#cerel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

queen--kenobi · 3 months ago

Text

Wheel of Fortune: Prologue

Story summary: Elayna Reyne often imagines herself being someone and making a name for herself but only in the way young girls do. Unfortunately, when Elayna makes her way to King's Landing as one of Cerelle Lannister's ladies-in-waiting, Elayna finds dreams come with a price. Catching the attention of Prince Aemond may make her someone. But is it the person she wants to be?

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x OFC (Elayna Reyne), Cerelle Lannister x OFC (Elayna Reyne), OC (Tymon Lannister) x OFC (Elayna Reyne)

Chapter summary: News finds its way to Elayna. Some of it is good but most of it is bad. Elayna learns when it rains, it pours.

Chapter warnings: implied NSFT (wlw action, BDSM themes, D/s dynamics), discussions of domestic violence, some suicidal ideation, and sexual harassment. Also Tymon. Yeah, a lot for a prologue I know.

Author's note: Hi hello it's finally here! I know it's taken 5ever and a day, but it's here! I'm so excited to introduce everyone to Elayna in canon and Tymon as well. I want to thank @writingbylee for being my cheerleader and helping me since day one with Elayna you have no idea how much that means to me. I also want to thank @baba-fett and @emilykaldwen for being willing to listen to me try and figure all this out

Waves crash against the unyielding cliffside.

Elayna sighs. She looks down to the waters below. Jagged rocks stick up from the ocean, the edges sharp and dangerous despite the weathering. Elayna tilts her head. In the dying light, the areas where the rocks cluster almost look like teeth to her, the giant gaping maw of an unknown beast.

What would it be like to die upon those rocks?

What would it be like to kill someone upon the rocks? How long would someone suffer in the blistering sun and salty air? Would they die upon impact, or would it break their back and render them immobile, unable to stop the slow creeping of the Stranger?

She bites the inside of her lip. The pain stops the morbid thoughts, she finds. More and more as of late, her brain keeps coming back to them. They circle her brain like vultures awaiting the dying. Elayna closes her eyes and inhales slowly. Some days, she cannot tell if she wishes to kill or be killed. She thinks it is the latter of the two. She has no true wish to die, only to escape her suffering. Her life has become a prison she cannot escape from no matter how much she tries.

Then again. Is it truly a prison when she has willingly given her captor the keys? When the prison is of her own making?

She exhales. She pauses and rubs her face.

If only she could talk to Cerelle. If only she could make her see...

“Elayna!”

The familiar voice makes Elayna's hairs stand on end. Elayna wants to ignore him. Maybe he'll go away if she pretends he isn't there. Of course, it has never stopped him before, so why would it now? Slowly, Elayna lifts her head.

Tymon walks towards her. He seems to be in a good mood. A smile graces his features. The wind blows his hair gently. Elayna looks at his eyes. His eyes turn first when he's angry; he can keep the smile up and make it seem genuine even when his eyes make it clear he wants nothing more than to commit an act of unspeakable violence just by looking him in the eye. His jaw betrays him next.

His smile is always the last thing to go.

“Tymon.” Elayna tries her best to answer his smile. She tries to force it to reach her eyes. It feels too tight, too fake. A surge of panic overtakes her. What if he sees it's fake? Will he ignore it? Will he pretend to not see it until he can use her lack of enthusiasm against her? What if it provokes his ire? She blinks. Her eyes must show her fear, she can't have that.

Tymon laughs. When Elayna opens her eyes, she sees him holding his hands up.

“Woah.” He sounds as if he is calming down a spooked horse, not a human being. She can hear the clear amusement in his tone. Elayna bites down on the inside of her cheek. She cannot sneer at him; no one else is around, and she is too close to the edge of the parapet. Despite her early thoughts, Elayna has no desire to be pushed off the castle.

“I did not mean to startle you. My sincerest apologies.”

“Think nothing of it. I was just under the impression I was alone.”

“One might begin to think you want to be alone.” Tymon stops right beside her. The sleeve of his doublet almost brushes against the sleeve of her dress. Elayna's skin crawls. “I noticed you left particularly early.”

“I needed some fresh air is all.” Elayna looks out towards the sea. “I spoke with Jeyne Marbrand. The incense they use in their Sept must be quite... strong.”

Elayna sniffs delicately as if to prove her point. Tymon lets out a small chuckle. He places his forearms on the low wall.

“Yes, I have noticed that as well.” Tymon turns his head to the side. His green eyes inspect her. “Where is Cerelle? I thought if I found you, I might find her.”

Elayna swallows.

“Cerelle is talking with one of the Tarbeck daughters, I believe.” Gods above, she hates she knows this. “There's talk of one of them being brought in as one of Tyshara's ladies.”

Tymon hums. He looks back out to the ocean once more. He inches his forearm towards her. Elayna tries to subtly move her arm away. She reaches up and adjusts her necklace before placing her arm down.

“Mother spoke to me today.”

“Oh?” Elayna arches an eyebrow. “What did the two of you speak about?”

“Many things.” Tymon fidgets with one of the many rings on his fingers. “Mostly of the future.”

Elayna nods. Within a fortnight, Cerelle and Tymon would be celebrating their eight and tenth name day. The feast tonight kicks off the events to follow. The future looms large over everything now; all the politics and planning finally moving into action. A bitter, acrid taste surges into Elayna’s mouth. For all that Johanna cares about Cerelle, she will also use her, as is the way. A son ensures the line while a daughter ensures treaties and potential comfort in old age.

She knows what will most likely become of Cerelle, but she has no idea what awaits her. For years, she and Cerelle would joke about having to find two brothers to marry. Naturally, Cerelle would marry the eldest and Elayna the younger. Elayna presses her lips together. She gazes at the far away horizon, feeling as if she herself is as much of a distance away from her own body as the horizon. Those plans... Well. They were no more.

She hears shifting, the rustle of clothes against the stone wall. Elayna forces herself back into her body. She turns her head. Tymon now stands with his back to the wall, facing away from the sea and into the courtyard. He crosses his arms.

“The plan is for you to accompany Cerelle to King's Landing when we leave.”

“I'm aware.” Elayna tries to keep her tone pleasant. “I'm looking forward to it.”

Tymon turns his head to look at her. He evaluates her for a long moment.

“Did you hear that from my mother or sister?”

“Cerelle told me. Why?”

Tymon smirks. “Then you don't know the good news yet.”

“Good news?” Elayna huffs a laugh. “Let me guess. Your father found an uninhabited island and named it after Cerelle?”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“You're right, that is ridiculous. He named it after Tyshara.”

Tymon rolls his eyes. “I am the first born son.”

“Yes, but I've been under the impression islands are she's. On account of them being pretty to look at.” Elayna sees a brief flash of irritation on Tymon's face. “So the good news is not an island.”

“No, it isn't an island. That would be excellent news, but this is better.”

“Better than an island? Hmm. Dalton Greyjoy dying. Ideally a slow and incredibly painful death.”

“Alas. One can only wish.”

“Cerelle is betrothed to a Hightower? Is that it?”

Tymon scoffs. Elayna bites the inside of her lip to keep from giggling. As dangerous as it can be, she does enjoy annoying Tymon. He thinks himself to be so smart, to the point he corrects anyone he deems lower than himself. Yet, somehow, he falls into every single conversational trap she creates. It's almost as if he can't help it; he has to try to make someone else look like an idiot, even at the expense of making a fool of himself.

The apple never falls far from the tree.

“No. It is not Cerelle marrying a Hightower.” Tymon sniffs almost delicately. Annoyance laces every word. Elayna has no doubt in her mind if she pushes more, she will push too far. Normally, she might relish in the chance to pick a fight. Instead, she decides to play nice. “I'm sure mother has higher ambitions for her.”

“What is the good news, then?”

Tymon looks at Elayna. His gaze feels intense. Elayna looks back at him.

“Once Cerelle is settled and has found a husband, mother suggested you might come back. With us.”

Elayna's heart doesn't just sink; it plummets. It drops from her chest to her stomach the same way a boulder falls from a cliff.

“I'm... I'm afraid I don't follow.”

“Don't play dumb with me, Elayna.” Tymon smiles, and for the first time, his smile itself scares her. “Isn't this what you wanted? I would think so, given all the times you have tormented and teased me. Finally, Mother has come to her senses about everything as well.”

“Tymon, I genuinely do not know what you're talking about.”

Tymon sighs. It's one of the most patronizing sounds Elayna has heard. It makes her skin crawl and jaw tighten.

“Mother wants to ensure you and Cerelle have ample time together before Cerelle is married. Once Cerelle is settled, our betrothal will be made official and announced.”

Elayna instantly regrets not jumping off the castle and onto the rocks below. A sour, bitter taste floods her mouth. She stares at him.

“We're...?”

“To be married. Do keep up, Elayna. I cannot have a wife who is slow on the upkeep.”

Elayna's years of practice prevent her from snarling at him. Her upper lip still twitches. Her jaw clenches. She glares daggers at him.

“I'm not slow!” She pauses. Tymon gives her a look as if he might hit her should she say more. “I am merely... surprised. I wouldn't have thought I would have been a contender.”

“I thought my fondness for you was evident.” Tymon tilts his head. He almost seems genuinely confused as to why Elayna doesn't understand. “ ‘Tis a good match.”

“Surely there are better matches. One of the Lefford's daughters per-”

Elayna's next words are muffled. Tymon surges forward and kisses her. The beginnings of his beard feel rough and unpleasant against her skin, as do his lips. He takes advantage of her parted lips to try and slip his tongue into her mouth. It feels wet and gross against hers, almost slimy. An unpleasant shiver runs up her spine. Elayna clamps her teeth down on his tongue. She means it as a warning bite.

It works.

Tymon pulls away, fury blazing in his eyes. His smile drops.

“Tymon. I don't... this isn't appropriate!” Elayna hisses. “Nothing has even been announced or made official, you cannot just kiss me like that.”

“I don't care.”

“Well I do. Your reputation may not be at stake but mine is.”

Tymon stares at her, his expression unreadable. Elayna's chest heaves.

“Why would your reputation be ruined? Everyone knows you are mine and mine alone.” He reaches forward and attempts to touch her face. Elayna jerks backwards and away from him.

“Tymon.”

Both Elayna and Tymon turn towards the sound of the voice. Tymon scowls. Cerelle stands on the parapet as well. She looks radiant, the setting sun lighting her in beautiful hues. Cerelle has her father's hair and eyes but everything else about her comes from her mother, down to the cold expression she wears.

“Cerelle.” Tymon greets. His tone matches the coolness of Cerelle's face. “I was wondering where you were.”

“So you thought to seek Elayna out?” She steps forward. Tymon’s upper lip twitches, but he manages to wrangle it under control at the last second. Elayna takes the welcome distraction and begins to put some distance between herself and Tymon.

“Yes, well. The two of you are close.”

He makes it sound almost disgusting. Elayna glares at him. Still, she doesn't say anything, not wishing to draw his attention to her. Cerelle tilts her head. A perfectly curled ringlet of blonde hair falls into her face.

“Elayna is not my keeper.” She sounds as if she wants to laugh.

“No, but you are Elayna's.”

Cerelle raises an eyebrow. “Speak plainly. If you have an issue with my relationship with my ladies-in-waiting, say so and be done with it."

Tymon lifts both his hands in the air. He chuckles softly, a sly smirk making its way onto his face.

“I meant no offense, dearest sister.” He lowers his hands.

“I take offense to your actions, not your words.” Cerelle steps forward. Her gait remains surprisingly steady. Elayna knows, though. She sees the barely repressed anger and tense jaw, the way Cerelle clenches both her hands into fists for the briefest of seconds before clasping her hands in front of her, the flare of Cerelle's nostrils as she nearly stalks towards her brother.

“My actions?”

“Yes. Your actions. Mother has made it explicitly clear you are not to be alone with Elayna. Yet you openly defy her and seek out Elayna when I am busy.”

Tymon swallows. Elayna sees his Adam's apple bob. She takes advantage of his surprise and almost scurries over to Cerelle. Cerelle seemingly doesn't react to her presence.

Tymon stares at his sister for a long moment. Cerelle stares evenly back at him, her steely gaze not dissimilar to Johanna’s. Tymon must make some sort of expression because after a long minute, Cerelle's brow furrows. She raises one eyebrow. The left side of her mouth lifts slightly, not quite into a sneer but certainly a scoff. Annoyance rolls off of Tymon. His hands clench into fists for a second before he thinks better of it.

“Very well.” Tymon tries to sound pleasant, as if he's truly deferring to his sister. The blazing storm in his eyes says otherwise. He bows his head. “I shall do as instructed. Do try to not hog all of my future wife's time.”

He turns on his heel and heads towards the other set of stairs. Elayna watches him from her place behind Cerelle. She waits until he disappears from sight to speak.

“Thank you.” Elayna murmurs. She tries to effuse her gratitude into every word. Cerelle tries to keep her steady gaze. Despite her efforts, her expression softens, the hard edges of her jaw easing and forehead relaxing.

“I cannot rescue you all the time.”

“I know. I don't expect you too.”

Elayna steps forward. Cerelle does as well.

“Mother wants to see us as well. After she talks to Tymon.”

Cerelle stands torn. Elayna sees it clear as day. Cerelle refuses to close the distance, but with each passing moment, her posture relaxes some.

Elayna moves first. She steps closer to Cerelle, stopping two paces away.

“I'm still mad at you.” Cerelle looks away as she speaks.

“I know. I made a mess of things.”

“I'm not going to forgive you easily.”

Elayna steps closer. She could reach out and touch Cerelle if she wants to but opts not to do so.

“How would you like me to apologize?” Elayna looks around for a second. The two of them are alone. “I've been told I have a silvertongue when it comes to apologies.”

Cerelle's stern exterior fully breaks. She blushes. Red rises from her neck to her cheeks.

“Elayna!” She hisses. “Not here.”

“Oh, I wouldn't dream of doing that here.”

Cerelle finally closes the distance between them. She reaches out and loops her arm through Elayna's.

“We should get back to the feast.” Cerelle lightly traces a finger down Elayna's forearm. “If we don't, they'll come looking.”

“Whatever my Lady desires.”

The look on Cerelle's face sends a pleasant tingle along Elayna's spine. Cerelle hums. Elayna bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling victorious. Cerelle's expression no doubt means a delightful night lies ahead of them, one Elayna imagines many women only dream of happening to them. Her own eight and ten name day is still several moons away yet many ladies have taken to giving her womanly advice. She cannot bite or scratch for too much passion may scare her husband, and it is unseemly to mark him with her nails and teeth. He may mark her as he wishes, though. His pleasure must occur; some women say she can experience it while others say she must not. Do not get on top for he will get sick since to do so is an abomination and sin. He must never look at her nether region except for when he slides into her.

All the rules make her want to laugh. While she cannot say she has experience with men beyond a kiss, she doubts the rules. If they are true, men have weak constitutions.

Cerelle never complains about her being on top or whose pleasure comes before the others. Cerelle never cares if Elayna’s mouth finds its way to Cerelle's lips or clit. Truth be told, she seems to enjoy the act quite a lot. Cerelle does prefer Elayna not mark her; Elayna has no qualms about being marked so long as it isn't visible.

Despite her gender, Elayna finds herself performing more husbandly duties than most men. The only rule existing between them is they must not break their maidenheads. It is the only thing their husbands may have before them.

Elayna's greed knows no bounds; everything a husband could take is hers except for that one thing. The same goes for Cerelle. She owns everything except Elayna's maidenhead. Elayna can only dream of that happening.

“Perhaps I will need you tonight. I would like to spend time with my boon companion.”

“I am always at your service.”

They begin to walk towards the stairs. Cerelle's grip keeps Elayna close, as if she thinks Elayna would go far. Elayna would never. If she could, Elayna would chain herself to Cerelle. She would put a collar around her neck like a hound and hand Cerelle the lead. She wonders if it would surprise Cerelle but doubts it would; Elayna often kneels at Cerelle's feet and whines like a bitch in heat.

“Behave.” Cerelle squeezes Elayna's arm. Elayna starts. She gazes at Cerelle with wide eyes.

“I am!”

“Physically? Yes. Mentally?” Cerelle clicks her tongue.

“Oh?” Elayna arches an eyebrow. “And where exactly did you learn to read minds?”

“I didn't. I just know yours well.”

The two of them finally enter the turret. Elayna listens in case someone is coming up the stairs. She sees and hears no one. Before Cerelle can lead them down the stairs, Elayna maneuvers them towards the wall. As soon as Cerelle's back is against the stones, Elayna pounces.

Cerelle's lips slot against hers perfectly. Cerelle squeaks in surprise, which makes Elayna grin into the kiss. Cerelle quickly recovers. Elayna groans when Cerelle digs her fingers into Elayna’s hair. She avoids Elayna's intricate braids, instead opting for the thick, brown curly hair at the base of Elayna’s skull. Those strands of hair being messy can be explained away; her braids falling out of place can't be. Elayna braces herself. She places one forearm on the wall by Cerelle's head. Her other hand rests on the bodice of Cerelle's gown. She wants nothing more than to ruck up Cerelle's skirts and trace the creamy expanse of skin she knows lies under the red silk. Caution makes her stop. Fabrics wrinkle all too easily.

Still, Elayna can only be cautious for so long. She inches her hand upward, fingers grazing the underside of Cerelle's breasts. The motion makes Cerelle stop. She digs her fingers hard into Elayna’s hair, her nails nearly digging into Elayna’s scalp. She pulls Elayna's head back. Elayna isn't sure if the sound escaping her mouth is from pleasure or pain.

“No.” Cerelle's chest heaves. She doesn't look angry, despite her tone. “You aren't forgiven yet.”

Elayna pouts.

“How am I to be forgiven if you won't give me a chance?”

“You have to earn forgiveness. Me giving you what you want will only reinforce your terrible behavior.”

“You speak of me as a dog.”

“Perhaps if you behaved, I wouldn't have to treat you like one.”

“I am not a dog.” Elayna huffs. Cerelle arches a perfect eyebrow. She lets go of Elayna’s hair.

“Oh? What are you then?”

“Is not a dog not enough?”

Cerelle snorts. Despite her derision, Elayna sees the fondness in Cerelle's expression.

“No. You are not a dog. They can be taught manners.” Cerelle hums. A devious smirk appears on her lips. “You're a kitten. You refuse to listen and learn, you act as if you're above the rules, and you believe if you want it, it is yours. However, you don't have the claws nor teeth to back your attitude up.”

Elayna stares at Cerelle, wide eyed. She opens her mouth in an attempt to respond, but no sound comes out. She feels hot, not just her face but her entire body. Her breath comes in short bursts.

“I...”

“Yes?” Cerelle tilts her head. “You what?”

“You... you...”

“Is my kitten having trouble finding her words?” Cerelle grabs Elayna's chin and forces Elayna to look at her. “Answer me.”

“You're so... so mean.” Elayna whines. She tries to bury her face in the crook of Cerelle's neck to hide her embarrassment. Cerelle's grip on her chin prevents her from doing so. Cerelle clicks her tongue in mock sympathy, a direct contrast to the delight dancing in her blue eyes.

“Behave tonight, and I might just let you find out how mean I can really be.”

She lets go of Elayna’s chin. Her blue eyes meet Elayna’s hazel ones. Cerelle seeks reassurance, from the way she looks over Elayna to make sure what transpired is truly alright to the way she frowns when she sees the small red indentations from her nails on Elayna’s chin. Elayna smiles. She presses her forehead to Cerelle's. Both of them close their eyes. They stay still for a moment, breath falling into line with the other's.

“You promise?”

Elayna opens her eyes and grins. Cerelle's eyes fly open. She stares coolly at Elayna. Elayna tries her best not to laugh.

“I would be careful if I were you.”

“But what if I want you to make me regret it?”

“Then you cannot complain later.”

The sound of footsteps makes both girls back away from each other. Cerelle smooths out the wrinkles in her dress with one hand while Elayna checks her hair. None of her braids appear to be loose. She tucks the small amount of hair Cerelle accidentally removed from the carefully done hairstyle and stuffs the ends as best she can into her braids and held up hair. The two look at each other. Elayna scans Cerelle and nods. Cerelle does the same for Elayna.

“Shall we join the others?” Elayna offers her arm to Cerelle.

“I think it best.”

In the whirlwind of the feast, Elayna forgets about having to speak with Johanna. She spends most of the night dancing and laughing. No one yet knows of her creeping fate; Elayna takes advantage of this fact. Truth be told, she refuses to imagine what her future looks like. Instead, she decides to enjoy the moment.

The moment includes Elayna staying with Cerelle as the first night of festivities begin to wind down. They don't even bother to come up with an excuse if they're questioned; it's happened a million times before after a feast and will no doubt happen again. Everyone knows the two are inseparable.

“Elayna.” Cerelle murmurs from the dark. They lay in bed together, Cerelle pressing up against Elayna from behind. One of her arms lightly rests over Elayna's hips.

“Yes?”

“You have yet to make good on your promise and apologize to me. Properly.”

Elayna hums. She rolls over to face Cerelle. They both wait for a second.

“I suppose I can.”

*****************

“I don't want to marry Tymon.”

Elayna knows not the hour. She assumes early since the darkness seems almost oppressive. Elayna rests her head just underneath Cerelle's bare breasts. Cerelle sits mostly upright, lounging on some pillows. One of her hands rests on Elayna’s head, fingers gently intertwining into Elayna’s dark curls.

“You must.” Cerelle gently scratches Elayna's scalp in a comforting gesture. A tinge of sadness colors Cerelle's tone, though. Elayna buries her face into Cerelle's soft curves. She takes a moment to find her words, tasting each one on her tongue.

“He scares me, Cerelle. He scares me so much. I... I worry he means to harm me.”

Cerelle sighs. The bed creaks. Cerelle brings one hand down and places her fingers underneath Elayna's chin. She tilts Elayna's head up so she can look at her.

“He would harm you if you were betrothed to another.” Cerelle speaks bluntly. She never minces words when it comes to important things. “I hope Mother and Father realize this. Perhaps this is their way of mitigating damage. If you don't marry, violence is inevitable. If you do marry, mayhaps it will be... limited.”

“I doubt it.” Elayna frowns. She looks away into the darkness. Cerelle gives her that luxury. “He doesn't love me. He doesn't even like me. He just sees me as an object to own.”

“Most men see their wives like that.”

“I know that! But... I sometimes...”

“You sometimes what?” Impatience bleeds into Cerelle's tone.

“It feels as if he sees me as little more than a broodmare for prized horses.”

Cerelle doesn't say anything. She neither confirms nor denies Elayna's accusations. Instead, she takes a strand of Elayna’s hair between her fingers and gently plays with it. Elayna lowers her head. She shuffles up the bed some, intent on placing her head on Cerelle's chest to hear her heart beat.

“I can't save you all the time.”

“I'm not asking that of you.” Elayna huffs. “I can rescue myself if need be. I'm just... I'm frightened, Cerelle.”

Elayna's whole body trembles. Cerelle shushes her. She places her hand back on Elayna’s head. Elayna tries to relax into Cerelle's embrace; her body refuses to obey her commands. Every part of her tenses. Cerelle sighs. The sheets shift, a whisper of silk, as Cerelle reaches down with her free hand and takes Elayna's hand in her own.

Elayna waits for Cerelle to say something, anything. She waits for words of comfort. Cerelle stays silent for an uncomfortably long time. Eventually, Cerelle sits up some and presses a kiss to the top of Elayna’s head.

“Go to sleep, Elayna. We can talk about these matters in the morning.”

****************

Johanna calls for them after breakfast.

Thankfully, the two of them were already decent. Three years of practice means their timing is down to an art. No one ever expresses any suspicion.

“Cerelle. Elayna.” Johanna looks between the two of them. The pair sit opposite Johanna. Elayna’s back stands ramrod straight while Cerelle almost leans back in her chair. “ ‘Tis time to begin looking at the future. The Lord Lannister and I have discussed this, and we have come up with a plan.”

Elayna and Cerelle exchange a look. Elayna raises an eyebrow to which Cerelle blinks. Johanna watches them.

“One of Princess Helaena's ladies-in-waiting injured herself badly, to the point she must retire and go back to her family. Truly a shame what happened to her. Rumors are she is now a cripple. Despite how unfortunate this is, a princess should never be without.” Johanna meets Cerelle's eyes. “I have arranged for you to be one of Princess Helaena's ladies-in-waiting. She needs someone more confident than she, and I know you will serve her faithfully. Elayna, of course, will follow as one of your ladies.”

“We're going to King's Landing?” Cerelle grins. She looks to Elayna, eyes glittering with hope. Elayna grins softly in return.

“Yes.” Johanna nods. “Even though you are one of the Princess's ladies, I do expect you to spend time with your uncle. He will be able to provide valuable instruction. Your father would have sent you earlier, but now I believe you will be able to fully grasp any advice given to you.” Johanna turns her attention to Elayna. Elayna almost wants to shrink back. “You, of course, will ensure Cerelle's comfort and safety. I also think it would behoove you to accompany her when she visits with Tyland. You may learn things as well.”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Johanna places her hands in her lap. “Cerelle. You're dismissed. I wish Elayna to sit with me a while.”

Cerelle and Elayna exchange looks. Elayna doesn't move, even as Cerelle does.

“Mother.”

“Cerelle.”

Cerelle takes her leave then. Elayna adjusts her position in her chair.

“Tymon spoke with me.” Elayna watches Johanna. Before she takes a sip, Johanna indicates with a gesture for Elayna to be poured a goblet.

“Did he?”

“He said you spoke to him about a betrothal. Of him and me.” Elayna tries her best not to pout or look too sullen.

“Your father will accompany us when we go to King's Landing. Jason or I will suggest the idea then.”

Elayna frowns. She leans back in her seat. Johanna sets her goblet down.

“Elinor. If you would leave us.”

The servant curtsies before leaving. Elayna waits to hear the soft close of the doorway to the servant's quarters. Johanna eyes Elayna. Her hands rest in her lap.

“Do you not wish to marry Tymon?”

“ ‘Tis not that! I'm just... I don't mean to question you, but I do not see how I am the appropriate choice.”

“Tymon will need someone who can reign him in once he is in charge. Someone practical who knows the ins and outs of this place.” Johanna takes a drink from her goblet. Elayna tries not to fidget and keep her hands still. “Even if he were not set on you, you are the best choice. Whether you recognize it or not, you are everything but a Lannister in name. ‘Tis time that changes.”

Elayna purses her lips. She bites down on her tongue to keep herself from saying the immediate thought in her mind. Truthfully, she does not want this marriage; she wants no marriage as of now. It is inevitable, she knows. Elayna is acutely aware of this fact. It doesn't ease her mind on the topic.

Johanna stares Elayna down once more. Eventually, she places her goblet down with a sigh.

“ ‘Tis time for you to grow up.” Elayna nearly flinches at Johanna’s steely tone. “I know of you and my daughter. I have... indulged you both and kept your secret, but it cannot go on any longer. You both have your duties. I will not let our reputation be tarnished because you refuse to give up antics more suited to young girls. Indiscretions like this do not go on for several years nor do they go as far as it has. The time for that is over.”

Elayna trembles. Fear courses through her body.

“I understand, my Lady. Forgive me.”

“I keep this quiet not for you but for Cerelle.” Johanna’s nostrils flare. “I do not agree with what the two of you have done in the slightest. I recognize the impulse, but it cannot continue.”

Elayna dips her head. She feels frozen, stuck to her chair even though she wants nothing more than to run. Johanna clearly sees it. She leans forward and places a hand on Elayna’s knee.

“If you were a man, it would be done. Cerelle deserves a loyal husband. I meant it when I said you were one of us.” Johanna’s voice softens for the briefest of moments. When she pushes back to her full height, the harshness returns. “But you are not a man. It can't continue.”

“It can't. It won't continue.” The words taste bitter.

Johanna leans back in her seat. She picks up her goblet again.

“Good. To prove your commitment and to show you keep your word, you have a task. You are to target Prince Aemond. Find out what he likes, what he dislikes. Learn everything you can about him. Then, you will feed this information to Cerelle. I can't ask for a betrothal outright. The future is too uncertain. I can, however, obtain it other ways. When you come back, you will be betrothed to Tymon and marry him.”

Elayna nods.

“Are we in agreement?”

“Yes.”

“Look me in the eyes when you say it.”

Elayna blinks back tears. She clears her throat and poorly suppresses a sniffle. She inhales.

Lifting her head is the hardest thing she's ever done.

“We are in agreement.”

Johanna smiles. It doesn't meet her eyes; it's a socially expected smile. Her lips stay too close together, and her eyes blaze.

“Excellent. You are dismissed.”

#oc: elayna reyne #oc: tymon lannister #persephone writes #fic: wheel of fortune (the fool)#aemond targaryen x OFC #Cerelle Lannister x OFC #Aemond Targaryen x OC #Elaemond #OC x OFC #HotD OC #House of the Dragon OC

37 notes · View notes