#chubby marina | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bumblesimagines · 4 months ago

Text

When Fire Meets Fate

Part 12

Request: Yes or No

Summary: For three days, the Queen and King Consort of Westeros remained unreachable after hearing the news of Prince Lucerys Velaryon's death. But with war threatening to spill over, they must put aside their grief for the sake of the Realm.

CW/TW: Typical HOTD warnings, spoilers for S2, mentions of Luke's death/loss of a child, hella grief, implied sexism toward Rhaenyra/a female ruler, angst, will (Y/N) Hightower ever catch a break? tune in next time to find out

Alexa play The Family Jewels by Marina and every other song i have on the playlist(s) for this series

~~~

Grief was an old friend, for it and (Y/N) had grown aquatinted long ago back in his youth when his mother passed, frail and weak and miserable. Grief was a snake that coiled around the heart and mind and squeezed until one could no longer weep or breathe. It constricted and slithered about in the shadows in the back of one's mind, lunging out with its fangs eager to sink into tender flesh. But grief was no monster, not truly. It formed from one of the purest things humans were capable of.

Love.

(Y/N) tried to remember that as he rubbed his fingers into his tear-stained cheeks and handed his empty cup to the nearby maid. She curtsied with her head bowed and stepped away while another lowered herself down onto the stone floor to tend to his youngest children, Aegon and Viserys. He listened to the clacking of wooden toys hitting the floor and each other, the incoherent babbling only they could understand, and the gentle cooing of the maid as she played along with them, encouraging them to play together.

He couldn't remember the last time he bathed nor the last time he'd changed out of his sleepwear. He could hardly recall the last time he'd seen his wife, or even heard news of her wellbeing. She'd taken off on Syrax without word days prior but reports flew in occasionally of sightings. She searched shorelines relentlessly. She searched for their son's remains.

Aegon tilted his head up toward his father and leaned forward, reaching one small, chubby hand out toward his pant leg and giving a swift tug. (Y/N)'s fluttering thoughts halted and his attention dropped down to the small boy, his heart and gaze softening as Aegon stared up at him expectantly with those large violet eyes. He leaned down and scooped his son into his arm, a soft exhale leaving him at the familiarity of it all. He couldn't lose another child. Little silent Marin and joyful Luke. (Y/N) pressed his lips to Aegon's temple and squeezed his eyes shut at the thought of them.

"My Lord," Daemon's voice called out from the doorway and (Y/N) sighed heavily. "I wish to speak with you."

"What about?" His voice sounded hoarse, dry and worn from little care.

"Pressing matters that are best discussed in private," Daemon answered and (Y/N) swallowed harshly, rubbing his cracked lips together in contemplation before he carefully set his son back on the floor and approached the prince, sparing his playing children a glance as the door into the room closed. He inhaled deeply and turned his head toward Daemon.

"What is it?"

"I wish to fly out to King's Landing and kill Vhagar. She is the only thing standing between us and the throne, the old bitch. I asked Rhaenys to accompany me but she refused without Rhaenyra's command. She's always liked you, despite what happened with Laenor. She may yet listen if you ask this of her, or matter of fact, command it. You are our King. She'll have no choice but to-"

"Consort, Daemon. I am King Consort to Queen Rhaenyra. I am but an extension of her and the throne. I will not do or say anything without her knowledge, Daemon, that is my duty. When she returns-"

Daemon's jaw clenched, his voice beginning to rise and echo loudly down the hall. "Rhaenyra has been away for days, (Y/N)! We cannot push forward without our Queen here and she has abandoned her duties to fly out without anyone at her side where she is most vulnerable! Rhaenyra is a queen, she cannot take leave without saying anything-"

"And she's a grieving mother, Daemon. We just learned our son is dead! Our boy is gone. Mere weeks ago he was at our side healthy and happy and- and smiling and now he is dead. We are grieving our- our child. Rhaenyra was a mother before she became queen, or have you forgotten? Luke- Luke was only barely man-grown. We will not see him wed; we will not see him have children; we will not see what could've become of him because-" (Y/N) felt breathless, heart squeezing and twisting as tears flooded his vision again. He was so sick of crying. He inhaled sharply, blinking away the tears whilst Daemon watched grimly. "If Rhaenys believed your plan to be a good one, she would've agreed. Attacking Vhagar will merely put our best fighters and dragons at risk. If you wish to do anything else than be here, you may patrol the island."

"If Rhaenyra does not return soon," Daemon began quietly, voice tittering on the edge of sympathy and irritation. "The Council's support may begin to waver. We look to you in Rhaenyra's absence, and even in her presence many will still desire your approval. They may be here to support her but half of those men are only fulfilling the oath they made to King Viserys, not her. Consort or not, the Council believes you to be a more suitable ruler than Rhaenyra right now."

(Y/N)'s teeth grinded together, his eyes flickering away from the prince as his words churned in his mind. He knew many of the men on their Council well; power-seeking fools who believed themselves to always be in the right regardless of what others thought or said. He'd been drowning in his grief for too long with no remedy whilst the men likely argued and filled each other's heads with ideas of grandeur. For the sake of the realm, for the sake of his wife's greatest desire... (Y/N) had to put aside his grief and longing, even if it swallowed him whole later.

"Check for any reportings of Syrax or Rhaenyra." (Y/N) ordered him, taking a deep inhale and releasing it in a sigh. "I... I will deal with the Council for now."

Setting off for his bedchambers, he gave the servants a list of requests that they quickly scattered off to fulfill. He bathed for the first time in a long while, scrubbing away the grime and sweat that'd accumulated over time before he dried himself and finally dressed himself in something other than sleepwear that felt and looked as regal as his position. He soothed his aching throat with sweetened tea and properly broke his fast with a meal before leaving his bedchambers and heading down the halls to where the Council awaited his arrival.

"My Lord," They rose to their feet and bowed their heads, all but Rhaenys who simply watched him enter, her gaze curious and intrigued. Few of the lords remained standing as he stopped at the end of the table where Rhaenyra's seat was, coming to stand behind it and rest his hands along the top. They watched, waiting for him to sit.

"Before we begin, I'd like to apologize for not attending the past few meetings, but I am here now, and soon so will my wife." (Y/N) took in the exchanged glances and grim, almost annoyed looks that passed over some of their faces. He took note of those who seemed more vexed than the others.

"I know these past days have been dark and confusing for some without our queen here but I'd like to remind you all that Queen Rhaenyra has not forgotten her duties to the Realm and to this council. If she cared little for her position as Queen, you all would be home or in King's Landing serving under the usurper, but you are not. Why? Because Queen Rhaenyra refused to allow her father's wishes to be ignored by Dowager Queen Alicent and the oathbreakers who support her son. You are here because you are not Oathbreakers nor men easily intimidated or swayed. I am thankful for your presence and support, as is my wife as we go through such difficult times. I ask for more patience, patience I will ensure is rewarded when this comes to an end."

He watched them all, unable to push away the jittering nerves bubbling up in his stomach. (Y/N) had always considered himself a confident man but he'd always merely been Otto Hightower's son and nothing more. He knew the moment he married Rhaenyra, it'd be asked of him one day to command or rule in her stead for whichever reason, but he simply never expected it to occur so soon. His eyes jumped to Rhaenys, staring into her unreadable yet gentle eyes, and felt himself relax when she gave him a subtle encouraging nod.

"With that out of the way," (Y/N) cleared his throat and took in another small breath. "Has a letter been sent out to Prince Jacaerys? Has he answered?"

The men exchanged glances once more but only Lord Bartimos Celtigar took a small step forward toward the table to speak, his eyes sliding over the rest of the council in mild irritation. "We... We were not aware an order was given to send a letter for Prince Jacaerys, My Lord." He spoke carefully and slowly.

A beat of silence passed. "The... The brother of the heir to the Iron Throne has died and none of you believed it to be wise to inform him?" (Y/N) questioned, stepping around the chair and pressing his fingers into the table. The men answered in silence and (Y/N) almost rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Maester Gerardys, please prepare a letter for Prince Jacaerys informing him of what has occurred."

"Will you be asking for his presence, My Lord?" Maester Gerardys asked as he rose from his seat, his hands clasping together and being partly covered when his large sleeves rolled down his arms. Perhaps one of the few men (Y/N) could trust amongst the council with his age and experience in overseeing the family's matters. "We have yet to receive word on his progress in the North."

"Tell him.." (Y/N)'s gaze flickered away from the maester, his thumb beginning to rub into the ring on his index finger. Eyes turned back to him, peering at him closely. It felt as if he'd stepped into a den of vipers awaiting one wrong move so they could strike. "Inform him of what has happened and... and that once he has finished securing Cregan Stark's army, he is to return home. He is needed here, now more than ever."

"Of course, My Lord." Maester Gerardys bent slightly at the waist in a bow, the chain around his neck swaying and clinking with his movements before he lowered himself back down into his seat.

"Good," (Y/N) cleared his throat and straightened his back, wetting his lips in uncertainty. Nobody had instructed him on ruling; his childhood had been filled with history books, lessons from maesters and septas, and the basics of how to use a sword and defend himself, but never had it crossed anyone's mind that he'd reach the status of 'King Consort.' He released a quiet sigh. "What news do you all have to share?"

Long stretches of hours passed filled, hardly filled with much necessary news and rather squabbling and insistence in carrying on with a bloody war. (Y/N) stared blankly at the table for half of it, suddenly understanding why his mother oft' seemed in her head whenever his brothers bickered and complained in front of her. Rhaenys and Daemon appeared to share his thoughts, neither providing much input apart from Daemon occasionally agreeing with the idea of pressing forward without Rhaenyra. None of it surprised (Y/N), but he still wished to be with his children instead. He yearned to see Jace, safe and sound within the walls of the castle where no danger could chance upon him.

His legs and back were beginning to ache, and his stomach lightly grumbled for food. His lips parted to provide some excuse to remove himself from the meeting but the doors parted and Ser Erryk strolled into the room, dipping his head to the lords in respect before making a beeline for him. "What is it?" (Y/N) asked instead.

"We found a stowaway in one of the ships." Ser Erryk explained quietly. "The White Worm, she calls herself. She's provided little answers as to why she's come here apart from her desire to have a word with you, My Lord."

"You should remain here." Daemon cut in swiftly before (Y/N) could respond, rising from his seat as the corner of his lips curled. (Y/N)'s gaze darted to him questioningly, his eyes squinting slightly at the prince. "I am well-acquainted with the 'White Worm', My Lord. I shall deal with her for you. There's no need for you to trouble yourself."

(Y/N) pressed his lips into a grim line. "Very well, Daemon." He dismissed him with a nod, catching the wince from Ser Erryk before the knight dipped his head again and escorted the prince off to where they were holding the so-called White Worm. He watched them go, hands coming together and fingers beginning to toy with the rings along his knuckles.

Allowing a long moment to pass, one filled with more squabbling and debating, he let out a heavy sigh. "It has grown quite late." He announced to the lords, savoring the way they grew silent at his words and nodded in agreement.

Before he could continue, however, a distant yet familiar shriek echoed from outside the castle. (Y/N) clamped his mouth shut and swore he felt his heart twist into itself, his body growing stiff when another shriek followed. Syrax. He knew the sound of the golden she-dragon well. How could he not when his wife had insisted on introducing them to each other? His jittering thoughts were confirmed when Daemon returned to the room with Ser Erryk at his heels; the knight positioning himself by the doors and beginning to recite those familiar words:

"Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

(Y/N) watched her when she entered, breath nearly knocked out of his lungs when they made eye contact from across the room. He'd be a liar if he denied the thought that she'd abandoned them hadn't briefly crossed his mind but there she stood, his wife and queen.

Rhaenyra looked disheveled and utterly exhausted; Her pale skin had grown speckled with dirt and grime; bags had formed under her watery violet eyes; the hair she oft' kept in a neat and long braid had fallen loose from the hairstyle and tumbled down her shoulders in wild, wind-swept strands; her clothes looked worn and dirtied.

Everyone seemingly held their breaths as she staggered into the room and rounded the table, her eyes never leaving his until she stood at his side. The words Daemon and Rhaenys spoke slipped in one ear and out the other for them both, the space held between their bodies feeling agonizingly far. (Y/N)'s eyes flickered between hers, not a fragment of a reaction or emotion on either of their faces but they nonetheless communicated. She'd found his remains.

Rhaenyra broke away first to finally face the Council for the first time in days, her chest falling with a shaky exhale. She stared at the flickering candles littered around the table, her cracked lips parting. She stayed quiet for a beat before lifting her gaze.

"I want... Aemond Targaryen." She spoke, her voice shaking and eyes flooding with unshed tears. Her trembling hand found his and wrapped around him, squeezing him lightly.

"That-" His voice threatened to crack. "That will be all for today, My Lords. I bid you goodnight."

The walk to their bedchambers was a quiet one, a silence the maids ensured to keep as they helped Rhaenyra into her bath and draped her nightgown over the bed. (Y/N) dismissed them with a nod, waiting for them to collect her filthy clothes and depart before he lowered down onto the stool beside the tub. He shed himself of his upper wear until his undershirt remained, tugging the sleeves up to his elbows and taking the soapy sponge into his hand.

"I sent word for Jace." He spoke first, rubbing the sponge into her skin and cleaning away all that'd accumulated there over the past days. Rhaenyra finally seemed to break out of her hazy trance to look upon him, her nostrils flaring slightly and head weakly nodding. He scrubbed lightly at her collarbone, the water beginning to turn in color. "I made an attempt at.. dealing with the Council, but you know I have a low tolerance for vexing old men."

Rhaenyra managed to crack a small smile. "I'm... thankful.. for your patience." She murmured, her still trembling hand grasping one of the other sponges and slowly dragging over her no-doubt aching thighs.

They fell into comfortable silence again. (Y/N) continued helping her bathe, ensuring to wash her hair that'd grown darker in color from days of going ignored. His mind flickered back to his youth as he carefully brushed out the knots, briefly recalling the times he brushed Alicent's hair. But when he thought of Alicent, he thought of Aemond, and then he thought of Luke and how frightened he must've been in his last moments, likely yearning to be in the protective embrace of his parents. His movements stilled, his heart ramming against his ribcage.

"Arrax was torn to shreds," Rhaenyra said quietly, as if she'd read his mind. "They... They washed up onshore... I-I... Arrax's wing and-" She cut herself off with a sharp breath, her teeth digging into the flesh of her bottom lip and eyes fluttering close. Tears slipped down her cheeks, causing ripples in the water when they fell from her chin. "He- He... I- I saw- Oh, my sweet boy," Rhaenyra sobbed, her knees tugging toward her chest and shoulders shaking.

(Y/N) desperately blinked the tears away and took a deep inhale, digging his blunt nails into his palms until the prickle of pain forced his mind to focus on it. A habit he'd fallen into back in his youth, back when their mother passed and his twin needed comfort. He squeezed his eyes shut until the waterworks stopped turning and opened them again.

He leaned down to press his lips against her bare, wet shoulder before doing the same to her jawline. "I know, Nyra, I know. You must weep until you cannot. You must let it out now before it can swallow you again. Our- Our boys need us, Nyra. The Realm, too. They need Queen Rhaenyra to rule and protect them."

Rhaenyra twisted in the tub and slung her arms around his shoulders, her wet skin soaking his shirt as she embraced him. He allowed the brush to fall onto the stone floor with a clatter and slipped his arms around her as well, unable to stop himself from pulling her as close as possible. Rhaenyra continued to cry into his shoulder until the exhaustion of grief and her days out on Syrax crashed into her. He helped her out of the tub and helped her dry, offering her his shoulder to lean on when she slipped on her nightgown.

"I..." Rhaenyra swallowed, her head coming to rest upon her pillow and heavy eyes threatening to lull her off into a deep yet much-needed slumber. "I love you." She exhaled softly, her eyes falling shut and her body growing limp against the bed.

Quietly chuckling, he kissed the space between her brows. "I love you too, Nyra."

Rhaenyra tightly clutched his hand as they waited for their eldest to be escorted into the room. He'd arrived moments prior, per the familiar cry of Vermax and the shadow that'd passed over the castle. It would've been followed by the younger Arrax if the Gods had been kind to them, a thought the two seemed to share for Rhaenyra squeezed his hand even tighter, her nails unintentionally leaving imprints in his skin.

The sound of footsteps drew their blank, distant stares away from the fireplace and toward the two young figures who entered. Baela offered them a sympathetic tight-lipped smile, her hand coming to rest on Jace's arm comfortingly before she exited the room. It hadn't been long since they last saw Jace but still, he somehow appeared older. Perhaps spending time with a man such as Cregan Stark had allowed him to learn much and more. Still, Jace's eyes watered the moment he looked at them, and all (Y/N) saw was his little boy.

"Your Grace, My Lord," Jace began and stepped forward, clasping his hands together as his lips began to quiver. "Lady Jeyce Arryn has pledged her support in exchange for a dragon to guard the Vale. And... Lord C-Cregan Stark... has p-promised-"

Unable to sit and watch idly as their son slowly broke down, Rhaenyra set aside her tea and stood up alongside (Y/N), their hands still tightly bound together as if worried if they parted, it'd snap them out of a dream. Jace's features contorted, his brows knitting tightly the moment his parents drew closer, almost collapsing into their arms as sobs wrecked through his body. Rhaenyra cried as well, her hand releasing her husband's to wrap around him instead, pulling her beloveds close to her body.

"We're here, Jace," (Y/N) whispered to him, trekking his fingers through chestnut curls that resembled his side of the family so well. Jace's arm tightened around him in return, his light eyes squeezed shut and snot beginning to trickle down from his nose. There'd been few times Jace had ever sobbed in his arms after infancy. He'd always been the stronger one amongst his brothers, the more resilient one. But alas, he was still their little boy.

With Jace safely home, the funeral was held at late dusk when the moon slowly began to peek over the horizon. Rhaenyra lit the stack of wood on top of the pyre where their boy would've laid had his body been recovered and stepped back whilst Maester Gerardys spoke some funeral rites.

On the other side of the flames stood the Velaryons, amongst them Rhaena who watched with teary eyes as Jace stepped forward to toss a folded blanket that'd once belonged to Luke during his younger years. He took little Joffery into his arms afterward and the little boy tossed the wooden toy horse that Luke often played with into the flames as well.

(Y/N) swallowed the lump in his throat, his fingers digging into the fabric of the clothes Luke had been wearing the day before he departed for Storm's End. He walked with Rhaenyra toward the flames, the two parents fighting back the tears and clutching tightly onto the clothes that still held the smell of their son. Rhaenyra pushed her temple into him and exhaled shakily, pressing her hands over his so they could toss the clothes into the fire together and watch the flames hungrily eat at them.

It was done. Their son was gone, taking a piece of their hearts with him to wherever his soul had departed. But the world stopped for no one, not even royalty, and so the incoming war continued to threaten the stability of the Realm and the lives of those in Westeros.

As much as he desired to crawl back into bed until the world ended, (Y/N) had a duty to uphold as the new King Consort of the Seven Kingdoms.

348 notes · View notes