#dynamic; helaena & otto.

[korkiekenobiconfirmed]

I see your "people say they are a monster, but I am the only one who knows the truly kind soul beneath" dynamic and raise you "they are exactly the monster everyone says they are, but I see it and I don't flinch away"

[fierce-little-miana]

I find it fascinating that in the Green faction, despite having her views and feelings about the political/dynastic situation very often disregarded by the other non-targ members, Alicent is the go-to person of everyone to have the targ members do something they did not want to do.

Otto will advice and even insult his grandchildren, Larys will plot, etc. But when they need something to be done now they go to Alicent for her to force her children’s hand. Aegon doesn’t want his son corpse to be paraded in the streets? Everyone looks at Alicent so she will make him agree. We need Helaena to participate in the parade? Alicent is the one who goes to tell her she must. She was also the one to convince Aegon to go through with the coronation, etc.

It is even more fascinating considering how she seems to have issues emotionally reaching out to her kids in a way that would touch them (her letting Aegon cry on his own, the several scenes in season 1 in which she spent time with Helaena but we feel a gap between the two, Aemond clearly apologizing about what happened with Lucerys to a sex worker playing a motherly role rather than directly to his own mother, etc.). This difficulty to reach out emotionally could have been used to explain why her children do not listen to her, but it is the contrary: somehow it make them eager to please her, almost eager to obey her. It also ciments the fact that despite having a complicated relationship with their mother, all Targaryen-Hightower kids believes deep down inside that their mother only has their best interests at heart. No one else has that much influence on them.

[ladyodium]

TW: Abuse, child abuse

(I would like to say, I am not defending anyone’s actions. I also asks that you respect my opinion, we don’t have to agree but don’t be crazy. I am also discussing the show, I know what happens in the books.)

“I have sinned.”- Alicent Hightower

“I do not wish to hear it”- Otto Hightower

Team Green and their family dynamic are so interesting to me. It’s the cycle of abuse that keeps on giving. I haven’t seen a single Team Green member break from this cycle.

It’s starts with House Hightower, in specific, the expectations that are put on Otto Hightower by his family since he became the hand. He is expected to bring the Hightower blood upon the throne and is also the most powerful man next to the King.

He’s strictly religious and despises the customs of the Targaryens, but he stays because he knows that eventually he can use his own pawns (children and grandchildren) to intermix with the Targaryen blood and put Hightowers on the throne. He doesn’t really care for his daughter’s emotional needs, he manipulates her and forces her to act on the houses behalf. He’s constantly plotting on his next move and is honestly maybe one step ahead of everyone else. He doesn’t discuss his plans with his daughter, who is queen. The only time she’s clued in is when he whispers threats of death about what will happen when Rhaenyra takes the throne.

Alicent Hightower is a victim and an abuser. These two things can simultaneously be true. She’s a victim of her father’s abuse and the expectations of being a woman in a world ruled by men. Even when she has power, she never goes against the men who inflict the pain. Instead she uses her power to inflict that same pain onto other women and her own children. We see how she suffers as a victim to further push her father’s ambition and we also see how she’s an abuser. She inflicts punishments on Rhaenyra for simply fighting against the system in place, she hits her children, she isolates them from Rhaenyras children and she constantly tells them that Rhaenyra will kill them all if she takes the throne. She sets the same expectations her father places upon her onto her children, and we see how that affects each of her kids.

Aegon- the son the realm wanted but to Alicent he will always represent her stolen childhood, her stolen innocence, her stolen life she could have had. Aegon was expected to be the perfect prince, a king. Alicent can’t even pretend to comfort him when he’s crying for his dead child. She feels these immense sense of guilt, but she can’t even offer her son a simple act of kindness. She leaves.

Helaena- Helaena is the only daughter Alicent has and you’d expect her to protect her daughter from the very same fate she was put upon. No, instead she finds her own daughter strange. She doesn’t understand that Helaena is a dragon dreamer because she herself never wanted to dabble in the Targaryen customs. She finds Helaena strange and thinks her simple, which is a terribly thing to think of your own kid. She can’t bond with Helaena at all, she tries and fails. She never tries to get to know her children and she gets frustrated when they aren’t acting like she expect them to act.

Aemond-Aemond is a very special case. He would be considered the favorite child simply because he’s dutiful like his mother. Alicent doesn’t have to worry about Aemond because he does as he’s told. He’s the perfect prince. Aemond is the only child (before his eye was taken) that meets Alicents expectations. When Aemond’s eye is taken we really see how resentful he becomes. Alicent can’t even recognize her own son anymore. 

Not only does the cycle of abuse continue but we see how the characters also abuse themselves. Alicent picks at her fingernails as a punishment, Aegon drinks himself silly, Helaena shuts down and Aemond becomes resentful. They find ways to not only abuse others but themselves at the same time.

From Otto, to Alicent, to Aegon, to Helaena, to Aemond.

It’s really funny to me because the ONLY reason that Team Green is fighting together is because they all have a common enemy; Rhaenyra. However, even with a common enemy in place they still are fighting amongst themselves. It’s a cycle that never stops turning.

It makes me wonder, what was the last act of kindness that they received?

[ladystarksneedle]

Helaena loves strawberries.

When she was younger she liked strolling through the King's gardens with a small wicker basket in hand, to collect strawberries and find a new insect to study. Ever since her mother had found her closely examining a strawberry at dinner she'd arranged for the gardeners to find seeds and plant new strawberry trees just for her. It wasn't like she remembered why she had been so focussed on that particular fruit that evening, just that she'd gotten lost in her thoughts and tuned out of the conversation.

The strawberry at that time, had been a welcome distraction. It was inviting in a way similar to some of the insects she had seen. The little red pitted fruit with a tuft of tiny leaves on top was scrumptious and pretty to look at. It reminded her of a ladybird 🐞 in a way. She had enjoyed counting all the little pits on it before popping it into her mouth and thought that'd be the last of it. Her mother had made sure that wasn't the case.

Alicent had been very attentive to her all her childhood, with all the hovering waning as she grew older. The added responsibilities had taken a toll on her and lessened the attention she could give each of her children. When both of them were younger though, all the attention she recieved came across as overbearing. Despite lacking the ability to adapt to how others perceived the way she expressed her love and change accordingly, she knew her mother always had the best of intentions.

However, sometimes she just wanted to be left alone. For her family to understand there was nothing wrong with her often times preferring solitude and meager company to all the loud teas and promenades held at court.

She couldn't remain upset for long though and was in fact very grateful for all the strawberry trees planted for her and the multitude of pink dresses she received.

Aegon and Aemond provided a welcome distraction when each of them wanted to escape court and she enjoyed their company individually. Aemond never pushed her to talk. He would be content with spending their time together in silence, walking through the gardens, sometimes picking a fruit here and there and listening to her describe things. He was attentive and his company was calming. Aegon in contrast was a riot. He was almost always drunk, but he made her laugh. He would try and juggle the fruits he collected, squish them and try to dirty her skirts, chase after her at times or sometimes just lay down with her under one of the trees while she arranged all the strawberries she'd collected in a manner similar to Dreamfyre's scales. He'd purposely mess with the pattern to irritate her or add his own accessories to it.

Her favourite person however was her grandfather. When Otto Hightower came to court Helaena hadn't given it much thought. The addition of a new member to their family didn't strike her as important. She assumed he'd be just as busy with his duties as Hand as father was with his model of Old Valyria. He'd proven her delightfully wrong. Otto surprisingly took a special interest in her. He'd willingly seek out her company, call upon her in the afternoons to chat and was genuinely interested in her "weird pursuits" as Aegon liked to call them. He seemed to like her for her and with him she sometimes understood what it was like to have a father. Perhaps Rhaenyra felt that way with Viserys. It was truly a wonderful thing. When Otto found out about her love for strawberries he'd have the servants cook up desserts incorporating them, whenever there was cause for celebration. He'd deny it vehemently but she knew it was him.

When the children were born she thought they'd take to strawberries just as she had. Both of them proved her wrong. They preferred apples instead and now she'd often find herself strolling the gardens, wicker basket in one hand, with the other holding Jaehaera's as they went about picking apples. Aegon would be close by on good days, playing dragon rider with Jaehaerys and trying to squish his little cheeks.

These red fruits somehow had a way of bringing out the best in all of them. It was a shame green was their colour. Strawberry pink or Sunfyre pink if she was to convince Aegon, would suit them far better.

[imaginarianisms]

She'd been lying here in the darkness of her chambers for gods know how long. Helaena hadn't eaten in a while, although she'd forced herself to bathe earlier. The last few hours she supposed were her staring into the abyss of nothingness. Here in the darkest parts of her chambers she couldn't tell when the time was or how many days had passed. After Jaehaerys' funeral procession and her panic, with Dreamfyre sending the young prince to the afterlife, she simply wanted to be alone to grieve. She'd heard word that Aegon had hanged all the ratcatchers in the Red Keep, both the guilty and the innocent, but in all honesty, while she sympathized with the common people, her own grief was on the forefront of her mind and had little room for the grief of others for the moment. Six namedays old, bloody and haunted, and they slaughtered him like an animal by a foul, cruel butcher and a vile, sneaking ratcatcher. Named for the Old King, only now her sweet son would never grow old. She'd made Aegon and his war council agree to send her sister Rhaenyra terms of peace, she had made them all agree to leave Rhaenyra's titles and let the Black Queen and her kin keep Dragonstone, and what had she received in return? Death. Helaena would never forgive Daemon for doing this to her and her children. She felt hollow, all she kept doing these days were gazing off into nothingness, wondering if perhaps there was even the slightest chance this was all just a dream. Everytime she heard an apology from most people, she'd rejected it after days of putting on fake smiles for the sake of appeasing egos and courtesies. Many lords and ladies at court saw her grieving and the cruelest of them in private only wished that she would get on with it; there was a war and people died, although they dare not say that to her face nor in the presence of Aegon. In their minds, Aegon and Helaena were no different than the rest of them. Every 'sorry' was a snapping thread of what little sanity she had left, the only ones she'd accepted was from Alicent and Otto. The rest? She blamed the vast majority for not being there to protect her son. Eventually, she had stopped letting most people anywhere near her because she couldn't listen to it anymore. T'was for their own good, really, either that or feed them to Dreamfyre. Helaena didn't like there mere thought of that, but the dragon has its way within her. Rhaenyra couldn't have possibly have approved of this... she loves me, and Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and Maelor and wouldn't hurt any of them, and she's just lost Luke... would she?

At the sound of an opening door, she slowly lifted her head and rose to sit up, long silver-gold hair splayed all about her with lavender eyes regarding her visitor, her heart sinking into the depths of her stomach. Grandfather. Her lower lip trembled. T'was safe to break around him. Otto Hightower had always been a safe space for her. It was he who encouraged her studies of learning in the ways a princess could learn. It was because of him that she was inspired to speak up more and to begin to paint and study the stars and to draw and to study living creatures of the known world. Helaena had been upset that she and her mother had practically been forced into displaying their grief so publically, but she'd forgiven her grandfather. She always forgave him, even if most of her brothers perhaps thought it otherwise. @handead had never once laughed at her or put her down for simply being herself; if anything, he'd encouraged her. Word had spread like wildfire through the castle that Aegon had named Ser Criston the new Hand of the King, his steel fist, and he was going back to Oldtown again. Her throat began to choke up as she began to sob uncontrollably. Rising to her feet and staggering with the lack of food, she began to walk over to him. Another river of tears streamed down her cheeks. Helaena didn't want him to leave. ❝I don't want you to go, grandfather. It hurts too much. He ruined everything. He killed my baby, my boy. Daemon killed my baby.❞

[carebooks]

it works so well because the greens essentially are a family that do not talk to each other, they do not jest, they might say they love each other but i don’t think they like each other. aemond would have been fine if they never found aegon and he could ascend the throne, luke would never do that to jace. the greens are a family built on eggshells, their bond has never been that close or strong. it’s always been alicent or otto that kept the leashes close, but they were never really out of love. and it makes sense considering alicent never wanted this, she didn’t want to marry a man her father’s age and be maritally r*ped. there’s a scene where younger alicent is bouncing one of her crying children at night and she looks so numb to it. she’s not sad, she’s not angry, she’s given up and it’s heartbreaking that this is the path her own father put her on. so there’s subtle resentment going backwards to otto and forwards to her children even if she doesn’t realize it.

the blacks however, are presented like a real family. they have nicknames, they smile, they hug, they get along essentially. baela and rhaena are excited about the joint betrothal to jace and luke and vice versa. they’re looking forward to it, they grew up together and they like each other as people already. and you can feel the love that rhaenyra has for her children, all of her children. when she and daemon hold hands in S1E08, when they laugh at dinner later in the episode— it’s effortless for them because they find happiness in each other. even before that, when rhaenyra was married to laenor, they had a friendship in their marriage, they raised their children with love. he and harwin strong got along well. it was a very nice and stable dynamic between the three.

in the end, it comes down to the fact that one woman got to build her family on her terms with lovers she liked and loved. while the other was forced to build her family out of duty and sacrifice with a man that she was made to be with.

their families reflected how their lives ended up going.

another example of the family dynamics:

in HOTD S1E08, the families are grown are we can see how they’d developed after ten years apart and it’s so interesting seeing the difference between the Greens and the Blacks.

the Greens are not aligned with each other, they’re looking to other places or facing a different direction. they all have their eyes on something different. (aegon looking at jace and luke, planning some type of mischief) (aemond looking at daemon, almost assessing him) (helaena looking in general, she might not even be looking at a person, probably a wall to focus on) (otto looks to rhaenyra, he knows that the second that viserys stepped into that throne room their side was moot) (and alicent at the floor, passively in disappointment)

whereas the Blacks are huddled together in a more directional approach, they’re keeping each other safe. rhaenyra constantly holds luke’s hand throughout this scene. they’re also all looking at viserys, the one who came in for his daughter, for rhaenyra and essentially for his grandson. they’re grateful for it and they’re relieved when he names luke the heir again. only daemon’s eyes are off (and while this is a great foreshadowing possibility on how he was always going to break away from the family, not the blacks, but the family) right now, the reason he isn’t looking at his brother is because he’s looking at aemond. they’re assessing each other and see the other as potential enemies or threats. daemon’s eyes are off because he’s aiming to keep his family safe while aemond is intrigued by the challenge.

i have to assume that part of the reason the greens (alicent, aegon, and slightly otto) look so disgruntled and insulted is because viserys managed to work up the strength and walk to the throne for rhaenyra. for his firstborn, for the daughter he’s always kept safe. they’re seething on the inside, the greens have been next to viserys for the last ten years, when has he ever done something like that for them? it hurts to know that he will always consider rhaenyra and her family first.

the green and blacks family dynamic will never not be interesting to me. and now that they’re in a time of war, so many things are turning their heads. luke was killed and daemon left after the fight with rhaenyra, the blacks are starting to slowly come undone. meanwhile, aegon finds himself liking being king, he was taking pride in his son, trying to break the cycle since his own father barely acknowledged him. he loved him so much and while his death was tragic, it ended up making him respect helaena more and ended up having helaena and alicent bond slightly.

although now that otto is gone and alicent keeps fucking crispin cole, the green’s wont last that long. they’re closer to the verge of collapse, always have been. built on eggshells, remember?

my takeaway from episode 2 is just how touch-starved are the greens. all the choices they didn't make: aegon to hold helaena, alicent to hold aegon, otto to hold alicent. aemond himself has to seek touch elsewhere.

[2rats1gogh]

I’ve never really seen anyone talking about this, but I noticed that one of the main reasons why I am team green is because team green feels like an actual team that is in this whole thing together.

Team Green feels connected, united, like a family.

Team Black on the other hand is… meh.

And let me explain why:

Rhaenyra being delusional and thinking that Daemon is actually in love with her when he literally just groomed her since she was a child because he has always been after her title and now wants to be her king consort. They have one of the most toxic, creepy and problematic relationships in the entire fucking show.

Then there is the very awkward and uncomfortable moment of Rhaenyra and Daemon having sex on Laena’s funeral, while Rhaenys, Corlys, Baela, Rhaena and Laenor are mourning the loss of their daughter, mother and sister. How fucking disrespectful is this. And then the fact that they have Laenor “killed” just so they can get married and have their own perfectly blonde targaryen babies.

And Rhaenyra lying about Jace, Luke and Joff to everyone in her very own “team”, trying to gaslight not only Corlys, and Rhaenys but also her own sons into thinking they are trueborn, when even Jace himself. as a child, starts asking questions.

Then there are obviously Rhaenys and Corlys, who for some fucking reason neglected their trueborn granddaughters in favor of some dark haired white bastards their daughter-in-law is trying to pass off as their son’s children. Rhaenys is trying sooo hard to please her misogynistic husband because he so desperately wants his name to go down in history. Then the disrespectful betrothal of Jace and Luke to Baela and Rhaena. Rhaenyra is literally robbing these poor girls of their rightful claim to Driftmark and usurping them. And now, with Luke being dead, Rhaena’s claim dies with him.

Baela and Rhaena losing their mother, and now their father suddenly remarries, and has two blonde boys. Rhaenys losing BOTH her children and then seeing her son-in-law and daughter-in-law getting married soon after that.

Everyone in team black is after their own ambitions. They lie to each other, they don’t trust each other, they suspect each other in different things, they cheat on each other (with each other) and lie about it, they give each other forced ultimatums, and yada yada. All their scenes feel forced, tense, awkward and uncomfortable. They look so miserable with each other.

Team Green in this sense is the exact opposite.

Although their dynamic is far from perfect, obviously, you cannot deny that they care about each other very very deeply.

Alicent loves all of her children, and even while acknowledging their flaws, she still loves them.

Aemond might’ve been a little envious of Aegon, but he would never turn his back on him. He would never betray his brother, be would never try to take his crown from him.

Aegon was far from being a perfect man and king, but, as we know, it was his love for his family, and the fear of them getting hurt that made him a more responsible person and a more protective father, husband and brother. Sure, he is a cheater, but at least he’s honest about it and doesn’t lie to his wife. He is not a hypocrite.

Criston is working for Alicent not for ambition or for self-gain, but because he genuinely loves her, whether it’s romantic or platonic, doesn’t matter.

Helaena would never betray her family, her brothers, her mother. They are all she has. She would never switch sides even if given an opportunity.

And even Otto, arguably one of the main villains of the whole show, still loves his family. Sure, he is ambitious, but he would never become Corlys level of ambitious.

Team Green feels like they are fighting against the enemy all together, they have the same goals, they feel united and you can feel their devotion to each other. Especially after blood and cheese, when they become closer than ever. They’re in this together and only if they stick to each other, they can make it. It feels genuine and honest. They don’t hide anything from each other, they always have their loved ones’ best interests at heart, they would never in a million years betray each other. Yes, they are all doomed from the start, but their dedication and love to each other is truly something else.

[kazz-brekker]

hotd episode 2 thoughts

aegon screaming hysterically and smashing up viserys's model of old valyria…alicent unable to get through a sentence without sobbing…helaena staring blankly at the wall and clutching jaehaerys's blanket…i love acting but also that all kind of broke me.

genuinely i am enjoying tom glynn-carney as aegon SO much, he's quickly becoming one of my favorite actors on the show and gives his character so much nuance.

otto using his grandson's horrific death as a pr stunt…truly that man never stops working, he's always on the clock.

i also LOVED the big blowout fight scene between rhaenyra and daemon, it's about time someone dragged that man to hell and back. "the darkness you sheathe within yourself like a sword" and "i don't trust you" and "you're pathetic" go OFF rhaenyra!

criston please don't send someone else on a suicidal assassination mission because you were slacking your duty and banging alicent while the heir to the throne got decapitated. oh, who i am kidding, that man has never had a normal reaction to anything in his life.

i'm so glad we got an actual scene with baela (and the promise of more with her and moondancer in future weeks!) since she and rhaena have been horrendously underused so far.

aemond you have so many issues please go to therapy not a brothel. also i've blogged about this before but the idea that he really thinks he's an equal threat to daemon honestly is so silly.

alyn AND addam of hull spotted, we've got the complete set, and a little teaser of seasmoke as well!

the scene between corlys and rhaenys where corlys was like "if daemon would just submit to rhaenyra and enjoy being a bottom as i do on occasion" made me laugh so hard my sister asked me if i was okay.

i'm very intrigued by the scene between rhaenyra and mysaria (especially the mutual bonding over being exasperated by daemon) since they're technically on the same side but very much at odds in the book and i'm curious to know if this will continue in future episodes.

i really like that this season is emphasizing the perspectives of smallfolk like the hull brothers, hugh hammer, and the brothel mistress, it's something i felt was missing in season 1.

this really was an episode of targaryen men getting absolutely dragged by others for their poor political decisions. can't say i support otto's decisions most of the time but he was 100% correct about aegon.

also the moment where otto realized he had schemed for 20+ years to land a total idiot who just fired him on the throne…delicious, but rhys ifans played it so well i honestly still felt bad for him.

daeron mention! at this point i was honestly starting to think they had cut him from the show so that was a surprise.

as an identical twin i very much enjoyed the erryk and arryk drama but i must admit that i ALSO could not tell the twins apart when they were dueling. someone please revoke my twin card.

alicent walking into a room, seeing aegon crying, and just walking out was kind of funny ngl.

i really didn't expect criston and alicent's dynamic this season but i'm honestly enjoying it a lot. the mutual self-flagellation over their affair, alicent repeatedly slapping him and criston allowing it…really fun honestly.

caraxes is properly coming back next episode and it's true, i HAVE missed that noodle boy <3

also it looks like our first proper looks at harrenhal, moondancer, and a bracken vs. blackwood fight!

[alicentofficial]

re: my last post about jaime and alicent being parallels, i got an anon claiming they couldn't be similar because jaime as a man is privileged in ways alicent isn't since westeros is a patriarchy. this fact is correct! however! characters can have shared experiences, internal conflicts and dare i say, even themes, despite the fact that they are in different situations. let me explain why jaime and (show)alicent are similar characters.

rape/sa mentions below the cut

(1) okay so fundamentally jaime's thing is that he views himself as being sworn to so many conflicting ideals that he will never be able to uphold all of them. he is essentially in debt to so many people that anything he does will make him an oathbreaker. i think alicent views herself in a kind of similar way, only its through loyalty rather than oaths. hence that "i have endeavoured to serve both my house and my country etc" line because alicent basically FEELS like she has sworn conflicting oaths to everyone and everything around her - her father, her children, viserys, rhaenyra, the gods, the ideals of house targaryen, the abstract concept of what it means to be a "good woman" in society, and the list goes on, they don't call her Alicent "Where is Duty Where is Sacrifice" Hightower for nothing! both alicent and jaime see themselves trapped in moral paralysis because they are so concerned with what they are or should be loyal to, and as a result they are both constantly being eaten alive by guilt and self-loathing.

(2) both became deeply entrenched with the royal family at young ages whilst simultaneously living under their extremely ambitious hand of the king fathers. both fathers basically do not care who their children turn out to be and are only concerned with them as far as they can aid in his own ambitions. in jaime's case this was lessened by the fact that it was essentially divided between him and cersei, but tywin aggressively only gives a fuck about jaime as being the heir to casterly rock (hence his underlying insistence that jaime will do this despite the fact that he has sworn an eternal oath preventing it) - jaime does everything else to become tywin's lion-of-lannister golden boy but he will still never truly have tywin's love or affection or approval because tywin is incapable of that. otto basically pimped out his teenage daughter to viserys, and then after she spent 20+ years doing whatever he wanted he STILL doesn't respect about her, firstly because shes a woman, and secondly because he doesn't view her as a person, he views her as a political tool. and both of them are intensely loyal to said fathers and compulsively seek the approval which they know (on some level) is never coming.

(3) both of them have extremely complicated relationships with parenthood - alicent because her children are all products of her sexually abusive marriage, because she essentially grew up alongside them, and because they too are viewed as political tools more so than as people. as a result she's pretty emotionally cut off from them (struggling to connect with helaena, the unhealthy dynamic with aemond etc) meanwhile jaime can't ever openly acknowledge his children or act like a father to them and sees them as an extension of his relationship with cersei. alicent's feelings about aegon (and to a lesser extent aemond) are this weird dynamic where she loves him a lot and wants to protect him but is also aware that he's an abusive monster. in asos there's a jaime chapter after joffrey dies where he has this moment of awareness that joffrey is his firstborn son, and he kind of wonders if he should feel anything, but he can't bring himself to, basically because joffrey is also an abusive monster. he kind of awkwardly tried to bond with tommen at one point and seems vaguely fond of myrcella but can't really get himself to properly contemplate his feelings towards them either. for both of them parenthood is so wrapped up in all these other layers of pain and guilt that they struggle to have healthy, loving relationships with any of their kids.

(4) they both use copes - alicent with religion and jaime with dissociation - to essentially avoid engaging with their inner conflicts. jaime started dissociating to avoid having to deal with any of the injustices he saw around him i.e. listening to aerys raping rhaella and deciding he could absolve himself of his bystander guilt by "going away inside". meanwhile alicent uses religion as an outlet for her rage because when she throws herself fully into religion and convinces herself that she hates things because they're sacrilegious she doesn't have to confront her own trauma and anger. like a big part of why she hates rhaenyra's children is because they're physical manifestations of the freedoms rhaenyra has which alicent doesn't, but she's not emotionally equipped to deal with that, so the only option is to really really REALLY convinces herself that they're abominations cursed by the gods and thus she is justified in how she feels.

(5) okay here's where you have to hear me out. i think, narratively, jaime sees cersei's role towards him in a similar way to how alicent views criston. cersei and jaime's relationship is obviously built on the recurring themes of lannister exceptionalism and pseudo-incest within their house, but i also think jaime holds on to cersei as this symbol of pre-kingslayer him. she is his other half so when he knows that he's failed and become a terrible person, he can just hardcore project all his hopes of what he could have been onto her and see her as this paragon of beauty and love and nobility. and because of this he spends a lot of the series wilfully blind to the fact that their codependent relationship has turned them both into extremely violent and unstable people. to a certain extent alicent also projects a lot of her own childhood idealism onto both criston and rhaenyra - rhaenyra is literally her childhood girlfriend companion and i think because she's so emotionally stunted she's still obsessed with their relationship as like, the simplicity and tenderness of childhood before her marriage. hence why she seems so in denial about the fact that the war is about more than just their their relationship - but more so i think her relationship with criston is similar to that of jaime and cersei. (up until recently lol) i think she also saw criston as this white knight tragic courtly love figure because theyre BOTH still obsessed with the ideals of chivalry and knighthood and can reflect it back onto one another, whilst at the same time continuing to practice their own hypocrisy. she is basically (in a very jaime fashion) sticking her fingers in her ears to the fact that criston is deeply unstable and and punches people to death when he gets angry. both cersei and jaime's relationship and alicent and criston's relationship are essentially echo chambers that make them both worse while allowing them to view themselves and each other as idealised figures of the white knight and the noblewoman.

[bucknastysbabe]

The Merger - C.Cole

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5k

Tags: 80’s corporate au, set in King’s Landing, Nyra’s daughter reader, pwp, enemies to lovers, subby Criston, service top Criston, misogyny, oral (f!receiving), pnv!sex, dom/sub dynamics, background rhaenicent, background alicole, desk boinking, man tears, Cristons Big Brown Eyes

A/N: This was an ask I accidentally posted too early so now repost! Thank you to the anon, loved this and hope you like. Inspired by RedRack’s work on Ao3. Idk anything about business

Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk @arcielee @aemondfairy @elaratyrell @fairysluna @jamespotterismydaddy @lovelykhaleesiii @sammmy7499 @starogeorgina @towriteloveontheirarms @zaldritzosrose

You were Rhaenyra’s eldest child and only daughter, the ‘haughty’ one. You’d grown up lavishly, a byproduct of the rich and powerful where one could pay away most problems. Like your parentage. Like your homosexual father and biological dad who happened to be the bodyguard.

Except someone from the other side paid right back and your dad was ashes. Laenor left not too long afterward. You were your mother’s child anyway— as bitter as it felt.

There was a schism and merger at the same time, two huge media conglomerates coming as one now. Your family had long owned a paper before foraging into radio then television, the Legacy Media Agency. Jaehaerys Targaryen and Alysanne brought one of the first channels on television.

Through tragedy and piss-poor mistakes, your grandfather remarried to one Alicent Hightower. Now he was dead and the position of CEO was swiftly voted in for Rhaenyra. Alicent bristled, coming from a media conglomerate family of her own.

The Hightowers were in the movie and TV Industry, Green Flame Studios. They ran the golden age of film in Westeros, easily adapting and changing however into the current state. Television channels and multiple production companies. They’d even nabbed up a music label out of Lannisport.

Much money and meetings later, there was a heated merger due to a clause drafted up while your grandfather was on his deathbed. CEO and COO would be up for grabs again. Tension was filling the building in King’s Landing. Otto was back along with his sleek-looking son. Rhaenyra was growing stressed. Now Daemon was off securing funds and heads, the woman growing edgier by the day.

On a recent evening she sat down with you, the ever dutiful daughter. Jace was more of the smooth heir, able to gloss over and smile his way into the hearts of others. You took a step back, working on a law degree and willing to do a dirty deed if requested.

You and Mother sipped drinks in her office, gazing out over the sparkling city of King’s Landing. It was a shit hole brought up to some sort of glory in your opinion. Rhaenyra huffed, “The rest of her boys are coming. Aemond’s cutthroat but irrational, Aegon can be puppeted but has a raging coke and alcohol problem. Helaena is out of the picture. That leaves the little one, the freak, and the doggy.”

“So a little boy, Larys, and Criston I take it?”

You took off your blazer, rolling your eyes, “Dear uncles want to strangle us. Aegon and Aemond might tear each other to shreds before that could occur. Otto and Alicent, cracking as she may be, hold them together.”

Rhaenyra grimaced, “She ran the company while father was sick. It’s a good look. I was popping questionable children out, working, but not seen like her. She’s got that yuppie housewife bitch look about her, but she’s no Targaryen. Gods.”

You were pretty sure they fucked or something. Mother always went a little distant and quiet regarding Alicent, even if her words were vitriol.

Throwing expensive heels upon the fine desk of many CEO’s past you asked, “What have you need of me? Dirt, intel? I’m not coming near that whisperer, he’s too smart. Wasn’t Cole promoted to some busy work position? Probably Alicent’s fuck toy. I never liked him, he’s got issues.”

Your mother grinned, laughing, the most you’ve seen in a while. She leaned up to squeeze your ankle. Rhaenyra hummed, “You’re a fine woman. Fine, fine woman. Knows what it takes to win. Keep an eye on Cole. He likes the rich girls anyways, yet all of this has him so stressed he’ll be a bigger prick than usual.”

The blonde waved a hand.

“Do what you need, he’s weak at the end of the day. Probably keeps Ali’s underwear in his drawer. Brute. He was sweet once, I fear his issues and my selfish desires fucked that up worse than it needed to be. He’ll never have it, sad as it may be,” she lamented.

You felt pity for the Marcher. Handsome as could be, powerful energy, good with acquisitions of small companies. It stopped there— most considered him an idiot. You’d have to reluctantly get to know more, considering all of the vile history. But you’d do it for Mother.

Standing up in the dim office you nodded, “I’ll do what I can, we should take everyone out for the beach one day. Good publicity. It’s widely known we are more stable.”

She smiled. Your mother was so beautiful, you were glad to see her in better spirits before they were inevitably dashed.

Soon the Green’s employees began to show. Wylde, Lannister, Strong, Cole. Aemond and Aegon also appeared. The first meeting was miserable. You’d sat back and taken notes, sitting pretty next to Jace and Baela. You noted Alicent was the resident female leading the pack, the pack being dogs that would turn on her.

Aemond was the key one. Likely Aegon would get shoved forward if they kept him in line. Otto barked and waved his hands with Rhaenys, he liked the sidelines. Your eyes flickered to Cole— perfectly coiffed and manicured, his suits tailored sharp and tight to show off his body. He certainly looked like a fuck toy.

His dark eyes raised to meet yours, thick brows furrowing. You scoffed and turned your attention elsewhere, the egotistical fucker aggravated now. You could hear his ringed finger tapping against the wood. Prick.

By the end of the week, Rhaenyra held a tenuous hold on CEO, Alicent had taken COO, and Otto had weaseled in as CFO. This was shite. Mother was outnumbered. Tyland Lannister should have had it, he put aside loyalties for success, and he’d served two sides well.

Life in the offices post vote was interesting, to say the least. You’d often be around, observing and speaking with employees. Today you had worn a little black blouse with a bow and a fitted tweed skirt, tights emphasizing your long legs and patent heels. You had a plan. First you made sure your hair was still presentable and reapplied your lipstick. With a smirk, you sauntered over to his oversized cubicle.

Criston Cole. Up jumped prick. It was obvious he was some sort of release for Alicent, leaving her office adjusting his tie, smoothing back his hair, lips still wet. You had gathered he was wildly misunderstood— a whore and a sexist bully. Yet others spoke of him revering women and kind to most. Some said he was dumb as a box of rocks, others said he was quietly crafty in the right environment.

Confusing. But you could do with a whore.

You leaned against the wall, watching his shoulders and biceps bunch as he looked over the potential acquisitions, likely in tech. He had his walkmans on and fidgeted as he read. You eyed his cubicle, immaculately clean, two photos on the wall. One of him in the military shaking a commander’s hand. The other was of a man holding a young Criston, a beautiful Dornish looking woman laughing next to them.

Mommy issues? Maybe. Seems normal enough.

The maybe-bully turned around and pulled off his headphones, raising a brow as he chuffed. “What are you doing staring at the back of my head like that?” His lips turned into a scowl at the sight of your smirk.

“Merely getting to know my mother’s new workers. My coworkers, somewhat. I’m just here for help.”

He eyed your body, dark orbs traveling upwards. Criston watched you with a tight smile, spreading his muscled thighs as his chair rolled around. You remained stoic, waiting on the inevitable snark or nasty comment.

“So what is mommy’s little princess doing besides flouncing your bows and snooping around?”

Oh. You wanted to kill him. Smack that smarmy look off his face.

“What? That’s what you do. Skip around and flirt with that big chip on your shoulder. It’s almost cute, knowing what you are.”

You ignored him to continue, “I’m overseeing the new employees to our building. I’m in law school. Besides, I don’t need some fucktoy bully with muscles for a brain to snap at me. Watch your godsdamn mouth with me and how you speak on my family.”

You glared him down, watching Criston get flushed and submit easily. There it was, not a hard button to find. A little meanness, a little firm hand, and Criston Cole was putty. You grinned, patting his desk, “Good boy. Perhaps you should keep your mouth shut more, or go get it glued back to the green queen’s cunt.”

He inhaled sharply as you walked away victorious.

You dialed your mother up from the car phone, cackling about the experience. The pair of you schemed, you needed to get under Criston or over him. Whatever it took to figure out more…perhaps you had your own desires. He hadn’t been going to Alicent’s office as much since you slipped up. Albeit was quite known.

The further away from her he was, the better. That’s how you could snag the man. The upcoming gala would be time to strike.

You wore a strapped, glass-beaded black gown to the gala, some bullshit reason to meet around and prove that all was swell, give out idiotic awards and swaths of money. Your curls were piled into an updo, brows thick, and eyes shadowy. Your lips were blood red. Black gloves went to your elbows.

You knew you had to bang Cole tonight. He’d softened some around you since the moment in his cubicle but he was tighter than the damn Iron Bank when it came to anything of information you wanted. He looked handsome in his designer suit, pressed and prim. Hovering behind Alicent, looking like a puppy. You frowned between sips of your champagne. You needed him away from her!

“You’re hot you know,” came a slurred voice.

“Ah. Dearest uncle of mine. Coming to hit on his family. How many flutes I wonder?” You turned to face a grinning Aegon, purple eyes hazy, smelling like Joop! You rolled your eyes and let him jabber on, grinning at Aeg.

“You really must want a piece? You know fucking baseborn isn’t a good look, but your face is so cute,” you teased.

Aegon’s coked-up expression widened into a grin, his hands on your waist as you laughed it off. Jacaerys would pull him off, or Luke. Aegon’s lips grew closer to your neck before being yanked back roughly, one irritated Criston Cole glaring down at Aegon and sending him packing. You waved goodbye.

Criston’s big frame engulfed yours, his more masculine scent aided with some Calvin Klein tickling your nose. Damn this man for being so damnably handsome. He was looking down at you, jaw clenching. You hummed, “Thanks for the save, Cole. Didn’t know you had the knight in shining armor sensibilities.”

He gripped your arm, grunting, “I don’t.”

The taller man led you away, farther and farther towards the bathrooms. You laughed, Criston shooting a glare.

“Where are you taking me?”

He huffed, “Away from here. I have some questions for you.”

“This isn’t going to end up with you strangling me right?”

“Shut up, damn, you talk so godsdamned much!”

You rolled your eyes once again, trying to keep up with his long strides, the man unlocking a door and shoving you inside. You stumbled and cursed, Criston quick to pick you up. He led you over to the desk, picked you up, and put you atop the flat surface.

He stared, jaw clenched, eyes wide as they took you in— calloused hands ran up your pantyhose.

You cocked your head, humming, “I thought you were asking questions.”

Criston closed into space, hands gripping your thighs tighter as he snarled, “I don’t get you. You don’t work for the company, you’re a damn college brat with a chip on your shoulder.” His hands tightened again, fingertips digging into your skin.

“Anyways are we fucking or not?”

Criston looked at a loss for words, nostrils flaring in aggravation. You cooed, hand sliding across his broad shoulders and up to the nape of his neck. Gently playing and pulling at his curls, you leaned closer to his pretty mouth, noses touching.

The man exhaled sharply, voice less sharp as he murmured, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

How funny, you couldn’t either.

Your lips curled up in pleasure, eyes slipping shut as you kissed him softly, a mere press of the lips. Criston tried for more— only for you to pull back and chide, “Slow, we don’t have anywhere to be.” You could tell he was thinking, but Cole acquiesced and matched your pace.

As you lazily smacked lips with him, his hands eased up, rubbing up and down. You slid your tongue between his lips, moaning softly as he eagerly met you, hot and slick. He made a noise deep in his chest when you grabbed a handful of slicked-down dark hair. You pressed up against his firm chest, tongues and lips doing an age-old dance.

Criston sucked on your bottom lip, returning to sup at your mouth, hands roving up higher, your dress rising with the movement. You spread your thighs with a sigh, panting against his insistent mouth. You could feel the kiss grow messy, Criston pulled ever you closer. He flicked his tongue against yours, moaning in desperation.

You distantly wondered if Alicent let him kiss her much. If she let him do anything besides satiate a need. The way he was pressed tight to your frame and groaning like a man deprived from some kisses seemed to affirm that. He pulled back with a wild look, nuzzling and pressing his wet lips to your neck, dark stubble rubbing the thin skin.

You threw your head back for more access, panting and sighing. You pulled at his hair again and spread your legs wider. He gasped when you asked if he was going to eat you out like he did the COO. Criston grumbled, frowning, his hands pulling down your hose.

“Is that all you think I’m good for?”

You studied his downtrodden puppy dog face and felt bad, poor thing had a knack for attaching himself to unavailable women. Your mind railed distantly on what he said about your mother and your siblings.

“Maybe. Looks like you spend more time on your knees than in your cubicle from my time at the office, Criston.”

You pushed at his shoulder, Criston dropping down with a petulant look across his face. He continued to pull your pantyhose down, fingers hooking into your thin underwear along the way. He made a weak nose when you leaned back some, purring, “There we go, take it all off. Gods, you’re pretty down there.”

He moaned again, nosing at your knee, dark eyes peeling from your exposed skin to look up. Criston rasped desperately, “Please, I’m sorry.” Those dark eyes were growing wet. You ripped your gaze away from his face, trailing down his heaving chest to where his flushed cock pushed against his fly.

“Sorry for what?”

Criston whimpered, the sound escaping before he could swallow it down. You smirked, hands running through his dark hair as your legs began to spread. He was staring again, wordless pleading for a taste.

He croaked, “I- ah- apologize for my manner of speech and behavior toward you. I don’t want this to be merely a scheme.”

You murmured, softer than expected at his observation, “You’re a sap, aren’t you? Just want a pretty girl to be all yours hm? You can be mine, I think I’ll let you have me.” You twisted at his hair harder, eliciting another pathetic noise.

“Yeah, that seems nice, you’re going to be mine now. Don’t worry, I’ll let you stick around and hold me afterward Cole. What a waste if I didn’t.”

He choked out, “Please, yes, yes— I’ll be good I swear, I’ll be so good to you.”

You grinned, scooting toward the edge of the desk, soaked cunt right in front of Criston’s teary eyes. You cooed, “I’ll let you have it, Cris, just know who you’re serving now. Me. No one else. No more dallying around with Hightower, you’ll be visiting my office when I pass the bar. Doesn’t that sound sweet, tell me how good I’m letting you have it.”

He got another twist of his hair.

Criston desperately moaned, voice cracking as he gripped your thighs, lips hovering over your pussy. He croaked, “I’m yours, yours, no one but you. No Hightower, no Targaryen— Velaryon.” He sucked a wet breath in, need wracking the man as he began to beg.

“Please- please baby- let me treat you good?”

You nodded, pushing his face toward your cunt. Criston kissed up your thigh, coarse hands moving your legs over his shoulders. His lips were hot and wet, leaving a trail and shiver up your spine. You couldn’t help the throaty moan from your chest when the brunette inhaled with a curse— his molten touch and breath casting across your most sensitive flesh.

“C’mon, c’mon,” you breathed.

Criston wasted no time, delving into your slick folds, mouth immediately kissing and lapping at your soaked entrance. You cried out, thighs jumping and tightening. He groaned in delight, lurid sounds from his overeager eating— that gorgeous nose of his pressed tightly to your bundle of nerves.

“Ngh- Criston, fuck!” You inelegantly carried on, sounding like one of those sultry-eyed whores in the porn movies. The man between your thighs laughed, hands soothing up and down the outside of your propped legs.

There was reverence in Criston’s rumble, his dark eyes as he murmured between messy presses of his lips, “Taste s’fucking good baby.” You arched into his mouth, hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to your aching clit.

“Smart boy,” came your hum of pleasure. One of your knees fell to the side, Criston checking again with expressive eyes as he slid the center two of his digits across your pussy. You nodded, throwing your head back in ecstasy as the man mouthed and tongued at your pearl in sloppy movements. He was utterly lost in it, groaning as he sucked and licked, dexterous fingers deep inside.

The quiet room was filled with the most erotic of noises— squelching, whines, shuddery breaths, and his deliciously messy eating. No wonder Alicent kept him around— you deliriously thought. On that note, you cried his name, laying back on the desk to roll into him easier, his pretty face and fingers dragging across your tender spots. The lovely sting of his stubble added a level.

Pleasure laced up and down your spine, building hot in your lower belly. He moved faster as you began to whimper, moans getting pitchy and needy. He held your hip down with his free hand, moaning. You babbled, “F-fuck, gods, gonna come, can’t stop dripping all over you. Such a good toy!”

He gasped, tonguing around where his fingers stretched your hole, lapping up every bit of your essence like a last meal. You began to writhe, breath choppy between moans. Criston fucked you faster with his fingers, you could feel his obsidian eyes watching with feverish heat.

Your belly tightened and spasmed, that wondrous feeling of intense pleasure blooming when the marcher sealed his perfect lips over your clit again to suck. He had to hold you down with one hand splayed across your lower belly, strength evident as you bucked and whined and keened his name.

You shivered, tears of overstimulation pricking as he lapped you clean, sucking his fingers with a slutty little moan. Criston mumbled, “Was that good, princess?” His calloused palm rubbed your trembling stomach, soothing and maddening as you came down from the orgasm.

Eventually gathering your wits, you held out a hand, the ‘businessman’ helping you sit upright. You felt a mess, running a hand over your errant curls, cunt on display, pantyhose ‘round your ankles. Criston looked at you like a goddess, his ever-helpful hands easing your pantyhose up before you stopped him.

His thick brows furrowed in confusion.

You laughed softly, “You’ve done a good job, I don’t see why you don’t get a reward.”

Criston’s hands reflexively tightened, his big chest swelling as he inhaled. You continued in your saccharine tone, “I mean you ate me out like a champ, I’m sure you’re tired of walking off with cum in your underwear or a hard-on from hell. Poor puppy, you look so swollen too.”

Criston outright whimpered, “Hurts.”

You cradled his face, cooing at the furrow in his brow, how those almond eyes were nearly full of tears. Gods, he was perfect, all man but willing to be jerked around by ‘the lesser sex’. So they say. Your eyes shifted to his cock once more, painfully pressing against his fly. Criston made another pitiful noise.

“You wanna come? I’ll let you bend me over this desk. You better fuck me hard, gods know you’re used to getting ridden. You’re just a sweet little fuck toy, hm?”

Criston gasped, eyes closing as a tear slipped. He was shaking with need, mouth hanging open as he babbled, “Yes- m’your fuck toy, but I’ll do it good for you, I’ll make you come, baby, I’ll hold it I swear!”

You smiled, turning to get on your belly, legs planted on the ground now. You could hear him shucking off his blazer, fervent fingers ripping at buttons. While he divested his clothing you teased mercilessly.

“So excited aren’t you? Big man gets to fuck now. You’re welcome. Tell me who you serve now. Tell me who you belong to and I’ll let you fill me up.”

He croaked, voice cracking, “I serve you now, yours, m’gonna make you feel so good, I won’t come, I’ll hold it.”

You turned to eye his heaving chest, the dark hair trailing down to his thick cock. A moan slipped from your lips at his beauty. His pretty prick was so flushed, you’d give him some slack if he did come. Poor thing was already worked and messy tears would be no good.

“C’mon then, I’m ready, take it easy stud,” you said, pulling him by the wrist. That hand gripped your hip, fingers digging in. He was panting while guiding the weepy tip of his cock into your sensitive cunt. The tip pressed up into your folds, stretching you out agonizingly slow.

Criston heaved, easing in further, little grunts and huffs from behind. He gritted out, “Pussy’s fucking perfect, gods.” You closed your eyes, savoring the stretch as Cole eased the tip in, pausing with a tremble. You let him acclimate, the marcher moaning throatily.

“Shh-shit, shit,” he said, both hands on your waist now.

You moaned softly as he went deeper, his prick molten hot and filling you up. It ground against your ridged walls, your cunt gripping the intrusion, more pleasure crawling up your spine. He was whining through his nose, muttering about how good you felt, how tight and wet it was.

You soothed, “I know, take it easy, you wanna fuck me good and hard, you need it, Cris.”

Criston groaned, “Oh- thank y-you, I needed this, s-so godsdamn hard for you baby.”

You gripped the edge of the desk as Criston was deep, his trim hips against your ass as he carried on. He leaned forward a bit, breathing through the intense stimulation. You didn’t mind, his bitten-off whimpers were cute. He was a sweetie under all his bluff.

You told him so, earning another agonized moan.

Soon Cris’ cock wasn’t throbbing and his breath had evened out. You turned to get a look, pulling him in for a quick kiss, his dark lips swollen. Criston murmured, “I think I’m ready. I can take you good and hard like you want princess, if you’ll let me, I’ll be good, s’good.”

You whispered against his lips, “Have at it stud. About time someone put that strength to good use. But you better have me soaking your cock before you think about busting.” He nodded, eyes adoring when you playfully nipped his lip, reaching back to smack a lean flank.

You couldn’t help the noise pushed out of you when he pulled out to the tip, adjusting your hips so he could slam back in at the right angle. The pair of you practically howled in unison, the primal affair on. Criston fucked like a man deprived, quick, and strong thrust.

You cried out as his hips cracked against your ass, his heavy sac hitting your clit. Criston groaned and cursed, pausing occasionally on a good deep thrust just to get ahold of himself once more. Your nails dug into the hard surface of the desk, mouth hanging wide open.

“Yeah- yeah, baby, good boy- ohgods!” You cried out when he pulled you upright against his body, fingers thumbing and pinching your nipples. He slurred nonsense, wet kisses as he lost himself, only focused on fucking you into oblivion.

Sweat began to bead across your body, turning to gooseflesh from the stimulation. His fingertips swirling and softly tugging at your nipples sent a bolt of white-hot arousal down to your clit. You knew you were getting wetter for him. Hells, you’d started crying out in ecstasy, bucking back into him like a wild animal.

Criston growled, “I’m yours, let me be yours, I’ll do this every night if you see fit.”

How he was suddenly composed pissed you off. But you were too out of sorts to do anything but moan and roll back onto his fat cock that was wrecking you. Giving a little whine of acquiescence, you nodded. He was yours now, he was going to be your big scary guard dog that adores his lady.

You heaved at the thought, belly tightening up, nipples budding so hard it hurt. Criston began to slowly push you back onto the desk, his heated body following, enveloping you in his warmth and scent. Criston grinned against your neck, pressing kisses as he slipped a hand down to form a vee with his fingers, rubbing at your flushed clit.

You wouldn’t admit this later but you squealed. You squealed and thrashed and came so hard your vision blacked out. Ecstasy consumed every part of your body. You gushed on Criston, pussy pulling and pulsing around him. When you could see again— he was the perfect wreck.

The brunette was waiting for permission. He was desperately begging, voice pitched enough to make it crack. You could hear the warble of a sob building up. Yet the man still sloppily rutted into your cunt, discordant and choppy. He cried softly, “Pleasepleaseplease let me come, please, oh it hurts, I did good yeah? Hurts- nghhh- mhh- gonna pop baby please.”

“Fill me up,” you slurred.

Criston came with a silent scream, shaking all over as he shoved deep and emptied— hot seed overflowing your cunt. He whined and whined as his swollen balls emptied, enough to make your spent body shiver.

The moment of bliss became subdued, his shaky hand reached for a tissue, pulling out, both of you hissing as he caught the excess, getting another few tissues to clean both of you up. Criston quietly pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck, pulling your underwear and hose up.

You turned to help the debauched man get himself clothed and back together. He was quiet, lips quirked a little, smile not quite reaching his eyes. As you buttoned his shirt up and started in on his tie, you looked up.

“I do mean it, I don’t mind this, I think you’re not so bad under your yuppie dick persona you like to put on,” you teased gently, straightening the tie. Criston frowned a bit, exhaling, “I seem to get grief in return every time. But…but I like your sweetness that shines when you’re not preening for your mother.”

He gave a grin this time, a real one that made his eyes crinkle, a glimmer of warmth.

You kissed him again, humming, “Well- since you’re my sweet boy now, maybe Mother and Ali can finally hook up.”

That was the first real laugh you’d heard from the man. He pulled you in close, chuckling, “Perhaps we’re doing everyone a favor if so. We’ll figure out the hoops as they come. Probably will be upsetting our bosses.”

[yanderes-galore]

Could you do a concept of Alicent from House of the Dragon with a handmaid/lady-in-waiting darling?

Watching/reading ASOIAF related content and I'm getting ideas. Am I being self indulgent? Perhaps... but let me have this.

As usual with ASOIAF content, read Trigger Warnings carefully.

Yandere! Alicent Hightower with Handmaid! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, ASOIAF content, Obsession, Affairs, Girl/Girl, Manipulation, Medieval marriage practices and Medieval practices in general, Jealousy, Possessive behavior, Intimacy mentioned (Touchy behavior, Bedding, etc) but nothing graphic, Unhealthy power dynamic, Targcest (Mentions of Aegon and Helaena's marriage in one line), Blood, Threats, Violence, Death, Restraints, Dubious/Forced relationship.

Alicent's story is a bit sad... but her actions feel vile at times.

Her father, Otto, made her marry King Viserys I to provide power to the Hightower family.

She didn't want such a role, such a role only ruined her freedoms.

She even lost Rhaenyra... the act of marrying her friend's father betraying the young princess.

Alicent was never happy in her marriage.

Her only purpose as queen was to supply male heirs for the throne.

She succeeded... having Aegon and Aemond... even a daughter, Helaena.

But all of this was out of duty.

Not love.

As a result I feel Alicent may confide in a loyal maid, you.

You're her personal maid, an outlet for her to vent to.

Alicent often calls her maid when she is not needed with the king.

You serve both her and Viserys I, but she calls you more often.

You showed the queen sympathy when she first brought up such issues.

She trusts you not to say a word as her handmaid, plus she can tell you pity her even if you don't understand the life of royalty.

Alicent's obsession starts as her speaking with you for comfort.

She wishes for her previous freedoms, she envies Rhaenyra for being able to do what she wishes...

Alicent wants to experience intimacy without just tolerating it.

As a result... Alicent ends up falling for the one person she trusts will care about her.

You are a comfort for her as her maid.

She knows she shouldn't have such feelings... you are a maid and Alicent is a queen married to a king.

Yet... when Alicent tests the waters with you after a few years... you seem so compliant.

You see the queen as what she is, a woman who has had her youth wasted.

You provide her friendship... support... someone to talk to.

Admittedly... when you noticed the queen get oddly touchy with you, it confused you.

When you spoke alone in her chambers, Alicent would sit beside you, a hand nearing your thigh as she leans closer.

The thought flusters you, but nothing's forced upon you.

Alicent grows fond of you when she speaks with you and watches you take care of her children.

You comfort Aegon when he's berated and correct him, you try to listen to Helaena's babbling about strange sayings, and you tend to Aemond's wounds after fights.

Alicent held no genuine love for Viserys... yet here she is infatuated with a maid.

I imagine eventually Alicent manages to convince you to join her in her bed when alone.

At first she says she just wishes to talk while you sit next to her...

But one thing leads to another...

Leaving the queen able to satiate herself.

Alicent keeps such an obsession hidden from everyone.

While Rhaenyra has rumors that her sons are Strongs (they are)... Alicent would rather have no rumors of her bedding her maid behind the king's back.

Alicent urges such an affair to stay quiet, she tells you not to say a word.

Yet this is only the start of Alicent's obsession.

Having been deprived of a partner of her choosing... she ends up soothing herself with her maid.

You are unsure how to feel about the queen being so attached to you.

She always has an arm or hand on you at all times, even at meals she keeps you close.

You feel uncomfortable under the gaze of Viserys and his children.

They have no idea how tightly Alicent holds your hand under the table... a reminder of the bond she has with you.

While you keep up appearances as the queen's handmaid, you know your duty when Alicent calls you to her chambers in private.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't like what the queen does for you.

You and the queen aid one another in many ways.

You are committing possibly illegal acts whenever the queen holds you close to her.

But guilt always manages to worm its way back into your mind.

Maybe you shouldn't enjoy it?

While Viserys is unaware... busy with his illness and children... you're here under Alicent's covers with her arms fully wrapped around you.

You are her escape... no matter the cost you have to pay.

As her obsession continues, Alicent continues to keep you close.

Many begin to whisper about the queen and her handmaid.

You two are very close... perhaps too close...

Yet such rumors are quickly snuffed out by Alicent whispering a silent order.

No one is allowed to touch you.

Even Aegon knows his place when he sees his mother hold you around the waist so tightly.

You're hers... even if you wished to change profession, she wouldn't let it go through.

You're her handmaid... her forbidden love... and she plans to be your one and only.

If others tried to court you, Alicent puts a stop to it.

A knight flirts with you? Alicent has his position moved.

Your family found someone for you? Alicent votes against it, saying she doesn't want her handmaid to devote herself to a partner yet.

Aegon touches you? Alicent will punish him herself.

Aemond already knows better and Helaena sees you in a platonic light.

Alicent worries Aegon will treat you like all the other maids... so you end up being unable to serve the prince for now.

Even when Viserys dies and Aegon II is set to be king... even when the war between the Blacks and Greens begins... Alicent has you by her side.

It's unknown if you are giving into her out of duty or genuine love by this point... but the queen has you on a tight lead.

With her husband gone, she is free to do with you as she wishes while Aegon II and Helaena act as the new king and queen.

Now her heart is fully dedicated to you.

She expects the same with you... any other partner being drained of their blood if they so much as touch you.

Ever since you gave in and provided comfort to the queen... you were hers.

Her mind deteriorates as tragic events begin to occur throughout the war.

Yet one thing is certain in her mind...

Her maid will always be by her side... even if it has to be by chains.

[drakaripykiros130ac]

One thing I have always admired about the Blacks is how they are a tight family unit, compared to the greens.

The Blacks did not even start out as a one whole family. Rhaenyra and Daemon both had different spouses, children from different marriages. And after Rhaenyra and Daemon finally married, the Blacks all became one in the true sense of the word family. They always have each other’s backs.

The greens, on the other hand, always seemed to me as a necessary alliance, but never a true family. For Alicent and Otto, the green kids and grandkids were nothing more than their political chess pieces.

Even when Daemon thought that “a son for a son” would hurt the greens just as much as they hurt Rhaenyra, it didn’t really have that effect. The only one who truly suffered was Helaena. The others, especially Alicent and Otto, saw this as a direct attack on their faction, and as a result they needed to strike back. But they didn’t truly give a damn that the little boy was gone from their lives. They lost an important chess piece. That’s about it.

There are a lot of things which make the greens seem as an alliance rather than a family. Such as the fact that Aemond secretly seeks to take the throne from his brother. He doesn’t actually do it, but it is constantly implied how much worthier he deems to be compared to Aegon (both in the book and the show). And he didn’t hesitate to take charge and wear the Conqueror’s crown while Aegon was incapacitated.

Next, there is Daeron, who barely even knows his so-called family, given how much time he spent in Oldtown. He is a Hightower pawn with a dragon, and used as such throughout the whole Dance.

As for Helaena, while she doesn’t have issues in the book, she is still treated as the least important green. Nobody truly cares about her suffering. Alicent put the crown on her head and called her “Queen” yet she constantly undermined her position, and acted as if she was still the Queen. And after Helaena does commit suicide, there is barely any mourning. Alicent plots to have her son married to Cassandra Baratheon and produce male heirs, just to avoid having Rhaenyra’s son end up on the throne.

Finally, we have Ser Crispin Cole. He likes to think that he is part of the “green family” but he really isn’t. He is the family guard dog. They are basically using him. Using his hatred for Rhaenyra for their own gain.

The Blacks have such great family vibes, that it’s a shame they didn’t focus on it in the show. The show writers were really lazy in the writing of the family dynamic for Team Black. They spent so many happy years on Dragonstone before the war started. We barely got a glimpse of that.

Don’t even get me started on how they didn’t show even a bit of Daemyra’s married life. Episodes 8-10 were straight up business. It would have been nice to show how happy the Blacks were away from the Court drama and the greens’ bullying.

[b-rainlet]

The Green family dynamics are so interesting because like, Viserys is the father but due to his decay he seems more like the grandfather, whereas Otto is the Grandsire but seems to fill out the role of a father more, not only to his daughter but also her children, so he and his daughter are a mother/father unit but in some situations Alicent is treated like a sibling to her children (by Otto) and then you have the obvious Helaena/Aegon happening (siblings who are also husband/wife and mother/father to their children), but at the same time it seems like Aemond is the one trying to be the family's protector and attempting to step up as patriarch, with some of the scenes between him and Alicent giving off the vibes of equals rather than Mother and Son (like when they discuss Aemond finding Aegon) and his relationship with Aegon seeming like he's the big brother and not the other way around, in this essay I will-

[mejcinta]

HOTD S3 PLOTLINE IDEAS INCLUDING SOME BTS HINTS BY WRITERS, ACTORS AND MY OWN SPECULATION. PS: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON’T CUT MAELOR OR NETTLES!!!!

Aemond struggles with paranoia following the prophecy Helaena revealed to him, initially denying it and continuing in his quest for glory. Ewan also stated in an interview (to Hey U Guys, YouTube) that Aemond could oversee the breaking of the blockade. Will he be duped by the dragonseeds and Jace moving on 2 fronts i.e the Gullet AND King’s Landing, capturing it in his absence as he’s occupied at the Gullet?

Helaena is in more danger with Aemond than ever before (Sara Hess’ words).

Orwyle alone knows of Alicent’s treason. Aemond might confront him about Aegon’s disappearance.

Aegon’s escape might trigger Alicent to admit her treason.

Helaena disapproves of Alicent’s betrayal/compromise with Rhaenyra (Phia said that news would be a 'tough pill to swallow' for Helaena) while Aemond (IF POINT NUMBER 1 DOESN’T HAPPEN) is heartbroken and angry because Alicent chose Rhaenyra over him and his siblings. There’s no time left to hold Alicent accountable for her crime and he loves her too much to harm her. Thus his departure from KL will be one of urgency.

Aegon and Larys on a turbulent ‘road trip’ while on the run to Essos.

Alicent and Rhaenyra feud because of Aegon’s escape. When Otto is finally captured by the Blacks, a bitter Rhaenyra executes him in public before Alicent in retribution for Jace and baby Viserys. This widens the divide between the two women and severs their old bond. It’s all out war from here on out.

BEST OPTION: Helaena learns she is with child (Maelor) just when Alicent thinks her sons are free from Rhaenyra’s wrath. Having a male babe would mean Helaena would have to live in fear losing another son. S2 happens in the span of 6 weeks, so Maelor’s conception can fall between the dinner in s1 episode 8 and her encounter with Aegon after Jaehaerys’ funeral. Alicent has some few sympathizers left at court (maids and/spies connected to Larys). It is these people that help facilitate the escape of baby Maelor with Rickard in disguise.

Helaena and Alicent arrange for Jaehaera to be snuck out to safety to Storm’s End.

Daemon misinterprets the vision Alys showed him, becomes obsessed with it benefitting him directly e.g he believes Dany could be his future daughter with Rhaenyra (Ryan Condal said this).

Daemon fears Helaena because he saw her in his vision. This could be Helaena’s only saving grace, especially after Jace is killed by the Greens’ forces.

Mysaria forces Rhaenyra to contend with the fact that for as long as Helaena lives as a symbol of true Queenship to the smallfolk she stands little chance of being accepted and must get rid of her.

Mysaria disapproves of Alicent’s influence on Rhaenyra and will throw a wrench in their dynamic.

(ASSUMING MAELOR IS FOOLISHLY CUT FROM THE STORY, SMH) Ser Rickard’s demise leads many to believe that Jaehaera is dead too and this might throw Helaena into severe depression.

Aegon and Larys might get intercepted on their journey to Essos and be forced to change course to their nearest least suspicious location: Dragonstone. Tom Glynn Carney stated in an interview to the Nerdist that he’s not so sure whether Aegon and Larys will end up in Essos.

Ser Alfred Broome looks to Aegon for favor because now that Daemon knows he would readily betray Rhaenyra, his safety under the Blacks is at risk. He will be the one to welcome Aegon and Larys to Dragonstone and hide them.

Baela, who by now has lost both Rhaenys and Jace, stews in rage ad vengeance. As she divides her time between Dragonstone and Driftmark in the books, I expect that she’d be left in charge of Dragonstone (with Driftmark now sacked). She grows more suspicious of Ser Alfred and his activities.

Alys’ past is delved into (one of th writers promised this, can’t tell which one) as she struggles with 100 years of loneliness following Daemon’s departure (actress said Alys desires human connection). Turns out she has much in common with Aemond, who also feels alone and abandoned by his family.

Daeron rescues Otto from his jailors (this means the old man will be captured by the Blacks later on and be executed publically later on as well.)

Daeron might learn of Aegon’s whereabouts and communicate with him.

Aemond goes to Harrenhal and clashes with Alys at first. Their relationship will take time to develop #slowburn.

Rhaena saves little Aegon from the Triarchy/Tyland preserves Aegon and when the seeds capture them, he is arrested????

OR Jace is the one who tries to save his brothers but fails. Ultimately, Vermax, wounded in battle, flies to Dragonstone and dies on the beach with little Aegon still clinging to him. This way Jace dies having saved a brother heroically.

Addam’s identity is revealed and Rhaenyra starts to doubt Corlys’ intentions. This is the beginning of her paranoia arc.

Alyn and Corlys draw closer as father and son.

Aegon questions Larys’ intentions.

Larys uses his spy network to siphon intelligence from King’s Landing and Harrenhal.

Aegon secures Jaehaera either by himself or with the help of Storm’s End to whom he gives promise of a marriage alliance in exchange.

Sunfyre escapes a hunting party sent by Rhaenyra, confirming he is alive and able to fly. He begins his journey to Dragonstone.

OPINION: Swapping Nettles for Rhaena would be DIABOLICAL because that means Rhaena would have to suffer pure hatred from the woman she calls mother. And this being what separates Daemon from Rhaenyra doesn’t hit as hard as Daemon slowly losing faith in Rhaenyra as she descends into madness and paranoia, and at the same time Daemon starts to falsely see the vision of Dany manifest through Nettles, who he brings under his wing of protection.

It would be much better for Rhaena to FAIL in her attempt at claiming Sheepstealer. Have Jeyne take her back in and try to connect her to her little brothers again, who have probably left ahead of her by this time. Develop a mother-daughter dynamic between these two with Jeyne imparting some counsel. With the guilt of putting her little brothers in danger, Rhaena tries to gain the support of the Vale for Rhaenyra by reaching a deal with the Royces, who by now are still bitter about Daemon. And Daemon, who saw visions of Laena urging him to take care of their daughters, will defend Rhaena from Rhaenyra’s anger after the Battle of the Gullet. He will try to help Rhaenyra see sense, that the tragedy would have happened anyways, whether Rhaena was present with the children or not.

[imaginarianisms]

dont talk to me& im& thinking about how h.elaena loves her grandfather so so much. & then when r.haenyra takes king's landing....... she orders o.tto to be executed & h.elaena's probably Begging her not to bc like that's her beloved grandfather who always accepted her for who she was & the way she was without ever judging her. o.tto was a lot of things but he never made fun of her or made her feel unwanted & i& think that it's bc of his influence that she started to study & learn different things like botany & studying the stars & flower language & getting into drawing & painting & divination & studying living creatures & death & he'd encourage her to speak more bc as a child she'd, like, wouldn't speak very often & a.licent was worried that smth was wrong in her development or if she was just naturally quiet but he encouraged her. when r.haenyra has him executed, i&... genuinely dont think she'd forgive her for that. like. it was bad enough already that she'd lost j.aehaerys by d.aemon's hand & r.haenyra never deposed him or had him punished for it & that was salt in the wound, but now she takes her beloved grandfather away from her & expects her to be okay w it? nah. nah. ion& think so. & that's what's so heartbreaking about all of this. because like. r.haenyra & h.elaena loved each other very much as sisters but even h.elaena has her limits, she's not a pushover & she's not constantly going to be forgiving r.haenyra. like. she Has Agency & honestly i'm&. kind of tired of the presumption in the fandom that h.elaena's always going to be okay w/ whatever r.haenyra (or hell, anyone in her family, really) did or still does just bc they're close once bc honestly it's just giving the ableist sanist trope of "autistic quirky girl who has sunshine pouring out the ass & is constantly going forgive everyone who hurts her & brush all of the horrible shit they've done to her & her children under a rug just because she loves them". like. no.

[humanpurposes]

It Will Come Back

Chapter 3, Broken Bonds

Two sides of a family fight for their own claims to the Targaryen inheritance. Amongst the endless infighting, forced pleasantries and PR scandals, Jaya Velaryon finds herself face to face with a demon of her past, namely Aemond Targaryen. Love and hate are not emotions easily unlearned.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Jaya Velaryon (OFC)

Warnings: 18+, dark elements, targcest (uncle x niece relationship) toxic family dynamics, angst, mentions of violence and trauma

Words: 7.4k

A/n: Also available to read on AO3, if you're that way inclined.

Now…

The heat is relentless this summer. Light bleeds through the stained glass windows of the Red Keep in beams of red, green, blue and gold, only to be lost to the dark wood floors, furniture and panelled walls. It is Aemond’s least favourite time of year, when the weather makes him irritable and the harsh light gives him a headache, when business tends to be busy and everyone is preoccupied with holidays and garden parties. He’s less inclined to distract himself with frivolity. 

His sleeves are rolled up, his long silver hair pulled into a ponytail, sweat starting to pool underneath the eyepatch over the left side of his face. He’s leaning over Aegon, one hand on the back of his chair, staring down at a laptop screen as they check over some details for next week’s event.

It’s not often Aemond finds himself in his brother’s office. Technically Aegon is his superior, ‘deputy operations manager’ according to the golden plaque on the door. This is more of a courtesy title because he couldn’t get a respectable job anywhere else, and it would be far worse for their father’s image to have a layabout son.

That’s the funny thing about the family business. It’s no secret that Viserys Targaryen didn’t want his sons involved in Dragon Bank, but his influence is not as all encompassing as he would like to believe, not since the Hightowers got a foot in the door thirty or so years ago… then another… then another. Viserys can make his demands and shout when he’s angry enough, but there is one truth he cannot deny; he needs them. He needs Otto. He needs Alicent. He needs Helaena and Daeron to stay perfect. He needs Aegon to not be a fuck up and that’s enough. And he needs Aemond because he’s good at his job. No one has an eye for detail like him, no one can make sense out of figures or persuade clients and investors like he can.

Why their grandfather wants him to look over PR and marketing nonsense is understandable, but irritating nonetheless.

Their father has been planning this event for years, Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary gala, with all the pomp and grandeur of a bygone era, held at their ancestral seat of Dragonstone Castle, just outside the city. Five hundred years since one of their ancestors forged a throne for himself in King’s Landing, building an empire that still has most of the country under their family’s thumb. Viserys intends to use the occasion as a reminder to the rest of Westeros that they cannot compare to the might of the Targaryens. So there can be no oversights. Everything has to be perfect.

Aemond’s eye scans over the diagram on the screen, circles surrounded boxes with names; the seating plan for the main ballroom.

Then a name catches his eye and it makes his heart stop. He doesn’t want to believe what he sees but there it is on the screen, in Times New fucking Roman: Jaya Velaryon.

He’s hardly heard that name, read it, or heard it in six years. He can already feel a dull ache creeping into his skull, which he knows will catch like kindling and soon become a burning, blinding pain behind the space where his eye should be.

Aegon, completely oblivious, huffs a little laugh to himself. “Shit, yeah, I meant to say there was an update with the seating. So this could turn out to be quite interesting– fuck, are you alright?” 

“Fine!” Aemond snaps, staggering back from the chair. His head feels like it’s been run through with a knife and his fingers fumble to get his eyepatch off. “Fine– fuck! I’m fine.”

“Sit,” Aegon orders, quickly standing and guiding Aemond over to one of the leather sofas on the other side of the room, where the sunlight isn’t so direct.

The pain is often like this, striking suddenly, spreading quickly like a forest fire, eating away at him like a disease. He has no choice but to endure it.

He feels the eyepatch slip from his face before something cold presses against the worst of his scar. He reaches up to clasp his hands around it. A glass water bottle, one Aegon is holding. His brother is useless most of the time but he does have his moments.

“Fuck it’s all red,” Aegon mutters. “Have you got meds with you?”

When Aemond opens his mouth to speak his jaw is trembling. “Office,” he says, gritting his teeth together, trying to control his breath and the extent of the pain. “It’s in my office.” He can see where the packet is in the first draw under his desk.

“I can go and get you some–”

“No,” Aemond says, grabbing Aegon’s arm so he won’t move. 

He can handle this. Every time this kind of pain flares up he thinks of how much it hurt that night, how terrified he was as he felt the blood gushing from the gash in his eye, slipping through his fingers. The pain had been so great he thought it might kill him. If he can get through that night, the first few hours in the hospital, the months of recovery or the years since, then he can get through a fucking headache. 

He closes his eye and breathes in counts of three. In through the nose, hold, and out. Between that and the bottle against his face, the pain starts to feel a little duller and the room doesn’t feel so close.

“Is it… you know,”

Did seeing Jaya’s name shock him so severely that his body went into meltdown? Is his heart still pounding in his chest at the thought of reading her name and the possibility of seeing her again? 

Aemond exhales irritably against the back of his throat, defeated, but always stubborn.

“I thought you knew,” Aegon says. “Mum said she was going to talk to you.”

“Evidently that conversation is yet to happen.” Maybe it was meant to happen tonight. It’s a Friday which means Aemond will go to his mother’s apartments in the Keep for dinner after work.

It’s a struggle but he breathes through the worst of it, and blinks a tear from his eye. The pain hasn’t quite faded but something else burns hotter through his blood. He clenches his jaw and his fists. “How long have you known?”

Aegon makes a startled stuttering noise. “I– well–”

Aemond glares at him.

“A few days. The note came from Rhaenyra’s office on Monday or Tuesday, I can’t really remember–”

“Grandfather knew,” Aemond says, a question, but he can guess the answer. If it involves Dragon Bank or a member of the Targaryen family, Otto Hightower will know.

“Of course he knew. He said it was a last minute decision, one that Viserys was insisting we all bend over backwards to accommodate.”

Of course he would, anything for the precious daughter of his favourite child, the girl who slashed Aemond’s eye out with a broken bottle. 

He hates her for it. He hates every burst of pain, like an echo of that moment pulsing through his head. He hates every person he catches staring at him, he hates the way his reflection looks with her cruelty carved into his flesh. Most of all he hates that it reminds him of her. In a way he is grateful too. Time helped to heal the wound and eventually he realised how he had been changed by that night, how it made him the person he is now. 

But for the first time in a long time he does not find any pride in it, cowering in his brother’s office like a child at the mere mention of her name. 

“I can’t go,” Aemond says, hating how quiet his own voice is.

“That’s alright,” Aegon says, “you can sit here for as long as you need.”

“I meant the party.”

“Oh right, sorry.”

“I can’t go, not if she’s going to be there.”

There’s a long silence, filled only by the hum of the AC and the distant sounds of the city far below the keep, car horns, engines, sirens, the occasional cry of a seagull.

“Why don’t you talk it through with mum?”

“Aegon,”

“She’ll want you to go. She’ll be upset if you don’t.”

“I can’t,”

“I know you two were close, but, you know, I’m sure you both regret how things happened,” 

“Aegon, for fuck’s sake,”

“She cut out your eye, you said you’d cut out hers if you ever saw her again, we were all caught up in the moment.”

Aemond pushes up from the sofa and tosses the water bottle at Aegon’s head, not stopping to see if he caught it or not, before he’s yanking open the door and marching into the hallway.

The Red Keep is older than Dragon Bank itself, a red brick holdfast that has loomed proudly over King’s Landing for centuries, even as the skyline of the city has come to meet over time. It’s easy to get lost here, with its grand hallways, winding staircases and hidden passages, if old rumours are to be believed. He knows this place like he knows his own mind. He walks to his office through empty stairwells and forgotten corridors.

When he finally makes it to his own office he closes the door and lets his back fall against it.

He takes a slow breath, holds it, pouts his lips and exhales steadily. 

Who else knows? Viserys would have sent the invitation, Rhaenyra and the rest of her little runts will know. Otto knows, clearly his mother and Aegon both know, and he couldn’t have kept that secret, he would have told Helaena or Daeron, most likely both.

Everyone knows. Jaya is coming back home to King’s Landing, and everyone knows but him.

His mother told him everything when she thought he was ready to hear it. The bandages had been removed from his face and the cannula had been taken out of his hand. The doctors wanted him to stay in the hospital for a few more days so all the drugs could wear off and he could start getting used to the disorientation of losing half his vision. Alicent wanted him home, in his own bed. So he left the dry air and the white overhead lights of his room in the hospital, back to Dragonstone.

She told him that while he’d been on his knees with his hand over his face, trying to stop the blood and the remains of his eye from spilling onto the ground, Viserys had barked out his orders. He didn’t want ambulances or sirens because it would cause a scene in front of the guests. The shame, the damage it would do to the family’s image. Otto had persuaded him away from such a nonsensical idea and convinced Viserys to get the guests inside the house so Aemond and Jace’s injuries could be seen to.

He remembered shouting and sirens, blue lights and his mother’s hand clinging onto his before he blacked out. He had gone in for surgery almost immediately and woken the following evening surrounded by white walls, his mother and Criston Cole at his side.

Aegon, Helaena and Daeron all stayed at Dragonstone while he was there. They said once he and Jace had been taken away, Viserys had gathered the entire family inside the house. With their faces all still red from crying and Jaya’s pretty white dress still coated in blood, he demanded to know the truth. 

They all knew what the truth was. Jace didn’t know his limits and Aegon didn’t care about his.

He could see it all happening in his head, walking towards the orchard with Jaya and Baela, catching Jaya when she tripped over a stone, her tipsy smile as she looked up at him, the pearl and the sapphire pendant settled against her chest.

Who knows what started the argument between Jace and Aegon, but suddenly Aemond had found himself between them.

“There he is,” Jace had sneered, but his voice quickly raised into a shout, “‘perfect’ Aemond Targaryen, fucking mummy’s boy, thinking he’s some kind of fucking diplomat!”

Aegon tried to shout back, “more of a man than you’ll ever be,” Aemond couldn’t make out everything through the way his voice slurred.

“Not so fucking perfect though, are you? You’re no worse than Aegon– no! You’re so much worse, aren’t you? Aren’t you!?

He’d watched Jace’s expression darken, his lips sneering into a sickening smile.

“You’ve got my sister wrapped around your fucking finger, fucking creep.”

He told himself Jace was just drunk. It didn’t matter what he thought… only it did. Jace could tell Rhaenyra or Viserys. Worse, he could talk to Jaya. She had always been devoted to her twin. She had picked Jace over Aemond before, in petty arguments when they were children. 

“You want her, don’t you? Don’t you!? She’s too good for you though, and you know it. You want her but you’ll never fucking have her!”

When Aemond’s fist collided with Jace’s jaw it was on pure instinct. He was sober enough to stop himself but he didn’t. He just kept going.

According to Aegon, when Viserys came to Jaya, she said that it was Aemond who had started the argument. Jace was in the orchard with the others, when Aemond had come from nowhere and threw the first punch. She had seen it, so had Baela, so had Luke and Joffrey. It was their word against Aegon and Daeron’s.

The official story was that it had been a tragic accident, one in which Rhaenyra’s children were certainly blameless.

She called him the night he got to Dragonstone but he let the phone ring. A week later she appeared in the doorway to his bedroom. She was hazy, or he was still delirious from sleep, his mother hovering over her shoulder, reluctant to leave them alone together.

He doesn’t remember most of the conversation now. He doesn’t want to remember it. He knows it ended with tears streaming down her cheeks, but her face was completely still. She didn’t flinch, didn’t distort her face, scrunch her nose or make an ugly shape with her mouth. She looked utterly beautiful and cried effortlessly. It wasn’t fair when he still had stitches sewn into his flesh to keep the left half of his face in place.

At one point she approached the bed and tried to touch his hand. He snatched it out of her grasp. When she tried again he pushed her away.

“Why did you do it?” she said. “You attacked Jace, why? Why? Why? Why?”

Because Jace could have taken away the one thing he thought was his, by right, by love. Instead he gave some bullshit excuse– Jace had threatened Aegon, insulted Daeron, insulted him. And what did it matter anyway? Viserys believed her. 

He needed her. He needed her and she pushed him away and cradled her coward of a brother in her arms. He needed her and she’d thrown it all back in his face with a slash of a broken bottle. He needed her, but she had made her decision.

“Liar,” he hissed. “You’re a fucking liar.”

He saw it in her face then, her desire to fight melting away. To Aemond that had always meant that she knew he was right.

“Show up here again, utter so much as a word to me again, and I’ll tear yours out as payment for mine.”

Some weeks later Aegon mentioned that she had abandoned her plans to go to KLU and instead found a place at the University of Pentos. She never tried to call after that and neither did he.

A layer of sweat clings to his skin and makes him shiver. He shrugs it off as he sits down at his desk, and spots a handwritten note sitting beside the keyboard of his laptop. Investment figures for Seasnake Shipping back to me by 7pm at the latest. Knowing Otto Hightower, that means an hour before the specified time.

In for three, hold for three, out for three. It always amazes him how well that trick works, he thinks as he takes out a packet from the top drawer of his desk and pushes out two tablets, the one good thing he’d gotten out of his year of therapy. He swallows the medication dry, suddenly regretting throwing away the bottle of water.

It’s nearly 6pm when Aemond has everything his grandfather wants, the names of Seasnake’s investors, the other companies they’re attached to, numbers and details he’s found buried in endless spreadsheets and pages of paperwork. He shouldn’t be able to see most of them but he has his ways. The Velaryons have been in business with the Targaryens for centuries and there are always trails to follow. 

A few familiar names appear, Rhaenyra Tagrayren, Daemon Targayren, married to each of Corlys’ children. Aemond was only a year old when his sister married Laenor, but he’s always known how sceptical his mother and grandfather were of the match. It wasn’t something Rhaenyra had to do. She wasn’t going to inherit Seasnake, that had been promised to Laena, the elder sibling, and she was already Viserys’ chosen heir, so what did she think she was going to get out of it? Not a loving husband, surely.

Other investors and partners include the names Stark and Arryn, both wealthy and well established families. He also sees the names Celtigar, Massey, Bar Emmon, old names, though not as respected as they once were.

He leaves a note for his grandfather at the top of the document: Seasnake is being directed by a man who built his wealth to match his own pride, supported by opportunists with more money than sense.

With that task done he opens a new email to inform his father’s office that he’ll be absent from the event. He types it quickly and reads over it once before he can talk himself out of pressing send. He doesn’t give a reason why; Viserys should know why.

This leaves him just enough time to pack up and get ready for dinner.

The Red Keep has a series of apartments separated from the offices, where Aemond spent most of his childhood. The building is known as the Holdfast, with its own gatehouse leading into the city and gardens surrounded by high red brick walls. Historically it was built to house the extensive members of House Targaryen, but it is mostly empty now. His mother has had her own apartment for a few years, since Daeron moved out. The only one of his siblings to still live here now is Aegon, at Alicent’s insistence. 

Walking from his office to the Holdfast brings him through courtyards and underneath old battlements, until he comes to a facade with towers, tall windows and an unsuspecting wooden door, save for the armed guards standing either side of it. His mother’s apartments are on the first floor, along a gallery and up the grand staircase, past portraits and tapestries. The hallways get smaller the further in you go and soon he comes to the private rooms.

Alicent often dismisses the staff on quiet Friday evenings. The minute he’s in the door he is met with the sound of one of her 80s playlists, the scent of spices and her favourite lemon and lavender candles. He finds her in the kitchen, dark blue jeans, a white shirt, black pumps and her auburn curls pulled into a bun to show off her pearl earrings, stirring two pots on the stove. 

“Criston’s got me learning another one of his recipes,” she says, only looking at him for a moment, “I’ve got rice on too, so I hope you’re hungry.”

Aemond approaches her to kiss her on the cheek and takes a look inside the pots, one filled with chickpeas, the other with black lentils. “Is Aegon here?” he says.

“He’s in the lounge, tell him to set the table.”

Aemond watches her, entirely absorbed in the notebook on the counter next to the stove, with handwritten instructions. Nothing seems to be especially bothering her, even though the centenary event has had her on edge for over a month. She looks no different from the last time he saw her, before he knew about Jaya, when she was supposed to talk to him, supposedly.

“I want a drink first,” he says, whisky with no ice. He pours it for himself slowly while his mother hums along to Tears for Fears. “Do you know why grandfather wanted that information on Seasnake’s investors?” 

“Hmm? Oh he’s probably doing one of his checks, you know what he’s like. Good to keep an eye on everyone,” she says. She has a glass of red wine next to the notebook, though by the looks of it she’s hardly touched it. “He said something interesting about Rickon Stark recently, his son Cregan is in King’s Landing.”

Aemond pulls his glass away from his lips, the sweet sting of alcohol slipping down his throat. “Shouldn’t be too unusual, they’re attending next week.” Staying at Dragonstone no less, some of Viserys’ most honoured guests.

“He’s staying at Queen’s Lodge.”

That takes him by surprise. “Hmm,” he says, bringing the glass to his lips again.

“He and Jacaerys are quite close, Aegon tells me.”

The Starks had visited Dragonstone once or twice as summer guests, back when they were all kids. Cregan was always talkative and effortlessly charming, but it was obvious to Aemond that his warmth was far more calculated than anyone else believed. He made sure Jaya kept her distance, but Jace followed him around like a lost puppy for the weeks he’d stay with their family.

They would have studied together at White Harbour, though Cregan was a few years older than Jace. They could have met again and reconnected. Aemond doesn’t interact with his nephew outside of necessity.

“And what would Aegon know about it?” he says.

“More than you,” a voice calls from the doorway. Aegon has ditched his suit for brown cargos and a comically baggy sports shirt, leaning against the frame. “Ran into them last weekend,” he says, grinning coldly and running his tongue over his teeth. “The Starks are making some close personal connections with our sister’s family.”

“Don’t be vulgar,” Alicent sighs.

Aegon scoffs and makes a dismissive gesture. While their mother is still distracted, he looks at Aemond and raises his eyebrows. 

“Set the table, Aegon,” Aemond grumbles.

His brother does as he’s told. Aemond helps Alicent bring the dishes in. She sits at the head of the table, Aemond to her right, Aegon opposite him, to her left. She says a quick prayer to the Seven, as she always does. She asks the Mother to protect her children and asks the Crone for wisdom, for a light in dark and uncertain times. 

“Speaking of close personal connections,” Aegon says, already having wolfed down half of his plate. Aemond already hates the tone of this conversation. “We’ll finally get to meet Daeron’s new bit,”

“Do you have to say it like that?” Aemond says.

Aegon ignores him. “Are you excited to meet Nettles, mother?”

Daeron talks about her constantly. They met in Oldtwon while they were both studying. Now he’s working for the Citadel Institute, she’s some kind of journalist, and they live together in a perfect little flat that looks out over the Honeywine river. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

“That can’t actually be her name, surely?” Alicent says.

“Perhaps it’s short for something,” Aemond says, prodding his food now to find himself with no appetite. He thinks about the drive he’ll have to make through the city, back to the empty house waiting for him on Silverwing Square.

“Nettles,” Aegon says, eyes on the ceiling like he’s trying to decipher a hidden meaning. “Nettles, like stinging nettles?”

“Oh, Aemond,” Alicent says, looking down at the uneaten food on his plate, “what happened with Maris Baratheon, why is she not on the final guest list?”

Aegon smiles, folding his elbows on the table and leaning forward, eager to hear an explanation like he hasn’t already coaxed it out of Aemond over too many bottles of wine at a steak restaurant on Conquest Street.

“Things didn’t work out with Maris,” Aemond says shortly. An understatement. The thought of their last conversation makes him nauseous.

“Aemond, sometimes I feel like you don’t love me.”

“I don’t think I do,” which felt untruthful, because he knew from the start that he never would. There were lots of things he liked about Maris. He liked that she was interested in him, he liked that she was blunt and unrelentingly honest, he liked that she had dark hair, and that she liked being fucked from behind and would let him press her face down into the pillow to muffle her moans. Soon the things he liked about her only felt like another reminder.

“Maris is old news, mother,” Aegon says.

“What a shame,” Alicent says, reaching for her wine again. “Oh well, I don’t think Viserys particularly likes her father anyway.”

“Well you know Aemond, always striving for perfection.”

Aemond’s eye meets Aegon’s over the table. His brother is trying not to grin, violet eyes bright from the light of the candelabra between them. Shadows catch on the hollow parts of his face, it makes him look tired but vicious. 

Then he looks to his mother. She eats slowly with small mouthfuls, not making eye contact with either of her sons. It’s not often he finds himself upset or angry with his mother, not since he was old enough to understand just how hard she has worked, or know what she’s had to put up with as the wife of Viserys Targaryen. Aemond knows she trusts him in a way that does not always extend to his siblings. 

But now all he can think is that she knows about Jaya. She knows, and she won’t even look at him.

Jaya could be in King’s Landing this very moment, lounging around Queen’s Lodge, looking out over the orchard she watered with Aemond’s blood while her mother fawns over her only daughter’s return.

He just needs to say it. He won’t go to Dragonstone if Jaya is there, he won’t stand to be in the same room as her, or breathe the same air as her. The thought already sends a feeling like flames licking up his spine that makes him restless with rage, with hurt and betrayal.

Aegon is still watching him and gives him a small nod. 

Aemond takes a soft breath through parted lips–

Until a sound comes from the hallway that makes them all freeze, the sound of the front door unlocking, opening, then slamming with an ear splitting bang!

Aemond feels his face harden, brows straining with every footstep that marches against the hardwood floors towards the dining room. 

Viserys appears in the threshold, dressed in one of his red and black suits, his face one of stone cold fury. He doesn’t look at Alicent, or Aegon, his eyes are fixed on Aemond.

He steps slowly into the room, placing one hand on the back of the chair closest to him at the head of the table, miles away from the rest of his family. His voice is quiet and clear through the stunned silence. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

Alicent makes a stuttering, scoffing noise. “Viserys–”

He holds up a finger to silence her, his eyes widening in warning. “Aemond,” he says, “you will answer me.”

Aemond keeps his jaw clenched at first. He can feel his teeth wanting to chatter, anger aching in every part of his body. He cannot afford to show any sign of weakness or remorse, not in front of his father. But why does it feel so difficult to speak? He swallows through a dry feeling in his throat. “I thought I’d worded it all very simply–”

“Look at me when I speak to you, boy.”

He hadn’t realised his gaze had fallen to the table. He looks up with an expression that is as passive as he can manage. “I would have thought it would be obvious why I can’t go, with the recent addition to the guestlist.”

His head is turned completely so that Viserys is in his line of vision, but he hears his mother make a small sighing sound. “Aemond, I was going to–”

“ALICENT!” Viserys roars.

Aemond feels himself flinch but his gaze is unwavering. Why does he think he has any right to barge in here, to ask anything of them? 

If Aemond were to stand he’d be taller than his father, but he finds himself unable to move.

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” Viserys says to him. “This could be the single most important night for the family for centuries and you’re still holding onto childish grudges?”

Childish grudges. He was mutilated and forced to carry the blame because of a lie, but of course his father expects him to let go, to forgive and forget. 

He feels the leather of the eyepatch digging uncomfortably into his forehead and wishes more than anything he could just tear it off.

There are some things Aemond can argue with Viserys about, but they tend to be logical arguments, work related. The longer he looks at his father the more he remembers that no amount of sense could ever compare to the blind devotion Viserys has for his eldest child. There’s nothing Aemond can appeal to, not love or loyalty, not even sympathy.

“This is not about you, Aemond. This is about the bank, this is about the Targaryen name, our legacy, does that all mean nothing to you?”

“Of course it does,” Aemond says. He’s worked for nothing else his whole life, Dragon Bank, his heritage as a Targaryen, what is he without all of that? 

Viserys’ face softens a little, as if he thinks he’s made some kind of progress. “I’ve never known you to be selfish, it’s not in your nature.”

“Well then you clearly know nothing about me,” Aemond says, glaring up at him.

Viserys frowns. “You will be there, and I want to hear no more of it. You will be polite. You will grin and fucking bear it because that’s what the rest of us have to do.”

He’s delusional, he’s fucking delusional.

Aemond looks to his brother, slumped in his chair, his eyes even darker now. He has his hand around the stem of a wine glass. He’s been staring at the crimson liquid since their father walked in. He might have been expecting to be the target of Viserys’ anger tonight; he usually is. 

Aegon looks across at him, furious, exhausted, eager for this exchange to be over. He tilts his head in a questioning motion, though his lips stay firmly sealed.

All the years he spent trying to be the best that he could, how hard he pushed himself to get through that final year at KLU while recovering from his injury, all the hours he’s devoted to the family business, all the times he’s kept his mouth shut and his head held high, is this the hill Aemond is going to die on?

He won’t try to look at his mother, but he can guess she would have a similar reasoning. 

A fearsome wind from the Narrow Sea howls against the windows of Aemond’s black Jag. The road to Dragonstone is a desolate one, leading through a forest that might as well be nothingness in the dark. The headlights beam against the tarmac which turns and rises and falls, so he can never see what’s ahead of him.

There’s a burst of light as he approaches the gates. He hasn’t seen the gatehouse for years and remembers that he used to be scared of the stone dragon heads that stand open mouthed and teeth bared on either side, at the base of the turrets. Some hired security guard comes to his window, his demeanour changing completely when Aemond glares at him through a single eye. 

Cars line the acres of grass before the house, the driveway lined with lanterns and more statuettes of dragons. Dragonstone lies ahead in its full glory, lights on in every window, moonlight shining upon its ancient walls so the castle looms in shadows and silver. 

He must be one of the last people to arrive, the last of the important people, slotting the Jag next to a golden Dodge Charger he recognises as Aegon’s. The rest of the Targaryens all drive black cars.

He checks his reflection in the rearview mirror for as long as he can stand to look at himself, glaring at the blunt edges of the sapphire in his left socket, dull and dark in the low light. The flesh around his eyelids are twisted and red, the scar itself deep but clean. His mother had suggested they could get it looked at, to make his eye seem less severe, but that’s what the eyepatch is for, to cover up the worst of his injury, for the comfort of others and not his.

He slips the leather patch over his head and secures it in place, careful not to mess up his hair in the process. 

One day he’ll make her look at it, the sapphire and the scar, maybe then she’ll understand what she put him through. Not tonight, no, tonight he intends to play it safe.

He effortlessly exits the car, checking his cuffs as he walks up to the front doors. A server offers him a glass of champagne when he steps into the entrance hall which he takes a small sip from, parched after his drive from King’s Landing. He knows his way through the opulent halls that have stayed the same for as long as he can remember, towards the hum of at least a hundred voices. 

The ballroom glimmers with reflected light, mirrors, gold accents, crystal chandeliers, champagne glasses. The guests are all in their finery, tuxedos and floor length gowns, either in black or the colours of their houses. Some have started to take their seats around the circular tables, but many are still mingling.

Any head of silver hair stands out rather obviously, and the first he sees is his father standing in the centre of the ballroom, a smile on his face and his arm around his wife’s waist. Alicent is radiant in a gold gown that catches the warmth of the candles dotted about the room. She looks less than pleased being made to talk to Rhaenyra and Laenor– now there’s a surprise, he doesn’t usually make a habit of appearing at family events. Rhaenyra is in black, as is her husband, with a waistcoat embroidered with swirling gold patterns, like waves on the sea.

His eye continues to scour the room. He sees Helaena and Daeron with the girl he assumes is Nettles. He sees Aegon getting friendly with the Martell siblings. He sees Corlys and Rhaenys with Laena and Daemon. He sees Jacaerys standing with the Starks, closer than is friendly to Cregan. He sees those with the surnames Tyrell, Tully, Lannister, Arryn, all the others, and keeps searching.

She’s not where she’s meant to be, at the table closest to the high table where Viserys will sit with the board members. She’s not with her parents, she’s not at the bar, she’s not at the doors to the gardens. Each moment he does not find her fuels some kind of fire within him, adrenaline pumping through his blood, like he’s chasing something just out of his reach. 

A flash of loose, dark hair steals his attention. He doesn’t see her face at first but he notices when she nudges his shoulder as she passes him on his blind side, very nearly ending up with champagne down her silky, off white gown or spilled across the string of pearls sitting on her bare collar.

He apologises on instinct, reaching for a handkerchief in his pocket that has only ever been intended as decorative.

“No harm done,” the woman insists. “It’s good stuff, I would have been mortified to waste any of it.”

He recognises her face, the slanted nose, the sharpness of her cheeks, her bright green eyes and unsettlingly perfect smile. He’s seen her at press events, some kind of relation to the Strongs, but not close enough that she’d ever be invited to any personal occasions.

“Alys Rivers,” she says, holding out a hand for him to shake. “Deputy editor for Seven.” He’s heard of it, a high society gossip magazine, they often run stories about his family, Daemon and Aegon mostly, the rest of them clearly aren’t newsworthy.

“You used to work for the Harrenhal Observer, didn’t you?” he says.

“I did,” she says, “between you and me though, I think cousin Larys felt a little threatened.”

“Threatened?” Aemond says, noticing a pair of girls who are oddly familiar to him. He can’t place their names but he thinks they might be old friend’s of Jaya’s. They approach Jace, turning their heads around frequently like they’re looking for something. “How so?”

“He thought I was too opinionated,” Alys says, keeping her eyes on his.

“I didn’t think there could be such a thing,” Aemond says, though now he thinks he recognises the girls from one of the parties at Maegor’s Square, from years ago. One of them meets his gaze and quickly looks away. 

“The Observer is supposedly a neutral publication after all, I had a few things to say about the working conditions at the Casterly Rock mines which caused quite a stir.”

That’s where he recognises her name from. Viserys wasn’t happy with the article given their ties to the Lannisters and their gold. It sets off a silent alarm in his head, suddenly her gaze is a little too scrutinising for his liking and he’s aware of every breath he takes, shallow or deep, soft or sharp, she could use anything against him.

“I heard a rumour you weren’t going to be attending tonight’s event,” she says.

“It’s Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary,” he says, “I’m incredibly proud of all the work my family has put into the last five hundred years.”

“You say that like you’re expecting this conversation to go to print.”

“That’s why you approached me, is it not?”

She hums a gentle laugh to herself as her gaze roams over his suit, black, simple and perfectly fitted. She looks back to his face, he sees the way her eyes flicker to his left side. She smiles lazily in a way that makes him wonder if she’s trying to flirt, and places a hand on his shoulder, leaning in closer until he can smell the classic, musky scent of her perfume. He lets her do it, lets her lips get closer to his ear.

“I only wanted to see if you had something interesting to say,” Alys whispers over the noise of the party.

He glances up, towards the grand fireplace at the end of the room. Gold plated engravings of dragons intertwine and spread their wings, framing the fire that burns within.

She’s standing there, a glass of champagne in one hand, in an emerald green dress suited for summer, loose fabric, exposing her arms, her hair pulled up into a style that’s effortlessly elegant.

Their eyes meet. It’s like electricity strikes his heart.

Six years fades into oblivion, she looks different and exactly the same. He can almost believe he’s never known a life without her, but she’s always been there, hasn’t she? An unspoken secret, living in the lightest and the darkest parts of his mind. 

He can see the moment of recognition, when her expression goes from passive and proud to alert, eyes widening, lips falling, her hand lowering the glass to the nearest surface.

It’s dangerous how quickly he can already feel himself start to slip. He’s had seven days to prepare and part of him is still in disbelief that Jaya is a living, breathing person and not just a memory. Another part of him is calm and unsurprised, like he’s always known she was going to come back. To King’s Landing, to the family business, to him.

He doesn’t feel any pain, not in his head or his chest, but he feels empty, starved to the point of ravenous. 

Jaya starts to move through the crowd, towards the glass doors that lead to an outlook over the gardens and the sea. It only sparks excitement for Aemond, imagining all the thoughts that could be swimming through her head, anger, pride, fear. By the Seven he hopes one of those is fear.

“It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

“What?” he says, looking back to Alys.

“I thought I’d refresh my memory a little before I came here tonight. It’s been six years since Jaya Velaryon was in King’s Landing. The two of you were close, weren’t you?”

Close. 

Close like the way Jaya used to hug him when they were children. She’d wrap her little arms so tightly around his chest or his neck that he could hardly breathe. He’d tell her to stop, shove her away, but then she’d only cry, and he could never say no to her after that. 

Close like their minds worked in the same way, when they only needed to look at each other a certain way to know what they were both thinking.

Close like the air of his bedroom the first night they kissed, feeling the shared warmth, her body against his, the softness of her skin, when she tasted like wine and smelled like smoke.

Close was never close enough, but what difference did it make?

“Then there was that accident at Queen’s Lodge. The press release was so vague, it only said you and Jacaerys were recovering from minor injuries…”

Aemond glares at her, the same look that would usually silence Aegon, but Alys Rivers is not afraid of his warning.

She makes a gesture to his eye. “I mean, clearly one injury was more severe than the other. Curious that Jaya left for Pentos so soon after that when she was due to start at KLU that year. Why did she leave, do you know?”

Aemond pushes past her without another word, towards the glass doors that only Jaya has passed through in the last minute or so. The other guests are starting to take their places at the tables now. He sees Rhaenyra and Laenor looking around the room, having gathered their other three brats. His own mother tries to capture his attention but his mind can only think of one thing. He walks towards the doors as calmly as he can, even though it feels as if his life depends on reaching them, on reaching her.

The doors lead out to a patio, seemingly empty right up to the balustrade. He walks to the edge, the noise of the party lost to the roar of the wind and the waves in his ears, no doubt his hair will be blown into a mess but he doesn’t care.

Everything below him is black, out of reach from the lights of the castle. Then he spots something, a flicker of flame far below him, down a series of steps, out of view, down at an outlook over the sea. She shields it with her hand, lighting a cigarette by the look of it, until the end glows with a red ember.

He walks slowly, savouring the sound of every step his shoes make against the paving stones. He keeps his hands in his pockets, single eye fixated on the shape of her shoulders, the curve of her spine and her waist through the dress.

He tries to guess the moment she realises when she’s not alone. She angles her head slightly as he reaches the bottom of the steps, still a good distance away from her. He watches her take one drag from the cigarette before she lowers it, resting her hand against the stone balcony.

He comes close enough to realise she’s shaking, jaw clenched, looking almost determinedly out across the sea. The wind cuts across his cheeks like it’s burning his skin, so how she can stand to be out here with nothing to protect herself from the cold is almost admirable. It is also foolish of her.

Goosebumps bloom over her skin, skin he could reach out and touch if he wanted to.

And she won’t look at him.

She won’t look at him.

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