#allana is my baby girl forever and ever

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

THE BITCH IS BACK!! and better than ever apparently. reading this was like watching a scene from a movie. i'm so fucking invested in the larger story surrounding this moment, i don't even have the words. it was so tense and then ended so tenderly and i have such a clear vision of who allana is and who aegon is around her and i just need to lay on the floor now. also if they don't kiss immediately i'm gonna be so mad.

i'm obsessed with you.

i know you didn't reblog this prompt list, but i'm sending it anyway because this just screams allaegon to me

❝ i’ve been fighting far longer than you. ❞ & ❝ the more people you love, the weaker you are. ❞

i... you... you really got me to come out of retirement for this! here's a little blurb (1200 words) for my favorite couple in all of Westeros. please be nice, i'm rusty

your support of Allana means the world to me. thank you for all that you do. i love you 🖤

(banner by the ever talented @acrossthesestars)

“No, Allana, you don’t understand. There is no winning here. I’ve been fighting far longer than you. I must do my duty.” 

King Aegon paced, back and forth, from his grand bed to the fireplace. He ran a hand through his disheveled, silver hair, turning her with exasperation. She leaned against the bedpost, her arms crossed over her chest, her fingers twisting in a lock of wine-red hair, and raised a brow.

“Poor little princeling. It must have been so hard for you to grow up here,” Allana gestured vaguely around the room. “Surrounded by people who loved you, supported you, who understood you. To have your siblings…” It may have been a stretching of the truth, for she knew that Alicent had never understood him, nor had Otto. But his siblings, they had at least tried. 

If Aegon understood the weight of those words, it did not register on his face. He continued pacing. A white silk shirt lay haphazardly across his broad shoulders, his doublet cast aside and forgotten, the untied neck exposing a swath of his chest, glistening with sweat. 

“You think any of these people actually love me? I am a pawn, a means to an end. Nothing more.”

His voice was louder now. Allana knew it to be from the wine, but she couldn’t help a slight wince. He would never hurt her, of that she was sure, but the memories of her father’s rage were hard to forget completely.

“Oh Aegon, don’t be such a child.” She ignored his wince at this, refusing to go easy on him, not now. “Helaena adores you. Aemond, he just… isn’t good at expressing his feelings. He loves you in his own way.”

It was true. Helaena loved her family unconditionally. There was no arguing that she was the best of them. She was tender, and delicate, and incredibly passionate. She gave her love freely and without stipulation, from her family to a stranger. Aemond, however, kept his feelings close to the vest. He hardly knew how to make sense of the tangle of emotions in his brain, much less how to articulate them. Yet he would be the first to mount up and fly off in a rage to avenge a perceived slight to anyone he held dear.

“Aemond resents me, because he knows that he deserves the crown, but he’s a second son forced to watch his idiot brother fuck everything up,” he scoffed. “Helaena doesn’t know me. Not really. She wouldn’t be able to handle it.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Which part? The constant drunkenness or the alleged horde of bastards fathered in the beds of  every brothel in Flea Bottom? Helaena knows far more than you’d imagine, and she loves you despite it all.” 

“I-  how did you- That’s not true!” His face blanched, the color gathering in the fists clenched tightly by his sides. Allana wielded knowledge like a knife, always holding on to it until the very moment she knew that the blow would be lethal.

“Oh isn’t it? You’re the king, Aegon. All you need do is wish for a woman in your bed and you shall have it. If you need someone to clean your ass, simply snap your fingers. But if it’s secrecy you’re looking for, my lord, not even you can buy that. The servants will always talk.” 

“There’s no proof…” 

She had always known things, absorbing the whispers and gossip like a sponge, and knowing when to observe and interpret things left unsaid. When she wasn’t using the Tyrell charm to her benefit, Allana was quiet, yet attentive, a chest of knowledge tucked away in case of emergency. 

“You’re right, there isn’t. Though I think a sudden increase in silver-haired babes might have tipped a few people off.”

He deflated at that, the bravado of his anger leaving him. “What am I going to do?”

He had stopped pacing, landing in front of the fireplace, gazing at the flames as if the answer could be found within them. Allana almost felt bad for him. Aegon never asked for the responsibility that rested on his shoulders. When his father died, he had snuck away with the intention of catching a ship to one of the free cities before the news had even left the keep. He was willing to give it all up, to let Aemond rule, yet duty reigned supreme. 

“You’re going to stop feeling sorry for yourself, for one. Despite what you say, I know we can fight this. They won’t win this time.”Allana pushed off of the bedpost, crossing the room to stand beside him, her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to ground him. He was warm beneath her fingers, warm and familiar.

“There’s too much at risk, Allana! I am the king! The king does not show weakness.” He straightened, pushing past her to slump on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

“And what weakness would that be? There isn’t a single person in Westeros that would dare challenge a Targaryen. Not a single person in Essos or the Great Grass Sea. The only one brave enough to do so is your own blood.”

“Love,” he choked; the sound hoarse, as if it pained him. “The more people you love, the weaker you are. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t I? You don’t know all that I lost to be here, to do my duty.” She clasped her hands in front of her, so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She made no effort to stop the tears as they fell, hot against her skin. “I loved my brother endlessly and his death cleaved my heart in two. Then Rowan left without even a letter to soothe my pain and I swore that I would never allow myself to love again. I loved my parents, Aegon. Despite everything they’ve done, I still do. Yet they sent me here to grieve alone, a scared girl in a strange place who needed comfort and found none. I’ll never forgive them for that.”

Aegon looked at her then, an expression on his face that she could not place, not unlike one of fear. Fear that she may not love him as she claimed. She crossed the room, standing in front of him, her delicate hands cradling his face as she continued, tilting his face up toward hers so that he may see the honesty in her eyes.

“Love has brought me nothing but pain, again and again, heartbreak after heartbreak, and I’m afraid that my heart will not be able to bear another.” She stood taller now, letting go of him, her chin lifting defiantly. “But I risked it all, Your Grace. I risked my reputation, my safety, and my heart… for you.”

His arms circled her waist, pulling her tight and resting his head against the smooth fabric that covered her stomach. Instinctively, her hand tangled in the shaggy silver hair atop his head, the other stroking soothingly over his back. She held him tight, her tempestuous king, clinging to him, ivy to a mouldering wall.

“I will make this right,” he breathed. “I will find a way. For you.”

taglist: @acrossthesestars, @dragonsbone, @emilykaldwen, @arrthurpendragon, @lightblindingme