#but in this universe myrah would still be woc in a very white (facing) space trying to a make a name for herself

[dulcewrites]

Super obsessed with broadway myrah..

More Than I Can Bare

There is no peace leading up to the worshop. Aemond had woken up each day with a different aching muscle. First his head pounding, then his back throbbing, or a random bruise on his knee.

But he would lying if he said he would trade it for anything. As cliche as it sounds, he gets to wake up and do something he cares about. A little bit of pain inflicted by stress is welcomed. Expected even.

Nothing could bring his mood down… well almost nothing.

Rhaenyra had blown through draped in typical New Yorker black, and Celine sunglasses covering her eyes. Faux smiles and pretend well wishes settled on her face and from her lips; Aemond knew his sister well enough to know this was not a courtesy drop in, it was to rattle Viserys. Or to annoy Aemond. Both had been accomplished thoroughly.

The rest of the cast and members of staff gushed over her appearance, but it was Myrah who had to the largest reaction. Wide eyes catching on Rhaenyra in awe. Eyes following the starlet like a lost puppy. There was something sweetly earnest about the whole thing to Aemond. She comes in the following day dawned in black performance wear. It was endearing to see her be so painfully young and green. Myrah has the same childlike ability everyone does to want to copy someone she admires.

Rhaenyra had taken notes, notes, as if she was still a part of the creative process. Aemond had broken two pencils in the process, and one pen leading to him have to change shirts once the ink spilled.

Myrah accepted them with smile and grace. She does everything with a smile and grace.

“Your sister is so cool,” she beamed over lunch. “She told me she really likes the show so far.”

Aemond just hums, not having it in him to bring Myrah down from the euphoric state. Her foot brushed against his under the table, and he wonders if she meant to do it on purpose.

“Myrah, darling,” Viserys sticks his head out of the theater door. “Lisa in costumes needs you.”

Darling. Viserys called everyone some sort of term of endearment, but something about him calling Myrah that made Aemond want to throw up his salad. Myrah sighs under her breath.

“She has been nipping and tucking this dress for days, any less fabric and I’m putting on a burlesque show,” she stands from the craft area set up in the small lobby of the theatre. She turns to Aemond with fake stern look. “Those pages better be done by the end of the day.”

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted. He can’t help but watch her walk away. A bit enraptured by the the coils falling out of her make-do bun and the spring in her step.

“Crushing on the future star is a bit cliche, no?”

Aemond’s shoulders tense instantly at the sound of his sister’s voice. Rhaenyra walks from behind him and goes to sit where Myrah did.

“The writer and the singer,” she laughs. “Yeah, men are so simple.”

“Why are you even here,” he bypasses her observation. “You left for a reason.”

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes. “So because I don’t want to tap dance across a stage anymore, I can’t come visit my family?”

“You didn’t want to, or the clock was ticking and you got out before it could blow?”

Rhaenyra’s light eyes darken at the accusation. Despite still being the prime of life, her ‘aging’ was always a sore spot, especially between her and their father. He knew that though Viserys never said it outloud, it always implied that Rhaenyra would not be daddy’s little star forever. Aemond doesn’t know if that fact hurt Viserys or Rhaenyra more. Her early theatre retirement came at a shock to everyone, including the family.

“Look,” the playful tone has been dropped. “I’d warn your friend to be careful. I’ve seen this movie before. One day, he will be telling you she’s just some actress, the next you’ll be a guest at their wedding.”

Aemond’s lip curls into a bit of a sneer at the recollection of what Viserys did to his mother. Alicent tells him she doesn’t regret the chance to live out a pipe dream and that in the end it brought her children, but Aemond sees the way her eyes sadden at the mention of her late 20s. What could have been.

But that was some time ago, things are different, including how the industry works.

“It’s not like that,” Aemond frowns.

“Not like that… now,” Rhaenyra shrugs. “I know you don’t like to hear this but your last name means something. For all the positives and opportunities, it also means you’ve been coddled to hell,” Rhaenyra holds up her hand to stop Aemond when he tries to interrupt. “That no fault of your own. But you don’t have to advocate yourself when you walk in a room. The name ‘Targargyen’ does it for you. Maybe you can take a break from the pretending you don’t take advantage of that, and use it to protect her. Knowing how our father burns people out, she’ll need it.”

Rhaenyra doesn’t give Aemond a chance to respond, just pushes her expensive glasses back down on her face and gets up to leave.

A sinking feeling settles in Aemond’s stomach. The kind he used to get that made him cling to his mother out of fear. Not of anything in particular; it was always the possibility of the unknown that scared Aemond the most.

AEMOND’S VERSION OF TAMGO DE ROXANNE BC HES JEALOUS OF MYRAH AND VISERYS SPENDING TIME TOGETHER 💔💔💔💔💔

Aemond to viserys (also el tango de Roxanne, sparking diamonds, and come what may, one day I’ll fly away best songs on the soundtrack. Mashup and inserting modern music >>)