit that his father is not Laenor. He wants to scream it in her face. Jace has to endure you as his fiancée and later wife because his mother has been lying with Harwin Strong. But instead, he swallows his anger and nods.

"I will try, Mother." he says.

She smiles gently at him and wants to say something more, but a knock stops her. Your letter is quickly hidden among other scrolls.

"Come in."

You enter the room. You don't give Jace a glance and simply turn to Rhaenyra.

"I wanted to ask if my siblings could come for a visit. Only for an afternoon?"

Jace notices how you try to hide the trembling of your hands. You are nervous.

"Our siblings are always welcome here. They don't need my permission to come visit us."

Your face immediately brightens. "Thank you, Rha… sister."

His thoughts are racing. He wished he had had more time to learn. More time to study more strategies, more battles, more tactics. Should he have listened to Daemon better?

Jace bitterly realizes how inexperienced he actually is.

But now is not the time to study. Now is the time to act.

"We can do this." he says, unsure if he is speaking to Vermax or to himself. His dragon lets out a high-pitched whistle. It sounds approving. Jacaerys gathers all his courage and lets Vermax fall down from the sky again. Directly towards Vermithor and you.

Jace is trying to please his mother and starts visiting you every day. It takes four days during which you repeatedly send him away with a biting voice and insults before you agree to take a walk with him. He managed to persuade you to take a walk outside the castle. The barren surroundings are not really interesting, and cold wind blows up from the sea. Catches in your blonde curls and your green dress.

The silence between you is suffocating and uncomfortable. Every attempt to start a conversation, you block with one word answers.

If only he could find something you both have in common. But he doesn't know you. Knows nothing about you at all. And you give him nothing. Uninterested, you walk by his side. You ignored his offered arm. You don't even look at him most of the time.

You frustrate him incredibly. He is really trying hard here. You have no interest whatsoever in him or in a happy life together with him.

Do you really believe that you can get out of this engagement? Maybe you hope that your brother will save you.

Just the thought of it makes Jace angry again. He takes a deep breath. Jacaerys tries once more with conversation.

"What do you usually do in the Red Keep?"

"Different things." you don't even give him a glance.

Jacaerys would like to scream. Or take you and shake sense into you. Why are you making it so difficult for both of you?

You shiver slightly as the cold wind blows around your ears. He doesn't know if it's his upbringing, his sense of duty, or just his character, but he follows his first impulse and takes off his cloak to drape it over your shoulders.

"Are you out of your mind?" you snap at him and push him away lightly. His hands clutch angrily at the fabric of his cloak. He just wanted to help. Fine then freeze, he thinks bitterly

You turn away from him. Jace considers for a moment whether to simply go back or call Vermax to him and fly away. It would certainly humiliate you if he would let you standing here all alone.

"Dragons" you hear a voice from one of the Guards of Dragonstone. Immediately, both of you turn around as well.

On the horizon, three approaching shadows can be seen. Vhagar, Dreamfyre and Sunfyre. At the sight, your eyes begin to sparkle and a radiant smile appears on your face. Jace has never seen you so happy. For the first time he sees you smile honestly and fuck you can smile so beautifully.

You spin around and take off running. Just leaves Jace standing there. He suppresses his anger slightly and then follows you. You eagerly await the dragons on one of the cliffs of the island.

Jacaerys stopps a few steps away from you.

Sunfyre is the first dragon to land. Aegon jumps off even before Sunfyre touches the ground, and immediately you both run towards each other and fall into each other's arms. Dreamfyre lands as well, and when Vhagar touches the ground, the earth trembles slightly. Your other siblings also quickly climb down from their dragons. You greet them no less enthusiastically. A few tears run down your cheek. Helaena is crying too.

A bad conscience creeps up on him. He is the reason why you are separated from your siblings. But when he sees Aegon carefully wiping the tears from your cheek, that hot feeling burns under his skin again. He remembers all the rumors that his mother wanted to keep away from him. Of course, he heard them all anyway. Baela gladly spilled everythin she had heard.

Alicent's children are completely ignoring him and he feels a little stupid standing aside. Maybe he should just go back. He is so different from them that it is difficult to recognize from the outside that they are actually all one family.

All four siblings are dressed in green, very Hightowerlike. Nevertheless, with their blonde hair, purple eyes, beautiful faces, and proud demeanor, they look much more like Targaryens than he and his brothers do.

"I brought you something," says Aegon, unbuckling a box from Sunfyre's saddle.

Jace rolls his eyes. Expecting another piece of jewelry with a golden sun. But when you open the box, soil and a few small green plants come into sight. Your eyes begin to sparkle and you beam at your brother.

"They have grown." you turn to Jace. For the first time since your arrival, you speak to him directly. "Before I had to leave the Keep, I planted a few new flowers in my garden. I thought they would die because I couldn´t take care of them." you explain. You have never spoken to him so gently. It seems you just realized that too, you blink in surprise and then simply turn back to your siblings.

"We took care of it," says Aemond.

"Thank you." again you smile your beautiful smile again. Jacaerys doubts you'll ever give him that kind of smile. "Let's go to the keep, I'm cold."

Your siblings agree with you. Aegon holds out his arm for you and you take it without hesitation. Then you hold out your hand to Helaena. For a moment, Jace thinks your sister would be angry at your open affection for her husband, but she just smiles happily and takes your hand. You and your siblings walk past Jace. Jealousy burns in his stomach at the sight of you leaning close to Aegon. Aemond gives him a disdainful look as he passes. Jacaerys watches you for a moment before following at a distance. He feels excluded and lonely. And then he realizes that you've probably felt the same way since you arrived here.

Vermithor and you are still busy setting the ships on fire. As Jacaerys quickly approaches, he can feel the heat of the flames. Vermax breathes fire without needing to be commanded. He aims directly at you. Jace knows that the flames of his younger dragon will not affect the Bronze Fury. But they will affect you. He can aim at you. He can kill you. Even if it's the last thing he does.

But Vermithor is experienced in battle. He senses the danger and turns his large body before the flames can reach you. Instead, the flames graze the skin of his wings. He lets out an angry growl.

You whirl around as the flames shoot past you. Now Jace is close enough to see your expression. Consumed by rage, you look up at him.

Jace's hands ache slightly as they slowly thaw again. Even his gloves couldn't shield him from the cold wind. Nevertheless, he would have preferred to fly on Vermax's back for hours longer. But it is time for his lessons. And before that he wants to quickly see his little brothers.

His steps lead him through the familiar halls of Dragonstone to the nursery. He opens the door and stops at the sight that greets him. A gentle song drifts through the room. Aegon and Viserys sit on a soft blanket in front of the fireplace. Their maid sits at the edge and is embroidering something. Next to his little brothers, you sit and watch over them. While little Viserys is completely focused on his wooden dragon, Aegon looks at you in adoration. You sing with a beautiful, gentle voice for his little brother, a soft smile on your face. Jace didn't even know that you were capable of smiling like that.

With him, you still block any attempt he makes to get to know you. Gods, you have even started to slowly befriend his stepsisters. Of course, neither Baela nor Rhaena are sure whether your friendliness is genuine or if you are still resentful because they are to blame for your brother losing an eye. Maybe you have finally understood that they were all just defending themselves against Aemond?

Nevertheless, they are trying to build a friendship. After all, they will soon be a family. Actually, they already are, but Jace feels that the rift between the Hightower children and them is so big that no one currently considers them as one family.

Your voice is gentle and weaves him in. It is a valyrian song, an old song. He doesn't know it. While you sing, he realizes that he is missing some words for an accurate translation. But the melodies you sing immediately dispel his frustration about it.

"Jay jay." Viserys' voice pulls him out of his trance. You also look up at him. You seem to notice him only now. Your song immediately falls silent. He wants to beg you to keep singing. He doesn´t do it and instead goes to his little brother. He kneels beside him and takes him in his arms. You watch him closely, your smile has disappeared, your jaw is tense again.

"Hey little one. Are you well?" he is not looking at you but at his brother. He wonders what you are doing here. What do you care about his little siblings?

Without a word, you stand up and leave the room. Aegon watches sadly as you leave, and Jace feels guilty because he drove you away.

"Did you have fun with the princess?" asks Jace.

"She always sings for us," Aegon replies, his speech still not quite clear but understandable. Viserys mostly just babbles nonsense that Jacaerys doesn't quite understand.

"Really?" he asks in surprise. He didn't know that. How could he? You still don't speak more than five words a day with him.

Aegon nods and smiles at him. He leans forward and begins to whisper. "She smells good. And she's pretty too."

Jace has to suppress a laugh but agrees with his little brother. "I know." he sighs.

That's exactly his problem. Your beauty attracts him. But that can´t be. He forbids himself to accept this. If you weren't so beautiful, it would be easier for him to handle your constant rejection.

Although there's a second problem. You are also damn smart. Your mind is sharp and quick. His mother had hired a new teacher. A philosopher and scholar trained at the Citadel in Oldtown. You had a lively discussion with him just a few days ago. You not only speak perfect High Valyrian, but also almost all dialects. Presumably even more languages. Rhaena had told him that you told her that you used to secretly read books from Asshai before your mother took them away from you.

It frustrates him. He would prefer to get this information directly from you. He is annoyed that he only gets all his information about you second-hand. He wishes you would open up to him.

Not just because his mother encourages him to do so. If he can win you over, then maybe your future together won't be as terrible as it might seem now.

At the same time, you're driving him crazy. One snarky comment from you is enough and his anger explodes under his skin. He has never reacted to anyone as quickly and as extremely as he has to you. You are unbearable.

Perhaps his hatred is strong enough to overcome his attraction to you?

He stays with his siblings for a moment longer before he really has to head off to his lessons. He arrives late. The master scolds him. Jace can hardly concentrate. Again, he gets scolded. But his thoughts are constantly revolving around something else.

Why are you spending your time with his little brothers?

What's behind it?

What are you planning?

Are you dangerous to the two little ones?

Did your mother gave you instructions to injure the two?

No, that can't be. Rhaenyra still checks every letter that comes in and every letter that goes out. If there were even the slightest suspicion that you posed a danger to Viserys or Aegon, Daemon would have fed you to Caraxes without hesitation.

Nevertheless, he finds no peace and finds himself at your chamber door in the evening. He knocks and enters without waiting for a response.

"Are you out of your mind!" you snap at him before the door behind him closes. Jacaerys hesitates and for a second he forgets why he came here.

You have already changed for the night. A fine, white nightgown envelops your curves. Your long hair falls in gentle waves over your shoulders. Your lips are slightly reddened from the wine you drank.

Fuck, you're even more beautiful like that as you are when you're all dressed up and adorned with jewelry.

"What do you want here?" your voice trembles with anger. You jumped up from the chair by the fireplace and are now standing in the room with your arms crossed. You probably don't notice that you are pushing up your breasts a little so that they almost spill out of your dress. But of course, you notice his inappropriate gaze on the curves of your breasts. The book you were reading before he entered hits him hard on the shoulder and then falls to the ground.

"Ouch! Are you crazy?" Jacaerys is pulled from his stupor. Jacaerys is torn from his stupor. His cheeks turn red.

"You look at me like a cow at the market! It's inappropriate that you are here so late," you say.

Jacaerys wants to explain himself, but in the next moment, you call for a guard. It takes no more than two heartbeats, and the door opens, and one of the guards from Dragonstone steps in.

"My Prince. Princess. Is there a problem?"

"Your prince is badgering me!"

Shocked, he stares at you. You didn't really just say that, did you? His jaw tightens. The guard looks at Jacaerys.

"My prince?" he begins. Jace can tell that he is overwhelmed by the situation.

"It's all right. The princess is just joking. Leave us alone," he commands, the guard obeys and leaves.

You stare after the guard with a shocked expression. Suddenly, something shifts in you. You swallow and blink a few times as you take a step back from Jace. You reach behind you for your morning robe and put it on. Jace sees that you feel uncomfortable. He feels bad. He just made it very clear to you that you have no power here. Not even in your own chambers. You feel vulnerable and unprotected and he forced you into this situation. He wants exactly the opposite He wants you to feel comfortable. Here on Dragonstone and with him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare," he begins, looking you in the face. He forces his gaze to stay glued to your eyes. He has the need to explain himself. "It's just" he begins, falters, and notices his cheeks turning red. He can no longer hold your gaze and instead looks out the window behind you. Outside, it's pitch black; he can only see his own reflection in the glass. Screw it. It doesn't matter anymore. He can´t deny it any longer. "You are very beautiful."

Every other maiden here would have probably shyly lowered her eyes and whispered a "thank you" with flushed cheeks at his words. After all, he is a prince.

You don't. You snort contemptuously and whisper a valyrian curse under your breath that he doesn't know. Contempt lingers in your voice.

"What do you want here?" you ask again.

Jacaerys hesitates for a moment longer and regrets having come here. But it's about his brothers.

"Why do you visit my brothers so often?"

Confused by his question, you look at him. "What do you mean?"

"Aegon told me you sing for the two."

"Is that forbidden?" your tone is sharp and makes Jace angry again.

However, if he starts shouting now, he would ruin everything.

"No, I just want to know the reason."

You study his expression closely, then your posture tenses up a little more and you shake your head slightly while disbelief is reflected in your eyes.

"They are children. I wish him no harm." your voice is so cold that an unpleasant shiver runs down Jacaerys' spine.

"I didn't mean it like that," he begins. He has to explain himself now. He wants to explain to you that you are misjudging him. But do you do that? He thought that you would harm his brothers. Where does this mistrust come from?

But before he can even sort out his thoughts, the door opens again. His mother enters the room next to her your guard.

"What's going on here?" she asks.

"Is here no privacy? These are my private chambers. Get out of here! Everyone." you suddenly yell.

Jacaerys is shocked by your disrespect towards his mother, the heir to the throne. Rhaenyra also needs a moment to regain her composure but then she smiles and sighs.

"You're right. I'm sorry, sister. We'll leave you alone now. Jace come." she apologizes instead of getting angry.

Jace can hardly believe his own ears. But then he follows his mother outside like a beaten dog.

In the hallway, his mother whirls around again, now the infamous Targaryenanger on her face. "We brought her here so early because of rumors! Don't be the reason there are new rumors!"

That's not what happend! His jaw tenses again, his hands clench into fists. He closes his eyes to calm himself down for a moment. But the image of your perfect curves under the thin fabric of your nightgown appears in his mind's eye. A strange mixture of lust and anger rises up inside him. You are driving him completely crazy. He quickly opens his eyes again. Jace wants to scream. Instead, he apologizes to his mother and turns around to go back to his chambers.

Vermax turns past the larger dragon, he is more agile and faster than your beast. He manages to create enough distance between you with quick wingbeats before Vermithor could turn around with a sluggish movement. The flames that burst from Vermithor's throat do not reach him. But the heat they radiate hits his neck painfully.

Jacaerys don´t see you for the next few days. Baela tells him that you are angry with him. Jace can't change that now. You made it very clear that you hate him. So he hates you too. At least during the day, he talks himself into it. He joins Luke in gossiping about you. All day long, he curses about how unbearable you are and that he doesn't want to marry you.

At night in his dreams, he can't lie. Almost every night, you haunt him in his dreams. They are inappropriate dreams that his horny teenage brain comes up with. Every morning he is rock hard when he wakes up. You really drive him crazy. Nevertheless, he can't resist and lets his dreams unfold before his inner eye while his hand slips under the blanket.

Afterwards, he feels better, but also guilty. He knows that you would burst with anger if you knew he thought of you like that. You would never consent. He feels bad. Still, he can't help it.

The conflict inside him is tearing him apart. Makes him tense. He notices his thin skin. Jace has to pull himself together and not shout at everyone.

When he returns to his chambers that evening to retire for the night, he can hardly believe his eyes.

You are sitting in one of the armchairs in front of his fireplace. The fire is burning. When he enters, you look up. You don't smile. Why should you? Nevertheless, this time there is no hatred in your eyes.

Jacaerys feels insecure in his own chambers. He lays down his cloak and sword and remains standing in the room. He doesn't say a word, even though his gaze is glued to you. He would prefer to sit down with you, but that feels inappropriately familiar to him.

"What are you doing here?" he asks in a calm voice. He doesn't want to argue with you again.

You hesitate for a moment. You stand up and smooth the skirt of your dress. The dark green silk appears almost black in the gentle light of the flames. Jace forbids himself from letting his gaze wander over your body. He looks you in the face. Not a single emotion can he see there.

Had your mother taught you to hide your emotions and thoughts behind a mask? He knows nothing about your childhood in the Keep. And yet, you will be his wife in just a few moons.

You exhale audibly, but when you speak, your voice is calm. Almost friendly.

"I wish no harm to your little brothers. I understand why you might think that. It's just, they remind me of my nephews. I miss them very much."

At the mention of Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, warmth creeps into your voice and a sad sparkle appears in your eyes. Jace blinks and it is gone.

Your words calm him down. Although he is quite sure that he never really thought that you were endangering his brothers. It had just been a thought that had come to him.

Your explanation, however, also confuses him a little. And because he is not as controlled as you, you can probably read his emotions on his face.

"Doesn't that suit you?" you ask. Your voice is sharp again. Jacaerys has to be careful about what he says now, he knows that. He briefly organizes his thoughts before he begins to speak.

"It surprises me that you miss your nephews."

You furrow your eyebrows. "Why? Because I'm such a bad person that I can't even love my family?"

Gods he hates it when words are put in his mouths. He certainly didn't mean to imply that. His voice is a bit louder, but he tries to keep himself in check.

"No. I just didn't think." he interrupts himself because he knows that his next words will lead to an argument. "It's not important."

But your posture is already tense, your eyes narrowed as your gaze pierces him. Jace feels as if the air around you vibrates with your anger.

Fuck, why do you look so good when you're angry?

"Speak your mind," you urge him. Don´t allow any objections. So he gives in.

"I didn't think you really liked your nephews. After all, they are the children of your sister with your lover."

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing?" you shout angrily. Your voice shoots up a few octaves. You feel attacked. Your gaze flickers to the side. "Aegon is not my lover."

Jace lets out a frustrated sigh. "Stop lying," he demands. Why can't you be honest with him? You need to be honest if your marriage should work out even in the slightest.

"I'm not lying! Such accusations are treason. I should write to my father, the king, so that he cuts out your tongue."

You both know that Viserys would never do that. Not to him. Not for you. Your expression becomes blank, even the anger disappears from your eyes as you raise your walls and put on your mask.

Just the sight of your emotionless face and the fact that you have such good control over yourself, much better than he have over himself, lets him explode. The anger burns hot through his entire body. You just don't want to be honest with him. Jace feels like he's running into a wall with every one of your conversations.

"It's not treason if it's the truth."

You huff disdainfully and shake your head. "I am a virgin and I will remain one for the rest of my life." you raise your chin and look at him challengingly. Now you're just being childish.

Annoyed Jacaerys groans. "You will be my wife. The queen of the seven Kingdoms. We will share a bed. It is your duty to the realm and to me," he states. You both know that he is right. You remain stubborn.

"You will have to rape me if you want to claim your right as a husband! I will never willingly lie with a bastard like you!" you scream at him.

All the anger and frustration of the last few days with you, with himself, with the situation, rises up inside him. The hot anger in him makes him see red. He takes the few steps towards you. Startled, you step back, slamming your back against the wall. He enters your personal space. He towers over you. You look at him in shock.

"Get away from me." you try to push im away but he is stronger than you.

"You will be my wife! Completely and entirely. And if I have to rape you for it, then so let it be."

You raise your hand to slap him in the face, but he catches it. You contort your face in pain, and he immediately loosens his grip. You swallow and he notices your slight trembling. In your eyes, there is no longer hatred but fear. Immediately, Jace is overcome with guilt. What is he doing here? That's not how he is. That's not how he wants to be.

Quickly, he takes a step back, lets go of your hand, and looks at you apologetically. "I'm sorry," he says to you. His voice trembles.

Confused, you stare at him, your mouth slightly open. Your hand, which he had held in his, falls to your side.

Jace turns around and simply leaves his own chambers. He didn't want to argue with you, but somehow that's the only thing you two are good in. Screaming, arguing, cursing.

You bring out this side of him. You make him like that. He hates it. He hates you. But gods, he can´t stay away from you. This marriage will be an absolute horror for both of you.

You let Vermithor realign himself. Vermax has to dodge another crossbow bolt but gets grazed on his wing. Jace feels as if it were cutting through his own skin.

Below him, he hears the screaming soldiers who are still trying to destroy the enemy fleet. Behind him, he hears the flapping of your dragon's wings. You are getting closer quickly.

Jacaerys knows that he can't fly away from you forever. He doesn't have to. Only until reinforcements arrive.

Jace watches as Sunfyre approaches the castle courtyard in slow, circling movements. The sunlight catches in the dragon's pink wings and is reflected by the golden scales. He looks as if he were cast from pure gold. Aegon moves skillfully in the saddle. You sit in front of him, skillfully keeping yourself in the saddle. You've ridden with Aegon several times before, it's obvious. The wind blows through your blonde hair. You look like a perfect Targaryen couple. Happy.

Jace could puke because of his jealousy towards his uncle.

He is jealous of the beauty of his dragon.

He is jealous of his connection to you.

When Sunfyre lands in the castle courtyard, Jace also steps into the yard. He has been waiting for hours for both of you to return.

Aegon picked you up this morning, he showed up without any notice and took you away. Jacaerys would have preferred to stop him. But he doesn't have the right to do that.

Not yet, whispers a voice in his head. But even after your marriage, he would never tear you away from your brother. Jace is indeed jealous but not cruel.

His uncle slips off his dragon and then helps you down. His hands are on your hips as he catches you and spins you through the air. You laugh. You laugh honestly, openly, and happily.

The jealousy burns beneath Jace's skin. He has to open and close his trembling fist a few times to calm himself down.

He clears his throat loudly. Tears Aegon and you out of your world. Immediately, you both tense up. Aegon straightens up a little, makes himself taller and stands close to your side, throwing daggers with his eyes at Jace. Now he knows where you learned that kind of look.

"Can I talk to you?"he asks and ignores his uncle.

"Talk."

"Private."

"You can speak open in front of Aegon. I would have told him every word anyway."

Jacaerys takes a deep breath. He really doesn't want to discuss this in front of Aegon. But this is your punishment for him. This little humiliation. So he endures it and begins to speak.

"I have to apologize to you. Yesterday was absolutely inappropriate. I shouldn't have said such terrible things. I shouldn't have threatened you. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Also for hurting you. I don't know what came over me. I promise you … I swear to you and before all the gods that I will never force you into my bed and I will never hurt you again like I hurt you yesterday." He means every word he says. And he hopes you believe him.

Your expression remains unchanged. You look at him for a moment. Then you nod slightly. "I accept your apology." you don't say anything more.

Silence spreads across the courtyard. Aegon is the first to move. He takes a step closer, leaning forward, his breath brushing Jace's ear as he begins to speak.

"If you touch her against her will, I will find out. I will hunt you down even if I have to fly to the ends of the earth. I will slice you open from head to toe, then I will feed you your own bowels." his voice is quiet but dark. His gaze so steely and the description so graphic that Jace has to shudder and can only nod. He is sure that Aegon means every word.

Aegon gives him a false smile before turning to you. He pulls you into his arms and kisses your forehead. You whisper a few words that Jacaerys can't hear before Aegon climbs onto his dragon and disappears.

You watch him until you can no longer see him. Then you go inside without another word.

In the evening, you show up to the family dinner. But even there, you don't say a word to Jace. Instead, your attention is divided between Baela and Viserys, who is sitting on your lap.

For a second, Jace imagines what it would look like if you were sitting at the table with your child of your own. His and yours. At the thought his heart stumbles over two beats. Then he thinks about the fact that you hardly talk to him and that you certainly cannot raise a child together in peace.

Before dessert, his mother clears her throat to get the attention. "I don't think it's good for Aegon to keep visiting you," she addresses you directly.

Your smile immediately slips from your face. "What?" you ask. "But you said my siblings can visit us anytime."

"Our siblings, yes. Aegon not. It doesn't make a good impression. You know why." Rhaenyra's tone is stern.

Tears glisten behind your eyes and you struggle to maintain your composure.

The sight tugs at Jacaerys heart. His words come out of his mouth without him really thinking about it.

"That's a bad idea, Mother. He is her brother. Why separate the two? Wouldn't it just provoke everything even more, make it worse?"

His mother and you both look at him in shock.

Rhaenyra because she never thought he would stand against her in this matter.

You because you never thought he would stand by your side.

Silence spreads, but then his mother shakes her head. "No. I have decided it. I will send Aegon a letter tomorrow."

"I can't even send him letters anymore?" you snap angrily. "You read everything I write anyway."

Rhanyra's face tenses. "That's enough now. Eat your dessert."

You stand up. Your chair makes a disgusting noise as it scrapes across the stone floor. "Fuck your dessert. I'm not hungry anymore."

"More respect for your sister," Daemon suddenly interjects. You give him one of your dagger looks that Jace usually gets.

"Why should I?" you then ask with a cold, arrogant voice. "I hate you. I hate it here." you throw at Rhaenyra and run out of the room. For a second, there is dead silence in the room. Then Jacaerys surprises himself and everyone present as he stands up and follows you.

He finds you in your chambers. You are sitting on the floor in front of a wooden box full of earth. The small plants that your brother brought from Kings Landing have barely grown and their heads are hanging down.

Your face is buried in your hands and he hears you sobbing.

The sound makes his skin crawl and his heart ached. He hesitates for a moment. Then he walks over to you and sinks down onto the floor beside you. He doesn't touch you. He doesn't know if that would be appropriate. You sob a few more times. Then you turn your head to him. He expects you to yell at him, to curse him out. You do nothing of the sort. Instead, you wipe your tears from your cheek.

"Thank you for standing up for me." your voice is just a whisper. So quiet that he isn't sure if he didn´t imagined it. He nods because he doesn't really know what to say. He can't look you in the tear-streaked eyes, so he looks around your chambers. His gaze lingers on the sad flowers in the flowerbed. He notices your gaze on him.

Silence spreads. It's almost uncomfortable. Then you speak again.

"They don't grow well here. It's too cold."

Jace has no idea about gardens, flowerbeds, or flowers, so he just nods.

Vermithor has caught up with him. His mouth snaps at Vermax, but the smaller dragon manages to dodge. Glides under the neck of the larger one. Jace hears your angry scream because you missed him. He has to duck so the sharp claws of the bronze-colored one don't slice his face. Vermax flies down, but Vermithor's gigantic wingbeats disturb the air so much that his dragon is thrown off balance and stumbles. Cold fear runs through Jace. His hands grip the saddle as he struggles to keep his balance while being thrown through the air.

Suddenly, Vermithor throws his head to the side and roars loudly. You and Jace both turn around. Seasmoker and Silverscale arrive. Exactly at the right moment. Jacaerys breathes out in relief.

You don't yell at each other anymore. You hardly talk to each other anymore. But at least you no longer avoid Jace. Most of the time, he sees you in the nursery.

You sit with Viserys and Aegon every day. You play with them. You sing for them or read to them.

Jace usually sits in an armchair by the edge of the fireplace, watching his siblings and you.

Aegon idolizes you. He has a crush on you, that's for sure. Jace can't blame him for it. He can understand his little brother.

If you were to sing especially for him with your gentle voice, Jacaerys's heart would probably explode. But you don't sing for him, and he doesn't ask if you could do it.

Your songs are a bit sad now. You are sad. It makes Jace sad too to see you like this.

You don't say a single word to Rhaenyra anymore. Even if she addresses you directly, you just turn your head to her and remain silent until she says what she wants from you or simply gives up.

Jace knows that his mother is holding back Aegon's letters to you. He also knows that every time Aemond or Helaena arrives on Dragonback, they smuggle letters from Aegon for you.

He doesn't say a word to anyone. He gives you and your siblings space.

Jacaerys has an idea of how to cheer you up and he has already taken the first steps. It didn't take much to convince Baela to help him with Moondancer. You both have built a real friendship.

The conversation with Aegon and Aemond was humiliating, but he does it for you. So your brothers helped.

His mother is to blame for your unhappiness. Jacaerys feels responsible. And maybe you would give him a smile.

It is a warm afternoon when everything is ready.

He hesitates as he stands in front of your door. Nervously, he shifts from one foot to the other. He feels like an idiot. Still, he knocks.

"Come in."

Jace opens the door. You look at him in surprise. He rarely comes to your chambers anymore. He gives you space.

"I have something for you," Jace begins before he can change his mind. Skeptically, you raise an eyebrow. "Actually two things." he reaches into his cloak pocket and pulls out a letter. It was Aegon's condition for his help. Jace had to smuggle letters.

"What is that?" you ask, but you walk over to him. Your curiosity is written all over your face.

"A letter from Aegon."

Immediately, you snatch the letter from his hand. "Where did you get that from?"

"I was in King's Landing."

Surprised, you look up from the letter to him. "Why?"

"I picked something up. The second thing I got for you. Do you want to see it?"

You look from him to the letter in your hands. You think for a moment. Then you set the letter aside and nod. "Yes."

He opens the door for you, and you walk side by side through the halls of Dragonstone. He leads you to the north wing and down the stairs. The closer you get to the volcano, the warmer it becomes. You start to look around curiously. Jace knows that you are not interested enough in the castle to explore it. These corridors are unfamiliar to you. In front of an inconspicuous door, he stops.

"Are we there?" you ask skeptically.

"Yes." Jacaerys takes another deep breath and then opens the door.

You look past him into the room. Your eyes widen at the sight before you.

Jace had emptied the entire room. Instead, he had it filled with soil. But not the barren soil of Dragonstone. He flew all the way to King's Landing just to get the soil from there. And since he was already there, he took your flowerbeds with him. Now your flowers are blooming in this warm room. The castle's complex ventilation system has various shafts that lead through the walls to the outside. It took a while, but Jace found a room that even lets in sunlight.

"My garden," you say in shock. Your voice trembles as you look at him. Tears shimmer in your eyes. Jace's heart sinks. Did he make it worse? You don't like it.

But then a smile appears on your lips. It is your radiant, genuine, cheerful smile. He longed for you to give him exactly that smile. You take a step forward and hug him. For a second, he freezes. Then he carefully wraps his arms around you. Warmth spreads through his body. He could hold you like that forever. But after just a few seconds, you flinch back.

"Thank you, really Jace. Thank you. This means so much to me."

It's the first time you don't call him Jacaerys or Bastard. He never wants to hear his full name from your lips again.

Jace smiles slightly and hopes you don't notice that his feelings are currently a rollercoaster.

"Gladly. I'll leave you alone with your garden then."

"Wait."

He turns back to you, do you want him to stay here with you? That you spend time together?

"Can you show me the way up again? I wasn't paying attention and I'm bad with directions."

He tries not to be too disappointed. Jace nods and you both go back up the stairs together. This time, you focus on the path.

"You might not need to draw me a map," you admit quietly. Jace has to laugh briefly, and to his surprise and joy, you laugh with him. At least he learned something new about you today. You're bad with directions.

Addam nods to Jace, and hope begins to blossom inside him once more. Seasmoker dives into the enemy fleet below them. Jace turns Vermax away from Vermithor and seeks shelter behind Silverwing. Jace catches a glimpse of your face and realizes that you are afraid. You are not as confident in your victory anymore.

Yes, your dragon is bigger. But Silverwing is older. And they outnumber you three to one.

You should run. It would be the wisest to run now and come back with Aemond and Vhagar. Jace knows you won't run. You are far too stubborn to give up. To admit defeat. This would only end when one of you is dead.

You are sitting in the small garden that Jace had created for you. Your flowers bloom around you, and you smile at the sight of the colorful blossoms.

"Helaena and I had always sit in the garden for hours. I always plant the flowers that attract insects"

"You want to attract insects?" he makes a disgusted face. You look at him and suddenly laugh. It is not your scornful, contemptuous laughter. It is a warm, honest laugh. His heart skips a beat for a second only to then beat twice as fast again. You have never smiled at him so honestly.

"Hels is completely fixated on the little crawler. You should hear how much she can say about each insect."

Helaena has always been just a strange girl to him. She speaks in riddles and always seems to be with her thoughts somewhere else. Jace can't imagine that she talks about insects for hours.

"I miss them very much. All my siblings." Jace feels guilty again. But before he can say anything, you stand up. "Come on, let's go back up."

You start walking and he follows you like a puppy. Every day he goes down to your garden with you. Sometimes you are silent, sometimes not. You often have long, pleasant conversations or interesting discussions. Jace enjoys these moments. He admires your mind as much as your looks. He can no longer deny it. You have him wrapped around your finger. He is completely infatuated in you. And you didn't even had to try.

You walk so close beside him that your fingertips lightly brush against each other. Jacaerys hopes that in the coming days he will have enough courage to hold your hand.

Your path leads you out of the castle over the fortress walls. Cold wind blows up from the sea towards you. You shiver slightly.

Jacaearys' hands wander to the clasp of his cloak, but he hesitates.

"Do you want my cloak?" he then asks. You look at him from the side, nodding hesitantly. He takes off his cloak and drapes it over your shoulders. The dark red doesn't quite match the green of your dress. Nevertheless, you look beautiful. Jacaerys is sure that even dressed in rags, you still will be stunningly beautiful.

"It suits you well."

You roll your eyes, but a gentle smile rests on your lips. Your gaze sweeps across the sky, over the sea where Luke is currently flying a round with Arrax. Your gaze becomes sad.

"Do you miss flying?" Jace guesses.

"A little," you reply. "Sounds weird because I don't have my own dragon."

"Why don't you fly with Aemond or Helaena?" he asks. It would be the logical consequence. You shake your head slightly, he notices how your shoulders tense up a bit. Your reaction is strange, it doesn't quite fit

A nervous feeling spreads within him. He notices a tingling under his skin and a burning in his stomach. Are you only flying with Aegon? He thinks of the familiarity he observed when you were flying with Sunfyre.

He wishes for that between you and him. But Aegon is hanging over you. Would your fly with him and Vermax?

"I can fly with you on Vermax if you want." the suggestion slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. In the next second, he realizes that he is testing you right now. He curses himself for it. You owe him nothing at all. He shouldn't expect anything from you.

"Your little dragon?" you laugh "No thanks."

Maybe you meant it as a joke. Maybe you were serious. He doesn't care. He feels attacked and immediately goes on the counterattack. He doesn't think and speaks out of anger.

"At least I am worthy of a dragon."

"What did you say?" immediately, hot anger burns in your eyes. Jace's gaze shifts from your eyes to your lips for a second. Then he pulls himself together again.

He wants to apologize to you. He knows that he shouldn't have said that. It is certainly hard to be the only one of your siblings not to have a dragon bound to you. Nevertheless, he says, "You understood me."

"Bastard," you spit in his face, turn around, and storm away. But you are not fast enough. He saw the tears in your eyes. Immediately, Jace felt guilty. Damn it! He wants to apologize. But he is too stubborn so he went into the other direction. You avoid him for the rest of the day. He deserves it.

He wakes up from the loud calling. Confused, he sits up in his bed. Outside, it is still pitch dark. Are they being attacked? No. Of course not. Who would dare to attack Dragonstone? No one is that foolish. Nevertheless, the voices outside sound nervous. Jace climbs out of his bed. He puts on a shirt and his coat, then steps out into the hallway. He quickly runs to his mother's chambers. She is already coming towards him with Daemon by her side.

"Mother, what happened?"

"Come with me," she replies in a serious voice. The three walk to the castle courtyard, the black night is illuminated by the moon and torches.

His mother looks up and Jace follows her gaze. He can't see anything in the darkness at first. But then a shadow appears in front of the moon.

He recognizes a dragon. Too big for Seasmoke. Maybe Silverwing? The shadow grows larger as it approaches.

But only when the giant body glides over the walls of Dragonstone does Jace realize that it is Vermithor. It is unusual for him to fly through the night. He lives reclusively in Dragonmont.

The bronze fury lands in the castle courtyard in front of them. The ground trembles beneath his body. Jace steps back in shock. He hears the dragon keepers calling excitedly.

Vermithor throws his large head to the side and then Jace sees you. Proudly, you sit on the dragon's back.

You swing out of the saddle and slide down his wing as if you had been doing it your whole life. You land elegantly next to your dragon.

You look directly at him, the moonlight makes your eyes sparkle and catches in your hair. The large head of the Vermithor right next to you as the dragon blows hot air from its nostrils.

"Not worthy of a dragon, you said?" your smile is arrogant and proud. But as you place your hand on your dragon's nose and gently stroke it, you begin to honestly smile. Your eyes sparkle with happiness, and Jace thinks you have never been more beautiful than in this moment.

You really snuck down into the Dragonmont at night and claimed Vermithor for yourself. The Bronze Fury. Jace is impressed.

You walk past them with your head held high, back into the interior of the castle. Vermithor takes off and flies into the dark night.

Jace looks at his mother, her expression is tense. His grin fades.

Daemon is the first to speak and he turns directly to Jace.

"Now it is even more important that you marry her."

Jace is confused and looks at his mother. She gives him a smile. "We have nothing to oppose against Vhagar and Vermithor."

"What do you mean?" why do they need something to oppose thes two dragons?

"When the Hightowers try to usurp the throne." Daemon begins with an annoyed voice as if it were obvious what he was talking about.

"If..." Rhanyra interrupts, but Daemon just snorts.

"Get the Higtower whore to fall in love with you then maybe we will all survive."

Anger rises in Jace at his stepfather's words. He doesn't want Daemon or anyone else to speak so disparagingly about you. You are his fiancée. Without another word, he goes back inside.

The next morning, you and Vermithor are gone. Jacaerys would bet all his possessions that you flew directly to the Red Keep. He doubts for a moment if you would come back.

Now no one can force you to live here on Dragonstone.

Now that one of the largest and oldest Targaryen dragons is bound to you, no one can force you to do anything.

The sun is just setting on the horizon when he spots Vermithor's large body in the sky. He follows you both with his gaze until the dragon disappears between the rocks into the Dragonmont.

Silverwing rushes towards Vermithor. He hears Ulf bellow a poorly pronounced Dracarys. Silverswing opens her mouth. Vermithor right in front of her. Her flames are hot enough to harm him. But she doesn't spit flames. Instead, she closes her maw again and turns away. Ulf curses on her back and shouts at his dragon to obey him. He switches to the common tongue. But Silverwing refuses, turns away, and flies back to Dragonstone.

Your laughter echoes through the air. Jace turns to you, confidently sitting firmly in your saddle, and laugh at him.

"That worked out well with your army of bastards!" you shout over to him in a mocking voice.

Of course, Silverwing would never hurt Vermithor. She is his mate. How could they forget that?

Again, you laugh. It is a malicious, arrogant laugh that makes his blood run cold.

Jace is slowly getting a headache, and the Valyrian symbols are blurring before his eyes. He has been studying for hours. Nevertheless, the words come to his lips with difficulty. He tries again and again until his own voice sounds strange.

"Gods, your High Valyrian is even worse than Aegon's."

He flinches and turns to you. Hot anger rises within him at the comparison. He really puts in the effort, never misses even one lesson and studies as often as he can. Nevertheless, he is supposed to be wors in his mother tongue than the drunk, lazy idiot? You don't seem to notice his anger.

"Well. I just wanted to return your cloak to you."

Six days he barely saw you and didn't speak to you, and now you come and bring him his cloak? You confuse him. It drives him crazy that he can't figure you out.

Every day you flew towards the Red Keep in the morning and only returned in the evening. You enjoy every second on the back of your dragon.

Jace swallows his anger, walks over to you, and takes his cloak. Your fingertips brush against each other, and Jacaerys feels as if small sparks are coursing through his fingers.

He longs to hug you.

"Thank you," he says. He would have expected you to turn around and disappear to Vermithor. You stand still and look around the room uncertainly. "Is there anything else?"

"No," you say, your gaze flicking to the side. Skepticism spreads in Jace, he doesn't know exactly why. "I wanted to ask if you would like to fly with me, Vermithor, and Vermax? My siblings don't want to fly with me every day anymore. It's not as exciting for them as it is for me. They've had their Dragons for a while now." you chew on the inside of your cheek. Your hands are trembling slightly. A sign that you are nervous. He knows this by now.

It's the first time you're actively asking if he wants to do something with you. He has to bite his lip to avoid shouting yes immediately.

"Gladly," he replies after a brief moment. He looks at you and notices that your gaze is fixed on his lips. Heat floods through him. You look up, caught off guard, and glance to the side. Your cheeks turn red.

"Then let's go," you say quickly and turn around. He follows you quickly.

Your steps are light, you almost bounce alongside him. You radiate excitement and anticipation. Jacaerys has to laugh quietly. You gently hit him on the shoulder and grin at him.

"Don't laugh at me, I've been waiting so long for a dragon," you defend yourself. Jace raises his hands in surrender.

"I'm not laughing at you. I'm happy for you."

Again, that incredible smile that gives him butterflies appears.

"If you want, I can help you with your Valyrian," you then suggest.

"You think you can teach me?" he looks at you challengingly. You roll your eyes.

"If I can teach that drunk, lazy idiot Aegon, then I can definitely teach you."

"That would be very nice, yes please."

You arrive at the bottom of Dragonstone. Jacaerys whistles once loudly and shortly after hears Vermax's wingbeats. His dragon lands in front of him. Jace places his hand on his nose and presses his forehead against his head. A small greeting ritual.

Then it looks like as the whole mountain is moving. Vermithor’s massive body emerges from the shadows. His head is as big as Vermax's entire body. Nevertheless, the younger dragon remains calm. He knows that he is not in any danger.

You place your hand on Vermithor's nose.

"I still have to thank you."

"For what?"

"If you hadn't made me angry, I would never have dared to claim Vermithor." you smile sincerely as you climb onto the back of your dragon.

"Making you angry is one of my special talents, Princess."

It slips out. He doesn't mean it contemptuously or even as your title. It's a pet name. He realizes this as the word leaves his lips. He is briefly afraid that you will get angry. Instead, your cheeks turn red and you suddenly seem very interested in the reins.

Jace starts moving and climbs onto his dragon as well. Vermax takes to the skies. Adrenaline flows through his body as he flies through the air on the dragon's back. He hears your laughter behind him. Vermithor's great wings cast a shadow over Jace and Vermax for a moment before you fly to the side.

In that moment, Jace is sure that you both can be happy together.

You quickly fall into a routine together. In the morning you visit your garden, then go for a ride on dragonback. In the afternoon or evening you teach him Valyrian. Either in your chambers or in his. Jace enjoys every second with you.

Seasmoke fires his flames at the feet, while Jacaerys brings Vermax back into attack position. He breathes flames at Vermithor. You duck away. The huge beast turns back towards Vermax. Jace takes a deep breath. He is tossed back and forth in the saddle as Vermax suddenly dives down. But Vermithor is too big. His claws reach for Vermax. The little dragon still tries to dodge, but the claws tear a wing. Jace flees and turns around to have you back in his line of sight.

Vermax flies right in front of Vermithor's mouth. He is close enough that the flames will swallow him. But there is no heat, no fire, nothing. You don't give the orders. You hesitate.

A warmth spreads in Jacaerys; maybe there is still hope? Maybe he can convince you to switch to his side.

But in the next moment, your face becomes rigid again. You shake yourself lightly as if you need to wake up. Vermax loses some speed. Its difficult for him to fly with the injured wing.

Jace steers his dragon below Vermithor. The older dragon whips its head around. Snaps at Vermax but misses.

You call out a valyrian command. Vermithor's massive body turns with a powerful movement sideways and downward as he chase Vermax.

It has been raining all day. Jacaerys had argued with Luke in the morning. Viserys got on his nerves. His entire morning was shit.

Then his mother also sends for him. Aegon is feeling a bit ill the, Jace has to bring Stormcloud to him. So he collects the hatchling from the dragon keepers and carries it on a pillow to the nursery. He would rather find you and spend time with you than carry around his little brother's Dragon.

When he opens the door, he is greeted by a relaxed atmosphere. The fire in the fireplace is burning, Viserys is playing on the carpet. Aegon sits in front of the fireplace with a blanket around his shoulders.

You and Baela are sitting in comfortable armchairs. In your hands, embroideries. His little brother is leaning against your leg. As he enters the room, you all look at him.

You quickly look away again, and Baela starts to giggle softly. This reaction briefly confuses him.

"Stormcloud," calls Aegon, stretching his hands out towards his little dragon. Jace goes to him and carefully places the dragon in his arms. The hatchling lets out a satisfied hum.

Jace falls back and sits next to his brother in front of the fire. He looks up at you and Balea. His stepsister is struggling to suppress her giggles. You glance at her before turning to him.

"How are you today, Jace?" you ask deliberately lighthearted.

"Good. How are you?" he asks, confused. Since when do you ask each other how you are? At least not like that.

"I´m good."

He looks at you closely. Your behavior confuses him. Just like Baleas. Since when does she giggle so foolishly?

His gaze stops on your neck. Your sun necklace is not there. He has never seen you without it. You took it off. It satisfies something deep inside him. He feels triumphant even though he hasn't won anything yet. Nevertheless, his heart beats faster.

The water is coming closer quickly. The next moment, bolts from scorpions and crossbows are raining down on you. Jace doesn't even know if they are his men or the Greens'. It doesn't matter.

One of the scorpion bolts narrowly misses Vermax's neck. The next moment Jace hears a deep, rumbling dragon scream that goes right into his bones. Something hot, wet drips into neck and on his shoulders.

Jace turns his head. The bolt has hit Vermithor in the stomach. The wound is big. But not big or deep enough to kill the dragon.

He hears your angry scream and the next moment the bronze Fury is spitting fire. You're not aiming anywhere, it's just an expression of your anger. When you're angry, your beast unleashes all seven hells for you.

"I like this one." he points to a flower with a large, purple blossom. It gives off a gentle scent. You two sit in your garden together. Your flowers all grew good down here.

Your smile slips a little and your eyes become sad.

"That's Aegon's favorite flower too." you swallow a few times.

Jacaerys expected jealousy or anger to rise up in him. It doesn't.

Instead, it makes him sad to see you so sad. It's his mother's fault.

You still miss Aegon. He notices it. Sometimes your gaze drifts into the distance. He noticed that letters in his uncle's handwriting are lying next to your pillow. He knows he shouldn't have looked, but he went closer. The paper was covered in tear stains. Despite his curiosity, his eyes didn't read the words. It's really none of his business.

"Do you love him?" the words slip out before he can stop them.

"Of course I love him. He is my brother."

"I don't mean if you love him that way."

You clench your jaw. You look to the side. Your nod is so gentle that Jace almost missed it. "Yes I loved him."

He has to know now. He gathers all his courage and reaches for your hand. You turn your head to him, looking at him in surprise. Nevertheless, you don't pull your hand away.

"Can you be honest this one time? Please. I will never mention it again. No one will find out."

You study his face before you nod again. "Go ahead and ask."

"Did you share a bed with him?"

"No." you answer, not avoiding his gaze, and he believes you. This time he really believes you. You look at him openly and continue speaking. "We're not stupid, Jacaerys. We always knew that we couldn't do that. Gods,to be honest it was hard. We kissed but never more. It's over since I came here."

Your sudden unsolicited openness surprises him, but he is grateful. He wants to return the favor. You were honest about your past. Now it's his turn.

"I kissed Baela. I had a cush on her when I was younger. There was something between us."

Your lips curl into a slight smile. He didn't expect that. More likely that you would get angry after all his accusations about you and Aegon.

You turn so that you are now facing him. You briefly squeeze his hand.

"Thank you for telling me," you reply.

"You're not surprised?"

You briefly bite your lip. This small gesture draws his gaze in, and for a brief moment, Jace wants to lean forward and place his lips on yours. The need disappears as quickly as it came. As you continue speaking, your voice sounds slightly amused.

"I already knew it. She told me."

That's the last thing Jacaerys expected. "Did she?" he thinks of the awkward, inexperienced kisses his thirteen-year-old self exchanged with Beala and cringes for himself. He notices his cheeks turning slightly red. "What did she say?" he asks, unsure if he wants to hear the answer. You laugh warmly. At that tone, his heart skips a beat.

"Not much. Just that you're quite good."

He hadn't expected that either. Your gentle tone and warm smile give him courage.

"You can judge for yourself at any time."

You roll your eyes, but there's still a smile on your lips. For a moment, you look back at him and then to the side.

"Maybe I'll do that someday."

The bolt of a crossbow hits him. Pain courses through his body. Hot blood flows from the wound. The brief moment of shock is enough for you and Vermithor to attack once more.

The sheer force with which Vermithor crashes into Vermax squeezes all the air out of his lungs. The claws of your beast ram into Vermax's soft flesh. His dragon lets out a painfull scream. The sound makes Jacaerys's eardrums almost burst. His heart breaks and pain floods through him.

Tears well up in his eyes. Vermithor hurls Vermax and him through the air. He clings to the saddle. His muscles ache. Suddenly, an unknown coldness and deep pain fill Jace. Vermax is dead. He knows it even before he sees Vermithor's bloodstained claws. Then the dragon lets go.

Vermax is thrown uncontrollably in circles towards the ground. Jace doesn't even have enough time to take a deep breath before they hit the water. Vermax's body sinks like a stone. Jacaery's clothes soak up the cold water. He is being pulled down. But he manages to break free from Vermax to swim back to the surface once more. He gasps for air. His heavy clothes want to pull him down again. The icy water feels like needles. is this how his little brother feel shortly before his death? Did Luke die the same way? Or did Vhagar tear him apart with her razor-sharp teeth before he fell into the water?

Jace notices how he is getting weaker and weaker. He loses feeling in his arms and legs. Darkness spreads at the edge of his field of vision as unconsciousness pulls at him. He has failed.

A large shadow covers the sky above him. Vermithor circles just a few meters above the water's surface. You sit on his saddle and look down into the water. Your gaze searching. And then you see him. Your eyes meet.

Since you arrived in King's Landing, you've been different. The small gestures between you that made his heart race have disappeared immediately. You no longer hold his hand. You no longer adjust his cloak for him. You no longer point to one of the flowers near you and explain to him what kind it is and how to best cultivate it.

During the discussion about the succession of Driftmark, you did not stand by his side but next to your mother.

It annoys him terribly. It gives him the feeling that you are ashamed of him. For the fact that you like him.

Rhaenyra has emphasized for days that Jace is not allowed to argue with you as long as you are in King's Landing. Alicent would seize this opportunity immediately, break off the engagement, and bring you back to the Red Keep.

It already bothers his mother that you insisted on staying another week to attend the feast for Alicent's name day. She didn't have a convincing argument to deny you. Especially because Vermithor stood behind you the entire time during the discussion.

Jacaerys swallows his anger at your behavior and does the only thing he is sure will prevent you from arguing. He completely ignores you and avoids you.

That's why he doesn't even realize how angry this makes you.

The dinner with the king was a huge disaster. The worst thing for him was that you laughed as your brothers' insult him and his brothers.

Jace hand still hurts from the blow he dealt Aemond, just like his ankle. When his uncle pushed him, he twisted his ankle. The anger is still boiling.

Without knocking, you storm into his room. He flinches in surprise and looks at you. You are still dressed in your festive clothes, your hair tied back in strict braids. The anger you radiate makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"How can you humiliate me like this?" you scream at him. He is on his feet before your words have fully echoed in the room. A hot rage courses through him. How can he hummiliate you? You are the one who turned away from him and is ashamed of him. You are the one who laughed at him today.

"What did you say?" he asks. You approach him. Your eyes are sparking with anger. Jace has to swallow at the sight. You stand just a few steps in front of him, but the tone of your voice remains unchanged as you start shouting again.

"You ignore me all evening and then you dance with my sister? In front of everyone! You pushed me aside. How could you do that?"

"You are jealous," he guesses and is surprised by it, and also by the fact that it pleases him. Did he want that? Was this his plan?Did he want to make you jealous? Did he wanted to get your attention this way? He doesn't really know himself.

"Nonsense." you shout angrily, but your gaze flickers to the side, just like always when you lie. Jace knows you by now. Even though you did everything to prevent him from doing so. You lowered your walls and let him in. You can't undo that now.

"You are jealous." this time he is sure.

"Rot in the seventh hell," you scream angrily. He knows that you only react so extremely when you are insecure. You whirl around and want to run out of the room, but Jace grabs your wrist, pulls you back, and turns you back to him.

For a second, you just look into each other's eyes. His gaze moves from your eyes to your lips. He doesn't know who leaned in first, but your lips are already crashing together before he can form a clear

thought. A shiver runs down his spine at the feeling of your lips on his. Your hand buries itself in his dark curls. Jace wraps his arms around your slim body, pulling you closer to him. Your lips part slightly and he slides his tongue into your mouth. Hot desire arises within him. He can’t get enough of the feeling of your lips on his. His heart is racing so fast that he's afraid it's going to jump out of his chest. You press yourself closer to him.

You part breathlessly. His eyes are on your beautiful face. Your eyes are sparkling, your cheeks are slightly red and you are gasping for breath. Your eyes find his and your lips creep onto your face. It's a gentle, genuine smile. He can't help but smile too. He carefully places his hand on your cheek, caresses the soft skin.

He rests his forehead against yours. You lean into his touch, lean slightly forward, and kiss him once more. This time gently, just for a brief moment, like a test. Immediately, his whole body tingles again.

"Maybe I was a little jealous," you whisper. Your gaze shifts from his eyes to his lips, the redness of your cheeks intensifying. But you make no move to free yourself from his arms.

"Why?" he whispers just as quietly. This moment is terribly intimate. Jace enjoys every second he can hold you in his arms. He has longed for this. To be able to hold you. Now he feels like everything is falling into place. Now that he can hold you in his arms. He is surprised by the sudden intensity of his feelings. Maybe because he has suppressed them for a long time.

"I... maybe... maybe I don't find you as terrible as I always pretend to." you admit. Jace has to suppress a laugh.

"Is that so?" he asks. He wished you would say the words. But he knows that you won't do it. He also knows that he can't say it now. Maybe someday, but not now.

You nod. Suddenly, you are shy. He never would have thought that you could be shy. "I don't know, I can't quite understand what I'm feeling," you admit openly.

"It's okay," he replies, his thumb stroking your cheek as his other hand searches for yours. You intertwine your fingers together. Jace looks down he can get used to the sight of your hand in his and the feeling of your soft skin against his."We have time."

"Time?" you ask.

"Yes, to find out what we feel."

You smile again and search for his gaze. Your eyes sparkle.

"When we are back on Dragonstone. Then we can find out what it is between us. We can figure it out. Together." he suggests.

"Yes, I like this idea." you say. He closes his eyes for a moment, then kisses your forehead and takes a step back. Your hands however remain intertwined. Your grip tightens a little.

Hope begins to blossom in Jace. Hope that his future and his marriage won't be as dreadful as he feared. Maybe the unimaginable can come true and you can be happy together. And reunite your broken family.

You sigh but your smile remains. You also take a step back, releasing your hand from his. Immediately, he wants to hold you in his arms again. But he holds himself back. This is not the right place. It's not the right time.

Nervously you giggle and look around, then back to him. "I should go. Not that rumors would start. My mother would be furious."

Jace laughs softly. "Yes. See you tomorrow?"

You nod. "I'll come with you to the Dragon Pit to say goodbye," you say. "And after Mother's name day, I will return to Dragonstone."

Anticipation spreads within Jace. He nods. A strange mix of hope, uncertainty, and affection spreads between you. You give him another one of your beautiful smiles, lean forward, and kiss his cheek. Then you turn around and leave his chambers with red cheeks and a smile.

Neither Jacaerys nor you know that your lives will fundamentally change within the next few days and that you will never set foot on Dragonstone's soil again.

Your face is the last thing he sees before the sea swallows him. And he saw the tears on your cheeks.

Maybe you really loved him. He loved you. It didn't make a difference. It is his last thought before the darkness swallows him forever.

a/n: tbh writing this made me sad😭 I wanted to give them a happy ending so bad but I couldn´t

Edit: I did give them a happy ending: Trust conquers fate (What if/ alternativ ending)

[bumblesimagines]

we never should have crossed that line.

keep this between us.

Alicent Hightower

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, spoilers for season 2 especially episode 6, slightly suggestive content? not rlly, mentions of an arranged marriage, all my homies hate Jasper Wylde even if he has 29 children!!

I'm obsessed with this woman

Servants, guards, and courtiers were swift to step out of the Dowager Queen's way as she strode down the hall, her earrings swaying and tapping against her with each quick step. She made a beeline directly for the bedchambers of Lord (Y/N) and offered the guard posted outside a nod when he opened one of the doors for her, bowing his head deeply in respect before shutting the door behind her with an echoing thud.

Alicent inhaled deeply through her nose, her laced fingers pulling apart as she swept her gaze over the room before settling her full attention on (Y/N) and Grand Maester Orwyle. She swallowed, greeting Grand Maester Orwyle with a polite smile as the older man bowed and collected some papers in his hand, turning to the lord and bowing as well before he left the room. Alicent waited for the thud of the doors to shut again before dropping the smile. 

"I was rather disappointed when I heard the Prince Regent had removed you from the Small Council, Your Grace. You were one of the few I could listen to without having the overwhelming desire to bash my head against the table." (Y/N) spoke bluntly, as he always did, his gaze more focused on reading the letter in hand to pay her any actual mind. Alicent almost sighed at that; noblemen and their blatant disrespect. 

"Exceptionally kind words for a man such as yourself, Lord (Y/N)," Alicent said and he chuckled quietly. "I came here after hearing of the saddening news of Lord Wylde's injury; such a taxing thing he remained abed during this morrow's meeting." 

"As I told the Council this morning, such is the burden of growing older, Your Grace." Lord (Y/N) responded, crumbling the letter in hand and tossing it aside to tumble along the table. He leaned back in his chair and finally met her unwavering stare, his eyes icy and indifferent. "I'm certain you know how.. clumsy older men can be, Your Grace."

Alicent hummed softly in vague agreement, her fingers beginning to toy with the rings adorning her knuckles. "Yes, though it is a rather curious thing he so violently fell down the stairs not long after his proposition during my last meeting, no? I noticed it vexed you for him to speak on our behalf."

"I'm sure we can agree either of us hardly need a fool offering a betrothal at our age. You've done your duty of wife and mother to the late King Viserys and I've done my husband duties to my late wife. I may need a son, yes, but I am quite content with my daughter for the time being. She's certainly more of a man than Jasper Wylde is at just the mere age of five." 

Alicent nearly winced at the mention of his daughter. She saw her often, mostly racing about in the gardens with a poor maid or two rushing after her to catch her before she could hurt herself. It stung, occasionally, to look upon the young girl. She reminded her all too well of Rhaenyra in her youth with her energy and commanding demeanor, eager to act like a boy instead of a proper lady. Sometimes it hurt to watch her with (Y/N) and wonder what her life would've been like if her own father had treated her with such care, if he'd indulged her desires and encouraged her to do what she wished instead of choosing for her.

Clearing her throat, she nodded. "Yes, we are in agreement. Although, opposing it as strongly as you did was... unnecessary." Alicent said, slightly lifting the skirt of her dress as she stepped down the two steps before her and walked further into the room, releasing her dress and feeling it skim along the floor. 

"If I recall, you strongly opposed it as well, did you not, Your Grace?" (Y/N) questioned and rose from his chair, the scraping of it being pushed back echoing through the room. He tilted his head at her, the papers and letters scattered across the table forgotten in favor of watching her. "Why does it bother you so?"

Her eyes jumped away, unable to admit to herself that her pride had been wounded. She was still young and beautiful, her body naturally slim despite bearing four pregnancies nearly back-to-back, something desired by many women. She'd been the Queen once, still technically was despite Helaena's ascension due to her marriage. But (Y/N), widowed and in need of an heir, brushed away the very idea of them marrying as if it brought insult to him and his house. Her memory flickered back to a specific night but she pushed it away as quickly as she'd recalled.

"Most men without a proper heir would leap at the opportunity to wed a lady of age, especially if said lady is from one of the Great Houses. I had assumed, upon hearing his proposal, that you might have... agreed." Alicent's eyes darted back when (Y/N) strode closer to her, the toying of her rings momentarily stopping as they looked upon each other. "Though, I... I am sure you would much prefer to find a wife on your own. I know you and the late Lady (L/N) were good friends before marriage. I'm certain there are plenty of other ladies you must have in mind."

"Is that all, Your Grace?" (Y/N) asked gently, his fingers brushing some of her auburn hair over her shoulder. She swallowed again, the fiddling of her rings returning. "Are you certain it has... little to do with the very fact we shared a bed once?" 

Heat rushed to her face and she swatted at his hand when his lips curled in amusement, an embarrassed scowl forming on her face. "We never should have crossed that line. It was.. improper."

The memories rushed forward against her wishes, filling her mind with the memory of him. It was all still vivid in her head, so vivid she could feel the ghost of his touch along her body and the taste of wine on his tongue after a discussion shared over some wine. She hadn't meant for things to escalate but she'd been so overwhelmed with everything occurring at once that she hadn't been able to stop herself before kissing him that night. The tingling feeling at the reminder he'd been more than pleased to tug her on his lap and soothe her worries away filled her veins.

"You swore we'd keep this between us." Alicent reminded him as she spun around to face away from him, unable to look him in the eyes as she folded her arms over her stomach and stared forward. A soft, surprised puff of air left her when his chest pressed against her back, his arms wrapping loosely around her waist. "Do not touch me." She demanded half-heartedly but made no attempt to step out of his hold. 

"Was Wylde a simple excuse for you to visit my room and release your frustrations over a bruised ego?" (Y/N) asked quietly, a shiver running down her spine when he brushed his lips over the side of her neck. "I'm certain you no I'm no stranger to taking care of those who insult or challenge me, Your Grace. I'd be more than happy to extend the service to you. There are.. plenty of fools who believe themselves more important than the Dowager Queen."

Alicent's lips pressed together, her head tilting to look at him. "You'd do that for me?" Her voice came out soft and her eyes nearly fluttered shut when their lips brushed. 

"Of course, Your Grace."

[yoursweetheartsrevenge]

The Wanderer

Summary: Ser Gwayne Hightower is asked to escort his niece’s new maid servant, the mysterious and alluring Elisabetta Flowers, from Oldstown to King’s Landing. As Gwayne begins to learn more about her in their months of travel he discovers a woman very unlike his initial impression. 

Warnings: Dark Gwayne, smut, MINORS DNI, 18+

Pairing: Gwayne Hightower x ofc, Elisabetta Flowers

Word Count: 8.3K+

dividers by @uzmacchiato

Author’s Note: For @hotd-bigbang spring prompt challenge, prompt two. This is my first HOTD centered on Gwayne Hightower, though I don’t think it will be my last. I loved these two’s dynamic. 

Read on Ao3

He certainly did not have time for such matters of the heart. 

Gwayne had been wished well by the third pretty young woman of the day. She had offered her favor. He was practiced at turning such treasures down. If he took one maiden’s favor on the road the word would spread faster than he could gain control of. 

Instead he had thanked them graciously making sure to bow his head and keep his eyes half lidded. 

“Your sweet words and well wishes are favor enough, my lady.” He might offer a kiss of the hand if her face looked in distress. It was better to let the poor girl down with ease. 

Gwayne shuffled into the stables hoping the stench of the manure would dissuade the young ladies of Oldtown from further distracting him from the task at hand. 

He had a letter to read. 

His sister, the Dowager Queen, Alicent Hightower, had sent him a message separately from his nephew, the king who called him to arms. He rarely heard from his sister. It was no doubt due to her importance in court. He understood the predicament. He held his tongue when it came to the dealings of politics. 

Gwayne looked at the familiar handwriting. Absently he thought Daeron and his sister nearly had the same handwriting. He thought how awfully funny it was that his nephew, raised here in Oldtown, and his sister, hardly ever seen the young lad, had such similar penmanship. 

The seal was in green wax, the three headed dragon symbol. He snapped it off, cracking the wax. He scratched at the paper with a fumble as one of the horses huffed out, impatient. He looked up to see the creature was shifting under the weight of the saddle he had mounted. 

“Oh you relax.” He assured the anxious pony with a pat. “We’ll be off soon.” 

He wasn’t certain how sure those words were as his eyes fell upon the contents of the letter. Alicient was ever the formal lady of the court sporting her courtesy and thanks for his coming to aid in marching out to war. He simply glazed over the words taking the thanks and pageantry in. It was the last few lines that intrigued him. 

As you know my daughter, Helaena has suffered greatly with the loss of her son. I am told there is a young woman in the company at Oldtown that may not only make a decent maid servant to my sweet girl, but a dear companion as well. Her name is Elisabetta Flowers. I wish for you to take her with your company to King’s Landing. 

More pageantry followed. He read over the name several times. 

Elisabetta Flowers. 

A bastard who had arrived in Oldtown several year prior.

Her appearance had remained a bit of a mystery.  

She was a gorgeous dark haired beauty with a kindly yet mysterious way about her. Elisabetta had attracted much attention from the men of Oldtown who would offer gifts to the young girl upon her arrival to gain her favor or attention. She acted as a shy bashful girl in those days, but  she grew into her beauty and confidence. Her wicked tongue developed into one of wide reputation. 

Gwayne had encountered the young maiden a few times in those years though their circles did not orbit one another. He had nothing against the young woman. He knew rumors swirled about her. She seemed to enjoy the attention of the young men. 

Elisabetta was the dangerous sort of beauty. One who knew she was beautiful and wielded it well. If she had been a highborn woman, she would be a sharp weapon in war, using her beauty and body to persuade the court of all manners. She was the type of woman who could get exactly what she desired when she desired all with a flutter of her lashes. 

And yet . . . 

He sighed, folding the letter back into the envelope. 

“Let me go fetch the lady.” He kissed the side of his horse’s face. She shook out her head as if disgusted by the affection. 

Gwayne patted the letter into the saddle before moving out of the stables. His head had been down when he felt the shadow of a presence. The young woman was quite stunning, black ringlets falling across her forehead. Her little pout matched the sullenness in her eyes as she became slightly startled by the young man’s presence. 

“Beg my pardon, my lord.” Her head tipped low as she curtsied. 

He looked her over once more. She was in a slightly dirt smudged red and white peasant dress laced with white strings tied at the bodice. Her lashes were long as she looked up under them, presenting herself as a sweetly young woman. 

“No need to beg, my dear.” He tilted his head shifting in his armor. “In fact, I was the one seeking you this day.” Her face featured genuine curiosity as if dropping her act of a kindly maiden for a moment. “It seems my sister, the Dowager Queen, requests your presence at court.” Gwayne watched her as her eyes blinked slowly. 

“I am honored to hear this, my lord.” He did his best not to roll his eyes at the constant formality. “Pray tell what does the Dowager Queen wish -” 

“A companion to my niece, it appears. My niece, the queen.” He cut her off not wishing to hear her pageantry any further. 

“A companion?” She blinked once more. It was then that he noted the buckets of feed in her hands. 

“Yes, indeed,” He nodded. “I would suspect you need time to pack your things. We will be leaving at first light. The journey will be three months so please prepare yourself for travel. Many of those accompanying us will be with war on their mind. They will not be in the best mindset or be the best of company, but I was given the task to be your . . . companion on this journey.” He looked her over once more. “I will not keep you from the horses. My girl in particular has been uneasy all day.” 

With that he left her to her duties. 

Before leaving he noted the true delight that lit up her face as he spoke. 

It was then he realized his thoughts of her seemed true.. 

Elisabetta Flowers was hopeful to be a lady someday. 

“You are staring at her, nephew.” Gwayne tried not to let the humor of seeing his young nephew pine over the beautiful bastard about to leave Oldtown. 

“I am committing her face to memory, uncle.” Daeron was staring at the visage of the young woman as if his words were true. 

Gods, not his nephew too. 

“Lad, you have the eyes of many a young lady. You need not commit your attention to her.” He did not mean to let the bitterness settle in that word, but he was afraid it did. 

His tone had in fact started light however he could not help in trying to break the young lad’s transfixed gaze as the young woman adorned her horse with necessities for the trip. 

“You are taking her away from here.” He knew what his nephew meant. Gwayne was stealing her away from him. Despite growing up amongst his mother’s side of the family, the occasional Targaryen entitlement threatened to slip in. 

“It is your mother who has called her to court.” Gwayne reminded the boy. He patted the silver haired lad on the shoulder. When had he grown so tall? Nearly his height now, but Gwayne remembered the small boy he used to pick up on his shoulders to see the Citadel and other towering buildings he grew to love. 

“It is what she wants.” Daeron nodded as if speaking to himself. He lifted his hand to her. Gwayne watched as Elisabetta acknowledged the Targaryen prince with a gentle reassuring smile. 

“You have spent time with her.” Gwayne stated shifting in his armor holding his hand to the wrist of his other hand. The sun was slowly rising. They were to leave soon. 

“Yes, she tended to me as a boy.” Was he not still a boy? “She has always wanted to go to court. She finds it interesting. The rich history of the Red Keep and the smells of the sea. Her brother is a member of the King’s Guard, you know?” Daeron looked at him. 

Perhaps he saw disinterest on his uncle’s face. 

More than likely he would see contempt by the whole conversation. 

“I know what others say of her. She is not someone who is a schemer. Elisabetta is kind and gentle. She cares about people’s feelings and cares for the livestock. She is a hard worker with a wandering mind, yes, and perhaps a wandering heart, but she is loyal and will make a fine lady of court.” 

Oh this poor boy had been struck so hard by this young woman. 

“Sweet boy, please,” He caught the violet eyes of his nephew. “Find your interest wandering elsewhere. I am sure your cock will thank you.” He did not let his eyes linger any longer. 

He turned to announce they were to leave soon. Gwayne approached the young woman. She was quite petite next to the beast they had saddled her with. A white speckled horse who was usually fidgety was calm under her soft small fingers. 

Gods, were even the ponies held captive by this bastard’s beauty?!

“Do you have everything you need?” Gwayne asked, watching her dark eyes peer up at him. 

“I do. Thank you for accompanying me on this journey, Ser Gwayne.” She nodded. Her soft black curls laid across her shoulders. He could not help noting she again was wearing red. 

“That is a dangerous color to wear these days.” His eyebrows raised at the attire. 

She noted said attire looking down at herself before lifting her skirts slightly. At the sight of her ankle Gwayne felt himself swallow hard. 

A bloody ankle!

“It is the color of my father’s house, my lord. I meant no harm in presenting myself as such. What colors would be better at court? I do not wish to present false pretense that I am in favor of the Black Queen.” The innocence was light in her face. At her first words he knew she held pride for her heritage despite being a bastard. 

“It is a lovely thing to represent your house, but you are a bastard.” There she was. At that reminder he saw the sweetness fall away to the confident woman he had heard the boys around the stables whisper about. “Nobody cares to know which noble fucked a commoner to make you or however your origins go.” He paused, shifting delighted to see the real her. Her face was sour. Her eyes were beautifully scorn from the brutality of the reality he offered. “You should wear greens and golds. The colors of this house. The colors of the right Targaryen house.”

“I do not own many greens. The color red is mine as much as any other house. Would you ask a Lannister to strike out their red cloaks?” He went to open his mouth, but she continued. “Yes, I am aware I am a bastard. You need not tell me further. If I am told by others to take off my reds I will. However,” She stepped forward to whisper in Ser Gwayne Hightower’s ear. “Forgive me if I do not take the word of someone who was not taken to court as a lad.” 

He could have her pretty head for this. 

Gwayne was certain. 

She knew it as well. 

The smugness in her face as she walked away to bid his nephew goodbye told him she knew he couldn’t. 

He hated himself for trying to commit that smug look she held to his memory. 

The words still held a space in his head. 

It was nearly a week’s time on the road to King’s Landing, yet still the bastard girl’s subtle jab echoed in his head. Mostly when he meant to sleep. Elisabetta had reverted back to her sweet self, establishing a rapport with some of the other men who were meant to accompany him into battle. There were other maidens with them. Wives traveling with their husbands eyed Elisabetta suspiciously while the other single maidens meant for other positions at the capital merely whispered to one another when she stalked by. 

She stubbornly continued to dress in red. 

“What do you know of the young lady Flowers?” Gwayne questioned another knight after a shared piss in the woods. 

“My lord?” He struggled to put his cock back in his trousers as if in a panic. 

“Elisabetta Flowers. What do you know of her? Her family? Her interests? Reputation?” Each word brought him closer to the young man. He saw they were about the same age. The man was only an acquaintance. Not quite a good friend, but he knew his first name should he need it. 

“She is beautiful.” He stuttered nervously. 

“Yes, anyone with eyes can see that.” He was sure even his one eyed nephew could see her beauty. “But what more do you know of her? I know you must know something.” 

“Well,” His eyes lingered over the forest as if seeing if they were to be caught. “There is a rumor that she was meant to be sent to the Starry Sept.” Gwayne nodded. This was certainly new information. “But it was said your cousin, Ormund, intercepted her after she broke down in tears on her way to accept her vows. But truly these are rumors. There are more rumors about her as well. That seems the most true though.” 

“What are these other rumors?” Curiosity got the better of the knight. “What is the most ridiculous one you have heard?” 

“My lord, the rumors are vast. She is quite tight-lipped on her family. All that is known is that she comes from a house that favors red and that she has a half-brother in the Kingsguard.” 

“I would like to hear the strangest rumor.” He moved closer to the lad who tensed a bit. 

“I  . . . well . . . there is a rumor she is a worshipper of the Old Gods.” Not quite too scandalous. While his family held the faith of the seven the Old Gods were still worshipped in the North. If she had family there he could perhaps understand that. “That she practices ancient magic.” He blinked at those words. “That perhaps even she is a she-dragon in disguise.” 

Gwayne could not help himself. 

He burst out laughing. 

“That is absurd!” He noted covering his snort of a laugh. “A she-dragon? Do you lads have nothing better to do than to make up stories?” Of course ambition could not exist in a woman without her being in line with magical practices to get her way or some kind of devouring beast. 

A woman couldn’t simply get her way by the way of her tongue and her looks. 

It had to be magic. 

“I thank you for the laugh, my dear boy.” He slapped the young man’s shoulder. “I asked for the most outrageous and you did not disappoint.” His grin was sweet enough to ease the young lad to laugh lightly as well. 

He ventured back to the camp to see the grouping of young women begin to gather herbs together for a stew. Another one of his men was focused on skinning a rabbit for the stew. 

Beside the young man was the she-devil herself. 

Elisabetta had her white sleeves rolled to the elbows as she scraped the meat off the skin of the hare. Her fingers were coated in viscera and deep red, wiping them on the slab. A spark of pride filtered through the knight at the sight. He enjoyed a woman who was unafraid to get her hands dirty. A hard worker who had beauty to her even coated in blood made him shyly adjust his britches. It did not help when she suckled a bloody finger to her lips. 

His eyes averted before she could catch his eye. 

From what he knew of Elisabetta Flowers she was bound to do such an act. 

Instead he went on to ask about the herbs the other women had gathered. Their shyness was refreshing, adding a bit of comfort. It was a shame his father was taking his time on finding him a wife. There were so many young maidens hanging on his every word he found it quite difficult to keep his virtue. 

Not that he had virtue to keep in tact. 

He had his fair share of romps with young women. Gwayne had a bit of a wandering eye himself, but his heart had settled on no such lady. His heart belonged to his family and the men who would fight beside him. Gwayne had no time to lend his love to a woman who was merely a vessel to make him feel alive for one sweet moment. 

Tenderness was meant for those who would return his loyalty. 

“Ser Gwayne.” He heard her voice as he had distracted himself speaking to the lad butchering the rabbit. His head turned watching her lay out the brown and white skin of the hare. “Would the queen enjoy rabbit pelt gloves? I should like to make a gift for her as thanks for inviting me to court.” He looked her over shifting, his armor plates clanged together. 

“Queen Helaena is a lover of all living creatures. If you are to gift her anything, I would think the creature should be living.” Gwayne shifted his eyes over her. “And it is the Dowager Queen you should thank for your invitation to court. And perhaps your own strange ways that have made their way to the court’s ears.” 

He watched her lips steel shut into a stern line. 

“I see. Then perhaps I may send some back for your nephew, Daeron. I think he should -” 

“You will do no such thing.” Such a gift would certainly spurn his nephew to fall for the dark haired beauty even more. “There are plenty of things to be done with pelts. A blanket for you and the other maidens would be best. The nights will be long and cold in the coming months.” He watched her hands brush against her apron. 

“Have I done something to offend, my lord?” 

Gwayne promised to hold his tongue. 

He searched about the faces of his companions. They all attempted not to stare at the slight disagreement between the pair. 

“Yes,” It slipped out before he could stop himself. Before he could remember his father’s words scold him in his mind. “You mean to bolster my nephew’s infatuation with gifts. It is improper for a lowborn such as yourself to be friendly with a Targaryen prince.” 

The silence settled amongst the trees. 

Her soft brown eyes squinted at him with a flicker of anger that faded as quickly as it appeared. 

“The young prince, Daeron, is very kind. Stalwart. But I have no desire to fuel his infatuation with me. In fact I have kindly turned him down reminding him he is a prince meant to be betrothed and far too young for me. He is as a little brother to me. You are right though.” She looked down to the pelt. “I should not have suggested such a gift. I merely remembered his dragon riding gloves were damaged on the last ride he took on Tessarion.” 

Gwayne felt the eyes around him. 

“I have not forgotten my station, Ser Gwayne. I promise you that. I do not intend to seduce or manipulate my way in court. I wish to only serve the queen.” She bowed low, averting her eyes. 

“Make the stew.” He mumbled to the young guard. “I’ll be plotting my tents preparing our next route.” 

He hated himself for enjoying the banter. 

Gwayne hated himself even more hours later when he negated dinner to tend to his hardened cock and envision shoving it down the throat of the Flowers bastard. 

His frustration with the Flowers girl grew more tiresome with each passing day. 

Gwayne knew there were many days ahead. He should make nice with the serving girl, but he simply could not. Her sharp back handed compliments struck him as rude and unforgiving. She coated everything with an infuriating sweetness and tender smile that made being angry with her worse in his mind. 

And yet when he returned to his tents he found her entrapped in his thoughts. His cock and mind were in horrid communication with one another. Or perhaps it was her insubordination that made his body tingle with the need to bed her. Or was it control? 

The confusion came with each passing moment now. 

The others seemed to pay no mind to her. She was kind to his fellow soldiers. They preened with having a nice face to look upon during their travels. They even complimented her cooking even though it was shite compared to some of the other maidens. Elisabetta was not meant to wallow in the kitchens. She would do things such as dress and care for his niece during her time of mourning. 

The women were even starting to bloody take to her!

Gwayne felt his face grow sour looking upon here. He knew she was aware of his tense demeanor. Elisabetta nearly strode with confidence passing by the knight. Despite him telling her to add different colors to her wardrobe the scarlet in her clothing seemed to grow more prominent. 

The color, of course, suited her. Though he suspected every color would. He could not deny her beauty. Daeron was a boy, yes, but a boy with a taste for fine things in life. She seemed to have been the finest beauty in all of Oldtown before she had left. 

He was out patrolling the grounds thinking of her. Or trying not to think of her. His jaw was set tight. He should be considering impending battles. He should have thrown his anger elsewhere. His ire could settle upon any other matters really.

Gwayne should be thinking battle strategies and dragon fire.

Instead he was thinking of Elisabetta Flowers flat on her back moaning his name as he plowed into her sweet cunt. 

She appeared in the distance raising herself to examine something she picked off the ground. She sniffed it deeply before putting the object in a basket. Elisabetta turned her head to see Gwayne. Her little hand raised slightly. He mimicked the gesture before approaching. 

He needed these raging thoughts of her to end. 

“What is it you have there, Lady Flowers?” She was no lady, but Gwayne thought if he was polite she would not use her sharp words. He should have put her in her place for those words. He was unable. 

“It is a nut, good Ser.” Her eyes fluttered showing off the walnuts in her basket. “I wanted to make use of the sugars we have. I believe the soldiers are deserving a sweet treat of candied walnuts.” Her fingers teased the nuts in the basket. 

“Very kind of you.” He nodded nearly sighing at the effort to make small talk. “The others certainly appreciate your kindness and good smile, my lady.” 

“My smile?” She asked softly, nearly laughing. Dear Gods that voice made him want to strangle her for making him feel tingles throughout his body. “I do not think a simple smile will sate the worry in the soldiers’ minds.”

“Neither will candied walnuts.” He shifted slightly picking at the leaves. She stayed his hands pulling his fingers from tearing the leaves. 

“Careful,” Elisabetta warned. “The leaves can be used for a variety of ailments.”

“You are well learned. Where did you learn such things?” His curiosity struck the better of him. 

“I am a bit of a wanderer, my lord. But I am sure you have heard the rumors of my . . . origins.” She pulled away from him. 

Gwayne hated the feeling he had not being close to her. She sulked through the crushed leaves further. He followed still letting his mind grow curious at her words. 

“I have, but most rumors are wildly outrageous. I prefer to hear the histories from the lady’s lips.” Lips. That painted red smile as she turned to look made his heart stutter. She turned back forward roaming through the trees as a forest spirit might, her long flowing scarlet skirt teasing her trail. 

“My histories? Such an interesting request, Ser Gwayne.” There was that Gods awful tease in her throat. “It may be best to dispel what you have heard.”

“I know you are no beast.” He concluded. Gwayne idly picked up some stray nuts that gently fell one at a time like rain droplets from the trees. He examined then tossed those that did not fit the ones in her basket. 

“Yes, I am sadly not a she-dragon of old Valyria in disguise.” The soft giggle made his body tense slightly. She skipped over several stray stones. “What else?”

They were in a slightly more open area of the forest, less trees and more wide space. 

“You are a worshipper of the Old Gods.” She paused in her step. Elisabetta pointed the toes of her slight dirt covered white slipper shoes to a circle of mushrooms. 

“I do not have the capacity to worship old gods or new. My heart does not believe in the gods at all these days.” Gwayne could protest. He could attempt to spread his own worship of the Seven, but the sadness of her face told him it was not without want to believe. It was tragedy that brought her to her faithless road. “I do believe in life. The natural order of the world. The things I see.” Her fingers ghosted on the mushrooms. “The things I feel.” Her hand shifted to her heart. Her gaze fell to him. 

Was he to feel to? 

Did he feel something thunder deep in his chest at her sight? 

“A septa?” He wondered aloud, his stutter racing forward. “You were bequeathed to the Starry Sept. My lord cousin heard you sobbing of your disinterest and . . .” He trailed off seeing her shake her head. 

“No, good Ser. While your cousin, Ormund did see me cry it was not for that reason at all.” She nearly smiled at the memory. Her pause was one that made him swallow. 

“What was it that caused you such distress to cry? Surely Ormund is not that repulsive.” He meant for her to laugh. She looked up from under her lashes. He was fearful she might take the jest too serious but her lips widened. 

“No, he has a lovely face like all of your kin.” No, she should not be saying such things. “It is better if I recount my whole sorrowful story, Ser Gwayne.” She flipped her hair about leading him further into the woods. 

He trailed after her hearing the metal of his armor shift with him. She ducked between branches as she spoke. Her tone remained upbeat and carefree. 

“I was born to nobility. I was not always a bastard.” It caused him pause. He was unaware of this fact. When she said this it opened his eyes to her temperament, why she acted as she did. “I was pampered and cooed over by my father. I did not look like either of my parents. My dark hair and dark eyes were not reflective in them. He loved me until my mother’s old childhood friend visited with his elder son. Their features were unmistakable. It was clear I was his child and not the child of my good father.” There was no sadness in her tone at the recollection of her past. She appeared settled in what had happened to her. 

“It was a great scandal in the court. A great argument amongst my parents. My father, the man I thought was my father, could barely look upon my face. I was young and confused especially when it was decided I would be sent off as a ward. It was meant to prove further scandal. So I was to become Elisabetta Flowers.” Her name. The name he only knew her by, hearing her say it made him realize it brought her great sadness. 

“I was a terror in those early years of being a bastard. I still acted as a spoiled little lady you see.” She still did. She caught him in his little mischievous smile and mimed it. “Yes, I suppose I still am, but I was so badly behaved. Three houses turned me away after months of having me in their service. I was a horrid little thing making a mess, talking back, and refusing to do any chores or labor.” He could see in the distance a valley approaching. “It was your good father that asked my lord father of me. I cannot know the reason. Perhaps he knew your little nephew needed a friend, a companion. When I arrived I was met with kindness for the first time in a long while. Your kin treated me humbly with a smile. I felt at home in Oldtown. I was happy tending to the animals and children. Your cousin saw me cry tears of joy that I truly felt as equal and not as a bastard, a forgotten piece of my mother’s past, a stain on my family.” 

Flowers. 

Yellow flowers among a field of grass greeted them. 

He could hear her small gasp before she turned to him. 

“You see, Ser Gwayne. I desire belonging.” She must know what those said of her if she knew the rumors of herself. “I wish to return to that feeling again. I wish to be wanted once more.” Her hand traced along the yellow flowers. “This here reminds me of who I once was. My former house had yellow as their house color. My true father’s house holds scarlet in their sigil. I was a scarlet stain in a bed of sun yellow.” 

She looked exactly how she appeared. An oddity among the deep yellow petals swaying in the soft wind. Elisabetta Flowers, the bastard born in nobility, stood before him, her soul bare. She was beautiful among the greenery. 

A scarlet beacon, not a stain. 

“I was unaware of your tale.” He managed to push out through his chapped lips. His eyes were half lidded to shield himself from the sun that lowered in the sky. 

“How could you know?” Her fingers, light and delicate, traced the petals at her side. “I have told no one of my past.” He moved through the flowers letting them both sway and crush under his movements. Her eyes flickered to Gwayne as he moved closer, caution thrown away for curiosity. 

“The rumors seemed to indicate a secret, but there is only sadness in your story.” Yes, he could see that sadness in her eyes as he approached her. “Yet you are well loved, it appears by the people despite the rumors.” Gwayne may have only been speaking of himself. 

“Untrue, Ser.” Elisabetta shook out her curls. “The women despise me and the men . . . well . . . you are a man yourself . . . you know men only desire one thing from women such as myself.” 

Was he that sort of man? 

Did he only desire that needless sensation from her? 

“I know of what men desire. And I see what they could desire from you.” He was close enough to hear her unsteady breath. “I admit you have plagued my thoughts these last months. Your thrill to belittle me has stirred feelings within me.” Her honesty had given him courage to speak his own. His hand moved to cup her face. “I would think those thoughts be of ire, frustration, mayhap even a hatred for a poor pathetic thing such as yourself, but here I am,” He said with a shift and a sigh. “Intrigued by your tale. I should feel grateful at the misery you have suffered, but instead I am left bewitched. I feel no pity for you Elisabetta. No, I am understanding of your need. I finally realize why my nephew feels so strongly for you. Tortured flower,” He breathed into her ear making sure his breath was hot and wanting. “Needful girl. Starved woman. You merely want that which you have lost, that love. Is that not what all good honest men and women need, desire?” He looked upon her, the dark innocence crawling in her face. The deep dark desire she held blackened her gaze.  “What am I to do with such a pretty little flower?” Her hand tickled at his collar, the tower etched into his very armor. 

She traced the high tower. 

“Mmmm . . .” She hummed with a quiver on her pretty lips. “I know what I want done to me.” 

There those dark eyes stared at him. She leaned. Gwayne caught her chin causing her lips to part. He could smell the tea leaves on her breath, the sweet milk she poured too much of. He looked to those plush lips with curiosity of an unlearnt man in natures of physical contact. He had devoured the lips of many a lady, taken the virtue of many. He had never hated a woman so much that he wanted her just as badly as he should hate her. She leaned forward practically on her toes. 

He pulled from her. 

Elisabetta let out a soft whimper. 

“Beg for it.” Gwayne leaned into her ear once more. 

“I am not a beggar.” The sneer resided within that pitiful smile. 

Fuck did it make him harder. 

His lips parted meaning to smile. Her hand and little fingers at his collarbone, at that raised piece of metal with the sigil of his house, made him falter in his resolve. It weakened him grealy, enough that he did not notice she was inching for his lips until they were upon his. 

Gods . . . why did he resist this for so long? 

It was not just the months on the road that made him frustrated with need to bed a woman. 

It was her. 

She was a constant in his day that vexed him so. 

Those soft lips held power. He could taste it now. Warm tea and sweet milk on his lips caused his hunger to become starvation. Elisabetta was not a shy woman though he had not suspected her to be. She clung to his warmed armor devouring his lips and letting her tongue tell him she was more wanting then he imagined. 

Their hands fumbled to remove armor and garment. To his surprise she was not well versed in unclothing armor. His mumbles of confusion at this caused her to admit the truth. 

“I have never bedded a knight.” She said of her past. “Only stable boys in my youth.” Her hand skated across his chest, now absent of metal discarded among the pretty flowers. “I have not been satisfied in quite some time, Ser Gwayne.” His name fell hard off her lips as she looked upon his cloth shirt now revealed. 

“Well,” He pushed himself closer to her so her palm was laid flat to his chest. “I shan't disappoint, my lady.” 

His hands began to unlace her bodice. Gwayne often cherished taking his time to reveal the breasts of the women he bedded. This moment was no moment to cherish. The passion and quickness of his fingers pulled her laces apart to reveal her bosom for nearly a moment before it was pressed to his own. Her hands worked to remove garments from his own body leaving his skin hot with friction and need for her. 

Gods be good, this was better than anything he had imagined. 

She was so petite and delicate he thought he might break her at first. Instead he found himself thinking of being broken as that small body lunged for him. He held her close to his chest as his biting and needful kisses enveloped his mouth and her little hand raked through his locks. He hummed against her lips because Gods did she feel good to hold. 

In the struggle of who may gain the upper hand in their love making he had won out, by only a margin. Gwayne pushed the little bastard to the bed of flowers crushing some under her weight. His imagination could not have conjured the scene himself. 

Elisabetta Flowers laid tits half exposed among the yellow flowers, dark hair spread out under her little round face. Her eyes were lidded with desire. Her lips were half open with tiny breaths. He pulled down the rest of her laces and bodice causing her to gasp. 

Tear drop hardened nipples were only exposed to the cool air for a moment before they were taken by the knight’s mouth. Her laugh was playful. He could feel her fingers in his hair as he bit into that warm flesh. He made sure neither breast went without his wetted lips for long or the scrap of his teeth. 

He was sure to mark her. 

If any man came upon these breasts again he wanted them to know someone had already been here. 

“Mmmmm . . . ” Gods she was so impatient. 

“Oh, you need me to fuck you right this moment?” He hummed looking between her breasts. He needed it as well but did not need the bastard girl to know. “Have you changed your mind? Will you beg?”

“No.” The softness and taunt toward him made his teeth clench while looking upon her. 

This was a game to her. 

To see if he would give into temptation. 

He would. Gwayne was well aware of his hardening cock and the wetness between her thighs. His hand snaked to find her small clothes warm with moisture. Her small mouth parted as he touched her where she ached. She squirmed beneath his touch. 

“I think you’ll change your mind soon. I have VERY good fingers.” His thumb found that little bud, not quite as small anymore, well engorged as he stroked it. 

Her brow raised. Her back arched. The dark haired beauty’s lips parted to make the most needful noises. He slipped his fingers inside her giving practiced thrusts all while his thumb encouraged her to peak. It was so easy to do so. 

She was right. 

It must have been a while since anyone had truly satisfied her. 

How sad. 

She was a beautiful woman. A bastard still, but so very charming and stunning. 

Elisabetta should be satisfied every night. 

He thought she may have lied to him. Gwayne was certain she seduced men to her bed to gain power, but her body did not lie. Her whimpers and little uncontrolled shakes told him she did not only desire this, but NEEDED this. 

It was the reason he stopped. 

“No.” The word was a little different as he put his fingers to his lips. 

She tasted sweet. 

“No, is it? You want my fingers inside you again?” It was his brow to raise in question. “Or perhaps my cock?”

Her eyes narrowed, but he could see the fresh sweat against her brow. 

She parted her legs ever so slightly. He glanced down to see the scarlet skirt dip to showcase her thighs as the fabric laid gently over them. 

“I am much more practiced at avoiding temptation, sweet girl.” He shifted from his position over her to his knees. 

“I can see you are wanting, Ser.” Her hand reached for his cock. It was so sorely strained against his britches. He grabbed her wrist tilting his head to gaze upon her sultry gaze. “Why are we playing when we know how this will end?” 

“My dear,” He pulled that wrist and her hand as he leaned down to pin her against those pretty flowers she admired. He made sure to press the weight of his armorless body against her, squeeze his chest against her breasts. He felt her breath hot and tinged with milk let out as he laid atop her. He shifted her skirts so she could feel his hardness rather than just a visual representation of his desire.  “You must know the tease makes the fuck much more satisfying.” 

She hadn’t noticed he had unsheathed his cock. 

It made her face all the more pleasurable when he entered her. 

Gwayne wasted no time in fucking into her sweet little cunt. It was tighter than he expected. Her thighs and legs folded around him making his rapid thrusts ever deeper. He moved her hair as it fell to her face. He needed to see this woman fall apart on his cock. Her face was a symphony of emotion. She raged with pleasure that made him feel boastful. Her moans were silent, but he could see them all the same escaping from her. 

It pained her that they let out from her. 

He could see that. After each pleasure ridden expression there was a sliver of regret. The red haired knight only held a face of gratification that in the end he had been the victor. She may not have fully begged aloud, but her deep rooted desire had spilled out against her will. 

His thumb at her bud coaxed out small noises from her parted lips. 

“Gods . . . it feels so perfect.” Had no one had touched her like this before? Her body trembled again. There was a slight fearful expression on her face. Her cries grew louder. “Oh GODS!” She held onto him as if she were to fall, to crash. 

Elisabetta was close to peaking. 

He would make sure she peaked with him. 

His thrusts grew more possessive and hungry. He chased his edge faster feeling her tightness grow tighter around his cock. Her cries were wildly untamed leaving half moons at his neck where her nails dug in. Gwayne could not help in whimpering as he spilled inside her. 

Fuck. 

He had meant to spill on the flowers not inside the Flowers woman. 

She was still shaking as she came down from her orgasm. 

Gwayne felt a moment of tenderness escape him. He caressed her face, warm and heated from the passionate embrace. He thought of kissing her. He desperately wanted to. He had never been so compelled to kiss a woman after love making then he was with Elisabetta Flowers. 

She looked like a goddess laid out among the yellow blossoms. 

Instead he removed himself from inside her and began to adjust himself back into his trousers and put his armor back on. She did the same adjusting her own garment. 

Silence fell upon them in the warm orange hue of the sun. 

“Mareen has moon tea.” She stated breaking the somberness. He looked upon her seeing she shifted little pins back into her hair. “I will be discrete in -” 

“There is no need.” He said with a half swallow. He adjusted his chest plate softly. “Knowing my men they would be placing bets when I would bed you. I apologize for spilling inside you. I do not get carried away often.” 

Was that a blush? 

On her pretty cheeks, yes, the Flowers woman blushed, peering down. 

“It is that obvious you favored me?” 

“To them, yes, they are as brothers to me.” He nodded softly thinking that he was more close with them then his own siblings at times. 

“It is nice to have that bond.” Her smile was a little sad, but the hope made him nod his head. 

“There will be many opportunities to find what you seek in King’s Landing. My niece is a sweet girl who will be so appreciative of your company and you have kin there from what I understand?” He watched her shift to pick up the basket of walnuts. 

“Yes, I have not seen my elder half-brother since I was a girl. I will be glad to see him again. He was a bit abrasive when we first met, but I remember when we departed he told me he loved me. I have been holding those words so close to my heart since you told me I would be the queen’s new companion.” Her hand went to her heart. 

Gwayne could not help, but look at her chest. 

Next time he would keep his face buried between her tits longer. 

“I am glad for you, my lady.” His eyes focused on hers once more, mischievous and still filled with unspoken desire. “I will make sure you are well taken care of on this journey.” 

More months passed in their journey. 

The unkindness and tension fell away between Queen Helaena’s new maid servant and companion, Elisabetta Flowers and Ser Gwayne Hightower. It was replaced with light flirtation and the occasional kiss in the back of a tavern or behind a tree. The knight decided he should remain chaste for the remainder of his journey. Sadly that meant his cock only received attention from his own hand. 

Kisses they had decided were well and good. 

Kisses could not produce bastards. 

He was beginning to find admiration in her. Gwayne enjoyed discovering new things about her. She was indeed a horrid cook. Elisabetta was good company. She could understand crass or bawdy jokes of the men. She had a little laugh. She was a fine eater. While her cooking skills were not excellent she was good at foraging and finding herbs for meals and ailments. She knew a little about a lot of things. She enjoyed walks and nature. 

On their last night before they entered the Red Keep he discovered one last thing he found adoring about Elisabetta Flowers. 

There was a bard, a young lad with a breaking voice. He was nearly booed from the stage. It was the dark haired girl sat next to Gwayne who began to harmonize with him. It eased him. The song eased the crowd as well for the woman had a voice that worked so perfectly with the young man’s cracking voice. 

She could sing. 

She could sing well, beautifully even. 

He had promised not to love. Gwayne had sworn to himself not to do so. If there was a moment to fall for someone it was there and then, watching her eyes flutter closed as she poured her voice into the soft lullaby of a song that eased grown men from boos to soft silence. 

He asked her to come to bed with him that night. 

They did not make love or fuck or do anything of the sort. 

“I would like a warm body to hold if that is alright with you, my dear?” He watched her stare in his doorway at the inn. “I suspect it is something you wish for as well.” 

It was the most dangerous request the knight could have given. 

She accepted laying beside him in sleep. 

It was a sweet thing to hold a young lady, to feel her nestle beside him. He could even hear her heart as he shifted in her restless slumber. Her hair was so soft. Her body was so warm. Elisabetta trusted him so deeply he now understood. This was a different feeling to sleep beside her then he had with any other woman he had in his bed. She didn’t cling to him in the same manner as the other women. 

She held him as if they were man and wife. 

It scared him and excited him all together. 

He held a small smile when her horse picked up speed upon entering the gates of the Red Keep. Her excitement was felt through his party. One of his men even felt the urge to stop her. 

“Leave her be good Ser.” His horse shifted as he approached the gates himself. “She is merely enthusiastic to see her brother.” He knew this from their many months together. 

She was thrilled to be with blood again after so many years left abandoned. 

He was also enthused to see his own sister. 

Alicent had come to greet him. 

“Sister.” He meant to be more excited, but he could see Elisabetta behind his own sister. Her horse had come to a halt. 

“Brother.” She responded with a curt nod. Her hands were folded together. He saw her picked over nails studded short. Her nerves, her habit, things were dire here. “Many thanks for responding to my message. I trust you had a safe journey. The Flowers girl -” 

“Yes, well taken care of. Though I fear I may have broken little Daeron’s heart. He was smitten with the girl.” He watched as Elisabetta held a wide smile on her face. 

She hopped off the horse with ease. His sister was speaking, but he was watching the dark haired woman bounce, nearly trip over her red and white dress as she rushed to a dark haired man in white cloak armor stationed beside a horse. He turned. His smile was not as wide as hers, but it was a genuine look of recognition and love. She threw her arms around him. 

He held her close. 

The reunion was quite a sight that made him nearly proud. 

“Pardon sister, but, that man,” He motioned to the two who had broken from their embrace. They were now holding hands lightly. Elisabetta was excitedly talking to him. “Who is he?” 

“That is the new hand,” New hand? What was she on about? Their father was King Aegon’s hand. “Ser Criston Cole.” The commander of the Kingsguard?

Shite. 

[cherryheairt]

O Hello, can you write about Gwayne? I really like the way you write.

EI was thinking something like enemies to lovers. Instead of Baela, she is the one who flies over the dragon. They met at the dinner Viserys prepared before he died in the first season.

At the end of the dance Gwayne is forced to bend the knee and accept Rhaenyra as queen. Her daughter doesn't miss the opportunity to make his life hell, until he corners her in a hallway and takes her like a dragon.

hello! I love this prompt, I miss gwayne already 💔

Beckae is the name I gave MC, just to add to the immersion of a Targ-Velyron lol, pronounced Becky still. No description for the reader (mother is Rhaenyra but father is anyone made up, lets say that the reader looks a spitting image of their father to keep it neutral. fem pronouns. I couldn't include the smut at the end, just a lil steam. I'm sorry 😞, I'm terrible at writing those scenes.

noticed that Gwayne's costume included a ring on a chain, a thing typically done by people who want to keep their wedding ring on them, but not lose them. It gave the the main idea for this lol

Dance of Green and Black

When Gwayne Hightower and Beckae Velayron were forced to wed by order of Rhaenyra Targaryen, both did not bother to hide their vexation. They were married mere days after Rhaenyra won the Iron Throne, her loyal men killing Aegon ii in his state of disarray from his burns.

Now, months later, they had left their marriage uncomsumated and drier than the sandy hills of Dorne. They refused to sleep in shared marital chambers at the Red Keep, having agreed on that one thing. Gwayne reluctantly took his father's place at court, staying among the very snakes that brought him here in the first place. He cursed himself for ever responding to Alicent's letter when Aegon first took the throne. If he hadn't, he'd be living his life peacefully alone at the Old Tower.

Now, his days were spent being tormented by the spoilt Princess. She attended each council meeting, laughing snidely at every suggestion Gwayne gave his Queen, and suggesting one of her own in turn. She got away with this every time, seeing as her grandmother was the Hand of the Queen, Rhaenys, and her mother was the Queen.

Gwayne sipped on his wine, which he had taken to indulging in every council, listening to the drowl words of the nobles around him. His wife shared his boredom, apparently, twirling her own glass in her hand. Beside him, she huffed every few minutes. He resisted the urge to ask her to excuse herself if she were so bored. Suddenly, a wet 'splash' fell to his lap, dampening his breeches.

"Oops..." Fluttered the Princess, who covered her mouth in surprise. "That was an accident, I assure you." Though Gwayne could care less if it was genuine or not, he was already scooting his chair out and storming out of the council room. Shocked faces around the table landed on Beckae, who at least had the gaul to look embarrassed. Rhaenyra raised a brow at her daughter, nodding her chin toward the door shortly.

The Princess swiftly followed after her husband, not truly caring for his embarrassment but moreso glad to be given an excuse for leaving the room. If she had known putting her mother on the Iron Throne would have been so dreadfully boring, she would've taken her dragon to Pentos and lived out her days as an old maid.

Gwayne reached his private chambers first, long legs able to carry him so much faster. He took off his trousers and small clothes, left with his bottom half bare to the world. Beckae followed after him, gasping and turning around at the sight before her. Shit, she thought. Perhaps she should've waited at his doors.

"Here to empty your goblet entirely? Go ahead, I'm used to it." He sneered, rolling his eyes at her sudden bashfulness. It would not be the first time she witnessed such a thing. For modesty's sake, he slipped on a fresh pair of linens.

"I am merely here to apologize, husband. Not patronize." She mumbled, face hot.

"Hm." He stepped forward, taking her chin in his hand and forcing her to look up at him. "Where was this attitude when you were chasing after me on your dragon? I think your true colors much suit you, wife."

She grit her teeth, annoyed at his haughty behavior. "It was war. If I hadn't been on my dragon and your party happened upon me, I'd have been killed by Criston Cole without remorse."

"I wouldn't have allowed that to happen." He insisted confidently.

She snorted, "when had that man ever listened to you? He hardly heeded the usurper's orders when he was alive."

"Do you think I would have let you die, especially such a dishonorable death?" Gwayne questioned, squeezing her cheeks harder.

She grimaced, "we were not wed, then. Barely acquainted, to add."

He looked disappointed at her snarky reply. "I may not hold much affection for you, wife, but I have always shown myself to be an honorable man, have I not?" When she didn't respond, he continued. "I would say we were not acquaintances, either. Were we acquainted when I bestowed upon your head the crown of The Queen of Love and Beauty at your nameday tourney?"

"That's different. You had to name me that. It is the expectation of a tourney winner to name the celebration's main subject with that title." She said.

"I could've named someone else, even so. Was our little tryst that night meaningless?"

"You cannot use that against me, Gwayne. It is shameful enough that I allowed myself to do such a dishonest thing." She grabbed his wrist lightly, urging it away from its grip. He listened, moving it to a more gentle caresse at the base of her neck, tangled in her hair.

"I do not regret it." He said, softly. "Nor do I regret the night we spent together after the dinner with our families."

"Gwayne," she pleaded, avoiding his intense gaze. While their marriage was yet to be officially consumated, she was far from a maiden. He was to thank for that, of course. How ironic that they ended up married only after they begun to resent each other.

Gwayne resented his entrapment here. She resented his family and his actions during the war.

"What, Princess? I only speak the truth and you know it. Do you regret it?"

She remained silent, hands placed on his chest as if to ground herself.

Gwayne took that as his answer. "We do not have to live this way. We could leave—return to my home in Old Town. You can have your privacy, do whatever you please whenever you'd like. I beg you, it is torturous here for me, and I know you share that sentiment. I will not ask for heirs, I have my brother for that. You can take a lover, a paramour of your choice." He promised her, grabbing her hands and bringing them together. On his knees, he looked the proper image of a knight, kneeling like such. To beg for his Lady to do him this one favor, to release him from court.

"I do not want a lover." She said lowly. "I want for you."

His eyes widened, then his brows furrowed together in bemusement. "You have taken it upon yourself to belittle me publically every day, do you expect me to now believe that you do not resent me?" He scoffed bitterly.

The Princess looked away from him, unknowing of how to phrase her next words. "That is true, I will admit to my teasings–"

"I would hardly call them teasings." He cut in.

She glared at him, continuing. "–or torments, perhaps. No one truly enjoys court, it is both of us who are trapped her together. If I hadn't been forced to marry you, we would have both been free to live where we wished."

"Your mother is Queen, if you only ask she will provide."

"You overestimate my influence, Gwayne. She wants your advisory in council–for Gods know what–and she knows you being married to me keeps you loyal to her."

"Then I will stop being useful. I will be the worst advisor that council has ever seen." His face lit uo in a smirk, as if we were a profound genius.

"Do you not think she will see through this rouse."

"You will be my aid, dear Lady. You need only continue your extremely rude and annoying actions, only louder and more aggressive, so that they will have no choice but to kick you out from future meetings. In addition, my uselessness will send me with you out of the Keep to be rid of us both. If we hate each other in their eyes, they will not suspect that we are working together." He explains.

She carefully thinks it over. True, they would not want wither of them uselessly loitering around the Keep after they were kicked out of the council. She nodded firmly, agreeing to his plan. If all things went to shit and they were discovered to be playing a rouse, the only consequence would be a scolding. What was stopping them?

🏰

Gwayne and Beckae went through their little routine for weeks. The Princess rudely commenting on the entire council's opinions now, not just Gwayne's. Not rude enough to be kicked out immediately, but for irritated glares to be regularly shot at her. If looks could kill, Beckae would have been buried long ago. Gwayne, for his part, entirely stopped giving his opinions. If asked, he exaggeratedly thought for a long time before giving false information.

The weeks passed with many stressed advisors going through the boring meetings with many complaints to the Queen and her Hand. With Gwayne and his wife, however, they started to bond over their mischiefs. Late at night, after their duties were done, the two shared laughter and pleasent conversation over their cups.

When Rhaenyra pulled the married couple aside one morning, before the meeting started, Gwayne and Beckae felt giddy with anticipation.

"You two...I have been thinking for a while now. I think it is time you retired from court and traveled back to Old Town, to raise your children and take care of your House directly from it." The Queen avoided her true reasoning, skirting politely around the Hightower man.

They both nodded solemnly, agreeing with her choice. "We will miss the Keep, Mother. I expect next time I visit, you will perhaps be blessed with a grandchild." Beckae said, hugging her mother, who looked relieved.

Gwayne's brows raised at her words but agreed with them in front of the Queen. Soon, she left the married couple alone.

They shared a loud laugh together, holding each other at their small win. "Free at last!" The Princess cheered, earning a hearty chuckle from her husband.

"Indeed, wife. What were you saying, blessed with a grandchild? Are you so eager to be bed in your new home?" He asked teasingly.

She felt her face grow unrelentingly hot, scoffing. "I was only appeasing her." She said.

Gwayne hummed disbelievingly, nodding along. "I'm sure you were, wife."

At her gawking defenses, he only laughed and walked to his chambers to pack.

🏰

After a sickening three months on the road to Old Town, Beckae and Gwayne were more than ready to sleep on cushioned beds.

So ready, in fact, that they didn't bother to split into separate chambers. Both in Gwayne's chambers, the Princess and Gwayne relaxed in his spacious bed.

"I can not tell you how much I missed a proper bed." She sighed loudly, groaning in pleasure at the comfort. He did the same, humming his own praise.

Well into the night, the two merely talked and sipped on cups of sweet wine. In only their night shifts, Beckae could clearly spot a ring shining on his chest. She grabbed it, pulling it towards her slightly, fingerd brushing over his bare chest and earning a shiver from him. He leaned in with the ring, the chain pulling him by the neck.

"I did not notice this. I had thought you threw your wedding ring away the second you left the feast." She said softly, smiling at the sight of his matching ring.

"Of course not. I am not so cruel." He said, grabbing her own ring-adorned hand and gently placing a kiss on top of the ring. She giggled at the ticklish feeling, earning a smirk from Gwayne. He smirked, continuing to place feathery kisses up her arm, to her shoulder, then neck. The sensitive skin being so softly kissed made her shiver in turn, sighing pleasently. He paused before reaching her lips, grabbing her chin softly in his hand. Silently he asked for her approval.

Nodding, she was immediately drowned in a hot kiss, his tongue invading her mouth as she moaned. She moved her hands to his red hair, tugging at it. He moved her onto her back, hands squeezing her waist playfully. They pulled apart, lips swollen and panting.

The ring hung down to her own chest as he leaned over her. She twirled the ring in her finger, pleased at the sight of it. He was hers, and she was his. Entirely. She brought him down in a kiss again, pulling his chest to her own and adoring the heat that he brought with him.

That night, they comsumated their marriage in a way that no one could deny, every servant in the Tower being able to hear their Lord and Lady making heirs.

🏰

[maybeiwasjustjade]

This is the last time I’m gonna talk about this topic, mostly because it’s hiatus era and I would like to be able to write fics without outrightly bashing s2 Alicent, but I do think it needs to be said.

There’s nothing defendable in what Alicent did when she gave up her entire family on a silver platter for Rhaenyra.

So many takes about how we—the ones who found that scene abominable and abhorrent—misread the scene, or purposefully misinterpreted just to hate her; that what Alicent did was a good thing because it would have spared her entire family if only she let Aegon die. Giving up Criston and Gwayne’s location to be slaughtered (in what is most likely going to be Butcher’s Ball) wasn’t the intention; Alicent would never do that to her family and this was the only way to ensure survival en yada yada yada.

Yet the only person she said anything about saving was Helaena and Jaehaera, the latter of which is still continued to be dehumanized by no one referring to her as anything but ‘child’. Alicent put no thought towards Daeron—her innocent 16 year old son, who has done nothing—who was now joining a war that she started by declaring his brother king. Daeron, who’s flying alongside the Hightower army, in a war that will not end just because the Dowager Queen decided enough was enough. Who might die, and actually will die, before he ever sees his family again.

And even if she believes Rhaenyra executing Aegon would end the war (which it won’t), what made s2 Alicent think that the deaths would stop there?

A son for a son? Rhaenyra didn’t even remember that Jaehaerys had already been murdered for Luke. What made Alicent think that Rhaenyra would spare fucking Aemond of all people??? Aemond, who killed Luke and Rhaenys, who’s now Prince Regent because Aegon’s heir is dead? Who rides Vhagar, and would rather burn the world down than cleave to Rhaenyra? Who’s committed the majority of the crimes that make up Team Green? No, Aemond will have to die.

Daeron will have to die.

Jaehaerys, had he lived, would have to die anyway.

Maelor if he existed too.

Otto, Criston, Gwayne—all dead by virtue of being active participants and commanders in TG.

The only way Rhaenyra can claim that throne and ensure she can hold it is by eliminating the rival claimants, down to the youngest son.

That was something s1 Alicent knew, had raised her son on the belief they would die if their sister ascended, before the writers butchered her to a million pieces and left a caricature in her place. The claims go down son to son before it reaches daughters, which meant killing Aegon wouldn’t stop Rhaenyra’s troubles. She’d have to go after his sons and brothers too before the throne is legally hers.

There is no version of this story, where war has already started and a king crowned, that would end with little bloodshed beyond the death of said king.

In a different world, an argument could be made to spare some of them. If Rhaenyra had ascended untouched, then perhaps deals could’ve been made. Aegon would still have to die, I’d imagine. Take the Black at minimum, with Jaehaerys following in his footsteps as an adult or perhaps the Citadel. As long as Aegon’s line persisted, there would always be a chance of rebellion happening once Jace becomes king. So that whole line would have to be removed.

Aemond and Daeron would be less dangerous, but there would be little chance they’d be spared. The Black for Aemond, because I can’t see him agreeing to be a Kingsguard. Daeron would go to the Citadel without question. Jaehaera would either be married into the main line via Aegon III like in canon, or Rhaenyra would arrange for her to marry Jace to solidify his claim. He’d have a better claim through Jaehaera than Baela, after all.

And even then, that was still best case scenario. Worst case they’re all executed to protect Jace. Because Rhaenyra’s reign might somehow be mediocre and peaceful (really she has no makings of a great queen), but Jace’s will be a landmine. Between two legitimate brothers and no sisters to marry them to and trueborn cousins and uncles, Jace’s ascension was going to be a massive clusterfuck that would make the Dance look like a play.