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written-in-flowers · 8 months ago

Text

At First Glance: (Otto x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Otto Hightower x Fem!OC

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 11k

Summary: Let's go back to the beginning of our Rosebud and her Hightower. Ser Otto is slotted to marry the young Tyrell girl, expecting resentment and disgust. However, his young bride proves him wrong quickly and erotically.

Tags: arranged marriage, old/young relationship (consensual), pool sex, poolside sex, public sex, oral (m. and f. giving/receiving), teasing, dirty talk, nipple play, breast worship, facials (kind of), tongue fucking, first time, a bit of coaxing on both parts but it's all consensual.

Masterlist!

***

They’d traveled for nearly two months before they finally saw it in the distance. Sitting high on a verdant hill, the Manderly river flowing nearby, was Highgarden. Seat of House Tyrell, it was a stone castle full of life, laughter, and light. White stones made up the high walls circulating the castle up top, each layer growing in height. Fields of golden roses stretched across the land, the fresh air flowing through to blow their sweet fragrance. The scene of natural beauty was such a stark contrast to the wretched, crowded, infested King’s Landing far away. Being near Highgarden put one in a completely different world, and Otto could see the appeal. How could someone want to live in King’s Landing or Oldtown when they had the flowers and entertainment of Highgarden?

Otto thought about this as the wheelhouse pushed through the land towards the castle beyond. The Harvest Moon Festival was the biggest event in all of The Reach; the occasion was made twice as special due to The King’s progress happening to travel right through. Lord Gareth Tyrell responded to his raven with enthusiasm, as he looked forward to hosting The King’s party as well as seeing his childhood friend, Otto. House Tyrell were wardens of The Reach; House Hightower reigned in Oldtown, sacred place of The Citadel, The Starry Sept, and a notable trading port. The two great houses often mingled together through trade and politics. His older brother, Hobert, told him he’d recently drawn up new terms for House Tyrell to keep their families’ trade agreement going. The best way to seal this deal is through marriage. Hobert already married off his daughter and two sons. Otto had Alicent, who married King Viserys and was now queen; his son, Gwayne, was married with children as well. Hobert, having a living wife, turned his eyes to Otto.

Widowed several years ago, he never considered finding another wife. No woman he met compared to Leyla, who’d been the light of his life. Being two-and-fifty, he told Hobert he’s too old to remarry; he had no desire. Hobert doubled down and reminded him of the importance. He thought he’d get some say in how his life went on after Leyla. But, he knew that his family must go on, and trade relations must remain on good terms. But still, it was madness. Gareth must be surely suffering from a bout of desperation, and will change his mind as he is so prone to doing. The offer might’ve been made on a whim; another fanciful idea his old friend made and will regret upon Otto’s arrival. Yet, for now, he must settle with the idea of marriage once more.

Hobert told him he and Gareth can discuss dowry and dates when he’s chosen his bride. From what Otto recalled, Gareth and his wife, Jalissa, have six children: three boys and three girls. The youngest girl is only an infant, hardly fit to marry. The second eldest is one-and-ten, Aemond’s age and still not fit for a man like him. That left his eldest daughter, who was three-and-twenty. Lady Y/N Tyrell, “The Rose of Highgarden”, “Flower of The Reach”, “The Golden Flower”. Tales of your beauty and grace ran from Highgarden to Oldtown, and from Oltown to King’s Landing. You’d never been seen at court, but this was mainly your father’s doing. Gareth was very protective of his first-born daughter; Otto heard he turned down offers from younger suitors for the pettiest of reasons. He must admit he was surprised when Gareth wrote to Hobert about a possible marriage pact. He’d written a raven for Otto as well. He’d extolled his daughter’s obvious surface beauty, but her virtues and talents as well.

‘Y/N is my most precious flower. I’d only entrust her to the noblest of men.’

You’ll be disappointed, no doubt. Perhaps when he and Gareth spoke in private, he could convince him to make a match with another Hightower or related member. Marriage might not be needed at all. They’ve made such agreements without it before now. He couldn’t marry again. Not because of the ceremonies or feasts or events beforehand, but because then you will carry the surname ‘Hightower’. You’d be ‘Lady Hightower’. Leyla was Lady Hightower. Lady Leyla Hightower. He pictured her even now as the wheelhouse passed through the final gate into Highgarden. He remembered the slender beauty with ginger curls and large brown eyes, who cheered for him the loudest and held his hand through the difficult times. It made his heart ache. Even if you are beautiful, there is no guarantee he’d like you or that you two had anything in common.

The wheelhouse stopped when they reached the stone roundabout in front of the doors of Highgarden. On the walls, he saw crawling vines of roses and small flowers going up from the ground; more of them bloomed in the bushes lining the courtyard and the large fountain in the middle. He saw armored guards in silver with green cloaks standing by the steps, and a long green and gold carpet leading from door to bottom step. Right in front of the entrance, he spotted Gareth. A large man with dark brown hair, his mustache had grown thicker since Otto last saw him and gray hairs now mixed with the brown. Beside him stood Lady Jalissa, a willowy woman with auburn hair braided down her back, holding an infant swaddled in a green blanket. The children who remained at home stood alongside them: heir to Highgarden, Matthos, stood a tall as his father, a man grown with his own family; the twins, Loras and Horas, who were Aegon’s age of six-and-ten; Elise, the second eldest daughter who wore a dress of pale pink and gold with her thick hair braided, and the eldest daughter, you. His stomach churned as he forced himself to ignore you.

His nerves tried overcoming him as the wheelhouse stopped in front of the party. No, he wouldn’t let himself be anxious. Otto took a deep breath and stepped out of the wheelhouse. The warm breeze coming through didn’t feel unpleasant; it felt quite relaxing. How can an old man like him take you away from such a beautiful home? You must hate him for it.

“Otto!” Gareth held out his arms to Otto, and beamed brightly. Otto stepped forward and the two men embraced, laughing and patting one another on the back. “You look well, Otto. You look well,” he commented, “I just finished writing a letter to Hobert. He’s been badgering me about the damn trade routes! He tells me bandits and outlaws have been stopping his export cargo.”

“He mentioned the same to me as well. Let’s hope our alliance might help things.” Hobert often scolded his younger brother about not caring more about trade between Highgarden and Oldtown. He looked down the line to Jalissa and the infant in her arms. “Lady Jalissa,” he smiled at her, kissing the back of one of her hands, “You look lovely as ever.”

“Highgarden welcomes you, Otto,” she beamed back. “I’d like you to meet our newest Tyrell: Adeline.”

“How charming,” he said, tickling the baby’s chin and watching her smile. “She looks like you.”

“Thank the Gods,” Gareth added, “If she looked anything like me, I’d have a hard time marrying her off.” The three friends laughed before he said, “Speaking of marrying off…Ser Hightower, this is my daughter, Y/N.”

Radiant. That was the only word he could find to describe you. Everything about you was soft and gentle. It shined. You shined. Pretty eyes blinked up at him shyly, and your soft lips curled into a smile. Your dress was a painted gold vest with short sleeves, with a scarf underneath to cover your chest. The skirt was a fine light blue fabric that hung to your feet. His eyes spent time taking in all your features. For once, rumors spoke truthfully. The Rose of Highgarden was the epitome of beauty.

“Ser Hightower,” you said in a soft spoken voice, curtsying for him. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“And you, Lady Y/N.”

Leyla didn’t speak softly or show signs of shyness when they met. She’d been bold and out-spoken. She made a statement simply by the way she stood. You took charge in a different way. Gareth and Jalissa introduced their children. Seeing young Elise, he knew Gareth will propose a match between the king’s household and his own. Gareth never missed an opportunity to make alliances or connections to other great houses. He finally led them all inside the castle. Tapestries, fine art, and sculptures decorated every hall. He saw the vines from outside creeping through windows and onto the inner walls. Any earthy scent the rooms might have was blown away by the fresh air coming in through the wide corridors. Gareth started giving instructions to a castle guard, while Jalissa came into step beside Otto.

“How are you, Otto?” she asked.

“I’ve been well.”

“No, I mean right now,” she said. “Being betrothed after Leyla…it must be troubling you.”

He caught sight of you ahead of him. You glided as if walking on clouds above the sky. He spotted the golden rose pin keeping your hair back. “Your daughter’s so young, Jalissa,” he said quietly. “She should be marrying someone closer to her age. I can name five young men who’d be better suitors.”

“And my lord husband will find a reason why each one is not worthy of our Y/N,” she replied. “It has been an absolute struggle securing a marriage for her. He always had one reason or another: ‘the boy is too brash’ ‘the boy is too dim-witted’ ‘the boy is a brute’.” She sighed defeatedly, “When Hobert mentioned marriage, he jumped at the chance.” She glanced over at him, “He trusts you; he always has.”

“I’m old enough to be her father. She must be repulsed by the idea of marrying me.”

“Trust me,” she chortled, “My Y/N is overjoyed to be marrying you.”

“Of course, I’m a Hightower of Oldtown. It offers her protection, wealth and security for the rest of her life.”

“That is not the only reason she’s happy about it.”

Otto felt there was more in the statement than Jalissa said out loud. He looked back over to you as they walked into the Grand Hall, the central hub of Highgarden. Otto expected melancholy or a hidden fury in them, but instead he saw a subtle joy. You talk animatedly to Elise, the both of you giggling together before you looked over at him. You gave another sweet smile that melted hearts before bashfully looking away. No, that’s absurd. Jalissa meant to ease any doubts and worries he might have; maybe to keep him from running away, but she should know by now.

He never runs from his duties.

A spread of food and drink had been put out for the guests, no doubt to let them rest as their belongings were taken to their apartments. He spoke with the other lords of the Reach who’d come for the festival and his nuptials, reconnecting and greeting old friends from home. But, his eyes occasionally casted over towards you. You stood with other noble ladies, no doubt gossiping and chatting amongst yourselves. He couldn’t overcome the look you’d given him. Otto wouldn’t lie. The thought of you desiring him sounded appealing. He liked imagining such a beautiful creature wanting him, aching for him. He briefly pictured you coming to him, sneaking into his chambers and asking for him rather than him sending a maid to collect you for him. The odds of that were unlikely. Very.

****

You’d heard many things about Ser Otto Hightower, your father’s childhood friend. You heard your father recount stories about him and Ser Otto, and your mother often spoke kindly of him. They both told you he’d make a good husband; he’d treat you honorably and keep you comfortably for the rest of your days. You heard other people say he was methodical and ambitious, which you could understand. Your own father can be the same way at times. You supposed all men are ambitious, in truth, but that did not intrigue you.

“He’s so…old, though,” said Maera, one of your ladies-in-waiting. She and your other companions stood in a circle on the other side of the room. You saw the disgust on her face as she looked over at Otto. “He could be your father.”

“My father says his family is wealthy and pious,” you told her, trying to find a reason to excuse your compliance. “He seems kind enough.”

And handsome, though you’d never say so out loud. Ser Otto Hightower carried a refined, regal aura that made him stand out. The boys brought forward as suitors bumbled about, tried too hard to impress you, or spoke about your beauty endlessly with no substance. Ser Otto hardly said a word to you since meeting apart from his greeting, but you’d seen the recognition in his eyes. Your eyes looked over his tall stature, the light brown in his beard and the ginger in his auburn hair. It gave him a more respectable appearance. You did not know much about him besides what your parents told you, and you considered approaching him first. Yet, the thought tightened nerves in your stomach. What would you say to him? How would the conversation go? What if, like all the others, he saw you as an object to possess? You knew you’d be miserable if the latter was true. So many men seeking your hand saw you as a trophy to be won. You’d be a pretty, shiny jewel they can flaunt at balls and feasts. Your father, thankfully, hated every man who stepped through the door with your name on his lips.

Except Ser Otto.

You watched him speaking jovially with other lords of The Reach. Many people came from all around the region to attend the Harvest Moon Festival; many came for your upcoming wedding, which was at week's end. Several of your friends and relatives worked tirelessly on their gowns for the ball at the end of the week. Your seamstress recently finished the last draft of her designs for you, bringing your vision of a dress of maple leaves in orange, yellow, and red to life, and started sewing. Tonight, your father plans to host a welcoming feast for all the noble houses attending, and you have your gowns lined up for the entire week. You’d made sure they were eye-catching, pretty and slightly provocative. Men Ser Otto’s age tended to like pretty girls who flaunted their bodies. Your mother told you he was an honorable man, who wouldn’t want a wife who shows so much skin, so you held back into a more subtle gown. Still, you hoped Ser Otto approached you tonight.

That little voice in the back of your head hoped he did more than talk.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Elise, your younger sister, bounced over to you. In her hands, she held several flower crowns of different colors. She already wore her crown of pink carnations and baby’s breath on her head. “Mother wishes for the ladies to wear these tonight!” she held them out for your friends to grab, “And she said you get to wear this one.”

Your flower crown had gold roses woven into green leaves and feathers. Looking over to where your mother stood, a wet nurse holding your baby sister, you both locked eyes. She gave you a knowing smile, then nodded her head towards your father and Ser Otto. You returned with a nervous look, and shook your head. She gave a visible sigh, as if to say “alright, but you must speak with him eventually”. You would. Just not now. Especially not with your friends so closely watching.

“I heard his wife died some time ago,” said Cornelia, holding her own crown of blue and white flowers. “She fell ill from a fever and passed away. Maybe he’ll be so distraught over his wife still, he won’t pay you much mind. My mother says the only time I’d need to see my husband is at the bedding and on formal occasions. Perhaps the same will be for you.”

“I hope not.”

“What?” said Maera incredulously.

“I’d always hoped to have a loving marriage,” you admitted, playing with the crown in your hands. “A husband who adores and loves me like in the stories.”

“Life isn’t a fairytale, Y/N,” she replied, drinking from her wine cup. “My mother says women in this realm are dealt bad cards, and we must adapt to them or else we lose. My father promised me to August Tarly,” she said the name with disdain, “Once he’s been knighted.”

“Seeing how August Tarly wields a sword, I can’t imagine that’ll be any time soon,” you said.

"I'm not counting the days, is all I can say."

You looked back at Ser Otto, who happened to catch you at the same time. Warmth filled your cheeks, you smiled and turned away. You hoped he was as kind as your mother said. If not that, then at least civil and decent towards you. A part of you worried you may spoil everything and Ser Otto chooses not to marry you. He might not be fully over his wife’s death, and find another way to avoid marriage. You'd thought about sneaking away until you spotted Ser Otto heading into the gardens from afar.

"I will see you all tonight," you told the women, and swiftly moved through the crowd without an explanation.

You stayed by the stone archway leading into the vast gardens beyond. Other guests stayed spread out through the blossoming flowers and fountains, and you saw him talking to Lord Tarly, shaking hands and smiling. You never knew how to tell your friends about your taste in men. They all swooned over the handsome, young knights and lords who came through Highgarden, each of them fighting for the man’s attention. You, however, found yourself admiring men much older than you. Older men were more experienced in life and love. Now, you didn’t fall in love with the wrinkled, elderly men who sat in chairs and walked about on sticks. You liked men like Otto, middle-aged and still fit. You hoped your father would fight for the marriage if Otto should suggest another form of alliance. You’d love nothing more than to be his wife.

Otto eventually left the company of Lord Tarly and his men, and walked towards the garden maze. Having grown up within the walls of Highgarden, you knew the garden maze like the back of your hand. Waiting until he’d disappeared through the archway, you stealthily followed him inside. The tall hedges made narrow paths going in all directions, each path leading the wanderer into groves of fruits and flowers, small sitting areas, or bathing pools. Perhaps he may get lost, and you can happen to have come upon him? You were merely enjoying your family’s gardens, and found him?

‘Oh, forgive me, Ser. I thought I was alone…What? You’ve gotten turned around in the maze? Ha, that’s alright. Everyone does. Come, I will lead you back to the party…” You entertained yourself with the idea of coming upon Ser Otto in the citrus groves. Oranges, peaches, and apricots growing on trees, and their sweet smell hanging in the air. You moved along the trodden path Ser Otto had taken, hearing footsteps nearby and sensing it might be him. “What was that, Ser? Where is my chaperone? Well, Septa Gaunt’s ankles often swell when standing too long, so I left her sitting by one of the fountains…Why yes, I am happy to be marrying you. I promise I will be a good wife to you and mother to our children…No, Ser, I would not be opposed to you kissing me right now…I wore this gown just for you. I hope you like it…Oh, you wish for me to remove-”

“-It seems I am not the only one who enjoys the infamous Tyrell garden maze.”

You jumped at the sound of his voice. Turning around, you saw Otto standing in the entryway to the small courtyard you’d walked into. Benches on either side of the small space, a fountain of The Maiden holding her arms out as birds zoomed around her stood in the center. It was one of your favorites. Made of bronze, it shone in the morning sunlight, and the water spewed from her hands like crystals into the pond around her. The daydream running in your mind immediately dissipated when you caught sight of him. A deep heat rushed up your neck and burned your cheeks.

“Oh, um, Ser Otto, my…you, um, uh, gave me a fright…” you sounded so childish. ‘Gave me a fright’. You could’ve kicked yourself right then and there.

“Forgive me, my lady,” he replied, “That was not my intention.” He spotted the fountain behind you, “Ha, it seems your mother’s statue is still here.”

“Ha, uh yes. It is.”

“I remember when your father commissioned this. It’d been after he married your mother,” he told you, coming up to your side. “He told me she was The Maiden in flesh, and wanted to dedicate a statue to preserve her beauty for eternity. He’s always been the hopeless romantic, your father,” he snorted.

“You, um, see quite close to him and my mother,” you said, grabbing at topics to discuss. “He said he’d been fostered at The Hightower in Oldtown?”

“Yes, he was,” he nodded. “He came to us after our fathers decided to renew Hightower and Tyrell ties. Fosterage was a lot more common back then. Your father and I became fast friends, training and being educated together. I suppose my father really did it because I never had many friends my own age. My brother was much older than me by that time, and I had no other siblings. I grew to truly cherish your father,” he said to you. “And him in return to me. I suppose that’s why he’s so adamant that I be your husband.”

“Our families truly are intertwined,” you said, watching the clear water spill from the statue's ring of flowers underneath. “My father says a marriage between our house and yours will be beneficial to both parties. He says the trade routes aren’t very safe these days, and House Hightower can provide more men to guard them.”

“We can…” you heard his voice trailing off before he said, “Lady YN, I considered asking your father to call off our engagement.”

The words sunk your heart into the acidic pits of your stomach. You looked over to him, and said, “Ser?”

“I’m an old man, my lady,” he replied, not really looking at you. “A woman your age should be matched with someone younger and fitter than I. I already have children and grandchildren of my own. You cannot possibly wish to marry someone as old as me. I know your father wants the best for you, and I assure you that is not me.”

“But, Ser…” the fact that he thought he wasn’t a suitable husband for you shattered your hopes and dreams. Your mother always said you hoped far too high. You played with the belt around your waist, and said, “I do wish to marry you.”

He huffed in a laugh, “There is no need for flattery, my lady. There is nobody around to hear you.”

“I am not trying to flatter you, Ser. I mean it,” you turned completely to face him, hoping he’d see the sincerity there, “I would very much like to be your wife.”

He faced you, hands behind his back, “And why is that? There are plenty of boys in this region who’d cut a man down to be with you. You’d certainly be a good match for my grandson, Prince Aegon, were he not already betrothed.”

“I don’t want a boy. I want a man,” you stated, cringing at how foolish it sounded out loud. “What I mean to say is that the boys that have come forward are all simple-minded, brutish, and only see me as a trophy.”

“And what makes you think I wouldn’t see you that way, hm?” he stepped closer to you, his body a foot away from yours. It left you breathless for a moment, and a slew of scenarios ran through your mind.

“Because we’ve been standing in this yard alone and you haven’t tried to touch or kiss me,” you said, letting the idea settle into his mind. “My mother has told me many great things about you: how you were Hand of the King, all the good things you did for the kingdom, and that you’re an honorable and pious man. And besides,” you moved to him until you were inches from each other, smiling softly, “I quite like older men. They’re much more experienced in life and…marriage.”

You heard him let out a soft sigh, his eyes scanning over your features up close. Gently, he brushed your arm, the simple touch igniting something inside you, “So, you are not opposed to this match?”

“No, Ser,” you shook your head. You pressed even closer, your body right against his, and circled the geometric patterns bordering his doublet. “I look forward to it greatly.”

You saw a slight pink tinge cover his cheeks. He continued looking over your face before landing on your lips, “You…truly are The Rose of Highgarden…”

“Thank you, Ser,” you giggled. “I, um, hope this was not too forward,” you moved away from him suddenly, realizing what you’d done. “I don’t…I promise I am not usually this way-”

“-Do not apologize,” he insisted, bringing you back gently by the elbow. “Do you truly…Certainly you could not truly wish to marry an old man like me? I am old enough to be your father.”

“Ser, you are not so old,” you assured him. You realized you quite enjoyed being close to him this way. “Old is for men like my grandfather, who walk around with a cane and cannot remember what day it is. I’m sure there are many things you can still do.”

‘Such as me…’ you nearly said, but decided that was indeed far too forward. He laughed at your words, and replied, “I’m not so sure of that, my lady. I have not done certain things in a very long time.”

“Perhaps once we’re married, we could-”

“-Y/N! Y/N, darling, where are you?”

Your mother’s voice came from somewhere near the hedges, and you both jumped apart. Soon, Lady Jalissa came around the corner, and smiled in relief. “Ah, there you are,” she said, coming to your side, “I have been looking for you. The King has just arrived.” Suddenly, she noticed Otto beside you. She looked between you and then Otto, and realized what she’d done. Rather than scowl, she smiled knowingly. “Her chaperone is not present, Otto,” she teased, taking your hand, “You know better.”

“Perhaps her chaperone will be more mindful of her wanderings in the future,” Otto said, also sneering. “The King has arrived, you said?”

“Yes, him, the Queen, and the children. I’m sure Alicent will be pleased to see her father.”

It was then that you remembered. You’d only just remembered: Queen Alicent is Ser Otto’s daughter. A pang of nervousness hit you as your mother guided you back through the maze, chatting with Otto about the Queen and him seeing The King again. You’d be related to The Queen, who was a few years older than you. What if she did not approve of this union? What if Otto took her opinion seriously and did discuss other alliance options with your father? You walked into the main hall again with your mother, gulping anxiously as you spotted the crowd parting for the newest guests.

The King’s party consisted of his Kingsguard, men in white cloaks and golden armor. He walked with a cane, his white hair thinning on his head and his left sleeve dangling from the shoulder. He was around Otto’s age, yet looked so much older than the last time he visited Highgarden. Queen Alicent walked behind him with her ladies-in-waiting, wearing a green gown and a golden circlet in her auburn curls. She looked regal, the way a queen should look. She too was much, much younger than her husband. How could Otto object to your betrothal, yet fully accept his daughter marrying a man his age? Because that man was The King, of course. Behind her were Otto’s grandchildren: Prince Aegon, a tall boy with thick silver hair, who looked around the room in disinterest; Princess Helaena, a slender girl with hair just like her brother’s, shyly walking beside him as everyone looked on, and finally Prince Aemond, short and slight with silver curls down to his shoulders. The only one missing was Prince Daeron, the youngest who was a squire and cupbearer in Oldtown for Otto’s brother. Should you marry Otto, you’d be part of their family. You wouldn’t be royalty, but you’d be related to them. Since Otto is no longer Hand of the King, he no longer lives in King’s Landing.

Perhaps that might be a good thing.

Your father walked alongside King Viserys, the both talking cordially despite the slow steps. Everyone got along well with your father. While he may be a bit pompous at times, his jovial spirit rippled through crowds around him. It made him the perfect host. Your mother appeared with you at the center of the room, your siblings standing with her. When King Viserys approached, you all bowed. Then, your father introduced his household to him and Queen Alicent.

Your nerves tripled when she approached you. You hoped maybe she did not know about the betrothal, but when her eyes widened slightly, you knew the truth.

“You’re Lady Y/N?” she asked, trying to hide her disbelief.

“Yes, Your Grace,” you nodded, curtsying.

Alicent’s eyes flitted to her father who stood nearby behind you, then back to you. “It is an honor to meet you, Lady Y/N.”

She hates you. “And you, Your Grace.”

A sickness entered your stomach, and you thought you might vomit. She disapproves. She’s not only Otto’s daughter, but the Queen. She might demand your father choose another suitor; she could convince her father to decline the offer. You turned to your mother, who took your hand in hers and squeezed reassuringly. No amount of hand-holding could hold off the dread. You almost did not acknowledge Prince Aegon, who gave you a swift once-over, then walked away unimpressed. Princess Helaena timidly nodded, and you smiled kindly at her. It was Prince Aemond who stood stock-still in front of you.

“Um, uh, hmmm,” he stammered, “Hello, Lady Y/N.”

“Prince Aemond,” you curtsied once again.

He stared up into your face, since he was much shorter being only twelve. The sudden fear that Queen Alicent might suggest a marriage between House Tyrell and The Crown came to you. It wouldn’t be the first time a Targaryen-Tyrell marriage alliance would be proposed. Yet, at the time it’d been King Viserys’s brother, Prince Daemon, who’d suggested it. This time it’d be The Queen. What if your father saw the benefits in this match and called off your betrothal to Otto? You tried thinking the opposite. Aemond is much younger than you. You’re twenty-three. He’s twelve.

Your father called for the royal family to be shown to their chambers for the week. You saw Alicent walk with her father after them, and you excused yourself to your own chambers for the day.

***

“She’s a child, Father.”

“She’s a grown woman, Alicent.”

“She might as well be a child compared to you.”

Otto found his daughter’s reaction quite amusing. Standing in her quarters at Highgarden, the servants finished setting down Alicent’s possessions and left the father and daughter alone. It’d been so long since Otto laid eyes on Alicent. The last they’d seen one another, Aegon and Helaena were still infants. He’d embraced her the moment the servants left, taking in the scent of flowers in her hair and the warmth of her. Seeing her now in the sunlight, she reminded him of Leyla. He’d planned on asking her about Lord Lionel, his sucessor who'd perished in a fire, leaving the position open once more. But, she had other concerns.

“I cannot believe you are agreeing to this union,” she said, hands crossed in front of her and displeasure on her face. “You’d told me you did not wish to remarry after Mother passed. Now, here you are, engaged to a girl twice your junior.”

“It is for political reasons alone,” he said. “House Tyrell needs men, and House Hightower is willing to offer them. Gareth has a daughter who needs marrying, and he has insisted it be me.”

“Why?”

“We are close friends and allies. He trusts me to look after his daughter.”

She scoffed, shaking her head, “Oh, look after her, you will, Father.”

“Alicent,” he said firmly, as if scolding her.

“You cannot convince me it is not for her youth and looks that you wish to marry her,” she retorted. “I’ve heard the things people say about that girl.”

“What do they say?” Alicent did not answer at first. He pressed her, “Alicent, is there something about her that you know that I do not?”

She stayed silent for a moment more before answering, “That she is lovely.” It almost annoyed her to say it. “They say she is lovely, gracious, kind, and talented. Ladies who’ve met her speak very highly of her.” She plopped down onto a chair, “Her beauty is said to rival the most beautiful girls at court. It appears the rumors are true.” She’d moved her fingers to pick at her nails, but she quickly stopped herself. Otto then discovered the real reason she disapproved, “You said you loved Mother. You said you’d never want for another woman after she died. You’d told me so yourself when I asked you. I never imagined you marrying someone else, especially one so young.”

He smiled softly, and came to sit beside her. “I did love your mother, Alicent. I still do, even if she is no longer with us. But, this union will benefit both our families.”

“Is there no other option?” she nearly snapped. “Perhaps Uncle Hobert could foster the little girl or one of the sons at Oldtown. Daeron would do well to be around children his age. Maybe the little girl could be betrothed to Aemond instead. They’re close in age. A match to the crown will benefit him more, would it not?”

It would. “I will confess I considered the same thing,” he said. “But, it is Y/N Gareth wishes to marry off, not Elise. I will not lie to you, my daughter,” he looked at her, “Gareth is not very fond of House Targaryen.”

“Really?” she asked, intrigued.

He poured them both wine from a pitcher nearby, and said, “Lord Gareth is a strong believer in The Seven. He does not approve of the Targaryen’s queer customs of marrying within their own families. He says he cannot trust a family who use their dragons as a means to put themselves above other men. It would take much more than simple military gain to propose a match.” He took a sip from his cup, then said, “And yes…Lady Y/N is beautiful, and Jalissa assures me she will make a good wife.”

Alicent rolled her eyes, “That poor girl. I can’t imagine her being very fond of the idea.”

“She claims differently.” He instantly regretted saying this when she looked over at him with wide eyes.

“Father?”

“I spoke with her in the garden,” he admitted, “And she told me she’s partial to…older men.”

Alicent stifled a laugh with her wine. “Surely, her father must’ve convinced her to say it.”

For some reason, Otto got the impression that you were not as obedient a daughter as Alicent. He recalled how close you’d stood to him, touching his doublet lightly and pure sincerity in your eyes. When he touched you, a flame sparked within him. He’d been tempted to kiss you right then, but his own morals restricted him. He liked to believe you’d said it to ease any worries. Yet, he liked the idea of you desiring him even more. You’d walked so willingly into his embrace, your bosom centimeters from his chest, and your body heat radiating onto him. For a moment, he remembered the bathing pools of Highgarden, and the idea of taking you there. Even if he did not wed you…

Gods, he’d still love to undress you.

The innocence you’d shown clearly shrouded something lustful within you. People at Highgarden tended to live much more loosely than those in King’s Landing. He liked the idea that you might be one of those people.

“-Father? Father, are you listening?” Alicent’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“Yes,” he lied, coughing and looking at her.

She didn’t believe him. “I said, have you heard what’s happened to Lord Lionel and Ser Harwin?”

Otto sat up straight and took a drink, hoping the coolness might soothe the fires inside him. “Oh yes, a terrible thing. Very tragic. I understand it was a fire that broke out in Harrenhal?”

“Yes, it took them both," she said. He noticed other words lingering inside her. She did not look at him, and focused on her wine. Her mother once did the same whenever she withheld information from him. "The King…is looking for a new Hand."

Otto paused, "Is he?"

"He is. I have taken the position for the time being, but I put forward your name." She then broke, "I have no allies at court, Father. Viserys continuously favors Rhaenyra and her sons over mine. He remains entirely blind to their plain features, and their obvious birth illlegitimacy. Whenever I broch the subject, he gives me a weak answer." Her deep brown eyes pleaded with him, "Father, I cannot go against them on my own. I need you."

He hesitated. As Hand of the King, he'd have significantly more power. A second son to a noble house, he inherited very little compared to his brother. When he became Hand, he became a person of worth. He had power and influence throughout the realm. If he were still Hand, he wouldn't need to remarry. Hobert might've chosen another option. Otto recalled his days as Hand of the King, first to the last king and then to Viserys. He'd spoken with the King's voice when he fell too ill; he sat on the council and had The King’s ear. He'd be with his daughter and grandchildren again. They'd have a person in their corner, concerned with their futures and their lives. If Rhaenyra became queen, the realm would be flown into war and chaos.

If her bastard boys became kings after, it'd ruin the kingdom further.

"Have you managed to convince him?" He asked her.

"I have mentioned it to him a few times," she said. "He may consider rebuilding the bridges he burned dismissing you from court."

"I only spoke the truth," Otto said. "It is not my fault he is willfully blind to her misdeeds. I tell him his daughter went into a brothel with Prince Daemon, and was seen coming out after him. He dismisses me instead of accepting the truth."

He also remembered Viserys telling him that he'd plotted to put his daughter forward as a queen. Well, he had, but he never admitted that. Should he be Hand again, he can push for Aegon to be named heir instead of Rhaenyra. If he was Hand, he could keep Prince Daemon from being on the throne. If he was Hand again, people will understand why you wish to marry him.

"I will wait for him to approach me," as he knows Viserys will. "I have plenty to occupy me for the moment." Such as you and your beautiful eyes.

"He's been quite sentimental these days," she told him. "His declining health has made him even more so."

"I can imagine. The King has always been fickle with his commands. He banishes Daemon and then allows him back at court to only banish him again. He dismisses me as Hand, and then brings me back. It's only a matter of time."

She looked over at him, then said, "What will you do about Lady Y/N? You cannot seriously wish to marry her."

"I will. I must."

And wished to, though he kept this to himself. "I will leave you to settle in," he said, standing up from his seat. "I have yet to see my own quarters."

"I suspect they'll be close to Lady Y/N's," she said with disdain. "I know how these Tyrell's work. Her mother will no doubt have placed you close, so her daughter may tempt you in the dark."

He chuckled. She had not even spoken to you, and she already accused you of a plot. He kissed her hands, then left her chambers. He made his way to the rooms Gareth and Jalissa always kept for him. A spacious suite with an adjacent sitting area in front of a fire. A floral tapestry of a young maiden with flowing hair dancing in a silk chemise was added to the room. He couldn't help noting the maiden's similarities to you. Otto smirked. Alicent was not completely wrong. Jalissa can be as cunning as him when she wishes.

Otto spent the rest of his day with his grandchildren and daughter. He did not see you again until later that night at the welcoming feast. As he walked in, the herald announcing his arrival, he spotted you sitting with your sister and companions. Each girl wore a circlet of different flowers, matching ribbons falling down the back. Yours was the only golden one, roses woven into vines and feathers. It matched the gold flowers embroidered into the baby blue gown you wore. You stood out amongst the ladies around you, not only because of your obvious beauty, but because you sat in the middle. You'd laughed at something your sister said, and his heart couldn't help but flutter. He took seats with his household on your side of the room, glad to have you out of his eyeline. Otherwise, he'd be unable to look anywhere else.

"Evening, Ser Otto," The King approached him, and he stood up at once.

"Good Evening, Your Grace," he bowed. "I pray you have been well."

"I wish I could say so," he chuckled. "I heard you're marrying the Tyrell girl on week's end?"

"Her father has proposed that to me," he nodded. "There is a situation with bandits on the routes from here to Oldtown, and her father has offered a marriage pact."

"You're a lucky man then," he said, "She's lovely. Ha, I know Daemon would be envious of you were he here."

"Thank you, Your Grace. I was sorry to hear about Lord Lionel and his son," he added. "It's such a shame. He was a good Hand."

"Not as good as you were," Viserys noted.

"I appreciate that, Your Grace."

"Perhaps," he limped closer to Otto, "We may sit down some time soon? Make amends and rebuild the bridge we burned so long ago."

"I would be open to that," he said.

This pleased Viserys, who nodded and hobbled away to his seat on the high table. Otto watched him leave, more concerned than satisfied. Viserys is already missing a limb due to infection, and now he is becoming weaker. His days are numbered, and this means that Rhaenyra may soon take the throne. With her came Prince Daemon, who'd turn the Red Keep into a brothel and wouldn't hesitate to have his head on the executioner's block. Him being Hand again will ensure the right person ends up on the throne. Not to mention, people may not question his bride-to-be on her choice of husband. Any girl in your position would be a fool to not want the Hand of the King.

Glancing across the hall, he took in your beauty once more. He couldn’t help noticing the low cut neckline of your gown, his eyes gluing themselves to it. The look might be considered scandalous at court, but here in your father’s home, many women wore similar dresses. He suspected due to the warm weather, but Jalissa’s mischievous smile came to the forefront of his mind. Otto could not help imagining those mounds in his hands, hard nipples on his tongue while you squirm with pleasure. He took a drink to wash down these thoughts. When you sensed someone watching you, you turned in his direction. Unsure what else to do, he raised his cup and you did the same. The Seven took their time when creating you, putting all the love and beauty in the world into your form. He walked towards your parents, hoping striking a conversation might distract him from your gaze.

“Doesn’t YN look lovely tonight, Otto?” Jalissa asked him, looking in your direction.

“She does,” he said. “She certainly inherited her mother’s looks.”

“You flatter me,” she tsked, smiling at him.

“I only speak the truth,” he insisted. He then moved on to the most concerning topic: “Your daughter told me she isn’t bothered by our arrangement,” he said. “When I told her that I considered ending it, she insisted that she approved of our match.” He glanced over at her, “Was this your doing, Jalissa?”

“Not entirely,” she admitted freely. “I may have slipped your name into the list of suitors, but I told her she may decline it, if she wished. She said she did not.”

“She mentioned she preferred men of a certain age…”

Jalissa's humored smile gave everything away. “YN has always shown a certain interest in older men.” She stepped closer to him, “I only wish for my daughter’s happiness, Otto. If I can find a way to give her even a crumb of it, I will do what it takes. Surely that is how you feel for your children?”

“That is what we all wish for them, Jalissa, but do you not worry what it might look like for her? A woman as young as her with a man of my age?”

“People will talk whether she marries a young man or an old one,” she shrugged indifferently. “Why the inquiry? Do you not find my daughter pleasing?”

“Oh, um, well…” his cheeks tinged pink at the question. “Your daughter is-”

“-You may speak freely with me,” she giggled at his flustered reaction. “Unless you’d rather tell my husband instead? He’ll be overjoyed at the idea.”

“Your daughter is beautiful, there is no doubt,” he said, finding you in the crowd again. This time he caught you looking at him. You gave a shy, embarrassed smile when his eyes met yours, but you did not look away. It took his breath away. “She is utterly enchanting.”

“She’s even more enchanting up close,” she nudged him before walking away from him.

This he knew. Otto watched Jalissa disappear into the crowd, leaving him awkwardly standing alone. His body burned from being under your gaze. He couldn't recall the last time a woman gave him so much attention. Normally, Otto did not struggle to maintain his composure. He could remain calm and collected regardless of the subject or person. Yet, your stare alone made him shift and gulp thickly. You are only a girl. Nothing malicious or threatening. But, he still took deep breaths as he made his way over to you.

“Evening, Lady YN,” he gave a curt bow, immediately scrambling for what to say. Underneath the candlelights above, you looked positively glowing. “You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you, ser,” you beamed. “I spoke with Her Grace when she arrived…”

His stomach twisted, “Forgive anything she might have said. She may be our queen, but she’s my daughter as well. I hope she wasn’t too harsh.”

“Actually, it’d been quite the opposite,” you said. “She said she looked forward to the union of our houses, and to my joining your family.”

Undoubtedly pleasantries expected of a queen and daughter of an old man like him. He gazed around the room to see his daughter on the dais, chatting with Jalissa and being a proper guest. Alicent means well, and likely harbors resentment at him but he anticipated that. He only hoped Alicent wouldn’t be outwardly vicious towards you; none of this was your doing. It was your father’s and his brother’s idea. But, seeing you this close up and recalling your gentle touch, he might be warming up to it himself.

“Would you care for a dance, my lady?” he asked, turning back to you. His body yearned to be close to you again.

“I’d love to,” you smiled at him, immediately leaving your seat to join him.

You took his arm and he walked you to the sea of dancers in the middle of the hall. Immediately, you both went into step together. Otto couldn’t recall the last time he’d danced at a banquet, so he did miss a step or two, but that exhilarating feeling he once felt returned.

“Has it been long since you danced, ser?” you questioned, a small tease in your voice but nothing malicious.

“I will admit yes,” he chuckled embarrassed. “Not since my lady wife passed. She loved dancing. So, forgive me if I have two-left feet.”

“You’re simply out of practice,” you took his hands at the appropriate moment, gazing into his eyes flirtatiously, “I can help you become reacquainted with it, if you like. I know you have plenty of things to teach me, I’d like to return the favor.”

The implication, however subtle, made him shudder. He loved and hated how easily this nymph effected him. You were The Maiden personified, in his eyes.

“I’d like that,” he said quietly, the both of you standing in the middle of the floor. “I hear you’re a splendid dancer. When I’m tutored, I only learn from the best.”

You giggled, and then the lesson began. Nimble and light on your feet, you easily moved about the floor with him at every song. You made it fun and delightful. Otto almost forgot who he was and the people watching the two of you as you repeatedly came close together. Your electric energy pulled him in and kept a firm grip on him the entire time. Hearing from Jalissa that you might truly harbor favor for him only made his desires burn hotter. He did his best to keep himself from touching you too long or glancing at your body, but he’ll admit he snuck his peeks.

“-I found Septon Rowley’s writings about the Seven intriguing,” you said as both walked into the garden.

You’d both decided to take some air in the garden outside the hall after dancing. The lanterns hanging around the lush garden gave dim lighting to the cobbled paths around the vast landscape. He also noticed how much quieter and empty they were. The idea of being fully alone with you again stirred disquiet in his gut. Truly, he should’ve warned your septa, but the idea of the aged woman hovering nearby bothered him. He isn’t a green boy who cannot control himself. He is a grown man who can withhold his desires regardless of how badly they wished to be released.

“He talks about them as if they’re people and not gods,” you continued. “He made them sound more human, even if some septons believe his work to lean more into storytelling than facts.”

“Septon Rowley is known to be a bit fanciful with his writing. He said he intended it to be read to children, but I found myself enjoying it as well,” he replied. “Your father mentioned you’re quite versed in scriptures?”

“I wouldn’t say versed, since I can only recite the more common phrases, but I did take a liking to it in my youth. My septa and my mother used to read them to us during sewing circles or after dinner. When they read them, it didn’t sound like a religious practice, but more for entertainment,” you said, “And I do pray in the sept every morning after I break my fast.”

“Do you?”

You giggled, “You believe I do not?”

“I’ve never known your mother or father to impress prayers upon their children before,” he said. “Your mother has loved the arts and your father prefers hunting over praying.”

“It’s true that they never did,” you nodded, “But I find it soothing in a way. The sept is truly the only place where I’m alone.”

“Oh?”

“I’m always surrounded by my ladies-in-waiting, my family, the servants…In the sept, I can kneel down on a bench in front of a statue with candles and sit. It’s become more of a special hideout than a sept.”

“I know the sept here in Highgarden is a rival to it, but The Starry Sept in Oldtown is glorious,” he told you.

“The Starry Sept was beautiful when I was there last” you said, the both of you reaching a secluded section of the garden.

He realized you’d both walked into one of the bathing pools of Highgarden. A square pool with clear water was dotted with lily pads and flowers, this particular pool sat in the middle of an orange grove surrounded by thick stone walls. You each took seats on a bench near the water.

“It was so ancient,” you said, “And so many important things have happened there. It was a bit intimidating to me. There’d also been far too many people there for my taste. Also, my mother and sister went with me since they didn’t want me straying off alone.”

He gulped when he noticed the angle you sat put your bosom right in front of him. Otto knew he should not look. He did not bring you here to ravage you. He truly wished to know you; to see your true nature absent any wandering eyes. Yet, could anyone blame him? It was as if you meant to bring him here to tease him.

“The sept in Hightower is a bit smaller, but,” he said, “Much more private than the Starry Sept.”

You glanced over to him, and he knew he’d been caught. A lump caught in his throat when you shifted closer to him. “Like this place here?” you suggested.

“A bit,” he nodded, “Yes.”

He knew he was doomed when your thigh pressed against his own. You’re simply teasing him. Your mother must have put you up to this, which wouldn’t surprise him. They want this marriage pact to go smoothly, and you showing interest in him would assure it does. It’s the sort of thing he’d done when he steered his daughter to Viserys. But, something about the way your fingers timidly danced over his thigh told him otherwise. When he forced himself to meet your eyes, he saw sincerity in them as you spoke.

“Books about The Faith aren’t the only ones I like,” you said, voice dropping low and sultry. It drew him to you like a siren’s song. “My mother has a collection of books from Essos and she taught me how to read them.”

Heat burned in Otto’s cheeks, and tightened his stomach. He knew exactly what sort of books came out of the Free Cities. While most were educational texts about the various people and cultures, he’d read a fair few erotic tales written by pillowhouse owners or their courtesans. The picture of you in nothing but your chemise, legs parted as you pleasured yourself to one came to him immediately.

“Did she? Jalissa should know better…”

“She only wished to educate me in things outside of a lady’s instruction,” you told him. “I’m not as naive as some of my companions might be, if I’m putting modesty aside. I knew I’d be married one day and,” you rested your hand on his inner thigh and whispered in his ear, “I want to be able to please my husband however he likes.”

“My lady…this is…”

“If you wish for me to stop,” you pulled away from him, “Then my apologies. I…I should not have been so-”

“-What sort of things did you read, my lady?” he asked a bit too eagerly. “I’ve read a few tales myself.”

“Have you?” you asked in disbelief. “My father always painted you as a stout believer.”

“I do hold strongly to my faith and values but, YN, I am a man.” It was his turn to lean in close, “My favorite was written by a Lysene courtesan who shared beds with kings and princes. She claimed she ruled entire cities by using her body to sway her lovers. I found it quite clever of her to bring a man to such deep pleasure he throws away his ideals for her.”

“Lady Harresha of the Red House?” you asked, a bit eager yourself.

“The same,” he nodded.

“I particularly enjoyed her stories about the lover she took in the house’s bathing pool,” you said, putting your hand back on his thigh. This time, he did not shy away. “The things she wrote about him doing to her sounded so sinful and delightful. The way she talked about his tongue tracing her sex made me imagine my own lover doing it to me.”

Hearing such vulgar words coming from your mouth burned his loins. “She was said to taste as sweet as strawberries,” he said, taking the bait, “But I bet the Rose of Highgarden would taste like peaches.”

“Ser…” you said in a bated breath.

“I think we’ve moved far past formalities, YN,” he breathed, his hand gently creeping over yours. “You can call me ‘Otto’.”

He thought you might shy away now; perhaps you’ll believe you’d bitten off more than you could chew. But, instead you guided your hand right over his groin. He bit the inside of his cheek when your soft, warm hand cupped his growing bulge. Slow and light, your fingers traced the faint outline. Seeing your breasts so close to him now, he reached out for one which caused you to gasp in surprise. Through the thin layers of your dress and chemise, he realized you didn’t wear a corset. Your hard nipple brushed against his palm as he gave a light squeeze, and he couldn’t help grazing over it.

“I read one about a Pentoshi trade prince and a woman whom he declared had the most beautiful breasts in the world,” he said, pinching your nipple through your gown. “I’m beginning to believe I’ve found a pair to rival them.”

You leaned into him, brushing your lips with his as you asked, “Would you like to find out? In a week’s time, they will be yours after all. You should see if you’ll like what you’re getting.”

“I know I will.”

It started with a few brief pecks before you deepened the kiss. His tongue slid between your lips and over your own, rolling around it smoothly as he continued groping your chest. Your lips worked so easily with his that sensuality laced every kiss. He felt alive again. Kissing your sweet lips revived a deep-seated arousal that hadn’t stirred for some time. Your hand rubbing his cock over his breeches had him moaning into your mouth as he cupped your cheek. Every small brush of your fingers on his tip stoked the fires inside him more.

Soon, his hands left the front to snake around the back. His fingers deftly worked the lacings of your gown while yours unbuttoned his jerkin. He didn’t need to fill you tonight. There’d be time for that much later, but for now he’d be content seeing and touching your body. The two of you stood as he slid your dress off your shoulders, leaving you in only your chemise and stockings. Otto groaned at the sight of your breasts in front of him. The brief thought that someone might walk in and see the two of you crossed his mind, but the feeling of your hands untying his breeches brought him back to you. Quickly removing boots and slippers, you each stripped down to your underclothes, which only fanned the flames growing between you.

“You look beautiful,” he growled into your neck, peppering the crook with soft kisses that tickled your flesh. “Far more beautiful than any woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Am I?”

“Truly,” he kissed you again, tongues slipping together briefly.

He wasn’t so old and wrinkled that he considered himself unappealing, but he didn’t imagine you enjoying the sight of him too much. However, you proved him wrong as you traced your fingers down his chest and stomach to his pelvic bone. “I haven’t seen many men nude, ser, but yours definitely arouses me. Particularly after I see this,” you gripped the muscle sticking up to your stomach, smiling as he groaned deeply. “Come into the water with me just like in Lady Harresha’s story.”

“Gladly, my lady.”

He kissed down your body to your thighs where he untied and slipped off your stockings. The moment you removed the last bits of clothing, Otto thought he might die. Your sex stood several inches from his face, a patch of hair above two soft folds that he saw himself licking and sucking to his heart’s content. His hands rubbed up and down your thighs as he looked on it, the thumbs pressing into the muscles as he reached the inner sides. Your soft whimpers added more fuel to his ever growing fires. Restraining himself, he guided you over to the steps of the pool, where he watched your body slink into the cool waters.

Once there, he brought you into his embrace again. One hand on his shoulder, you wasted no time in taking him in your hand. You gave hos pulsating length gentle strokes, content to watch him kiss down your chest to your breasts. They truly were beautiful. Soft mounds with hard nipples that fit perfectly in his mouth, he grasped both as he suckled each one. The creases on the peaks constricted at his tongue, them being one of the most sensitive spots on your body. He moaned at the combination of your tits in his hands and you stroking his cock. When he felt you grip his shaft tightly, he sensed you might need his tongue elsewhere. First, he’d use his hand. Sliding one from your chest to the apex of your thighs, you trembled as his fingers slipped easily over your sex. He groaned softly as he felt a distinct wetness between the folds, and the hard nub that ran against his middle finger.

“Otto…” you whined, gripping his shoulder as you tried staying still for him.

You cried out when his fingers gently started rubbing around your clit. He chuckled softly at you squirming in his grasp, eager for more but not wishing to be demanding.

“Let me have a closer look at you,” he said, capturing your lips to kiss you once more. “I want to see you.”

“Only see me?”

“For the moment, sweetling.”

He guided you to the top step, where you eagerly spread your thighs to show him your sex above the low surface of water. Timidly, you mimicked his touches seconds before as you kept your eyes on him. His own eyes landed on your center, watching your hand slowly open your folds for him. He envisioned himself plunging hilt-deep into your tightness, ravaging you the way you richly deserved every night. He wrapped his hand around his tip and started gradually jerking from base to head every time. Otto groaned at the light trembles going through his body once you spread the lips for him.

“Do you like it?” you asked shyly, biting your lower lip as you traced your clit in front of him.

“I love it,” he said, jaw dropping at the faint glistening he saw between them. “Do you often touch yourself like this?” he moved closer to touch your inner thigh, hooking one arm around it.

“I do,” you nodded, clit tucked between two fingers as you slid them up and down.

“While you read your naughty tales?”

“Yes. I get so aroused and wet,” you emphasized this by pushing your folds apart for him, “From reading about the things the characters do in the stories. Like the Lorathi slave who fucked her way to be the concubine of a Pentoshi prince.” You slowly continued touching yourself as you said, “How she pleasured a merchant with her mouth for passage across the river, letting his son fuck her from behind while she did it. I loved the part about her with a Norvoshi soldier, riding his large cock in order to gain access to his master. I can’t wait to feel one inside me,” you slid a finger inside your pussy, pushing it to the knuckle. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

“Tell me more,” he groaned, hooking his arms around both your thighs now. “Tell me more while I taste you.”

Holding you in his grasp, he kept you in place as he gave your sex long, flat licks. He tasted hints of your essence on his tongue, which had his cock throbbing in the water. He kept his pace steady, starting at the bottom before reaching the hard clit at the top and then repeating it. You leaned back into the edge behind you, your hands falling into his hair and feeling the strands between your fingers.

“I climaxed hardest to the part when she finally meets the man at the end of her journey,” you panted. “Reading about how she sat on his face and rode his tongue left me wishing I had a husband who’d let me do that too. I came once, and kept going just to imagine it all over again.”

You filthy girl. Otto never thought he’d find someone as dirty as himself. He growled into your pussy as he thought of you giving yourself multiple orgasms out of pure desire. When he swirled his tongue around your clit, your breaths became ragged and whiny that encouraged him to continue. Your sex tasted sweet, as intoxicating to him as wine, and he licked up any trickle that leaked from you. You tentatively grinded yourself into his mouth, moaning as he ran his tongue over the outer lips.

“How often?” he asked you, rolling his tongue around once more.

“Every night.”

“You fib.”

“I don’t,” you giggled breathily, grinding your hips into his face. He allowed it to hear the moan cut off your laugh. “You should hide in my bedchamber tonight. You’ll see it for yourself.”

“Do not tempt me,” he said, sucking on your throbbing clit. “I will if pressed.”

“And that will only make me want your cock more.”

“YN….”

“Otto…please…”

“Please?” he taunted between licks before sucking tenderly.

“Put your tongue inside,” you whimpered, pinching one of your nipples. “Like the man in the story. I want to feel a part of you inside me at least once.”

Otto planted himself in front of you and slipped his tongue inside your virginal sex. He let his moans vibrate in your entrance each time he darted in and out of you. This new sensation had you wriggling in his arms. He tightened his grip on you and started tongue fucking you faster, reaching as far as he can each time. He allowed you to grab hold of his hair once more to keep him in place as you used him. You soon started shuddering, your walls contracting around his tongue and thighs shaking in his arms. Thick waves of cum spilled over his tongue and he swallowed every bit he could; the juices became smeared on his chin and nose, drowning him in your scent and taste. Even when he removed his tongue, Otto continued sucking your wet sex until you squealed from the sensitivity.

“Sit up for me,” he ordered, standing up in front of you.

You did not need guidance in what happened next. Otto’s jaw fell in a low moan when you stuck out your tongue and licked him from bottom to top. Your hot tongue tickled the underside of his length, flicking just beneath the sensitive head before giving it a light suck. Droplets of precum spilled out as you kissed and licked him; he thought you might avoid it due to the taste, but you surprised him once again. You traced the slit of the head to the leaking hole, running your tongue around it before sucking it softly. A small hum of approval told him you enjoyed it.

“And here I thought I’d have a timid little virgin on my hands,” he said, one hand on his hip and the other on your head as you took him fully in your mouth. “I might think you’ve…you’ve done this before.”

“I assure you, ser,” you said, pecking his tip with your lips, “I have not. I only take instructions from reading well.”

“Did your Lorathi slave write about sucking cock too?”

“Often and with great detail.”

You proved this to him soon enough. Otto found himself struggling to stay put as you stroked and sucked his cock. Your warm mouth felt like heaven. Your wet tongue slid over the throbbing vein each time, while your cheeks hollowed tightly around his girth. He’d marry you on the morrow if he could; he’d marry you right after you finish him if you wanted. Much like the whores in your Essos fairytales, you’d bewitched him with your mouth and tongue. With a cradle of his balls in your hand, light squeezes and gentle touches had him thrusting into your throat. The sounds of your choking gasps sent him over the edge. He thought you’d pull away, and you did but only to open your mouth wide for him. Jerking him in the same pace as before, you locked eyes with him as thick white droplets fell on your tongue.

Not even his Leyla would've done such acts.

His orgasm hit him before he could control himself. He moaned your name louder than he intended, unable to stop himself from spilling over your lips. When you saw them getting away from you, you latched your mouth to the squirting head and this drove him even wilder. Even as his relief came, his desire for you continued burning. You stroked him until nothing else was left; you licked until he stopped twitching. When you finished, you dared to appear timid and shy once more. He bent down to latch his lips to yours, not caring what flavors he might find but only wanting your kiss.

Neither of you left the pool right away. Basking in the afterglow of the moment, you stayed contently in his arms on the soft grass as you both continued talking. He felt at ease in your company now. He supposed having worked out his initial desires, he could enjoy the woman underneath the seductive veil. If this first meeting brought about such tension, he couldn’t imagine your wedding night. As you both eventually dried off and dressed, he thought about a life with you. He knew you’d love Oldtown and the Hightower. You’d be surrounded by his family who will undoubtedly accept and grow to love you.

He knew he was starting to.

***

A/N: Hello sweet ottogasms lmao I had this sitting around in my drafts for a looonnggg time and recently got into the swing of writing this duo again <3

#house of the dragon #hotd #otto hightower #otto x reader #otto x fem reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfictions #rhys ifans

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come-along-pond · 4 months ago

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The Black Rose. Chapter 3 | The Sons of Viserys the Peaceful

summary: Alerie Tyrell was not a stranger to the politics of Kings Landing, her own mother having grown up in the same environment. However, as the only daughter of the Tyrell family, and the relative of Alicent Hightower, Alerie had many things expected of her. All she truly wanted to do was sit in her gardens back home, basking in the sunlight. As she grows, an attachment to Jacaerys Velaryon appears, and she finds herself torn between one family and the other.

warnings: canon typical language, violence and themes

AO3 | Wattpad | Quotev

“Lord Tyrell holds power in the reach, it is a good match,” Rhaenyra nods “Also he’s rather easy on the eyes, is he not?”

“Rhaenyra!” both brunettes exclaim, the dragon merely shrugs.

“Someone as beautiful as our dear friend here deserves a man to match,” she winks at Leyla who turns away, bashful under the princess's gaze, both she and Alicent miss the small pout Rhaenyra pulls, and the small glare she sends the young lords way.

taglist: @arrthurpendragon @bravelittleflower @ginger-grimm @dancingsunflowers-ocs @foxesandmagic @shrinkthisviolet @wordspin-shares @oneirataxia-girl

Send an ask/message if you wish to be added or removed!

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asherbakugou · 6 months ago

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Daughter of Tyraxes

Goddess of Peace, Wisdom, Strategy, and Reason

The Eyrie was absolutely beautiful, pale white stone gleaming in the light of the moonlight. The Keep rests at the very top of a mountain, making it difficult to reach, but making it seem ethereal in a way. From every room within the Eyrie has a stunning view, with every window giving them the view of the sky, nearby mountains, or the nearby cities.

Queen Alicent Hightower despised it. Hated the Eyrie, hated the cold mountain air, hated the views, hated the servents, and Lords and Ladies of the Vale. Every look she recieved, instead of being in awe of her piousness, grace, and beauty, they looked upon her in contempt, viewing her as a replacement of the Late Queen Aemma Arryn.

They seemed to forget that the Queen was a failure, having only given the King a singular daughter while she had given him two sons and a daughter. Yet she was punished, forced to watch as his whore of a daughter flaunted her position as heir, carrying around her bastard, alongside her swordswallowing husband.

She had given him a son, the son he had killed Aemma Arryn for, and yet he was not given the title he deserved. The title of Heir that was his right as a firstborn son. It was unfair to her and her sons! Shoved to the side as he doted endlessly upon his daughter and grandson, especially now that she was pregnant again.

The whore had barely waited six months before announcing she was pregnant again, and now at nearing 9 months she had packed up the entire household to visit her mothers home. And of course, the King had done whatever she asked of him.

So now she was sitting in this too small room with seven of her ladies in waiting embroidering a new pillow, listening to the chatter.

"Did you see what the Princess was wearing?" Cassandra Baratheon asked, leaning forward eagerly. As the youngest lady, at only 10-and-1, she loved to gossip and often heard the most scandalous gossip since she was ignored on account of her age and gender.

"Northern rags," Lady Maria Redwyne sneered, rocking slowly in her chair. As Queen Alicents Aunt, sister of her mother, she held seniority within the seven ladies. "They make her look the savage she is."

"Not that these people see it that way. Have you seen how they treat her? It's as if she is already Queen," Celia Lannister stated, shaking her head. The cousin of Jason and Tyland Lannister she was just as vain and proud, forming a deep dislike for Princess Rhaenyra and her ladies.

"If only the King would see reason," Lady Leyla Brackens murmured. "A woman ruling over the Kingdoms? We'd go bankrupt in months with all her fancies and expensive taste."

"She'd probably offend everyone she talked to," Ceryse Hightower chirped, gigling with Cassandra. As the two youngest, with Ceryse being 10-and-2, they had formed a close bond of friendship.

"The men at her feet would probably ignore her actions just to continue laying in her bed," Lady Mari Ambrose scoffed, sneering. Lady Leyla and Lady Maria nodded as the two youngest giggled.

"Hush girls," Lady Anya Peake barked, severe brown eyes sharp. "If anyone were to hear your words on the Princess our heads would roll. Have your parents not taught you to whisper?"

The oldest of her ladies, Lady Anya was second only to Lady Maria, for she was Queen Alicents paternal great-Aunt. A severe, pious woman, she was normally the one to escort Alicent to the Sept to pray.

"Unfortunately my husband is besotted by his daughter, unable to see any flaws she has. This extends to both her husband, and son, as I'm sure you've seen," Queen Alicent added, sadly. "Our own children are neglected by him, and so often does he refer to the Princess as his only daughter. My heart aches for my dear Halaena."

Her ladies murmured agreements, and hopes that Halaena did not feel left out. While her words were true, she did not truly wish for him to spend time with her children because he'd share the Targaryens queer customs with them.

"One day the King will see reason," Lady Maria swore, eyes darkening. If he didn't they all knew what would happen.

War.

Lady Annara Celtigar, Lady Amanda Arryn, and Lady Sara Snow watched over Crown Prince Jacaerys as he sat beside Vermithors snout, playing with his wooden figures. A group of five Dragonkeepers stood nearby, just in case.

"I never thought I'd see a dragon acting as a babysitter," Lady Annara giggled, earning a snort from Lady Sara.

"A dragons connection to their rider is something we will never understand. The closest we have ever come is when we bonded with Griffens, or Direwolves," Lady Amanda stated wisely. Both girls, barely 10-and-6, watched her in shock and awe before realizing the significance.

Silence fell before Lady Sara muttered, "He really does look like a babysitter."

Lady Annara burst into a fit of giggles, cutting herself off when Vermithor huffed out smoke, orange-yellow eye focusing on her.

"I feel like I'm being told to shut up," Lady Annora whispered, trembling as the Dragons gaze returned to his rider. Jacaerys, with no fear, smacked his dragons snout.

"Bad. Good lady," Jacaerys called, glaring at the dragon in defense of his favorite Lady-in-Waiting. Lady Amanda and Lady Annara both cooed at his sweetness as Lady Sara smiled affectionately.

The little prince had won their hearts near instantly after his birth. While several of Rhaenyra's Ladies-and-Maids-in-Waiting had come after her historic birth, they had all fallen for the sweet little prince and they were excited for the Crown Princess' next child.

"Such a sweet boy. He will be a wonderful King when it is time," Lady Annara said.

"Unfortunately, his personality is not set in stone, Annora. It will be up to his mother, father, and us to make sure he and all of his future siblings are raised well," Lady Amanda corrected.

"Prince Laenor and Princess Rhaenyra were talking of when it would be considered appropriate to begin having lessons to be a knight," Lady Sara commented, brow furrowing a little.

"What else did they mention?" Lady Annara questioned, vivid blue eyes sharp as she lowered her voice.

"They decided that once he turned 4 he would begin watching the Knights practicing before being allowed to train at 5, and squiring would begin upon his 8th nameday," Lady Sara stated, glancing around to check for servents or others. Fortunately, few would dare come when Vermithor was there, so they had complete privacy. "Princess Rhaenyra mentioned sending him to the Wall for a time so he may be a true knight that has not just seen tourneys and jousts."

"That would be a smart play," Lady Amanda agreed, nodding. "It would strengthen his ties to the North, and show them that a good King will sit the Iron Throne."

"Allies could be made as well, but . . ." Lady Annara hesitated. "Those that take the black are often criminals, would he be safe there?"

"I doubt they would send him without Vermithor. Besides, by that time he will be fully knighted," Lady Sara corrected.

"Good. Did anyone else think that Princess Rhaenyra seemed quite confident that it was a girl?"

"Confident enough to create a contract that would make her heir of the Vale," Lady Amanda said. Neither were surprised. "While the Vale is behind the Princess, this will give them something to hold. A Princess of their own, who will one day care for them as Princess Rhaenyra does."

They understood what the older woman truly meant. When King Viserys died there would be war, and having the Vale and the North securely behind Princess Rhaenyra and her children would tilt the scales in their favour.

Lady Jeyne Arryn stood at the balconey doors of Crown Princess Rhaenyra's quarters, cradling the newest Princess in her arms. Smiling down at the babe, she could not help but see the similarity in the babes face to Princess Daella's face from the portraits her Grandfather had commisioned that were found in several halls of the Eyrie.

"She's beautiful, your majesty," Lady Jeyne murmured, completely captivated. Crown Princess Rhaenyra smiled, leaning back against the headboard as her husband, Prince Laenor, carefully wiped her forehead of sweat with a cooled rag.

"Please, Lady Jeyne, we are cousins. You have my permission to call me Rhaenyra."

"Then you have mine to call me Jeyne, Rhaenyra."

Both women shared gentle smiles.

"Thank you, Rhaenyra. You have given me the Heir I have been so worried of giving," Lady Jeyne admitted sadly.

"If I am to understand it, the boy you would have been forced to name as heir is Arnold Arryn's son?" Prince Laenor asked, leaning forward.

"His nephew, through his sisters marriage to Jackson Redfort, my Lady Jessamyne's elder brother. As the second son of a second wife he has been raised modestly these past 4 years, but we shall see what kind of man he will grow into," Lady Jeyne stated, glancing towards the bedroom door. While she despised Arnolds Line, the boy was innnocent, as was his mother.

"And if he turns out like his Uncle?" Princess Rhaenyra asked, wincing as she shifted in the bed.

"Then your daughter will be free to pick any Valeman she wishes, as long as they understand that her children will take the name Arryn."

"Good."

"May I ask what you plan to name her?" Lady Jeyne asked.

"Ah yes, our apologies," Prince Laenor said, offering an awkward grin. "We have decided upon the name Alyssa, both for Alyssa Velaryon and Alyssa Targaryen as well as Alyssane Targaryen."

"A strong, beautiful name," Lady Jeyne agreed smiling down at little Alyssa. "Mo oidhre." The Old Language of the Vale flowed effortlessly from her tongue, making Alyssa coo in delight.

In the moonlight her red-gold hair shone softly, reminding Jeyne of spun gold in sunlight, where it glowed red. The soft curls covered her entire head, nearly hiding her beautiful blue-purple eyes.

"Cosúil leis an spéir roimh titim na hoíche." (Like the sky before nightfall.)

"When I have recovered, I wish to announce her to the Vale if possible."

"Of course. The Vale will know of my heir, of your daughter, Rhaenyra."

Three days had passed since Lady Jeyne Arryn had first held her heir, since Crown Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen had given birth but no one outside of the two, Prince Laenor Velaryon, and Crown Prince Jacaerys Targaryen knew of her name, so a feast was thrown.

Queen Alicent wore a velvet green dress with golden leaves sewed into the sleeves and skirts. The design of the dress was beautiful, but the itchy fabrics it was made of made it look less so. All three of her children originally accompanied her, but Princess Halaena cried starting Prince Aemond off so the two had to be taken back to the nursury.

Prince Aemond wore a doublet of the same itchy material, shown by how he constantly tugged at it and tried to take it off. His caretaker was struggling to keep him dressed, much to Queen Alicent's irritation but there was nothing she could do.

Lady Jeyne Arryn stood before them all, with King Viserys, Crown Princess Rhaenyra, and Prince Laenor at her sides. She wore a beautiful dress of blue and white, with fabric forming 'wings' that connected to her wrist using silver bracelets.

King Viserys and his daughter wore red and black, while Prince Laenor wore blue, green, and gold complememtimg each other quite nicely.

Much to her distaste, Queen Alicent had not been allowed up onto the dais where the Moonwood Throne sat.

"After hours of hardship, my daughter gave birth to her own daughter, another Princess for House Targaryen and House Velaryon," King Viserys announced.

Rhaenyra stepped forward with her husband, hand resting in the crook of his arm, "My daughter came when the moon had risen to its peak, and just as my eldest son was, she has been marked by the gods. I have been blessed, both in birth and in life, for this opportunity."

"For years you have all worried who would take the Lordship of the Vale, of the Arryns, upon my death," Lady Jeyne stated, bringing everyones attention to her. Queen Alicents heart dropped. "Through my grandfathers second wife, Princess Daella, and my aunt, the late Queen Aemma Arryn, I am cousin to Crown Princess Rhaenyra as she is mine. Through her, her daughter holds the blood of Arryns, so I have made my decision."

With a nod, Crown Princess Rhaenyra carefully placed her daughter in her cousins arms.

"Princess Alyssa Velaryon, shall take the name Arryn upon reaching her 6-and-10 nameday, where henceforth she shall reside here in the Vale. Upon her 7-and-10 nameday she shall marry Theodore Redfort who is an Arryn through his mother to strengthen my bloodline. Her children shall inherit the name Arryn. As such, I introduce you to Princess Alyssa Velaryon, Heiress to House Arryn, and Heir to the Vale!"

The crowd of Valeman erupted into cheers that seemed to shake the halls of the Eyrie until a roar truly shook the keep. Silence fell as everyone turned their gazes to the dais.

"Sil'wing wan' her rider," Crown Prince Jacaerys announced, pronouncing some of his words wrong but getting his point across.

"Then she will recieve her rider," Princess Rhaenyra stated, taking her daughter back into her arms. The enfire crowd followed the princess to the courtyard where the she-dragon had landed. The same place where Ronnel Arryn had taken his first flight upon the dragon, Vhagar.

Silverwing seemed to glimmer in the light of the setting sun, and many thought, upon seeing the she-dragon, that she would be a perfect match for the Princess of the Vale.

Lowering her head she crooned to her rider, earning a delighted burble.

And so Princess Rhaenyra took her daughter upon the dragoneses back and took to the skies as the Greens watches in anger and the Blacks watched on in awe and delight.

Princess Alyssa of House Velaryon, Third of Her Name, Heiress to House Arryn, Heir to the Vale, The Moonborn, Daughter of the Vale, She-Dragon of the Vale, She-Who-Was-Born-In-The-Night, the Peaceful, the Diligent, the Strategist, the Falcon of House Targaryen, rider of Silverwing, the Silver Queen, the Beautiful, the Pearl, the Protector of the Vale, had been born.

#house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #laenor velaryon #original character #the vale of arryn #jeyne arryn #king viserys #queen alicent #silverwing #vermithor #demigods of valyria #demigods #tyraxes #old valyria

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highgardenart · 5 months ago

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Lady Fiona Cuy [OC], second wife of Lord Leyton Hightower, and their children: Lady Denyse, Lady Leyla, and Lady Alysanne

Lord Leyton Hightower, his first wife, Lady Evelyn Costayne [OC], and their children; Ser Baelor, Lady Malora, Lady Alerie, and Ser Garth

#house hightower #denyse hightower #leyla hightower #alysanne hightower #got #asoiaf art #asoiaf #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #valyrian scrolls

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daenysthedreamer101 · 6 months ago

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Daughter of Steel and Bronze ~ HOTD

Ch 8 - Crossroads

HOTD x Targaryen!OC, eventual Targaryen!OC x Harwin Strong

Warnings: Daena does not like the Hightowers, Daemon complaining about Rhea, cursing

Corresponding episode: HOTD 1x2

HOTD masterlist

"Half a year later after the passing of Queen Aemma Arryn, His Grace decided to take a new wife. The chosen one was Lady Alicent Hightower. No one was more shocked by this decision than the King's daughter, Princess Rhaenyra. It is said she stormed out of the Small Council Chamber with tears in her eyes.

Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, also poorly took the news. He had offered his own daughter, Lady Laena, as a candidate. He resigned as Master of Ships and went back to Driftmark, furious.

The King's niece, Princess Daena, also disagreed with the choice. It is said she frowned the entire time and stared angrily at the Hand, Ser Otto Hightower. If anyone had any reservations about how the Princess felt about the Hightowers, their doubts were confirmed that day."

(Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros, by Archmaester Gyldayn)

112 AC, King's Landing

Six months have passed since the tragic death of Queen Aemma. Six months have passed since Prince Daemon was disinherited as heir to the Iron Throne and banished from the capital. Six months have passed since Daena last saw her father.

She started this day differently - today she was to choose two ladies to be her ladies-in-waiting. She was now 14 years old. "Almost a woman grown", Septa Marlow kept nagging in her ear.

"Two more years, and I won't have to listen to her annoying voice ever again." Daena thought as she walked to the weirwood garden where the get-together was being held.

She went dragon riding in the morning, as she always did on the first day of the week. As soon as she returned to the castle she was immediately rushed to the gardens. She thought she would have more time to clean herself before meeting the ladies. Hopefully, no one would mind the smell. Dragons were not the most pleasant-smelling creatures, Daena learned.

"Well, I suppose I'll just go like this." She thought as she entered the garden - just from one glance she could see at least two dozen young girls and women waiting for her.

"Oh, Gods, help me!" She murmured as she stood frozen. All the ladies turned and stopped talking. She could see there was a long table and an empty seat at the head of it. "That's for me, surely."

She walked quickly to her designated seat. "My ladies. Please, sit." She said and gestured. They followed her words, and everyone sat and waited for her to speak.

Daena cleared her throat. "Firstly, I want to thank you all for coming here in such high numbers. I'm honored that so many of you wish to be my ladies-in-waiting. Unfortunately, there are only two spots. Now, shall we begin?"

For the next three hours, Daena conversed with all the ladies. She quickly dismissed certain girls - Lucinda Lannister was the first to comment on an unpleasant smell in the air. Once Daena explained that it was her, the little lioness blushed and apologized.

Ultimately, she narrowed her choice down to four ladies - Leyla Merryweather, Violet Mooton, and the twins Joy and Hanna Strong. Leyla was a sweet girl, though a bit too young, she was only 13, even younger than the Princess.

After further deliberation, Daena chose the two daughters of Lyonel Strong. In the years to come, this would prove a wise decision.

Once she was finished choosing her future handmaids, Daena desperately wanted a bath. On the way to her chambers, she bumped into Rhaenyra who had a satisfied smile on her face.

"Cousin!" Daena greeted as she hugged Nyra.

Nyra sniffed her. "You went dragon riding without me?" She asked, pretending to be hurt.

"I did it this morning," Daena explained.

"Yet you're still in your riding suit?" Nyra questioned.

Daena chuckled. "It's a long story. All you need to know is that I now have two handmaids."

"Oh? And who might they be?" Nyra asked with raised brows.

"Joy and Hanna Strong," Daena revealed.

"Lord Lyonel's twin daughters?"

Daena nodded. "I like them. They're so similar, yet so different. I knew I had to have them both."

"Interesting. Well, Lord Lyonel is a good man. I'm sure his daughters will be the same." Nyra commented.

"Yes...Anyways, your spirits seem particularly high today."

"I chose Ser Criston Cole to be the newest knight of the Kingsguard...and my sworn protector."

It was now Daena's turn to raise brows. "The cute Dornish knight? The one who bested my father?" She asked with a sly smirk.

Nyra smirked, rolling her eyes. Daena chuckled at Nyra's expression. "I'm just jesting, cousin. All in good fun."

"It was good seeing you, cousin, but I have to go now," Rhaenyra said. Daena tilted her head in confusion.

"Where are you going?" She asked. Nyra looked away, avoiding Daena's gaze. Daena could see she was playing with her rings - she always did that when she was nervous.

"Rhaenyra?"

"...I'm going to the Sept...with Alicent."

"Oh...Well then, have fun, I suppose..." Daena mumbled awkwardly and walked away. Rhaenyra sighed in frustration.

After bathing herself and making herself presentable, she once again ventured into the gardens of the Red Keep. She arranged a meeting with the Strong sisters, so that she may further assess them and their personalities.

Once she reached her destination she was greeted by the twins who curtsied slightly. "Please, my ladies." She took a good look at them - both girls were slender with small waists, long dark curls, and big brown eyes. They were comely girls of 17 summers. Any man would kill to have a bride like that, Daena thought.

Joy wore a flowy, forest green gown and her hair was loose, with a couple of braids at the top. Hanna wore a more structured, dark burgundy dress and her hair was up in a complicated Southern style.

"Forgive me, my ladies. I still don't know you well enough. You look so similar. How am I to differentiate between you two?" Daena asked politely. The girls, seemingly used to this question, took no offense.

"I have a mark beneath my left eye, Princess," Hanna said, her voice soft and airy.

Daena looked a bit closer. "Oh! You really do! Well, that should make things easier."

"You'll learn, soon enough, that I and my sister are worlds apart. She's the sun and I'm the moon - complete opposites yet so similar." Hanna added.

"My little sister is just being dramatic. You have to forgive her, she has a tendency towards melancholy. She's been reading too much poetry." Joy added in jest, her voice high and beautifully girlish. Hanna rolled her eyes.

Daena chuckled. "It's all right, I enjoy reading as well. Tell me, why do you think you two would be the perfect handmaidens for me? Why should I choose you?"

"From the little time we've spent in your presence, Princess, I could tell you are someone who values honesty and loyalty. I can tell you right now you would be frustrated with the likes of Lucinda Lannister. What you need are friends, good and kind ones, who have your best interest at heart." Hanna elaborated.

"And how do I know you have my best interest at heart?" Daena inquired.

Joy and Hanna looked at each other. "Princess, we, like the rest of the Realm, wept when our beloved Queen Aemma died. We have heard how close you were to her. We also know that there's a...bit of a rift between yourself and Princess Rhaenyra." Joy stated.

Daena furrowed her pale brows but remained silent. Joy continued. "We know that she's fond of the Hightower girl. Through our father, we also know that the Small Council is currently pushing His Grace to remarry."

"What are you implying?"

"You're still young, my Princess, and it may have slipped your notice, but we have been hearing rumors - ones that include the Lady Alicent. Servant gossip, I thought at first. But over the past six months, we have heard from multiple servants, that Alicent Hightower has been visiting and spending time with His Grace. Alone." Hanna revealed, her voice hushed.

Daena took a deep breath. If what the Strong sisters were saying was true, it would mean that Otto Hightower has been scheming to make Alicent Queen ever since her dear aunt Aemma died.

"We know it's a lot to take in. We're telling you this so that you may warn Princess Rhaenyra. Maybe she could somehow influence His Grace. Ser Otto is on the move and he is very close to victory. Without your father in the capital, there's no one to stand against him." Joy told the young Princess.

"We know Ser Otto is...less than fond of your father and by extension, yourself. Our father told us how worried Ser Otto was when you claimed Vermithor, saying that such a young child shouldn't be in control of such a beast. You must believe us Princess, we truly want what's best for you." Hanna stated, her voice full of honesty and compassion.

Daena nodded. "I do. I do believe you. Everything makes sense now. Ladies, you have truly proven yourselves. I'll see to your admission personally."

She hugged each sister and bid them goodbye. She would have lots to talk about with Rhaenyra.

The following day, Daena decided the best course of action would be to fly to Dragonstone. Her primary mission was to inform her father about Ser Otto's schemes. The second reason she wanted to go was to see her father. Ever since the death of Queen Aemma, she hasn't seen him and they've exchanged only a few letters in the following months.

She was dressed in her black riding suit with black leather boots on her feet. Her long silver hair was neatly braided into two plaits. She also wore dainty amethyst earrings on her ears and the heart-shaped pendant her father gifted her, though the latter was covered by her suit.

As she was walking through the halls of the Red Keep she saw Rhaenyra pacing toward her. She looked distressed. Nyra grabbed Daena's hand and dragged her into her bed chambers.

"Nyra! Wait! What's happening?" Daena asked confused as Nyra closed the door of her room.

"Daemon stole my brother's egg! He sent a missive saying that one of his whores is pregnant and he will take her as a second wife! And now, Ser Otto is going to Dragonstone to retrieve the egg." Nyra revealed, her voice laced with anger and her eyes full of hurt.

Daena closed her eyes and sighed. Her father could truly be a menace. She knew this was all a farce. He stole the egg to provoke His Grace and get his attention. She didn't even know what to think of him taking a whore as his wife. She knew he disliked her mother and that they mutually despised each other. But this was simply too much.

"I'm sorry," Daena said quietly.

Nyra looked at her with furrowed brows. "Why are you apologizing for your father's provocations?"

Daena sighed again. "Because you don't deserve this. Neither does Uncle Viserys. My father can be... difficult to deal with. I know he is doing this purely for attention."

Nyra took Daena's hand into hers. "It's alright, Daena. I don't blame you."

Rhaenyra looked into Daena's lilac eyes. They were full of emotions - frustration, guilt, and something else. Her face was scrunched up almost like she was on the verge of tears.

"....Daena?"

She looked away and walked to the window in desperate need of fresh air. She put her hands on each side of the wall, trying to stabilize herself.

"Daena, what's wrong?" Nyra asked, worried.

Daena shook her head, her throat tight and her eyes welled up with tears. "I'm sorry, Nyra. I'm so sorry."

"What in the Seven Hells are you talking about?"

Daena turned her eyes toward Nyra. Now or never, she thought. Then, she told Rhaenyra everything.

Dragonstone

Daemon was looking out of the balcony of his room which gave him a clear view of the sea. He sipped on his wine when he heard the unmistakable roar of the Bronze Fury. Then, through the thick clouds and fog that surrounded Dragonstone, Vermithor emerged.

"Who is that?" Mysaria asked, her Lysene accent thick. Instead of answering her, he put his wine down and walked outside to greet his daughter.

Mysaria followed him, her white gown flowing behind her. They walked to the front of the castle, where in front of the gates stood a young girl with long silver hair. "Is this that niece of his he's been talking about?" Mysaria thought.

The girl stared at Daemon and a wide smile appeared on her face. She ran to him and threw herself at him. He caught her, stumbling backward a bit, and smiled. He kissed the top of her head and held her face in his hands. "Little dragon, what are you doing here?"

"I've missed you." The girl said, her voice full of emotion. There was something in Daemon's eyes that Mysaria couldn't quite understand. This wasn't his niece but his daughter, she concluded - the way he was talking to her and looking at her was too fatherly, too parental to make sense.

The girl kissed Daemon on the cheek and turned her face toward Mysaria. Her round, lilac eyes were identical to Daemon's, and her skin was as white as ivory, Mysaria observed. The girl looked her up and down, judging her.

"Who is this?" The girl asked, her voice laced with contempt. Daemon put his arm around the girl's shoulder and started petting her head, almost like he was pacifying her.

"This is Mysaria. My lover." Daemon explained. The girl's brows furrowed slightly and her plump pink lips pouted, making her look even younger. She hummed in acknowledgment but made no effort to greet Mysaria.

"Mysaria, this is my daughter Daena." Daemon introduced Daena and Mysaria bowed her head slightly.

"Father, I wish to speak with you. Alone." Daena said, emphasizing the last word.

Daemon glanced at Mysaria who took the hint and left the two Targaryens.

Daena followed her father to his room where they could speak freely.

Daemon sat down and once again started sipping his wine. Daena stood on the opposite side of the table, the sunlight illuminating her silver hair.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"We both know what I am talking about. You stole Baelon's egg from the Dragonpit and you plan to marry...her. My mother is very much alive unless you've forgotten." She bit back, her frustration with her father growing by the second.

He sighed and lifted his legs on the table. He is acting like a child, she thought. "I don't like your mother. I'm sure you're aware of that."

"She doesn't like you either."

Daemon chuckled at his daughter's words. "You truly are my daughter." Daena rolled her eyes and walked closer to the table.

"I'm not here to argue with you. I have more important information that I feel you should know."

"Yes?"

"The Small Council is currently pushing Uncle Viserys to remarry. Recently, I've found out that ever since Aunt Aemma died, Alicent Hightower has been visiting His Grace, alone."

Daemon's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"I know, I was shocked as well. I told Rhaenyra before flying here. She was furious, to say the least."

"Where did you get this information from?" He asked.

Daena smirked. "I have my sources."

The royal ship has docked on the shore of Dragonstone. Daena followed her father down to the bridge. He was in the front, she to his right, and on his left was Mysaria. Behind them were the Goldcloaks.

Once they made their way to the middle of the bridge, Daena could see Ser Otto on the other side. With him came many people - Ser Harrold, Ser Criston, the Grandmaester for some reason, and knights and dragon keepers.

"Welcome to Dragonstone, Otto." Her father greeted her after many seconds of silence.

Ser Otto told Daemon to leave Dragonstone, give back the egg, disband his army, and banish Mysaria.

"Ser Crispin, wasn't it?"

"Ser Criston Cole, my Prince."

"Ah, yes, apologies. I couldn't recall."

"Perhaps my Prince recalls when I knocked him off his horse."

Daena hated to admit it, but that was funny. It seems her father shared her sentiment because he chuckled at the knight's words.

"This is a truly pathetic show, Daemon. Are you so desperate for the King's attention that you've resorted to skulking about like a common cutpurse?"

"I'm simply keeping with the traditions of my House, the same as my brother did for his heir." Her father responded.

"Those traditions are for the trueborn children of royalty, not for bastards fathered on a common whore."

"Lady Mysaria is to be my wife."

"You already have a living wife. And she gave you a child. You can't just replace her."

"I wish I could." Her father responded and she had to control herself to not say anything. It seemed that Ser Otto noticed that.

"And you, Princess? What are you doing here?" Ser Otto asked her.

Daena didn't think anyone would talk to her. "Simply visiting my father. I don't believe that's a crime."

After exchanging more harsh words, swords were pulled out. A whistle could be heard in the air. Daena knew who it was instantly. From behind a wall of stone and rock, Caraxes appeared and sat on top of the bridge.

He screeched, and Daena couldn't help but smirk at Ser Criston's bewildered face. Ser Otto told his men to sheathe their swords.

Then, from beneath the thick fog, Syrax appeared, and on top of her was Rhaenyra. Everyone, save for Daena, seemed to be shocked by Rhaenyra showing up.

"Take care not to startle Syrax, my lords. She's rather protective of me." Nyra said and walked toward Daemon.

Rhaenyra and Daemon exchanged words in High Valyrian.

"You already have a wife." Nyra pointed out.

"Not one of my choosing." Daena could only roll her eyes at her father once again bashing her mother and saying how he didn't choose her. Nyra questioned how that had anything to do with him stealing the egg.

"You shared your cradle with a dragon when you were born. I want the same for my child."

"You already have a child. I suggest paying more attention to her instead of provoking my father." Nyra bit back. Daemon seemed taken aback by her words and glanced at Daena.

Daena gave her father a pointed look and decided she had enough. She turned away from all of them and walked away, ignoring her father's calls. She walked and walked until she saw the big bronze beast lying on one of the cliffs near the castle.

She walked up to him and started caressing his scaly face. He opened his big amber eyes and looked at her. He could sense she was upset so he pushed her lightly with his big snout. It was his way of comforting her.

"Jaelan naejot sōvegon. Jaelan naejot nārhēdegon se ōdres isse ñuha prūmia. Gūrogon nyke qrīdrughagon, kostilus." (I want to fly. I want to forget the pain in my heart. Take me away, please.) She whispered, her voice cracking.

He grumbled in response and shook his head, almost like he nodded to show he agreed with her words. She climbed up and chained herself to the saddle. "Soves, Vermithor." (Fly, Vermithor)

He screeched, ran to the end of the cliff, spread his massive tan wings, and dived down. The cold sea wind hit Daena in the face and ruffled her hair. She wasn't sure if the tears in her eyes were from the salty air or the ache in her chest.

King Viserys was in the Small Council chamber, having a private conversation with Lord Lyonel. They talked about Viserys taking a new wife and how Lady Laena was the best choice. Then, the door opened.

Ser Steffon Darklyn walked in. "Your Grace. Princess Rhaenyra and Princess Daena have returned from Dragonstone."

"Dragonstone?" Viserys said, confused.

The following morning, a meeting was held in the Small Council chamber. Rhaenyra reluctantly went, seeing as she was the Cupbearer. To her surprise, Daena was also invited. The two girls were currently making their way to the chamber.

Rhaenyra wore a pretty, golden-colored dress, in honor of her dragon Syrax. Daena wore a short-sleeved, copper-colored dress with scale-like embellishments made of thin bronze strings going across the chest and shoulders. The front of her hair was pulled back in a braid, while the rest flowed freely like a river of silver.

They walked into the chamber and His Grace and Ser Otto were already there. What surprised Daena was that Alicent was also there, standing next to her father. This only cemented the fact that what the Strong sisters told her was correct.

Daena's mind swirled with thoughts but was pulled out of them by Rhaenyra's voice. "Daena, come here."

She walked over to Nyra who was standing on the side, in front of the serving table which was covered with bowls of fruit, goblets, and wine. The doors opened and the rest of the Small Council walked in.

"Good morrow, my lords." His Grace greeted the people present and walked closer to the table. "I have decided to take a new wife."

Daena noticed how Lord Corlys perched up in his seat at those words and a smirk appeared on his face. If what Daena thought was correct, the Sea Snake was about to experience a massive disappointment. She prayed to all the gods above that she was wrong. "Please choose Laena, please!" She screamed internally.

His Grace looked at Rhaenyra who gave him an encouraging smile. Daena knew the smile was fake and that Nyra was seething inside. After hearing the rumors, Nyra was rightfully shocked and in denial.

Nyra denied it at first, saying that Alicent would never lie to her like that. Daena pointed out to her that this was a calculated move by the Hand to put his blood on the Throne and make House Hightower more powerful.

"I intend to marry...the Lady Alicent Hightower, before spring's end." His Grace revealed.

Daena couldn't help but sigh softly and close her eyes in disappointment. She shook her head, both her mind and body disapproving of the choice. She looked up at Rhaenyra whose entire face fell - her violet eyes were full of hurt and betrayal. Alicent looked mortified and started picking at her nails and a look of guilt washed over her face.

On the contrary, Ser Otto never looked happier. Daena couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she jumped across the table and started choking him with those stupid chains around his neck. She wished her father was here, he would easily chop that snake's head off with Dark Sister.

"This is an absurdity. My House is Valyrian, the greatest power in the realm." Lord Corlys stated, his voice filled with anger. He stormed out of the chamber in a fury.

Nyra's lip trembled and her eyes welled up with tears. "Rhaenyra." His Grace called out to her but she didn't respond. She quickly walked out of the chamber.

"Daena." His Grace called to his niece. She didn't realize that this whole time she was staring angrily at Alicent and Otto. Her uncle's voice pulled her back to reality. She gave him a look of disappointment and shook her head.

For a moment, Alicent thought Daena would truly spit fire upon her with how intense she was looking at them.

At that moment she looked like the human embodiment of the Bronze Fury - her lilac eyes were filled with the fire of injustice and betrayal, and her copper dress flowed behind her like wings as she stormed out of the room.

***

We finally meet the Strong sisters! They are going to be important characters and will become close allies of Daena/Rhaenyra. As we can see Daena is pissed about Uncle Vizzy choosing Alicent.

The next chapter will introduce our favorite man, Breakbones, can't wait for him to finally be in the story, it only took me 9 chapters lol

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #hotd #house targaryen #hotd fanfic #hotd masterlist #daena targaryen #my original characters #my oc stuff #asoiaf oc #hotd oc #targaryen oc #westeros #young rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen #prince daemon targaryen #young alicent #anti otto hightower

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