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heartofmortis · 1 month ago

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✶ Lionheart

Prologue

Robb Stark x (Baratheon/Lannister!) Reader

warnings: none!

note: so this is also an oc fic on wp, but i wanted to try out something new! in rewriting to second person, some edits have been made. there will be no y/n, and there are other ocs in this fic (since that’s what i usually write) and reader does have some physical descriptions. // there is minor canon divergence regarding hotd/f&b here, which links to my other asoiaf fics and there are a couple of ocs mentioned in the chapter (hopefully that won’t be annoying lol).

word count: 2k

tag list: @houseofamidala @madeofstaardust @tojisrealwifey @justmymindandstuff (lmk if you want to be added of removed!)

You were four when blood first touched your innocent skin. Your skin was no longer pure, neither was your heart. All children learn the fragility of life in time, you learned of it through the sacrifice of a tiny bird.

The creatures always circled King’s Landing as vultures searched for the dead. “The little birds are always looking for trouble,” came Cersei Lannister’s warning in the castle gardens with you nestled close in your mother’s arms. “Watch your step or they’ll be waiting in your shadows all your life.”

When you were set down, your feet steady on the ground, you raced on ahead. Your long skirts clung to your little legs, blonde curls bounding behind you. The air was thick with sweet pollen and fruit, signs of a happy summer. Moss grew between the bricks on the cobbled ground, pushing the stone in uneven directions — you skipped over them easily, pausing to gaze at the bumblebees nestling inside tight flowerheads and the ladybirds crawling across bright green leaves. You wished it could be only you and your mother in the gardens forever. You slipped out of your mother’s line of sight to steal berries and press as many as possible into your mouth, licking sweet juice from your fingers to keep your dainty snack a secret.

Then you came to a sudden halt, almost tripping forwards in your haste, when you found your path blocked by a tiny bird — a bundle of brown feathers dappled with grey and white and red. Its body was horribly twisted, but it was still moving. You took the bird in your hands, scarlet smeared across your fingers. You did not want the poor creature to be damaged further. The bird squeaked desperately and tried to flap its broken wings.

You brought the bird against your chest, cupped with both of your delicate hands, and ran back across the path you had come down. You took the bird to your mother, who was quick to scold you for touching a dying animal. “But can’t the maesters help?” Your eyes were wide and glassy, mouth warped into a mournful frown. (Your mother always had the right answers — she was the smartest person in King’s Landing.)

Cersei laughed. It was not a cold sound, more of a marvel at her daughter’s naivety. “The Maesters can only help us, sweet girl. They cannot help a little bird.” They always look for trouble.

You huffed, deeming your mother’s response to be an unacceptable response. “Why?”

The Queen motioned for one of their guards to come over and take the bird’s frail body from your hands, which became a struggle with your reluctance. “We’re all built very differently. A dove is not a wolf, and a stag is not a lion.”

“But it will die!”

“All things do, eventually.” Cersei ushered forth two handmaidens that walked behind the two of you. “Now you have blood all over you — go and get cleaned up. There is no use in helping the dying while the living are still here.”

You walked with heavy steps back to the Red Keep, muttering about the unfairness of the bird’s fate — it was a baby, why could it not be saved? If all things die, why is life not more precious? Any day could be the last.

“Where are you scurrying away to, little doe?” Your father’s voice was a formidable boom when he caught you in the corridors, flanked by handmaidens, wandering towards your rooms.

You showed your father the specs of blood across your dress. “Mother says I have to clean up.”

Robert Baratheon laughed. He shooed away your company and picked his daughter up with one strong arm. “A little blood never hurts anyone. You’re a Baratheon, my stormbird. You’ll get used to blood in no time”

The King took you to the throne room. You liked it here: the tall ceiling, the ivy-strewn pillars, the warm glow of sunlight, and the Iron Throne. Robert took his seat and rested you on his knee. You stared around the room, you had never seen it from this angle before. Between the tower of swords from the first Dragon King, still sharp enough to tear you in half, it felt powerful to sit here. You could imagine hundreds of people knelt before them and understood why men spent their lives chasing power. (You felt like a true Princess.)

“This would have been your’s one day if your mother had not had that damn brother of yours.”

Your father’s voice was rough with bitterness. His words pulled you out of her daydream. Only a year younger than you, your brother, Joffrey, was a terror. Your mother doted on her children equally, but you knew your father had his favourite. You were secretly happy with it — the less time you spent with Joffrey pulling heads off flowers and doing worse, vicious things, the better.

“One day,” your King father continued, “you will marry a great lord, a good lord. But you should always have a place here, my daughter.”

/✿✿✿/

Robb Stark was eight when he learned what real summer felt like. In the aftermath of a rebellion in the Iron Islands led by his father and the King, Robb and his twin sister, Alys, travelled to King’s Landing with their father to attend Robert Baratheon’s Name Day celebration. Spring had passed and the snows around Winterfell were low. Robb spent half the journey complaining about how he wanted to ride his horse next to his father while their septa told him to pay attention to their lessons. Watching the country change shape along the Kingsroad did keep Robb moderately interested — glimpsing the lands outside of the North was rather novel. Alys shared Robb’s adventurous instinct and they ran amok, hiding between trees and tents of their father’s company every time they stopped for a meal. But there were only so many games two eight year olds could play.

For all Ned Stark had told his children about King’s Landing and the Red Keep, Robb found it all rather underwhelming. There was no grand welcome for the Starks when they arrived. The city streets were too busy and the air was too hot.

Robb and Alys were brought before the Iron Throne — the hideous, towering King’s Seat made with a thousand melted swords — to be presented to King Robert Baratheon, their father’s oldest friend. Robb was aware he had been named after the King (just as his half-brother Jon had been named after Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King). Perhaps Robb’s father saw greatness in his son’s future, a boy worth naming after a king. Robert Baratheon was not the formidable giant Robb had expected to meet. Robb could imagine the warrior king that had won the throne and broke the Greyjoy Rebellion and hoped he would never fight in a war.

The Starks were escorted to their guest rooms for the duration of their stay. Alys and Robb’s rooms lay next to each other. Before Robb could finish unpacking his chest, Alys snuck into her brother’s room. She laid back on his bed, Robb made a fuss when his sister got her boots on the sheets.

“I want to explore. Will you come with me?”

Robb did not hesitate before he nodded, a grin spread across his face. Unpacking was boring anyway.

The twins barrelled through red corridors, ducking under maids and Kingsguards. The castle was theirs for the taking.

The Red Keep was bigger than any of the Northern castles the twins had visited before, full of labyrinthine corridors. A maze without a centre for Robb — but Alys seemed to know where she wanted to be.

Robb and Alys were stopped in their tracks when Robb almost tumbled into a girl. She was their age, if younger by a few moons, dressed in pink and gold with dark blonde curls. A huge black cat with a grumpy expression was clasped in her arms. Alys recognised the girl first. Robb felt a winter chill blow through him, tethering him frozen in place. The girl was pretty like a colourful bloom in the snow. She looked at the twins, wide-eyed and curious. She held the kind of warmth the North only felt during fleeting spring days. Alys punched her twin brother in the stomach and Robb mimicked her bow.

You smiled, a pink glow on her freckle-dappled cheeks. “You must be the Stark twins. Father told me about you.”

“Can you take us to see the dragons?” Alys asked quickly, eagerly rocking on the balls of her feet. “I thought I knew the way but…”

You paused, bottom lip pulled between your teeth. The cat in your arms jumped free — he rounded the twins, giving judgemental looks, and brushed against Alys’s legs before darting away. “They’re all underground now,” you explained. “We aren’t supposed to visit them, but I know the way.”

It was evening by the time you and the Stark twins entered the cellar room beneath the castle. Golden hour light faded, leaving the underground room in growing shadows. Robb had not been as enthusiastic as Alys and Jon about House Targaryen in all their lessons, but his heart thundered in his chest, mouth agape when he saw the nineteen dragon skulls.

The smallest dragon skulls were even smaller than direwolves, tiny dog-sized creatures but their teeth were still dagger-sharp. As the three children ventured down the room, the dragons grew bigger. You explained that many of them were unknown. Robb wondered how magical it must have been to live centuries ago and see dragons patrolling the sky. The largest dragon skulls were those of Meraxes, ridden by Queen Rhaenys, Vhagar, ridden by Queen Visenya, and Balerion the Black Dread, ridden by Aegon the Conqueror. Most dragons have more than one rider, but later riders paled in comparison to the conquerors.

“This one is Vermax,” you told Robb, pointing to another dragon skull halfway down the room. “Ridden by King Jacaerys, First of his Name. He married a Stark. An Arya, I think.”

Robb turned to his sister to tell her that one of their ancestors had married a dragonrider, but Alys had stepped away. She was distracted by another dragon.

“That’s Syrax,” you said quietly to Robb. “She was ridden by Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

Alys touched Syrax’s skull and smiled wistfully. “She was yellow.”

You tensed. “I don’t think we’re allowed to touch them. I’m not supposed to come down here after dark.”

Robb approached his sister, whose stormy eyes still gazed wistfully at the dragons, and touched her arm. “Let’s go to the kitchens. See if they have lemon cakes.”

Finally, Alys looked away and nodded. She cracked a smile. “But don’t tell Sansa — she would be upset if we had cake without her.”

Together, the children left the cellar room. Robb stared at the dragon skulls for as long as possible as you closed the door. To see a dragon fly over Winterfell… He sighed sadly and wished there was more magic left in the world.

You showed them to the kitchens. Alys skipped on ahead, wondering out loud about how wonderful it must be to live in the Red Keep and you were happy to fuel her daydreams. The three of you scurried up a spiral staircase, for once Robb did not challenge his sister to a race. Which was probably a good thing as Alys was ahead and she did not see him trip up the stairs. Robb threw his hands out, scraping his skin against the rough stone to catch himself. You looked at him and Robb turned red, embarrassed to make a fool of himself in front of the princess.

You helped him up. Blood from a small cut on Robb’s palm smeared onto your hand. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s only a little blood. Here–” You sat Robb down on the step and took the hem of your dress to dab away the blood.

Robb clenched his fist and moved away. “You’ll ruin your dress.”

You took his hand back, gently uncurling his fingers. “That doesn’t matter.”

You dabbed at the thin beads of blood, holding for a few seconds. You both waited as the blood stopped spilling. “I’ll ask one of the cooks to help you.” You stood and reached out to take Robb’s other hand. He took your hand gratefully and stood. “Don’t worry,” you added, “everything will be alright.”

#robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark x oc #robb stark x original female character #robb stark fic #robb stark fanfiction #lionheart #taryn baratheon #game of thrones #game of thrones fic #game of thrones fanfiction #asoiaf #got #robb stark x you #robb stark x y/n

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missglaskin · 2 years ago

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Yan!HOTD AU (Velaryon, Hightowers, Targaryens) Part 1:

Note-This is a rewrite, also the relationship mostly focused now is on Daemon, Rhaenyra, and Viserys. The other families will be more focused in later parts.

Tags: Some canon scenes of violence (tourney), this is mainly platonic but romantic pairings will come later, scene by scene in ep1, family fluff, character death, child!reader/adopted!reader, cringe writing

The clouds seem close enough to touch. Wind blows harshly against your face, almost blurring your vision. Yet it feels all the more exhilarating. Suddenly diving into the air, you shriek in excitement, reaching your hands to grab the saddles all too tightly as the hands around your waist do the same.

Your sister, Rhaenyra, can be heard giggling. Her dragon, Syrax, roars as it soars through the sky. The clouds begin to clear and king’s landing comes to view once again. Overlooking the red keep from above. The birds scatter in all different directions. Then the dragon keep is in your line of sight.

Syrax comes to land. The dragon keepers surround her, shouting commands in high valyrian. Rhaenyra moves from behind you. Her feet landing on the ground. You follow her. Jumping down, almost tumbling if not for her grabbing you. Your ears are filled with Syrax’s purring, and before the two of you leave, you both pet her. Watching as she follows the dragon keepers.

Your sister’s hand finds yours, both walking to the carriage. Alicent greets you there, a reliving smile on her face. “Don’t tell mother,” Rhaenyra told the two of you during the ride. You simply nod as you observe the passersby through the windows.

The three of you walk across the castle halls and up the stairs. Arms all linked together. A common sight at court. It still takes you by surprise when the servants or the lords stop and bow when greeting you. You’re not sure if you will ever get used to it, but Rhaenyra and Alicent assure you otherwise.

You find yourself at the chambers of your mother. The smoke permeates the air with servants at every corner. Your mother, the queen, is seen laid back, fanning herself. It’s when she notices you and Rhaenyra, does she try to sit up. And by the tone of her voice when she addresses you both-you know what it means. You’re in trouble. Still, you approach and kiss her on the cheek. “You smell like dragon,” she says, eyes narrowing on Rhaenyra.

As expected, you were given a lecture. A lecture that didn’t last long. And the topic was soon changed. A topic your sister didn’t like all too well. Not long before, your sister went to leave. “Go take a bath as well,” your mother tells you, “you too stink of dragon.”

You shake your head, “I don’t want to leave you.” Despite all her best efforts, you can sense how this all pains her. Memories of your previous brothers’and sisters running through your head. In response, she smiles.. Hand reaching to cradle your cheek. “I will be fine sweet girl, now go along.” Hesitantly, you obey.

Alicent and Rhaenyra each take your hand. You look at the queen one last time. Whose smile never withers. A feeling of ease washes over you, returning her smile.

Dragon stench is hard to wash off. You still reek of it even after spending much time in the bath, using every available scent imaginable. The one that managed to at least help cover the stench was the one gifted to you by Uncle Corlys. It’s from Essos, quite rare. Aunt Rhaenys told you of it. After the bath, you walk around the hallways in search of Alicent. Until your ears perk up at a familiar sound.

As you sneak around the corner, your footsteps become quieter. Eyes fixed on the tall figure’s back. Uncle Daemon. As you move on tiptoe, your feet inched closer and closer with each step. You squeal, “Uncle Daemon!” as you leap, embracing him from behind. He doesn’t seem surprised, as if he heard you coming from a long way away.

With a smile reserved just for you, he turns to face you. You grin at the name he gave you. Little Dragon. And then your eyes catch the sight of something. The moment you instinctively reach for the shiny object he has clutched in his hands, he lifts his hand up. It’s a necklace.

“Do you know what this is.” You shake your head. Daemon can see how eager you are to hold it in your hands and chuckles at your impatience. It is made of Valyrian steel. Your uncle tells you. Eyes widening at the dangling metal. It’s like dark sister. Eyes shifting to the sword fastened to his hip.

He finally places the necklace around your neck. Rhaenyra also has one. At the mention of your sister, you wave him goodbye. Not even waiting for him to speak as you are running through the hallways. Being able to finally breathe when the weirwood tree is in view. There was your sister and Alicent lying on the grass. Why did it take you so long, Rhaenyra asks. Simply by displaying your necklace to her, she immediately understands and eagerly displays her own.

Alicent tries to have you recite your lessons, but it’s all the more difficult with Rhaenyra there. Rhaenyra has her head on Alicent’s lap and you copy her. The two of you exchange looks and you can’t help but smile every time you do so. But it does make Alicent more frustrated, more so when the conversation shifts.

The mention of your mother makes you frown. You remembered the last baby. They came much earlier than they should. Your father never made you see them. But they all spoke of how it came out, the bloodied and horrible state they were in.

Your mother mourned them, and with every child’s death. There were three sides pulling at you: your mother, your father, your sister. You didn’t know how to ease their grief, so you just let them hold you close. Soon, you were brought back to reality by Alicent moving from under you. The grass gently pressed against the back of your head.

It didn’t take you long to get back to your feet and move over to Rhaenyra, watching her tear the page from the book. Alicent scolds her, and once again when she curses, she doesn’t want you to hear such things. But uncle Daemon says it all the time along with other words. You told her. Alicent’s stunned face and Rhaenyra’s amused smile greeted you.

Late at night, you hear a knock. The door opens and when you see who it is; you run to his arms. As he pats you on the head, your father-Viserys can’t help but chuckle. One cannot fault your excitement, as you haven’t seen him all day. Your father told you he needed to see you before he heads to sleep; he sorely missed you.

He helps you to the bed. Climbing into the mattress and lying on the pillow as he tucks you in. His lips lightly touch your forehead as he bids you goodnight. When your father turns to leave, you had to ask of your mother and he assures you she will be fine before closing the door.

As soon as you got dressed after waking up, you went to see your mother. Only a few days from now, labor will begin. She told you. You were giddy with excitement. With an ear pressed to the now-moving belly from their kicks. You hoped it was a girl. You and Rhaenyra have already decided on the name-Visenya. But once more, your time was shortened as your mother needed her rest.

After saying goodbye to your mother, you moved through the hallways and overheard the nobles passing you, mentioning your uncle. That and a watch of some sort. Daemon was frequently uttered on their lips. As Alicent would say, always getting in trouble.

It ought to have been a coincidence you passing the council chamber. Hearing the hushed voices from behind the doors, you paused. The guards behind you halt in response. The doors suddenly swing wide open, revealing your uncle. Wearing his bronze armor with a gold cloak draped over his side. The splatters of blood on his armor and face are what caught your attention.

Upon seeing you, his expression slightly softened. Behind, the doors are shut. Looking up at him-you ask him what happened. “Just a little trouble.” Was all you got before he patted you on the head-heading to leave. You could only watch as he disappeared further into the distance.

Time seemed to be passing by too quickly. Given that today is the Tournament.

Everyone was here. Commoners and nobles alike. Each and every face, including yours, is beaming. Sitting right next to Alicent, the empty seat on the other side designated for your sister who has not yet arrived. As you wait for the game to begin, you look around the royal box.

In no time at all, you’ve caught your father’s eye, tilting his head with a large smile on his face, and you eagerly return it. The eyes of Rhaenys and Corlys have been fixed on you as well. Their smiles too greet you. The same can’t be said for Alicent, who appears tense, but seeing your smile helps ease her.

Finally, the king begins talking. To which you then catch a glimpse of her. Rhaenyra. Bending down and moving quickly to her seat, yet still causing a slight distraction. Then, in his speech, your father declares that the queen’s labor has at last started. A thought that made you feel both excited and uneasy. Yet your smile never wavers.

Then, just as quickly as it started, a trumpet sound reached your ears. Signaling the matches has begun. Finding your attention solely on the scene in front of you. As the men charge at one another, their lances collide with one another’s shields.

Your heart slightly races when one of them lands on the ground, wincing at the thought of the pain that must follow, all the broken bones. In spite of this, the crowd cheers at every clash and every fall. Amidst this, Rhaenyra and Alicent are speaking to one another. More than once, the word cole can be heard.

As if in response to the mention of his name. A knight comes into focus, and you are certain that throughout all of your lessons with the septa, you have never seen a sigil quite like that. Silently, you follow the conversation between Rhaenyra and Alicent. Throughout the entire thing, you could not take your eyes off the mystery knight who seemed to prevail over every opponent. This time it was lord Baratheon.

When the drums are heard and the cheering gets louder. You know who will come next. Daemon. You and Rhaenyra exchange a brief look of excitement. With his lance in hand and black armor, Daemon approaches. He almost looks like a dragon. When Daemon picks an opponent. The lance points to the man wearing the Hightower sigil. Your attention turned to Otto, who was slightly shaking his head in annoyance.

You hold your breath as you tensely watch the two rush toward one another. The lance nearly knocks Daemon off his horse when it collides with his shield. However, the second time, Daemon emerged victorious. His lance moved down to the horse’s legs and sent it tumbling down, with Otto’s son being flung from the horse. His helmet knocked off right before his face collided with the ground. Along the court, you gasp in shock. Casting a quick glance at Alicent, who appears anxious at her brother’s state.

Your uncle approaches the royal box. Rhaenyra ascends, and you follow her. “Nicely done uncle,” she muses. “Thank you princess”. His lance then gestures in Alicent’s direction, asking for her favor.

The moment you turn to return to your seat. Otto is seen whispering something to your father, who appears to be cornered at what he just heard. Growing nervous when the king hurriedly leaves his set and follows Otto out. But when you hear another man fall off his horse, your focus is drawn back to the scene.

Then it happens. The man on the ground yelled furiously as he reached for his weapon, lunging at the other man on his horse, knocking him to the ground. The man who had just been knocked down did not have time to react before the metal slammed into his face.

You thought that Daemon’s doing to Otto’s son was the worst of today. But the scene in front of you was even more horrifying. What were once lances charging at one another are now swords clashing and fists pounding. Bloodshed after bloodshed.

Your hands clutched Rhaenyra’s without realizing, and she placed her other hand over yours. “Look away,” she tells you, and you do. Yet the metallic sounds of the swords clashing into one another are still heard. With every strike, the crowd is a mix of cheers and gasps of horror.

It’s the match between Daemon and the mystery knight that makes you look again. Still holding hands with Rhaenyra, utterly terrified of the outcome. When Daemon was thrown off his horse, you felt like you could breathe again. Any feelings of relief, however, are dashed when Daemon cries out for his sword. As you watch them battle it out on the ground, your hold on Rhaenyra becomes tighter.

Daemon’s victory brings back the feeling of relief. His arms are open wide to the cheering crowd as he soaked in the praise. You were about to start cheering before he was abruptly knocked to the ground. A sudden rush of dread is felt-believing this may be the end.

Until he yields.

All three of you are heading to the rail with Rhaenyra’s hand in Alicent’s and her other hand never leaving yours. Watching as the mystery knight finally reveals his face. He is Dornish. The knight walks over to Rhaenyra-asking for her favor. Your sister throws him the flower crown and he catches it.

When Otto entered view, the joyous moment was long gone. The lord and ladies begin to slowly stand while whispering to others nearby, and everyone follows to leave, even Leanor and Laena. You and Rhaenyra exchange a knowing look. And one of fear. She’s the one who reaches for your hand this time.

The queen is dead and the baby that followed.

Cold winds blow harshly on your face, making you shiver. Trying your best to hold back the tears. Crying is a weakness your septa told you. You must not let others see your weakness. You stay close to Viserys, whose eyes hardly strayed from the ground. Holding hands with Rhaenyra.

Daemon comes up to you two. Your sister reluctantly releases your hand as she takes a step forward. When your sister shouts the command, you are unable to look at the burned body and inch closer to the person who is closest to you, Daemon, whose hands end up on your shoulders.

Shortly after the body was burned. You found yourself seated on the bench. Laenor and Laena come up to you. Laena sits beside you and Laenor moves to your side, each taking your hand. It was a quiet moment that meant the world to you.

Not long after, Rhaenys comes into view with Corlys by her side. As they take you into their arms, you feel the tears you’ve been holding back for so long start to fall down your cheeks. Corlys reaches out to wipe your tears. Just as you’re about to return to your chambers, Rhaenys gives you one last piece of advice. Be strong.

Late at night in your chambers. The pillows beneath you are sodden from all the tears. Hearing the door open, you quickly close your eyes, assuming it might be your father. However, as you sense their hasty approach to your bed, and them slipping under the covers. You realize it's Rhaenyra.

Your back faces her and your hand rests on the arm that she has just wrapped around you. There was a period of silence, before the muffled sounds of crying is heard. Feeling her clutch you together, your tears start to run down your cheeks once again. Alone in the chambers and away from everyone allows the two of you to grieve your mother’s passing.

The following day, Daemon visits you in your chambers. He was oddly surrounded by guards. "The king has given me one last chance to say goodbye." And you are left feeling hurt as he must bid farewell.

He gives you one final embrace. Whispering so the guards won't hear him. Promising to take you with him one day. He gestures to the necklace. Daemon demands you to keep it, and you nod in response. As he leaves. Your hand that grips his slides away. At the balcony, you watch as Caraxes takes off from the king's landing.

You hoped that it would just be one of those instances where your father would change his mind and bring him back. But Rhaenyra's visit that day persuaded you otherwise. All she said to you—apparently still in shock and trying to process what had just happened—was, "He made me heir."

Alicent is now in the chambers with you. Watching as she aids Rhaenyra in getting dressed. Placing the headpiece on her head. It was you who handed her the necklace; it feels heavy in your hands. As you place it around her neck, she waits patiently, kneeling to your level. Before she leaves, Rhaenyra gives you and Alicent one final embrace.

You are far away from everyone else-standing close to the king. As you witness, every house swore allegiance to your sister. Noticing the recognizable faces in the crowd. Before Rhaenyra turns to face the king and the rest of the court, you and she exchange a look. One that gives her the confidence to stand tall.

#yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #platonic yandere #asoiaf x reader #yandere asoiaf #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #daemon targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #viserys targaryen x reader #alicent hightower x reader #corlys velaryon x reader #rhaenys targaryen x reader #reader insert #x reader

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bluelikebruises · 2 years ago

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blue bird cries pt.2 || aegon ii targaryen

Aegon II Targaryen/TargaryenF!Reader summary: months after aegon's drunken outburt, rhaenyra comes with a question that is bound to change your life. <the hearing and dinner scene> wc: 8.7k tw: aegon targaryen, incest (cause yknow targaryen's) reader is aegon's half sister, unhealthy relationship, angst, bittersweet ending, implied smut, a bit unrealistic because i’m delusional, canon divergence, slight ooc helaena, idk how land inheritance works. part one here!

a/n: there was supposed to be two versions of this but i kept re-writing & re-writing, i wrote about four different versions & hated all of them. except this one of course :) isn't proofread because if i stared at my laptop screen any longer my eyes would melt . enjoy. also! finishing some oneshots for tlous & hotd, so stick around for that taglist: @bibli0thecary

☆━━━━☆━━━━☆

Two seasons had nearly passed, and though you and Aegon disappeared from each other's lives, Aemond and Helaena had become ever more present in yours. A kinship which you hadn’t accounted for, never imagining you would become close to Helaena. Not after all those years of almost ignoring one another—of feeling guilty for being in love with her husband.

But when one day you were studying in the gardens and she asked to join you, how could you say no? It became a ritual after that, moving from the gardens, to your chambers, to hers, and eventually Aemond’s. You all huddled over your laps, tables, chairs—there was never a surface you found difficult to balance your books upon.

There were times when you would convince both of them to stop studying, Aemond would always argue but Helaena would eagerly agree to whatever you proposed. Aemond outnumbered could do nothing but adhere to you both. Nights were spent eating chocolates, dancing, and gossiping about the Lords and Ladies at court. Helaena at first did not see the fun in gossip but after Aemond let out a curse word her eyes widened and she giggled and joined in. Her gossip included the horrible embroidery and fashion she saw that day, which you could talk about for hours. While Aemonds was a bit more on the politics of those in court, one subject he hated the most was the Lanisters.

“Ser Tyland seems to have taken a liking to you”

You scrunch your face in disgust, “Does he not have a lady wife in Casterly Rock?” you asked already knowing the answer.

Helaena let out a fake gasp, “Oh the treachery”

You laughed, “No Ser Tyland please do not cast your lady wife aside for little me” dramatically you placed your hand on your head for a pleading effect. Helaena laughed, Aemond smiled and let out a chuckle.

Other nights you would practice braiding each other's hair, while Aemond sat in the corner of whatever room you were in reading. Once you had convinced him to let you braid his hair without arguing he agreed, sharpening a dagger as you and Helaena braided away.

You grew to love spending time with Helaena, she always found the most simple things intricate and fascinating. Always timid when someone new arrived at court, always in her own world which now you consider yourself lucky to be able to be a part of. Sometimes you would even look after Helaena’s twins—your nephew and niece, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Though it troubled you to watch them alone, they resembled Aegon more when Helaena wasn’t present. They were living breathing proof of Aegon’s commitment, of his marriage to Helaena. A cruel joke by life, if you were not to love Aegon you would love the pieces of him.

━━☆━━

The night before Rhaenyra’s arrival the three—five counting the twins—of you were in your chambers. You had pushed all the furniture towards the walls and adorned the floor with pillows, furs, and quilts.

Aemond sat upon your fur covered floor with his back pressed against the couch you had not moved. Helaena leaned against him as she embroidered, occasionally glancing up to see the twins. Your head lay leisurely on her lap enjoying the quiet fuss of the children.

Months ago the mere thought of Helaena and everything she stood for was enough to bring you to tears but as you laid your head on her lap none of that seemed to matter. The afflictions of a young girl in love shattered to pieces when presented with sisterhood.

Your bubble of peace burst when your chamber doors opened, Ser Criston stepped in announcing the presence of the Queen and none other than Prince Aegon.

At the mention of his name you freeze, with a heavy heart you refuse to look at him. Your heart filled with regret and guilt at the words you had spat at him. Instead you focus solely on the Queen whose presence still after many years caused you to stiffen. You stood and bowed as your siblings didn’t even blink.

“Mother,” Aemond greeted her.

“Your highness” you politely greeted as she smiled at you. Regardless of how many times she tried to convince you to plainly call her step-mother or simply mother, you always insisted she was Queen before she could ever be your mother. But of course to your siblings she was their mother first, any royal title always came second or even last.

“Good, you're all here,” she spoke. From behind her two servants emerged taking the children with them.

You rose from the floor to sit on the couch, refusing to acknowledge the Prince.

“There will be a hearing on the morrow, Vaemond Velaryon has called into question the validity of Lucerys Velaryon position as heir to Driftmark”

Puzzled, you almost asked what exactly there was to question. But Helaena rested her head on your lap and Aemond placed a hand on your knee which shook you from your thoughts. A move they had done many times before when they did not want you to be upset.

You think of asking regardless of your siblings' strategic move but your eyes betray you, shifting to steal a glance at Aegon. Your thoughts stop as your eyes meet his, heat rises in your throat and for a brief moment you longed for the feel of his hands around you again.

Following his line of sight you find him staring at both Helaena’s head and Aemond’s hand. Touches so insignificant yet they were a display of affection you would never be able to share with him.

The Queen spoke, “I expect you all present,” she directed towards her children, “As always Princess you are more than welcomed to join us” she said to you.

Respectfully you nod, thinking about your sister's homecoming. Her return after six years and she was returning under the most distressing circumstances.

“Good, good” she comments looking over at the three of you. She smiled, and took her leave. As she left the room you assumed Aegon would follow but he stood still as the doors closed. You looked towards Aemond who seemed unfazed by his brother’s presence.

For a moment you allow yourself to set your eyes on Aegon again, a smirk lined his lips. And though you knew he hated you, you couldn’t help but admire him. Taken by his eyes a sorrow hid beneath them, his lips that were always tainted by the wine he sipped, his perfectly disheveled hair that framed his face. In a blink you look away trying your best to portray your annoyance with his presence, because though you regretted your words nothing good would come from looking the least bit remorseful.

You tried to occupy yourself by running your fingers through Helaena’s hair, every strand you stroked felt softer than the last. Feeling Aemond lean towards you, your petting stops looking to see him raising his book to you. He had done this many times, indicating he wanted to share something he read with you. Sometimes they were poems, philosophical passages, or historical facts regardless you always happily read them.

The chance to read the passage was stolen by Aegon’s words, “Perhaps you three should try to not so accusingly look like a harem”

All the beauty that you admired moments earlier had dissipated as you rolled your eyes.

Aemond placed the book down and looked at his brother, “Perhaps you should try to not so accusingly look like you're in need of a bath. Or do you not know how to bathe? In that case simply ask the servants for help”

Helaena giggled as she buried her head into your lap trying her best to stifle her laugh. It was a childish jab and yet you laughed silently covering your mouth with your hand. You could see Aegon’s eyes drop unamused, leaving your chambers without a fuss.

“Do you suppose he’ll go bathe?” you jokingly ask.

━━☆━━

The day of Rhaenyra’s arrival you had tried to round the royal family to meet her, but your search was to no avail; none of them appeared to be on the grounds of the castle. Though truthfully you hadn’t looked for Aegon.

As you waited for Rhaenyra your annoyance with the Hightowers grew. Your siblings, following suit of their mother, did not care for the arrival of their eldest sister. How could the Queen so deliberately ignore your sister's arrival? It was an act of irreverence towards the future Queen that neither you or Rhaenyra would soon forget.

Your annoyance was interrupted by the sound of hooves and the entrance gate rising. Her arrival was met with you standing by the entrance gate alone; your only companions were the King’s Guard stationed outside.

Watching the carriage stop before you caused excitement to bubbled in your stomach, Rhaenyra was finally here. As she stepped out of the carriage, you shared hugs and kisses.

More were shared with her small clan, filled with nephews, niece, and your uncle.

After greetings you tried explaining the lackluster arrival party, but she simply grabbed your hands reassuringly. Your nephews and niece departed to explore the Red Keep and you led Rhaenyra and Daemon to your fathers room.

“‘Tis only been some years and you have grown so beautifully” Rhaenyra said.

“You flatter me sister,” you smile, “But if you think I’ve grown, you should see my dragon” you smile thinking fondly of the winged creature.

Your uncle laughs, “And what is the formidable beast’s name again?”

“Red Wing” you smiled, “But the Dragon Keepers sometimes refer to him as—”

“The Crimson Terror” he finishes. Truthfully your dragon was no terror, he was simply spoiled and moody. But you would never admit that preferring to have everyone believe he was frightening monstrosity.

Still you nodded and there was a pause in the conversation as the three of you turned the hallway. You suppose neither of them knew how to speak to you—or you to them—years of separation had left you feeling like strangers. Perhaps under better circumstances you could have grown to know them once again. You had very few memories with your uncle, but you remember fondly all the times spent with Rhaenyra before she married and had children.

“Have they been kind to you?” she asked.

They in question being the Hightowers, the Queen and the Hand

You nodded, “Her highness has always been gracious towards me, the Hand pays me no mind”

“That cunt” Daemon says. You try your best to hide the laugh that threatened to spill out.

“He’s occupied with the good of the realm” you say sneeringly.

Daemon catches on, “Always so courteous, even when mocking someone” he smiles at you.

“Father says discretion is key”

“Does he?” Rhaenyra asked.

“He used to, after you left”. You had never once brought up her departure even in the short time you corresponded through ravens. Up until your twelve name day it was a sore subject. You had been inconsolable the first year, always being on the verge of tears whenever someone brought up Rhaenyra. Begging your father to allow you to visit her and yet he never did. It wasn’t until years later that you learned why, you suppose it was the milk of the poppy that got it out of him. But regardless he confessed that he feared you would go mad with grief upon your return. A part of you sympathized with his decision, another was filled with anger. Years of separation from your sister simply because of the fears of madness.

“Ah” she acknowledges her departure, “It was with a heavy heart that I left” a frown is on her face.

“I know. I hold no resentment towards you” you smile.

At your words she returns your smile, reaching to grab your hand, “Your presence is longed for in Dragonstone,” she squeezes, “You do remember that it is to be yours once I am Queen. It would do you good for you to familiarize yourself with it”

The thought of visiting Dragonstone sounded exciting, considering how you used to sob for it. And the only time you had left King’s Landing was for Laena Velaryon’s funeral, which wasn’t the fondest memory.

“Are you suggesting a visit?” you ask excitedly.

She smiled—a full smile, “More of a permanent residency”

Oh, her words caught you by surprise, you never imagined or thought of leaving the Red Keep. You knew Dragonstone was to be yours one day, but never gave a second thought to the reality that you would in fact one day reside there. You assumed Rhaenyra would become Queen and you would simply stay in the Red Keep, for what business did you have in Dragonstone? A whole sea away from your father and siblings.

“A generous offer but—”

She interrupted, “Give it some thought”

On the arrival to the King’s quarters you excused yourself, kissing them both goodbye. Retreating to your chambers you thought of perhaps looking for your siblings but you knew you would not find them, Aemond and Helaena resembled ghosts in that way. Moving through walls without a sound and only showing themselves when they wanted to be seen.

In your chambers you thought of your Rhaenyra’s offer, of how drastically your life would change if you accepted. Of the distance that would keep you from your siblings, you had just grown close to Helaena how would you be able to leave her? Or Aemond who you had a soft spot ever since you were children.

You wish you could say Aegon was not a part of your decision making, but thoughts of him crept into your head—for a brief moment you wished to stay solely to be able to lay your eyes on him. Even if his eyes stared back filled with hate and disdain.

Thoughts of your father began to flood your mind. How devastating it would be were he to die and neither of his eldest daughters were by his side.

His voice rang in your head, remembering one of his many lectures. Where he would boast of the Targaryen legacy and the weight of the crown.

“You have a duty to the Realm, a duty to your house”

What is duty if not serving the ones you love? And your love for family cut deeply, a love so sharp no sword in the Seven Kingdom could compare. You knew regardless of your decision you were going to bleed.

“A Targaryen must always reside in Dragonstone”

━━☆━━

The night was spent thinking, you had all but made up your mind as you entered the Great Hall.

The hearing was to start in a matter of moments, you walked greeting the Lord’s and Ladies of court. Who were here for no other reason than for a show, to watch your family momentarily stumble or if they got lucky, fall and become ordinary like the rest of them.

In a matter of moments you stood at the front of the hall next to your sister and uncle, your nephews and niece standing behind you.

“Let us get this over with” Daemon huffed in annoyance.

Standing next to Rhaenyra you spoke in hushed voices, she was insistent this was a ruse. By stripping Lucerys’ claim as heir to Driftmark they were questioning the legitimacy of her own claim. She was sure Vaemond and the Hand had aligned themselves and created this plan. And though you tried hard to pay attention to her words, the only thing you could think about was whether you had made the right choice or not. Selfish thoughts on a day that was detrimental to your sister and your house.

Though you were deep into the conversation with Rhaenyra the arrival of your siblings had not gone unnoticed by you. Thoughts of uncertainness were briefly paused as the same annoyance from yesterday crawled up your skin. You spotted Aegon trailing behind Aemond and Helaena.

You wanted to walk over and question why they had not been present upon Rhaenyra’s arrival.

But couldn’t talk to them in good conscience knowing you were teetering with the possibility of leaving. And a hearing that called into question the legitimacy of your nephew was no place to inform them.

Besides there was a part of you that knew why none of the Hightowers had shown up. The rivalry between Alicent and Rhaenyra was one that had grown roots and solidified itself over the years. A rivalry you knew was encouraged by Otto and had been passed down to their children and because you were neither of their children you did not participate in their hostility and aversion.

When a silence washed over the throne room you braced yourself for what was to come. The thick doors of the hall opened revealing Vaemond and his banner men. Vaemond walked into the Great Hall with an aura of unbotheredness and ease, almost as if he knew he would come out victorious.

When he began his petition you watched your sister and uncle, both of their brows pressed tightly on their faces. Jace and Lucerys stood behind them, little Lucerys doing his best to keep his head held high. The longer you looked at them, the easier the decision seemed.

You wish you could say you were attentively listening to the concession before you but you would be lying. Your attention was stolen by Aegon, who did nothing but stand besides Aemond looking bored, tired, and unimpressed. You stared at the intricacies that were the features on his face wondering what he was thinking, if he was thinking at all.

As your eyes raked over him his eyes stared back, in a blink your eyes were at the front of the room. Refusing to meet his gaze pretending you were not just gawking at him during one of the most important meetings of your sister's life.

To make sure neither your gaze or thoughts slipped towards Aegon you slid next to Lucerys. Who you were sure was nervous about the current proceeding, alleviating some of his nervousness would do you both some good.

Just as Rhaenyra began her petition the doors of the throne room opened, guards announced the arrival of your father.

Any thoughts you had before were pushed to the side as your benevolent father who by some miracle or sheer will made his way into the room. In slow strides he approached the Iron Throne.His arrival had taken the room by surprise but no one looked more surprised than Vaemond, who looked between Otto and the approaching King.

The King had some trouble walking up to the throne, dismissing the guards who tried to help him and as your uncle helped him up the petition continued. At the wishes of Rhaenys the King reaffirmed Lucerys claim as heir to Driftmark. You smiled at your nephew reaching for his hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

Vaemond of course was displeased and didn’t bother hiding it, his words were filled with venom and hatred. Daemon was staring daggers at the man, fire burned in his veins, you were sure of it. Then you caught his eyes landing on Rhaenyra, they glanced at one another in a blink she gave him a small nod. If you did not know her as well as you do, you would have thought nothing of it. Was it a nod of approval? of permission? Of agreement? There was no time to wonder as Vaemond angrily spun and pointed at Lucerys.

”That is no true Velaryon”

You moved in front of Luce, shielding him from Vaemond.

“And certainly no nephew of mine”

Rhaenyra ordered the boys return to their chambers but neither of them moved.

“You have said enough” she directed at Vaemond.

“Lucerys is my true born grandson, and you no more then the second son of Driftmark”

“You may run your house as you see fit but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides” he turned towards Lucerys but when his eyes did not land on him he looked at you. His eyes bore into yours as you refused to stand down, refused to give him access to view your nephew.

“And gods be damned I will not see it ended on the account of this—“

There was a pause in not just his words but the room as well. Then the words boomed out of Vaemond’s mouth. Bastards, a whore. Your eyes widened, the room was stunned. Lucerys hand became an anchor, for if not you would have pounced on Vaemond and tore him to bits.

“I will have your tongue”

Then in one swift movement Daemon was behind Vaemond, his sword in his hand. In a blink you saw red and half of the man's head on the floor.

Finally able to pull your eyes away from the corpse you made sure your nephews and niece were okay. They looked shocked, a bit shaken but good nonetheless. Your eyes made their way to the other side of the room where your siblings stood. Helaena looked frightened, Aemond intrigued his eye following Daemon, Aegon looked shocked, his eyes on the body then for a second time during the hearing caught yours.

“He can keep his tongue” Daemon wiped the blood off Dark Sister, quickly guards surrounded him.

“No need” he nonchalantly wiped the blood of Dark Sister returning to Rhaenyra’s side.

You had heard stories of your uncle’s rash behavior from your father before, but hearing about it and witnessing were different things.

━━☆━━

Dinner came in the short hours after the sun had set. Candles and torches lit the dining room, light chatter was being swapped by all as everyone anticipated the arrival of the King.

You stood with your nephews and their soon to be brides, chatting about how their travels had fared them, how life was in Dragonstone and King’s Landing, and how they wished they could see you more.

Though you had enjoyed your life in the Red Keep you missed your nephews. Their little faces and big eyes, all but nearly convinced you to take permanent residency in Dragonstone.

Looking forward you spot Rhaenyra in her seat, she looked rigid and uncomfortable looking straight ahead. Coincidentally the Queen was seated in the same manner, they both looked awkward and stiff. You knew words went unsaid between them, how could they not since the last time they saw one another was the night Aemond lost his eye and the Queen cut Rhaenyra.

The doors of the hall opened, guards stepped in carrying your father on top of his chair. Everyone stood with their hands clasped in respect for the King.

As everyone sat the tension in the hall could be cut with a butcher's knife. You wished to sit beside Rhaenyra but knew you couldn’t due to her husband. It seemed every couple in the room was sitting side by side. The only exception to this couplet seating arrangement were you and Aemond. You had assumed you would be sitting next to one another since neither of you were wed, but there was no chair beside Aemond. The last empty chair sat right in front of your father, of all seats in between Jace and Aegon.

Rasp coated your fathers voice as he spoke, “How good it is,” he inhaled, “to see you all tonight, together” he looked at everyone around the table. You smiled as his eye landed on yours. His sight of the table ended as he longfully stared at Rhaenyra. Who held his gaze until the Queen looked at her, her eyes shifted to the intricate spread that was on the table before her.

“Prayer before we begin?” asked the Queen. Leaning into her your father agreed

You had grown accustomed to the overcompensation of the Queen ever since the night of the incident. To lessen the rumors that she was mad she began to worship The Seven, heavily. Their symbols began to become increasingly prevalent all throughout the Red Keep. You simply went along with it considering your father did not care, perhaps due to his old age. But if it didn’t bother him, it didn’t bother you.

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena,” your nephews and their bride smiled gleefully, “Further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young Princes . . . and their betrothed”

You lifted your cup smiling at the couples.

“Hear, Hear!” your uncle Daemon says.

Placing your cup on the table Aegon leaned towards you, your body tensed at his closeness. Unsure of what to expect, you didn’t move. So when he acted as if you weren’t there and pestered Jace you nearly pushed him away.

Nearly, pushing Aegon would require your hand to touch his chest. An act so miniscule, that wouldn’t mean anything to most, a shove, a push, it was an ordinary action. Yet touching him felt like an illicit affair.

“Well done, Jace. You’ll finally get to lie with a woman”

You roll your eyes at his words thinking about how unbelievable he was. Baela looked at Aegon disapprovingly, as if to ask him what his nerve was. Quite aggressively Jace set his wine cup down, ready to retaliate but your father spoke.

A toast was called in honor of Lucerys, forgetting about Aegon’s crude words you picked your cup enthusiastically towards Luce.

Watching your nephew you thought if he could accept his role as heir to Driftmark at his young age, surely you could accept your own fate.

Your thoughts of your fate were cut short as again Aegon leaned over, you swallowed every fiber in your body telling you to push him away. Inciting violence was not what you wanted to do on this night. You looked around the table to see if anyone noticed, no one batted an eye except Aemond.

“You do know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle? Where to put your cock and all that”

Aegon never did know when his jokes were in bad taste. Always poking and prodding until he got an explosive reaction from the other person.

“Let it be cousin”

“You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed and my aunt”

You smiled at Jace’s act of protection, the gentleman that he was.

“Hm. Your aunt” Aegon said as if contemplating the concept of the word.

You shot him a glare annoyed at his stupidity and his little verbal stunt, “Perhaps it would be best if you returned to your dinner little brother”, you forced a polite smile. His eyes looked up at yours before he turned his attention to his cup of wine.

Your father’s cane hit the floor, and you saw him struggling to stand, his breaths heavy and strained.

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table, the faces most dear to me in all the world . . . yet grown so distant from each other in years past” he looked down trying to remove his mask, struggling. A look of unease painted the Queen’s face as if bugs were crawling up her skin. The mask dropped onto the table with a ‘clunk’.

You had only once seen him without the mask once, the night you had sat at his bedside reading. You thought he could not hear you, but as you mispronounced a word he laughed. Asking if you had always pronounced it that way, sheepishly you admit you had. He laughed in a way you hadn’t heard in years. In all his movement the mask slid down his face onto the bed, barely holding onto his face. He asked you to not be frightened by his appearance, you told him you never would.

Free of the mask he turned to look towards Rhaenyra’s side of the room; they all started silently. If they were alarmed or frightened they didn’t show. Turning to your step mother’s side you saw Aegon’s head dip, not daring to look at your father, you almost laughed. Helaena kept her eyes on her fingers, Aemond stared eagerly; he always was captivated by the macabre.

“My own face . . . is no longer a handsome one . . . if indeed it ever was. But tonight I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king but your father, your brother” he turned towards Daemon, “Your husband . . . and your grandsire. Who may not it seems walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown then for the sake of this old man, who loves you all, so dearly”, he sat back down practically falling onto his seat.

The room stilled until Rhaenyra stood with her cup raised.

“I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen” she looked towards her, “I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood more loyally by his side than his good wife” she paused, “She has tended to him with unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that she has my gratitude and my apology”

Her words took you by surprise, it had been years since the Queen and Princess spoke to one another, least of all kindly.

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow” she stood, “I raise my cup to you and to your house” and as if the words were hard to say she paused, “You will make a fine Queen”

Happily surprised you smiled at Rhaenyra, you hoped their cups were a step in the right direction, perhaps a hopeful future lay in front of them.

“To the Queen and the Princess” you raised your cup drinking from it as did everyone. Aegon practically downed his cup, then he glanced over to you, you pretended not to notice. Even when he stood and walked in between Jace and Baela, Aemond’s eye followed him.

With every brief look at Aemond or Helaena, you wondered when it was best to tell them about the decision that laid at your feet. To involve them in your decision would alleviate your guilt, but it would also mean they would try to convince you to stay.

Your thought came to a sudden stop as Jace stood slamming his fist against the table. You hadn’t heard what Aegon had said but you knew it was unrefined. When Jace cleared his throat Aemond stood, the table quieted, all eyes looking at them both.

Inhaling Jace grabbed his cup, “To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen eachother in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s good health, dear uncles”

“To you as well,” Aegon said annoyed, sinking back into his seat.

Turning to Jace you laugh, “Nicely done” you made sure to say it loud enough that Aegon would hear you.

Then Helaena stood, it seemed everyone was raising their cups tonight. Aegon sat forward with his hands clasped as his head rested on them, clearly embarrassed by Helaena. Gods if you could strangle him you would.

“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you” Aegon vexed, didn’t bothering to look at her, “except sometimes when he’s drunk”

You heard the laugh of your uncle clear as day, which caused you to laugh.

“Let us have some music”

Jace stood asking Helaena to dance, she looked up to Jace who had his hand out then to you almost as if asking if she should. You smiled in response then she smiled and took Jace’s hand.

As Helaena stood you caught Aegon rolling his eyes, his jaw tightening as if upset.

His own upsetness almost made you roll your eyes. The hypocrisy of Aegon to claim all Helaena was good for was bearing his children and yet be upset by a simple dance.

Feeling brave and in the mood to serve Aegon a taste of his own medicine you tease him, “Come now little brother cheer up, ‘tis not like you would ever dance with your lady-wife”

He didn’t look at you, his eyes looked everywhere but you.

“Yes but she is mine. Perhaps you’ve forgotten with the whispering you three get up too” he sipped from his cup as he looked at Aemond.

“Jealous little brother? That we have stolen our sister from you” he didn’t respond. You smiled leaning back into the wooden chair.

His lack of response solidified that you had gotten under his skin.

Your fathers painful moans echoed through the hall, guards quickly came and took him away, Out of respect for the King you stood along with Rhaenyra and Daemon.

“Please, sit” the Queen begged.

You didn’t listen as you saw Lucerys from the corner of your eye snickering. Following his eyesight you saw Aemond with a roasted pig in front of him, immediately you understood.

Aemond slammed his fist against the table as he stood, Jace and Helaena stopped their dance.

“Aemond”, you shook your head. He looked at you but his stubbornness never allowed him to listen.

“Final tribute” his cup raised everyone's eyes on him, “To the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise,” he paused and you could feel it, his next words would be no good, “Strong”

“Aemond,” the Queen pleaded.

The room had gone momentarily still.

“Come, let us drain our cups to these three . . .” enthusiastically Aegon raised his cup in the air, “Strong boys”

“I dare you to say that again,” Jace threatened.

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment”

Angrily they both approached each other. You almost laughed thinking about how you did not want to cause a scene during dinner and there Aemond was; causing a scene. In a blink Jace hit Aemond square in the jaw, beside you Lucerys rose, Aegon followed towards him they were both out for blood. Immediately you follow Aegon, seeing him grab Lucerys and throw him against the table towering over him.

“Aegon that is enough!” you heard the Queen say.

You grabbed Aegon pulling him off your nephew, digging your nails into his skin.

“Don’t touch him,” you snapped. You stood in front of Lucery's protectively as Aegon retreated with a smirk and his hands held up.

“Looks like the princess has come to your rescue. Again, first Vaemond and now I” he snickered, “Is the princess going to hold your hand again? Can’t fight your own battles, nephew?”

“Pay him no mind Lucerys, he’s a drunk and now it appears also a coward”

His hands came first and you almost think there will be a repetition of what occurred in his chambers. But instead his hand grabs your face, his index and thumb squishing your lips together as his fingers pressed against your cheek. His hands were made of an iron grip, you could feel his middle finger under your chin.

“Watch your tongue, sister,” he warned. His eyes filled with a different rage than you remember, grief was woven into his anger. His lips stained red from the wine, gods did you want to taste it.

“Perhaps you should release the princess, lest you do not care to keep your hands”, Daemon said, looming behind you. Aegon kept his eyes on you, they quickly trailed to your lips as his hand dropped. With a final look he turned and retreated to the opposite side of the room.

Baela and Rhaena stood ready to lunge at Aegon, luckily for him two guards held them back. Lucerys moved towards his brother both ready to fight their uncle’s, guards also restrained them

Checking on both your nieces you hadn’t heard what Aemond had begun to say.

“Though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs” he stalked towards Jace who had freed himself from the guards' grasp and stalked towards Aemond.

“Wait, wait!” called Daemon, stepping in front of a charging Jace. With no other option Jace retreated back.

“Go to your quarters. All of you, now”, Rhaenyra commanded before looking at you, “Pack your belongings we leave at sunrise” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. The decision had been made for you and you understood why, there was too much animosity between your opposing families. Rhaenyra would no longer allow you to be caught in the center, you had been in the Red Keep without her for far too long.

You nodded and with a heavy heart retreated to your chambers, unable to meet anyone's gaze. The walk to your chambers was sullen and with your head hung low you pushed open your doors.

Afraid of the sadness that would engulf you at the thoughts of leaving both Aemond and Helaena you began to pack quickly. Tossing clothing onto your bed, emptying drawers by shaking them, piling your favorite books by your feet.

The hour was quite late when you had finally gotten about half of your items packed. A sigh left your lips looking at the pile you still needed to sort through.

But before you could even begin the doors to your chambers burst open. Rushing in was Aemond and Helaena both looking angry and distraught.

“You’re leaving?” Helaena spoke first looking at the mess of dresses, riding outfits, books and trinkets that laid on your bed.

“What is the meaning of this?” he looked at you, “You planned to leave? And with no intention of telling us?”

“I was—I was. But then dinner turned into—I wasn’t even sure whether my departure was permanent or not” you alluded and his eye momentarily looked to the floor, “I just forgot”

“How long have you known?” Aemond asked.

You take a breath, “Rhaenyra proposed the thought on the morning of her arrival” you say twiddling with your fingers

He scoffs, his mouth agape in disbelief, “Since when has she cared about your position as heir? When was the last time you received ravens from her? Or gifts for your name day? She abandoned and forgot all about you”

“Aemond,’tis my duty as heir of Dragonstone” you try to reason, not wanting them to be upset with you.

He shakes his head, “No, I will not stand for this”

Helaena neared, your name gently falling from her mouth as she took your hands. She smiled at you, “If you want Aegon, have him. Please just stay”

Your once beating heart stopped, your blood ran cold, shocked, your eyes widened at her words. Never once did you dare think anyone least of all Helaena knew of your transgressions with Aegon. How foolish of you to think Helaena was blind to it all. To your sudden cold shoulder and avoidance of Aegon. Of course she knew, still you wonder if she knew of the kiss—of the love confession—of Aegon’s hands wrapped around your throat.

“You think I have not noticed the longing looks that wash over your faces. He's my oldest brother I will always love him, but as a husband I hold no love for him”

There was no time to process her words because as if on cue the doors to your chambers opened, revealing Aegon. A laugh almost escaped your lips, surely the gods were playing a gag on you.

His eyes raked through your chambers searching for answers, “So it is true then, you are to leave?” he asked

“Yes” you simply say

“So our eldest sister can just show up and pluck you from us”

Us. Since when was there an us?

“She is not plucking me” you retorted defensively.

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head, “She has convinced you to leave under the guise of heritage”

“A heritage that is also yours”

“Hardly”

Your eyes shifted but their’s never did, all eyes were on you and it made you want to crawl into a hole and never return. Desperation, hurt, and betrayal painted their faces.Unable to handle it you plead, “This is my duty. Why can’t any of you see that, we all have a duty, this is mine”

“You think your duty is to live in that desolate hellscape?” Aegon snapped.

“That desolate hellscape is our ancestral home and I have been chosen to maintain the tradition, it was bound to be one of us”

He scoffs, “She’s using you and you are too blind to see it. You’re nothing but a pawn in her game. A means to an end”

Your eyes narrow ready to unleash another berate of words at him, but Aemond cuts in.

“He’s right”

For a third time in the night your eyes widen. Disbelief at the word that came from Aemond’s mouth. Aemond who would roll his eyes whenever Aegon entered a room, who never took anything he said seriously and who certainly never agreed with him.

“Rhaenyra only beacons you to Dragonstone to show strength in her claim as heir”

“There is strength in the claim it is the King’s proclamation”

Aegon rolled his eyes and Aemond huffed turning away from you. Your eyes caught Helaena’s, she looked worriedly at you.

“Do you believe I am a means to an end?”

“There is a reason for everything” she plainly stated

You were not blind to politics, you knew how her invitation would look to all those who whispered about Rhaenyra in the halls. It would appear to be a strategic ploy since having you by her side showed that you supported her right to rule. You didn’t ponder if there was any truth in the thought. You had thought about it all night before the hearing but a part of you desperately wanted to believe the invitation was genuine, that Rhaenyra had your best interest in mind. That she was not just beckoning you because it would benefit her.

To hear your siblings so openly agreeing that they thought you were being used both angered and saddened you. They had never been kind to Rhaenyra, never gave her a second thought yet they stood in your chambers declaring she was using you for her own means.

“Out. All of you” they didn’t move, “Get out!”

Helaena was the first to react, she visibly recoiled at your shout, her eyebrows raised as she looked at Aemond who looked at you once more before leading Helaena out.

Aegon followed but instead of exiting he closed the doors, turning towards you, “I have left you alone to gallivant with our brother and my wife and yet you still punish me”

“My departure is not your punishment, there is no punishment”

“And still you injure me” he enunciates every word, his hands pointing inward at himself.

You sigh, like his drunken stupor Aegon was no better sober–no more understanding or thoughtful.

“Injure you?” you laugh, “You wrapped your hands around my throat, you cut off my breathing and yet you speak of injury”

Guilt washed over you knowing you were in no position to chastise him, but his belief that his hurt out weighed yours angered you.

His eyes shifted to the rings on his fingers twiddling them,“T’was a regretful incident”, his eyes slowly came back to yours. There was glint in them, regret perhaps the facing of a truth he was denying.

You don’t respond, continuing to sort through your items. A moment passed before either of you spoke.

“Are you to leave and never return? Is this the last night I will lay my eyes on you?”

“Of course not, I’ll return for Rhaenyra’s coronation, for name day celebrations, festivities, hearings”

His eyes harden, “And who’s to live with you in Dragonstone after our sister and her clan return to King's Landing?”

You freeze, his question had caught you by surprise, you hadn’t even thought that far ahead.

“Will you reside alone with nothing but servants to keep you company?” He takes a step towards you standing on the opposite side of your bed.

“Alone or not I will be fulfilling my duty”

He laughs, “You speak of duty yet if you truly cared about your self-proclaimed duty you would be wed by now”

Your patience was running thin and emotions high, “And who am I supposed to wed Aegon? Some Lord who sees me as an opportunity to be close to the crown. Marriage may mean nothing to you but I will wed someone I love”

His head drops towards the floor before it raises again, “Did you not confess to me in my chambers?”

You scoff, “I confessed because your hands were around my throat, because I could not breathe”

“You have never been a good liar”

Of course you knew that, but to stand before Aegon and confess your love again would add to your betrayal and how could you do that to Helaena again when she knew. Your treachery would stop at allowing Aegon’s lips to fall on yours, you would not make the same mistake twice.

“If you are to continue pestering me–I ask that you leave”

He didn’t respond and you didn’t bother looking up, continuing packing your trinkets.

“Did you mean it?”

You look up, taken aback unsure if you had correctly heard him. His eyes stared back at yours searching for answers, they looked almost pleading, pathetic in a divine way.

Opening your mouth to speak felt near impossible while he looked at you, “Aegon . . . “ you pleaded rather roughly.

“I want to hear it from you,” he paused.

“Was once not enough? Must I rip my heart out and show it to you? We are not children anymore this game you are playing has to stop”

“This is not a game to me”

“You treat it as such”, he walks around the bed stepping towards you. His messy hair framed his face like it always did, loose strands falling over his left eye.

When he was close enough that you could reach towards him you thought he would stop but he did not. He kept walking in slow strides, you nearly trip over your own books stepping backwards.

You should have ran, placed some distance between Aegon but you couldn’t move, stuck in a trance that was Aegon’s eyes. A trance that was momentarily broken as your back hit the cold stone wall.

“Don’t go”, his eyes are imploring, so close you could feel his breath on your lips when he spoke. You wanted nothing more than for him to leave, to make your departure easy because the longer he stood before you the faster the self restraint you had held for months began to slip.

His hand came to your face, a finger gently traced your cheek. You turn from him defensively refusing to let him win, to let him see how desperately you longed for his touch.

“Look at me” his fingers came under your chin attempting to move your head. But you protested lifting your head away from his grasp. Again he repeated his action and again you moved pushing his fingers away, moving frantically trying to get away from his touch.

“Look at me,” there’s a sternness in his voice you had never heard before. His eyes were filled with fire, his grip like steel and you are left with no choice but to face him.

With his free hand he brushed hair that had fallen on your face during your struggle. Your eyes locked with his, looking at him felt like being lit by a thousand suns–by the fire that lived within the dragons. With every passing second your resolve was deteriorating, and you did not want to know what would happen when it did.

“Do not leave” he gently brought his second hand to hold your face only this time you didn’t fight him.

The Aegon before you was vastly different then the one you had seen the past couple months. There were no snarky remarks or annoyed looks, there were only distressed words and pleading touches.

“I must”, it was a sullen response.

He shakes his head, “No you do not. Stay”, he's begging.

In return you shake your head.

His hands squeezed your face, “I’ll stay true to Helaena, I will not disturb you” there was a frantic urgency in his voice.

You laugh, “We both know that’s not true”

Perhaps under different circumstances Aegon could change, perhaps if he respected his marriage things would have been different. But there was no changing the man he had grown into.

You place your hands on his in an effort to pull them off but he did not yield. A part of you was glad his touch did not leave, basking in the warmth you would not feel again. There was a pull in your chest the same one you had felt the night of his drunken stupor. You tried to push it down, to swallow it whole but it was far too overwhelming.

He said your name softly, thumbs gently brushing your cheeks. And as his body pressed against yours–you were again teetering dangerously close to falling under his trance. Time seemed to stop as both of you inhaled each other's breaths. Aegon’s head slowly comes closer to yours, his lips a word away.

He paused and all you could think about was how close he was. How far apart the two of you had been up until this moment.

There's a hot slash in your chest and you know immediately what it meant, your string of self restraint was cut. And there was no point in trying to regain hold of it, for it would slip right through your fingers. Any trace of respect and honor for the sanctities of marriage or yourself were gone. You could feel the vines of guilt beginning to climb your body but before they could wrap themselves around, you acted. If you were to scarcely see Aegon for the rest of your life you would take advantage of your last night in the Red Keep.

Pushing every thought and feeling down you press your lips to Aegon’s. He’s taken aback you know because he does not react right away. But quickly he returns your actions without hesitation or pause. His lips moved with yours they tasted of; fruits, meats, and of your failure to stay away.

You should not want this–want him. Not after his actions in the dining hall, not after he so easily strangled you. But as his hands left your face and began to roam over your body you did not care about his previous arrogant behavior.

When your lips parted Aegon wasted no time in tangling his hands in the lace of your dress, his fingers working expertly. His eyes bore down on you, the sadness behind them was gone, replaced with a hunger you had never seen. It should have made you feel small or weak, like a sheep who has been caught in the mouth of a wolf.

But you felt neither small nor weak, not as your fingers found themselves under his shirt. Your cold limbs pressed against his hot skin. You were two hungry dragons waiting to draw blood to sink their teeth into flesh and fill the hungering ache in the pit of your stomachs.

As your lips met again desperately your teeth and tongues clashed. A battle of hands and lips took place, a tugging of lace, cotton, and skin.

While Aegon’s fingers traced down your back and his lips nipped at your skin you paid no mind to the regret that would eat you alive tomorrow. The shame that would haunt you every time you close your eyes as the image of Helaena was conjured up by your mind. Your little sisters pleading eyes as she handed her husband over to you on a silver platter all so you would stay.

Tomorrow you will not be able to face Helaena, tomorrow you will sneak off before she’s able to say goodbye.

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